I Do! (3 page)

Her opened the door and held it for her. “I looked,” he lied. “My mom must have forgotten to drop them off.”

She stopped on the porch and turned to gaze up at him. “I just spoke to her yesterday.” The corners of her brows lowered as if he was crazy. “She said she left them in the mailbox.”

He felt crazy. “She must have lied.” He’d just called his mother a liar. Now he sounded crazy, too.

“I need them for the bride I’m meeting . . .” She paused to glance at her watch. “In ten minutes.”

Her hair slid over her shoulder and dipped into her smooth cleavage. He could look for those photos, he supposed. Invite her back inside. Kiss her mouth as he pulled her close until he felt her firm breasts against his chest. Run his hand up her smooth thighs and . . . “Not my problem.” He shut the door in her beautiful, stunned face. He’d never slammed the door on a girl before, but he’d never felt so crazy before, either.

He let out a breath and leaned back against the door. He had a girlfriend. He’d been with Holly Ann longer than he’d been with anyone in the past. Guilt weighed on his conscience. Holly Ann was his girl. He should be all twisted up thinking of her, not some girl he didn’t know. Not some girl with full pink lips and long tan legs. Not some girl named Becca Ramsey who heated his insides with thoughts of those long legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her pink lips.

Chapter 2

T
HE HAVEN-HOLLOWELL
WEDDING
was the most anticipated event to take place in Lovett since Elvis Presley played at the Amarillo Municipal Coliseum in ’55 .

Sadie Hollowell was practically Texas royalty and Vince . . . well, Vince Haven had served his country with honor and was a regular war hero. That alone made up for him being from the North. The fact that he’d bought the Gas and Go from his aunt Luraleen Jinks, and had remodeled the old convenience store so no one was afraid of catching ptomaine from the hot dog roller any longer, helped even further.

Unlike Elvis at the coliseum, the Haven-Hollowell wedding was to be a low-key, small affair with just close family and friends. Most everyone in town was disappointed not to get an invitation, but as Luraleen Jinks was fond of saying, “Sadie Hollowell always did think she was too good for her raisin’s.”

Bless her heart.

Vince’s aunt had never bothered to hide her disapproval of Sadie, but she was willing to let bygones be bygones and even planned to bring a peace offering to the reception in the way of her famous Frito pie. The reception was not a potluck. It was a catered affair, but any Texas gathering was not complete without a good Frito pie, and Luraleen’s was famous on the funeral circuit. For a wedding gift, Luraleen was even willing to write out the recipe on a nice card.

Frito pie was the furthest thing from Sadie’s mind. No matter how famous. The bride-to-be pulled the wet towel from her hair, then hung it on the rack next to shower.

“What are your plans?” Vince asked his future wife.

“Wedding stuff,” she answered as she stepped into her white panties and pulled them up legs still moist from her shower.

From the bedroom, the groom groaned is if in pain.

“You love it.” She adjusted her breasts within her white bra, then reached for the hairbrush.

“About as much as I love a knee to the nuts.” The old wood floor creaked beneath Vince Haven’s feet as he rose naked from their bed.

“There’s still Vegas.” She brushed the tangles from her blond hair and added, “And the Little White Chapel.”

“No. My sister did that,” he reminded her as he walked into the bathroom. “It didn’t really work out for her. She’s happy now, but it took a while for her dumbass husband to step to the plate and make things right.” He moved behind her and grasped her waist with his big hands. Through the foggy mirror his light green eyes met hers and he added, “I’m still going to kick his ass someday. Might have to wait until he’s done making a living with his body, though.”

That was not an ass kicking that Sadie ever wanted to see. The “dumbass” Vince spoke about was professional hockey player Sam LeClaire. Sam was a premier athlete and stayed in top physical shape in order to score goals or drop his gloves to take on any and all opponents who were as big and bad as he. Vince was a retired Navy SEAL, as big and bad as any hockey player, with an additional set of “dispatching” skills.

“Behave while your sister and Sam and the boys are here for the wedding.” Sadie had met Vince’s sister, Autumn, and Sam twice now. The first time, Autumn and Sam and their son Conner had flown to Texas to meet Sadie and visit the JH Ranch where Vince now lived with her. The second time, Sadie and Vince had flown to Seattle to welcome Sam and Autumn’s second son, Axel, into the world.

Vince pulled her back against the hard muscles of his chest. “Define ‘behave.’ ”

“Don’t antagonize Sam.” Vince and his brother-in-law tolerated each other. Barely. No one held on to a grudge harder than Vince, and Sam didn’t seem to have a real forgiving nature, either. The last thing she wanted was for their antics to ruin her wedding.

