Two Times as Hot (8 page)

B
efore leaving the bridal room, Emma had to worry about straightening Becca’s train,
keeping her own cleavage appropriate for church, and fixing their tear-stained makeup.
But once she was assured Becca was all set behind her, Emma stepped out into the aisle
behind Tara.

The start of the ceremony was a jumbled blur of music and motion during the processional.
That was preferable, actually, to the long stretch following it, which consisted of
nothing more than the steady drone of the preacher’s voice and long moments of standing
and inactivity. Emma tried to concentrate on the words spoken and not focus on how
her feet hurt in the uncomfortable satin pumps she’d had dyed to match her dress.

Then the ceremony was over. One moment Emma was holding both her flowers and Becca’s
while biting the inside of her lip desperately trying to squelch her tears as Becca
and Tuck recited the traditional vows and exchanged rings. The next thing she knew,
the recessional music had begun and they were all on the move once again.

Emma had to pull herself together and scurry to help Becca. Things seemed to speed
up in fast motion. She handed the bridal bouquet back, then juggled her own in one
hand as she bent to sweep the train of her sister’s gown out of the way. She had to
scramble to straighten the folds in the tail of the gown so the bride and groom could
turn and exit to begin their walk out of the church.

As maid of honor, Emma found herself walking down the aisle behind the bride and groom
escorted by Tyler. Behind her, Jace, Logan, and Tara followed. Once outside the church,
the bride and groom paused to greet all the exiting guests.

Emma’s heels sank into the grass. Losing her balance, she slipped her hand onto Jace’s
tuxedoed arm and held onto it to steady herself. Make that Jace’s incredibly
stiff
arm. Now that Emma had stopped crying long enough to pay attention to her date standing
next to her, she realized his entire body seemed tense. She glanced sideways at him.
His jaw was clenched tight and a small frown creased the forehead beneath the cowboy
hat he wore. This was not the Jace she knew.

“You okay?”

Jace jumped at her question. He barely glanced her way when he said, “Yeah. Fine.”

That wasn’t very forthcoming or reassuring. He was definitely not fine, but there
wasn’t much Emma could do about it now anyway. Not with a church full of people filing
out into the churchyard. Then there would be photos before they headed from the church
to Tuck’s parents’ house for the reception that was being catered in the backyard
under a tent.

The sound of a shutter brought Emma’s attention to the photographer, snapping photos.
Emma realized she had more important things to worry about than what was up with Jace.
Such as her makeup. Her lipstick was probably in need of repair before they got to
the formal posed shots that would immortalize this moment for Becca and Tuck—and haunt
Emma if she didn’t look good in them.

They were heading into a long night of speeches, dancing, and socializing with the
hundred plus guests, most of whom she didn’t know. Emma definitely did not have time
to deal with Jace or his unexplained frowning now.

She slipped the lipstick she’d hidden in her bra out and swept on a quick application
before stashing it back. “This part will be over soon. Just smile for the pictures.”

“No worries.” Jace’s words didn’t match the continued tension radiating off him.

Emma squeezed his arm and made sure to take her own advice and smile.

Jace remained just as strange during the photos as the photographer arranged the wedding
party on the church steps. Meanwhile, Emma didn’t miss how Tara was trying to get
close to Logan; it was as if she were trying to get inside his tuxedo with him. In
fact, Tara’s hand was inside it at one point as she slipped her fingers beneath the
lapels of the tux.

Emma tried to determine how Logan felt about that as she watched him—smiling for the
camera the entire time—take Tara’s hand off his chest and hold it in his. She sighed
and glanced at her own tuxedo-clad date. He stood far enough away from her that the
photographer had to ask him to move in closer a few times.

Were all weddings this complicated? With this being her first gig as part of a wedding
party, Emma couldn’t be sure. But if this were par for the course, she’d definitely
consider eloping when her time came. Whenever that would be.

A tropical island would be nice. The ceremony on the beach. A simple white sundress
and some flowers in her windswept hair. Becca and Tuck would fly down with them for
the wedding, she was sure.

