Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy (2 page)

The tenor held the final note in the second song. And held it and held it.
Ave Maria
was beautiful but lo-ong. Ali counted out the note.
Will this ceremony never end? Come on, come on. Let's move this along.
Bree had orchestrated her dream wedding, and nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing, was going to be rushed. But somewhere between "Who gives this woman?" and "With this ring, I thee wed," Ali had decided to have a good time tonight.

Ben was here, she hadn't seen him in ages, it was always fun to talk and hang out with him, and he made her laugh. So to hell with Timothy and Pippa and no date and Valentine's Day and cupcake dresses, she was ready to get this party started.

The minister was talking: "solemn, but joyous…present to you Mr. &…
yada yada yada
…you may kiss your bride." People were applauding and chuckling. Ali was arranging the train so Mr-and-Mrs could hightail it out the back. The organist started playing, but there was no hightailing.

Josh and Bree stopped to light the unity candle.
Really, Bree?
But when Josh leaned in with a soft kiss as the center candle flamed, Ali choked back tears. Bree was so happy today. They’d been like sisters since they were little girls, and now they really were. This had been exactly the wedding Bree had always dreamed of. And Josh might be as irritating as any protective older brother would be, but he was okay. Nah, much more than okay. And Bree loved him.

Ali smiled through her tears as she saw the look he was giving his bride; he’d forgotten there was anyone else in the church. The newlyweds picked up roses to give their mothers. Another delay, but Ali sniffed back more tears at the sweet moment when they hugged the moms.

The organist segued to the recessional—
finally
—and the star couple started up the aisle. Ali moved forward and Ben smiled at her and held out his hand, giving hers a quick squeeze. For just a second, she imagined them as a real couple, not just players in Bree's pageantry. Then he was tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and with his long stride following Bree and Josh at a fast clip.

She hissed, "Slow down. I can't keep up in these shoes."

He whispered in her ear, "Not a chance. I'm afraid that guy's gonna start singing again."

The start of a giggle bubbled up, and she bit her lip at the same time she nudged him with her elbow. His laugh turned a few heads, and he wasn't in the least concerned. Three steps out the door, she was fussing at him. "You are so bad."

"At your service, ma'am."

She reached over to punch him playfully, but he grabbed her wrist and draped her arm over his shoulder. Before she knew what he was going to do, his arms were around her waist, and he was lifting her up and swinging her around in a circle.

"Ben!"

"God, I've missed you. It's been too long."

Over a year.
When he came to Houston last summer, she'd invented a last-minute teaching workshop in D.C. to avoid seeing him, not ready yet after the Timothy debacle. She didn't run away again this past Christmas—was looking forward to seeing him—but his grandmother died on Christmas Eve, and he'd spent the entire holiday between Austin and Dallas.
So it’s been thirteen months, two weeks, maybe a couple of days. Approximately.

His arms squeezed a little tighter before he set her down. She'd like to tell herself she felt a little shift in the friend-zone crevice, but if she'd learned anything from the Timothy years, it was to not kid herself.

He set her down and held her arms straight out to the sides as he looked at her. "You're as gorgeous as ever, Peanut."

She muttered under her breath, "More like a bag of peanuts, the giant family size."
Oops
. She could tell by his frown that he'd heard her. Besides, she'd made up her mind to skip the moping tonight. She looked down at her dress. "I've been thinking I look more like a cupcake. A strawberry cupcake."

"Cupcake's not the first thing that comes to mind when I see you in that dress. But we can agree on one thing, sweetness." He lowered her arms, but kept her hands in his as he leaned in to whisper, "You look good enough to eat."

Ali's eyebrows shot up and her face felt hot. Then he straightened, and she saw his grin. This was a definite seismic shift in the friend-zone. They'd joked and teased over the years about almost everything, but sexy, flirty banter wasn't in their mix. Then he winked.
What's with the winking today?

She needed to up her game. Giving him a serious and thoughtful look, she leaned in to whisper, "Hmm. Why don't we blow off the wedding photographs and get right to the slutty wedding sex?"

That wiped the grin off his face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He did it a second time, and she gave in to a laugh.

Shaking his head, his grin was back, wider than before. "Pay-back's a bitch, ain't it?"

She laughed at his movie quote. They'd played this game—Name That Movie—since she was sixteen. One of them worked a movie quote into the conversation. The other had to catch it then name the movie, actor, and character or pay some silly forfeit. But they rarely had to pay up. They were both too good at it. "
Independence Day
, Randy Quaid as Russell."

He was chuckling as his arm went around her shoulder and gave her a friend-zone squeeze. "Slutty wedding sex, huh? You got me. For a second, I really thought you were serious."

You have
no
idea.

. . . . .

Ben looked around the ballroom of the Four Winds Hotel but kept a close eye on the wedding coordinator. He wasn’t going to miss his cue since he was already on her shit list for his ring bobble, not to mention flying in late last night and missing the rehearsal and dinner. Everything had gone smoothly with his long-distance best man gig—including the bachelor party two weeks ago in Vegas—until a script crisis popped up on Thursday night. More like a diva crisis.

He glanced over at Ali, who was watching the bride dance with her dad, and smiled remembering her toast. He’d written his on the plane and got the aw’s he was aiming for and a couple of bonus sniffles. But then he pushed words around for a living. If he couldn’t pull off sappy sentimentality, he needed to change careers. But it was Ali that stole the show with her funny references to Bunsen burners, combustion, and delayed chemical reactions. He stole another glance. His chemical reaction certainly wasn’t delayed.