“Sam’s a nancy-boy.”

“Vince.” She set the brush near the sink and stared down her fiancé in the mirror. “I mean it. You and Sam can’t be in the same room without insulting each other, but I won’t have you two ruining my wedding day. It’s the only one I plan to have and no one is going to create havoc.”

He slid his arms around her waist and pushed his erection into her behind. “It’s the only one you’re ever going to have.”

“I don’t want you and your friends getting drunk and fighting,” she said, referring to the Junger brothers, who’d come to physical blows at their shooting range. The identical twins had duked it out over something so silly as who was the baddest superhero, Batman or Superman. The slugfest continued until Sadie’s sister, Stella, got between the towering men and told them to knock it off.

“Blake doesn’t drink these days, and since Beau knocked up your sister, he isn’t knocking heads.” He leaned his face down and kissed the top of her wet hair. “You always smell so good.” If his erection wasn’t already shoved against her butt, she would recognize the lust in his voice. “Let’s go back to bed. I love you.”

Through the mirror, she looked into his hot green eyes. She loved the way he said, “I love you,” like it came from some emotional hiding place deep in his soul. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe that this gorgeous man was hers. All hers. “I love you, too, but I’m not getting back in bed with you.”

His big hands slid up her ribs to cup her breasts. “I can make you change your mind.” His thumbs fanned her nipples pressed against the white nylon, and she was tempted. “You know I love kissing your thighs when you’re just out of the shower,” he added.

Real tempted
. She did love the way Vince kissed between her thighs, and if she hadn’t just spent the last two hours in bed, riding him like queen of the Tri-State Rodeo, she would have raced him back to bed, no matter who waited for her. “Becca’s on her way over with some pictures of hair she’s done for other weddings.”

He dropped his hands and backed up as if he was a vampire and she had suddenly turned to silver. “The last time she touched your hair, it was shorter on one side.”

“That was last year. She’s gotten better, or so she says.” She bit the corner of her mouth to keep from smiling and reached for a tube of moisturizer next to the sink. Vince and Becca had a love-hate relationship. Becca loved to chat with Vince and pour out her heart like he was the big brother she’d never had. Vince hated Becca’s “drama” and avoided it as much as possible. “Besides, Becca’s showing me her updos. No cutting or coloring involved.”

He reached for the shower nozzles and turned them on. “If I’m still home when she gets here, tell her I’m gone.”

Sadie squeezed the face lotion on the pads of her fingers, then rubbed it into her cheeks and forehead. “She loves you, Vince.”

“She makes my brain burst with all her talk of hair and makeup and loser friends.” He tested the water temperature with his hand. “She treats me like one of her girlfriends, and it’s your fault.”

Yes, she knew he blamed her. The second or third time that Sadie met Vince, they’d practicably had sex inside the bride’s room at the Sweetheart Palace Wedding Chapel. Before she’d even known quite how it happened, Vince had her little bridesmaid dress around her waist and his warm hands and hot mouth on her hot places. “You started it that night. I didn’t follow you.”

He pushed the deep red shower curtain aside and stepped into the bath. “You’re the one who got off, then left me in that room with a hard-on. I had blue balls for a week.” He stuck the top of his head beneath the shower. “You were heartless.”

Sadie chuckled and took out a tube of mascara. It was a good thing she’d left the room when she had because less than a minute after she’d grabbed her coat and partially run from the chapel, Becca had entered the bride’s room to find Vince sitting in a salon chair, waiting for the “tent pole” in his pants to go down before he left, too. Vince was a big guy with big proportional parts. “I didn’t want to scare the girl to death with my enormous hard-on,” he’d told Sadie. So, he’d had to sit and wait while Becca sobbed about her last boyfriend, her backstabbing girlfriends, and her life in general. She’d mistaken Vince feeling trapped for feeling genuine interest and care about her heartache.

“Tell her I’m not home, honey” came from behind the curtain.

“I could go to hell for lying, Vince.” She tried not to laugh. “You know I don’t like to lie.”

“Just this once.” He stuck his head out, and water dripped down his nose and off his long black lashes. “Baby, I’ll owe you big.”

Wow, a honey
and
a baby. He was serious. “Don’t antagonize Sam.”

“Okay.”

That was a little too easy. “Promise.”

He held up one wet hand like a Boy Scout. “Promise.”

BECCA S
AT WITH
her back straight and her knees to one side on the black-and-white cowhide sofa in the formal living room at the JH Ranch. She raised a cold glass of sweet tea to her lips and took a sip. “I had new photos taken to show you.” The ice cubes rattled in the tall glass as she set it on the coffee table. “But they aren’t ready yet.” Nathan said his mother lied about putting the photographs in the mailbox. Daisy hadn’t ever seemed like a liar to Becca. She was a professional. Why would she lie? Why would Nathan lie? It was crazy. Maybe the knock on his head had given him a concussion and memory loss.

