The Gambler (2 page)

What the hell was she going to do?

Faith. Libby just needed more faith. She’d had enough faith for Megan and Blair when their lives and weddings had begun to fall apart. Since they hadn’t seemed to understand what was really going on, Libby had needed to have enough faith for all three of them.

She gave them a dazzling smile. “Go ahead with the wedding, of course.”

“What about the missing groomsman?” Megan asked.

Libby shrugged. She refused to show her friends how upset she was that Noah wasn’t there. “Have Josh stand in for him.” She gave him a pointed glance, disappointment seeping into her voice. “Haven’t you spent most of your adult life cleaning up his messes? What’s one more?”

“Oh, Libby.” Megan threw her arms around her friend. “I’m so sorry.”

Libby pulled loose. “I’m okay. I should have known better. I just thought he was beyond this sort of thing.”

“We all did.”

“Does that mean you’re ready?” Blair asked, holding out Libby’s wildflower bouquet.

“I guess.”

Her response drew worried glances from her friends, but she was too busy trying to figure out what she would do if the curse didn’t work. 

No. No. No. Stop thinking like that.
She just had to believe. 

Libby reached for the bouquet and took a deep breath. When she released it, serenity washed through her. This was going to work.

It had to.

Megan gave Josh a lingering kiss, then pulled back and smoothed his lapel, staring into his face with adoration and love. Both Blair and Libby had been jealous of their connection, even if neither woman had ever admitted it. But Blair had found that same deep love and contentment with Garrett. So where was Libby’s soulmate?

Josh left to get the groom and the other groomsman up to the altar while the three girls waited. The door flew open again, this time with more force. Libby’s mother waltzed in with a theatrical flounce. “They’re ready for you, my princess.”

Irritation set Libby on edge, quickly followed by a stab of guilt as she studied her mother. Gabriella St. Clair was a stunningly beautiful woman. Her rich dark brown hair was thick and long, and her olive complexion was flawless and nearly wrinkle-free, even though she had to be close to fifty years old, not that she’d ever admit to it. Libby had no idea how old her mother actually was since the elder St. Clair would never confess the year of her birth. Not that it mattered. Gabriella St. Clair’s face and body defied time, and she and Libby were often mistaken for sisters.

And there was the rub. Gabriella preferred to be seen as Libby’s sister than her mother and often did her best to make sure she was the center of attention. Even now—wearing a form-fitting
white
dress with a deep V-neck that showed off her ample cleavage—Gabriella St. Clair would not be relegated to the background.

Libby’s mother glided over to her and grabbed her hand in a dramatic flourish. “You are by far the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

Libby gritted her teeth. “Thank you, Momma.”

“I’m still not sure that boy out there is right for you.”

That was one of the few things the St. Clair women agreed upon, except Gabriella didn’t think Libby should marry at all.

“Thank you for your concern, Momma.”

Her mother patted her cheek and looked into her eyes. “No talking you out of it?”

Libby released a short laugh. At this point, if either of her friends told her this was crazy and encouraged her to back out of it, she’d probably do it in a heartbeat. But hearing her mother say it was a whole other thing. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Well, nothing’s forever, sweetheart.” Gabriella shot a wicked glance to Blair. “And you already have a divorce attorney on retainer.”

Blair’s mouth opened as if on a hinge, but Gabriella was already sweeping out of the room.

Blair put her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe her!”

Libby shook her head, her anxiety rising. “It’s my mother. What do you expect?” She took a breath. “It’s time to start.”

Megan took a step toward her. “Maybe you should take a moment.”

“I don’t care what she thinks. We’ve known she’s a narcissistic bitch since before I found her and my first boyfriend screwing on our kitchen counter. Why would anything change in the last fifteen years?”

“Oh, Libs . . .” Megan said softly.

Megan’s sweetness was nearly her undoing. “Forget my mother. There are bigger things to worry about. I have a date with destiny.”

Her friends gave her a strange look, but Libby pushed them toward the door, not giving them time to respond.

They waited in the church lobby, listening for the musical cue to start down the aisle. Blair went first, followed by Megan. And soon the music switched to the song Mitch had picked for her walk down the aisle—the Razorback fight song. She’d agreed to
everything
he’d asked for, never once thinking the wedding would progress this far.

Libby cast a worried glance toward the front door of the church, wondering where in the hell her soul mate could be. After a good twenty seconds, long enough for the guests in the church to start murmuring in confusion, Libby realized he wasn’t going to come walking through the door.

Which meant he was inside the church.