The only thing missing from her mental picture was the groom. She glanced sideways
at Jace and saw his smile was as stiff and forced as his posture. A look toward Logan
on the other side of the bride and groom told her Tara had now resorted to pressing
up against him until the halter top of her dress began to gape. These photos were
in real danger of showing exposed nipple if someone didn’t adjust Tara’s dress.

Emma tried to subtly get Tara’s attention to warn her, but the girl had eyes only
for Logan. After a moment, Emma gave up and glanced at the photographer, who wasn’t
any more responsive from behind the lens as she tried to coordinate the group.

A sigh of frustration escaped Emma. She felt like a failure in her maid of honor and
sister of the bride duties, and the ache in her feet and lower back was beginning
to be unbearable. Emma could appreciate the enticing view Tuck’s groomsmen made, lined
up in their matching black cowboy hats, boots and tuxedos, but all the standing around
in heels and not moving was getting to her. The photographer needed to finish up already.

Emma leaned toward Jace. “Someone should supply us with some alcohol for this part.”

One sandy-colored brow rose beneath the brim of his hat as he patted his pocket. “I’ve
got a flask. Want some bourbon?”

She’d been thinking more of a glass of champagne, but she was in so much pain, Jace’s
offer was tempting. Emma dismissed the notion. There was no way she could take a swig
out of a flask here and now. Not in front of her parents, Tucker’s parents, Becca
and the preacher. Besides, bourbon wasn’t her drink of choice, but if this thing went
much longer, it might become so.

Emma shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ll wait.”

Jace nodded just as the photographer put the camera down and said, “I think that’s
it for here.”

Thank God. Emma released the frozen smile and realized how sore her jaw was. At least
with the photo session done, the families and the wedding party were starting toward
the vehicles. They’d make their way to the Jenkins house and Emma could sit down.

She turned to Jace. “Shall we go?”

“Uh, would you mind very much riding to the reception with your parents?” he asked.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Um, uh, I just realized the front seat of my truck is filthy. You’ll ruin your dress.
It’s not a big deal, is it? I’ll meet you there.”

“All right. Sure.” Hell of a date this was turning out to be. Sober, with a sore back,
and now, hitching a ride with her parents like she was twelve and going to the middle
school dance. Oh, well. She’d just have to drown her misery in wedding cake.

Emma wasn’t sure how it had happened that she ended up in her parents’ rental car
for the trip, rather than in her date’s truck, but that was fine with her. Jace was
acting so strange as it was, he was starting to piss her off. There was enough pressure
on her today. She didn’t need to babysit him, too.

When they arrived, she slid out of the backseat and stepped into the driveway. She
could see guests were already milling around on the lawn, enjoying cocktails and appetizers
served up by the black and white clad caterers.

In a little while there’d be the official introduction of the new bride and groom,
followed by the first dance and then dinner. Until then, Emma had a second to breathe
and take in the transformation that had taken place, turning the Jenkinses’ peaceful,
private property into a reception venue bustling with over a hundred guests.

Emma swept her gaze toward the long buffet table. It was laden with chafing dishes
filled with so much barbecue, it looked in danger of collapse. The smell of the smoked
meats permeated the tent set up in the yard. She had to admit the aroma alone was
making her mouth water. Of course, that could also be from the sight of all these
cowboys in their tuxedos, even if her date was missing.

A waitress plodded past Emma carrying a bowl so heavy with coleslaw she nearly didn’t
make it all the way to the table. It was an interesting reception menu choice her
sister had made.

Becca stepped up to her. “Phew. I’m glad the official part is done. Now we can have
fun and
eat
. I’m starving.”

Emma cocked a brow and glanced at Becca. “Yeah, about the food . . . I always thought
you’d serve something like, I don’t know, salmon in dill sauce with
haricot vert
at your wedding. Or maybe a nice surf and turf selection of lobster tail and filet
mignon.”

“You’re right. That probably would have been the menu if I’d married Jerry.” Becca
glanced toward the buffet the waiters were still setting up.