His smile grew as he remembered getting in the limo after the wedding pictures. She’d insisted he get in first so he wouldn’t be looking at her butt as she climbed in. He did as she asked, then offered her his hand. She was halfway into the car when she realized her mistake: the neckline of her dress almost bared it all from that angle. He hadn’t said a thing. Just smirked and raised an eyebrow. She blushed. They were moving quickly to something different, and he’d started it with his “good enough to eat” remark. He needed to stop it now, but couldn’t seem to hold back.

Chase had snagged some woman from Bree’s law firm to sit with him. That left he and Ali as the only two people in the wedding party without dates or significant others, so they’d been seated together. For forty-five minutes, he’d listened to stories of student labs and near misses, thrown in his own about divas—divos too—and basked in the warmth of having her by his side. Twice, he’d put his arm along the back of her chair, and once he “accidentally” brushed her thigh with his. When she quickly moved away, he pretended not to notice. So did she.

The wedding coordinator raised her hand slightly, his cue to hit the dance floor. He cut in on the bride’s father who shifted to Helen, Josh’s mom. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Josh leading Ali out onto the floor for this next round of dance-with-the-bride. Only one more round before everyone was invited onto the dance floor. The round he was waiting for. He shook his head and took up his best man’s duties.

“It’s a beautiful wedding, Bree. Befitting a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you.
Beautifully
said, and you gave a
beautiful
toast.” She pulled back a little to look at him before adding, “Seriously, thank you for being here. I know it was a lot of trouble for you. He may not say it, but it means a lot to Josh.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. We all go back a long way.”

She chuckled. “Yes, we do. Playing different roles for a long time, a very long time—two best friends, an annoying little sister and her equally annoying best friend.” Watching him as she added. “Any change in your role in the near future?”

For a moment, he thought she was talking about Ali, but there was no reason she should be. He answered jokingly. “You mean are my Hollywood bachelor days numbered?”

Bree glanced over at Josh, dancing with Ali, before she answered, “Something like that.”

“Nah. Nothing on the horizon.”

Bree studied him for a moment before shaking her head. They didn’t talk anymore; and in a couple of minutes, the wedding coordinator signaled another swap. He danced with Bree over to Josh and Ali and swapped partners.

Ben was pulling Ali closer when Josh took his hand off Bree’s back and slapped his shoulder.

“Let’s see some daylight, bro. That’s my baby sister you’ve got there.”

Ali rolled her eyes. Josh’s tone was teasing, and Ben wanted to believe it was nothing more than that, but he wasn’t sure. Didn’t Josh recognize that Ali was an adult? A competent woman, capable of making her own choices? Ali must have been thinking the same thing.

“Do you think he’ll be saying that to my dates when I’m sixty?”

“You plan to still be dating when you’re sixty? And, yes, probably. He wants to keep you safe.”

She snorted. “From you?”

“Especially me.”

Ali looked at him with a question that he wasn’t going to answer. He pulled her closer before brushing off the question. “Joking. Don’t worry about it.”

Holding her in his arms, moving to the music, exactly the moment he’d been anticipating since the wedding coordinator had explained the “complete wedding dance” Bree had planned. For a few minutes, he could pretend that she wasn’t Josh’s “baby sister” and there were no obstacles in his way. Feeling her tense, he looked down to see what was wrong. She was looking at Tim and Pippa who had moved closer to the dance floor. He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he asked anyway, “Still hard to see him?”

“No. I think I was over Tim in about twelve minutes. It’s hard to see Pippa.”

“I don’t get it. You know her?”

She shook her head and kept looking at the other couple. “I’m just tired of being the dumpy, odd-girl-out.”

“So what is it about Pippa?”

“She’s a jewelry designer, has pieces—really good pieces—in galleries. She’s tall and probably a size two; she’s—”

He stopped dancing and moved his hands to her waist. She’d said something like this earlier, and he’d let it pass. Not this one. “I get the alone thing, by the way, but you are definitely
not
dumpy.”

Ali snorted. “You don’t have to be nice. We’re friends. Honesty’s required.”

He could feel his frown, but Ali either didn’t notice or was ignoring it. “So here’s honest. I let your first remark slide, but I’m not going to let you put yourself down like that. So that’s two.” He held up two fingers. “Get to three and you’re going over my knee.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly at least five times before she let out a sigh and started to breathe again. “You got me. I thought for a minute you were serious.”

“Oh, I’m
very
serious, Peanut. Try me.”

“You think you’re going to tie me up and spank me?”

“I won’t need to tie you up.” He held her eyes. “For that.”

What the hell am I doing? This is Ali.

But he could see her breathing speed up in the rise and fall of that glorious neckline, her eyes dark, and her breaths shallow. Seeing how turned on she was by the idea, he felt his own reaction. Not so vanilla after all?

“You are beautiful and sexy with the body of a pin-up girl. Every man’s fantasy.” He cocked his head and smiled. “To paraphrase, you have a head for science and a bod for sin.”

“
Working Girl
, Melanie Griffith playing Tess McGill.” Name That Movie had distracted her; and before she could get back to their conversation, he noticed Tim’s smirk as he danced closer to them. Ben pulled Ali back into his arms and began dancing again, sliding his hand down so low he was almost cupping her ass. She tried to push back, but he held her in place.

“What are you doing?” Her shocked whisper sounded almost like panic.

He nodded slightly toward Tim and Pippa. “Letting old Tim see the hot, sexy mess he walked away from. You are now officially my date for the rest of the weekend.”

“We can’t do that.” Definitely panic.

“Why can’t we? I don’t have a date. You don’t have a date. Now we do. Let Tim eat his heart out.”

“But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He chuckled. “So?”