“Nah. With the wedding all the way up here, that would’ve meant spending an entire weekend together at the various family-bonding events. An invitation like that tends to send the ‘this is serious’ message.”
Conn stretched his arms along the top of the church pew while nodding. “Gotcha.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t have to explain it further. His brother knew that Curtis didn’t have anything against commitment itself, he just didn’t have much faith in it lasting. He’d seen too many of his buddies, especially the cop ones, fall victim to the big D.
“Since you’re flying solo this weekend, I need a favor.”
“Spending tomorrow in a monkey suit isn’t favor enough? Especially after that overly friendly tailor at the tuxedo-rental place got a little too much enjoyment out of measuring my inseam?”
One of Conn’s patented grins took over his face. “Did you check the pockets yet? He might’ve slipped you his number.”
“Whatever, man.” He issued Conn a friendly shot to the ribs. “How you, the totally unavailable groom-to-be, got the hot Asian chick to measure you while I got stuck with the grabby-hands guy, I have no fucking idea.”
“Was she hot? I didn’t notice.”
Oh man, he was serious. Love had put blinders on his brother. Big time.
“Ten out of ten,” Curtis said, shaking his head. “So, what’s the favor?”
Conn’s smile thinned. “Keep an eye on Sara. Make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.”
“Babysitting detail.”
“Yeah.”
“Is she that bad?”
“I hope not,” Conn said as the church’s front door slammed and all heads turned toward the entryway from the vestibule.
Call him fucked-up, but one look at the dark-haired beauty who’d just strutted into the building, and Curtis kinda hoped Sara lived up to her troublemaker reputation.
Sara
There were only nine people in the church, but every eye in the place was trained on her. Which was how Sara liked it—usually. Not this time. Not when the attention resulted from her late arrival to her sister’s wedding rehearsal. Worse—the looks on her family’s faces. Relief on Nia’s. Disappointment on her parents’. Conn looked plain-old pissed off.
With her track record for stirring up trouble, nobody would believe the truth. That she’d stopped en route to help a stranded motorist whose car looked ready to combust. To hell with it, she wouldn’t even bother explaining. Let them all think the worst. They were going to anyway.
“Hey, ho, everybody.” She snapped her fingers while closing the distance to the waiting pastor, bride, groom, and the rest of their assembled family members. “Let’s do this pretend-wedding thing.”
A layer of tension hung over the small group, everybody waiting to see how Nia would react, most likely. On the surface, Sara didn’t crack. She wore her confident smile like the armor it had always been. Inwardly, she held her breath with the rest of them. After a rift that’d lasted eight shitty years, she and Nia had finally found their way back to being best friends. The last thing Sara wanted to do was fuck that up. Again.
For a minute, Nia remained still and silent, staring at her with those big, brown eyes of hers. Then she stepped forward and pulled Sara into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Dude, save your public displays of affection for your fiancé.” She faked a gag and made a show of breaking free of Nia’s embrace, but that’s all it was—a show. The hug meant the world. Sara hadn’t ruined anything. Nor would she. Not this weekend.
The mood in her hometown church lifted, kicking into a full-fledged buzz as the young pastor directed everybody to their places for a mockup of tomorrow’s big event. Both sets of parents hovered on the first row of pews. Nia and Conn stood before the pastor, beaming as the man described how everything would unfold.
Nia would pass her bouquet to Sara. The lovebirds would face each while the pastor “charged them on the duties of marriage.” Whoa. And snore. The best man—and hello, Hottie McHotterson with the tats—would hand Conn a wedding band so he could pledge his undying love. Then it’d be Nia’s turn. Blah, blah, blah. And while several dozen guests oohed and aahed, the romantic spectacle would hit its saccharine-sweet pinnacle with a kiss. Your standard-issue fairytale wedding.
For her sister, Sara would smile through the lot of it. She’d wear the pink bridesmaid dress Nia had chosen. Pink, a color that hadn’t graced Sara’s wardrobe since the third grade. But it was her sister’s favorite and that’s what mattered. While wearing the pink dress, she’d make nice with people she didn’t know or didn’t care to, along with some she did know but wished she didn’t. But at least the best man would be there.
She leaned forward for a better look at him. Short hair, piercing eyes, enough scruff to make things interesting. So what if he was Conn’s brother. And a cop. With all the ink she could see and the lean, hard body it decorated, he couldn’t be totally uptight and boring. Maybe she’d do a little detective work of her own later, just to confirm.
His focus shifted from the pastor to her. Their eyes locked—briefly—before his gaze descended to her cleavage in the black babydoll t-shirt she wore. To her waistline and hips. To her legs encased in a pair of skintight jeans and the tall, high-heeled boots she loved more than was probably normal or healthy.
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head when his attention returned to her face. And…nothing. He simply resumed looking at the pastor.
Son of a bitch. She knew for a fact he wasn’t married or gay. With the good, long look he’d taken, she would’ve bet he found her attractive. Unless his taste in women ran similar to his brother’s—blonde and demure. She and Nia had very different styles. Different everything.
Whatever. His loss. She enjoyed a challenge, but she’d pass on cracking the straight-faced best man. Because, hello—cop. Not on her wish list in a guy.
Unless the wedding guests included some sexy surprise specimen, she’d just go a couple days without fun of the naked-male variety. By Sunday morning she’d be on her way back to the city. Lots of attractive men to choose from there, none of whom would care about the small matter of her criminal record. Or her current employment status. Plenty of guys would find both things hot. To hell with any who didn’t, frankly.
The pastor wrapped up the rehearsal with a reminder of when everybody needed to arrive tomorrow. Nia practically jumped into Conn’s arms. Forget about waiting to kiss the bride, Conn laid one on his bride-to-be right then and there.
Sara had to admit, it was a hot one. Kind of had her rethinking her decision about the sexless weekend—and the tattooed cop.
“Everybody back to the house for barbecue and beer.” Her dad waved his hand in the air, as if the simple action finalized the command. “You too, Ben.” This, he directed at the pastor. “Bring a date if you’d like, we’ve got plenty of food and drinks.”
“Thanks, Peter. No lady in my life at the moment, but I’d love to join you all after I lock up here.”
“Great.” Dad shot her a hopeful look that included a wink. “We’ll see you there.”