“That’s okay.” Sadie pointed to a photo of a model with loose curls and a waterfall braid in back. “I like this one. It’s pretty and informal.”

“I like that one for you, too. It fits the wedding and your dress. It’s relaxed and gorgeous with or without a veil.” Sadie had chosen a simple filigree and pearl comb and single layer cathedral veil. “I can tuck your headpiece into the hair at your crown.” The wedding was scheduled to take place in the big backyard, with the reception directly afterward in the bunkhouse. It wouldn’t have been Becca’s first choice in venues, but the more she knew Sadie, the more it fit her. And Vince, too. He was a no-fuss kind of man. He scowled and frowned a lot, but he was a regular sweetheart. “Is Vince around?”

Sadie shook her head and her gaze slid away. “No. He’s not home. He’s probably checking out my surprise wedding present. I think it’s just about ready.”

“I take it the surprise isn’t a surprise.”

Sadie shook her head and her straight blond hair fell over her bare shoulder and strap of her orange tank top. “He’s having my mother’s 1966 Cadillac restored down at Parrish’s auto body shop.”

“The long red car?”

Sadie smiled. “He had it painted red?”

Becca sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her fingers. “You didn’t know?”

Sadie leaned back against the cowhide sofa and laughed. “No.” Light from the big antler chandelier shined in her blue eyes.

“I feel horrible. I thought it wasn’t a surprise.”

“It isn’t.” Sadie took a sip of her tea, then set the glass on an end table next to a portrait of her deceased daddy, Clive Hollowell. He looked as mean in the picture as he had in real life. “Vince doesn’t know that I know, but you really can’t haul a big car like that out of the barn without it being noticed.” She set Becca’s portfolio on the sofa between them. “Please don’t let on that I know about the surprise. It’s very sweet of him.”

Becca nodded and took a drink of her tea. “He’s a sweet guy.” Sadie laughed and crossed one long leg over the other. She was a beautiful woman, and Becca figured that Sadie should thank her lucky stars and god or goddess of her choice that she resembled her beauty queen mother and not her grouchy daddy. “I think you’ll like it.” Although Becca didn’t particularly care for old—or classic, rather—cars, the paint shone like a cherry apple in the sun.

“When did you see it?”

“Today.” She took another drink then. “I had to run to Parrish American Classics before I came out here. Daisy took some photos for me, but there was mix-up and they weren’t there. That’s why I was a little late this afternoon.” She was also a little late because she’d stood in Nathan Parrish’s house, watching droplets of water run down his spine to the waistband of his underwear. She could have stood there all day and watched him blow water from his lips and shake his head and fling droplets around the kitchen. She could have watched him pull his T-shirt down his hard chest and flat belly just above his spiky belt a few more times, too. And for those few moments while she’d stood in his kitchen, she’d forgotten all about the photographs and her portfolio and that that she was a busy girl and time was money. She’d forgotten that she wasn’t there to look into his eyes and breathe in the smell of soap and skin and the lingering hint of oil. So much for ignoring tingles and urges and lethal good looks.

“What color is the interior?”

Becca smiled. She knew it was white, but said, “I’m not going to ruin any more of Vince’s surprise.” Becca returned her glass to the table and grabbed a pink binder. “Do you know what Deeann wants me to do with her hair the day of the wedding?”

“I don’t.”

Deeann was Sadie’s one and only bridesmaid, while Stella was both maid of honor and the stand-in for their father. Sadie had asked her sister to walk her down the aisle. “I was thinking of doing a fishtail. Both those girls have long, straight hair, and I just thought something elegant and pretty.” She flipped open her portfolio. “We don’t want anything to take the attention from you.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. Stella’s belly is huge and she waddles like a penguin these days.”

“Has she outgrown her dress again?” Becca asked as the stairs to her right creaked. Stella walked toward them in a long black dress, looking amazingly like penguin.

“Are you okay?” Sadie asked her sister.

Stella waddled to a wingback chair and fell into it. “No.” She shook her head, and the light from the antler chandelier glistened in the inky black strands of her hair. While Sadie was tall and fair, Stella was petite and had inherited her complexion from her Hispanic mother.

Concern wrinkled Sadie’s brow. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“My vagina hurts.”

Becca sucked air between her teeth and the corners of her mouth turned downward. Stella Leon was close to thirty but looked younger. She stood just a tad over five feet, and the only thing she’d inherited from the father she shared with Sadie was Clive Hollowell’s blue eyes.