“Jerry. Ugh. Thank God you didn’t marry him.” Emma screwed up her mouth in distaste
at even the thought of Becca marrying that ball-less asshole of an ex-boyfriend of
hers.

Becca let out a short laugh. “Amen to that, and good riddance. But anyway, the menu
for today was kind of a sentimental decision.”

“Oh, really? Sentimental barbecue? Interesting.” Emma looked toward the buffet again,
raising a brow as two waiters carried out what appeared to be an entire pig—feet,
snout, tail and all.

“Mmm, hmm. And don’t tell Tuck but I’m having them serve him a special surprise during
dinner.” Becca kept her voice low. “A fried bologna sandwich.”

“Um, a what? Don’t, like, kindergarten kids eat those after school?” And Emma’s sometimes
snooty, New York born and bred sister was serving it to her groom on their wedding
day?

“Fried bologna is a Joseph’s Fine Foods specialty. The restaurant and that sandwich
are kind of special to Tucker and me, too.” Becca’s expression turned to the one she
always wore when she was being naughty. Since Emma couldn’t think of anything naughty
about a fried bologna sandwich, she was confused.

She turned to her sister. “Oh, come on now, Becs. You have to explain that one to
me.”

“Let’s just say that Tuck and I ate at Joseph’s on what I guess you could call our
first date. We’ll leave it at that.” Becca wore a secretive smile that made Emma even
more suspicious. “But we were lucky they agreed to come all the way here to cater.
Drumright is quite a distance.”

“Where is my real sister and what have you done with her?” Emma shook her head. “Becca,
even before you had a boyfriend, you used to size up the ballroom in the Plaza for
your future wedding reception. Every time we went into Manhattan for dinner and a
Broadway show I’d have to hear about it. Did they brainwash you somehow? What’s growing
out here in Oklahoma? Are you smoking peyote or something?”

“People change.” Becca shrugged. “Besides, I think everything turned out absolutely
beautiful.”

“It does look beautiful. You did a great job, Becs.” Bologna and all. Emma drew in
a breath and let it out slowly. She’d get used to this new and strange Becca eventually.
The one who chose a buffet barbecue in the backyard rather than French service at
the Plaza.

She had to admit Becca had made the Jenkins backyard magical. The ceiling of the big
white tent was strung with tiny white lights to create the perfect atmosphere. The
rental tables and chairs, all uniformly clothed and covered, completed the sea of
bridal white punctuated only by the centerpieces made from blue hydrangea tied with
matching ribbon and set in clear mason jars filled with water and river rocks.

It made for a surprising setting—simple and elegant like Becca, with a touch of rustic
cowboy, like Tucker. Speaking of Tucker . . . as he came across the dance floor toward
them, Emma watched Becca’s face light up just at the sight of him. True love if ever
she saw it. Emma could only hope that lightning had a tendency to strike twice here
in Oklahoma, and that she’d find her true love, too.

“Here’s my wife.” Tuck wrapped one arm around Becca and bent to plant a pretty heated
kiss on her.

The word
wife
sounded strange used in reference to her little sister. It made Emma’s heart flutter.
She could only imagine what it did to Becca to have the man of her dreams, her new
husband, say it to her.

All right, maybe love was worth it, even if it meant there was a vat of barbecue sauce
on the buffet and fried bologna sandwiches were being served at the wedding reception.

“They’re just about ready to officially introduce us,” Tuck announced when he managed
to disconnect from the lip-lock with Becca.

Emma resisted the urge to be snarky and tell them to get a room. Instead she asked,
“Where’s my date? They’re going to want to introduce the wedding party, too.”

Tucker glanced around the tent, specifically toward the bar set up in the far corner.
“I don’t see him with Tyler at the bar. I’m not sure where Jace is.”

That figured. Jace seemed to be making a habit of skipping out on Emma. She screwed
up her mouth. “I’ll just walk in with Tyler. As maid of honor and best man, I guess
we should have the first dance together anyway, after you two.”

“That’s fine, Em.” Becca touched her arm. “I knew there’d be some juggling for the
first dance since Tuck has three attendants, and I only have two. It’s not a problem.”