Relief washed over her at that thought, which was enough to get her through the door and propel her down the aisle. Her gaze swept the crowd, looking for her Prince Charming, but the only real candidate she came up with was Mitch’s Uncle Earl—a forty-two-year-old confirmed bachelor and wholesale fish salesman down in Louisiana. He was a good seventy-five pounds overweight, and during the rehearsal dinner, Libby and her friends had decided he wore a toupee. He gave her a leering smile when he realized her gaze had landed on him. Then he licked his upper lip, as if he’d just spotted a particularly succulent catfish.

She’d rather marry Mitch.

Mitch wasn’t so bad. Her friends liked him. And if she could learn to overlook the football fanaticism, he was sweet. Sure, Libby had done her level best to keep Blair from marrying a man
she
didn’t love, but there was no denying that Mitch was a better partner than Neil could ever be. Still, Libby couldn’t fool herself into thinking she was head over heels in love. After she’d announced her short engagement, Blair and Megan had quizzed her endlessly about her decision. She must have performed the role of the gushing bride-to-be a little too well, because she’d convinced them this was what she wanted. But if she went through with it, it would be until death do us part. While Libby might know the best divorce attorney in the universe, she’d never let it come to that.

Unlike her mother, Libby believed marriage was for keeps.

So what was she doing?

Maybe her white knight hadn’t shown up yet. Maybe he’d gotten lost in traffic. Libby just had to keep going and believe it would all work out.

But as she climbed the two steps up the altar, panic clawed in her chest.
Have faith,
she repeated in her head.
Just have faith.

Mitch waited for her, wearing his black tux with his University of Arkansas tie. He lifted his pants legs to reveal his Razorback socks. “Ehh?” He grinned as he dropped it. “You’re gonna be the perfect wife, Libby,” he whispered. “What other bride would let her groom finish watching a football game before the ceremony?” Then he winked and nudged her with his elbow. “We won! Twenty-three to twenty-one! Go Hogs!” he shouted, following up with a victory whoop—“Wooo Pig Sooooie!!!”—that his friends joined in from the pews.

Megan and Blair’s eyes flew open in shock.

Welcome to the real Mitch.

Her anxiety ratcheted up five notches.

Why couldn’t Megan and Blair read between the lines and realize she wasn’t in love with him? Libby had recognized all the signs with the both of them. Were they so eager for her to settle down that they’d give their approval to
anyone?

She decided to ignore the fact that
she’d
proposed to
him.
Her lame attempt to get the curse rolling.

Lost in her thoughts, she was shocked to hear the minister ask, “Mitch, would you like to read your vows?”

Oh, shit.
They were already to the
vows?

Mitch cleared his throat and reached into his jacket and pulled out a white paper. After carefully unfolding it, he held it up for everyone to see.

Oh, my God. It’s a play diagram.

Sure enough, the paper was covered with circles and x’s, big sweeping lines and arrows. “Libs, you and me are like when the Razorbacks played Kansas in the Cotton Bowl in 2012. The Razorbacks hadn’t beaten the Jayhawks since 1967. They used this quarterback sneak play.” He held it against his chest and pointed to it. “And do you know what happened?”

She stared at him in shock. What was
happening?

“They whooped some Jayhawk ass and became the Cotton Bowl champions!”

Then Mitch and his friends let out another
Woo Pig Sooie.

Had it been possible to die from embarrassment, she would have collapsed to the floor at that very moment.

“That’s us, baby. You and me. We’ll whoop ass and lead our team to victory. You, me, and all our little half-backs.” When she didn’t answer, he mistook her horror for confusion. “You know. Our kids,” he added with a wink.

His friends in the audience let loose another Hogs call.

The minister gaped for several seconds before closing his mouth and swallowing. “Uh . . . Libby, do you have vows?”

Oh, my God. This was way past cold feet. This bordered on insanity.

“No.”

Mitch lowered his paper, confusion in his eyes.

“No?” The minister’s eyebrows shot up. “Would you prefer to recite the traditional vows after me?”

She glanced back at Megan and Blair, who stood frozen in shock, then turned to face the minister. “No.”

Mitch blinked. “What’s wrong with my little running back? Did you forget your vows?”

Running back . . . run . . .
If she didn’t get out of here, she was going to jump out of her skin. “I’m sorry, Mitch. I can’t do this.” She grabbed her full skirt in one hand and took off down the aisle for the exit.

“Libs?” Mitch called out. “Are you goin’ out for a pass?”

She glanced over her shoulder, ignoring the horrified stares of the guests. “I’m passing all right.” She ran out the doors, Megan and Blair fast on her heels as she fought her rising hysteria.

Oh, God. The curse had failed her, and she’d just run out of her own wedding.

“Libby,” Megan called after her, but she raced toward the parking lot without slowing.

Guests had begun streaming out the double doors, Mitch in the lead.

“Libby? Where’re you goin’?” he called after her.

What was she going to do? She had no purse. No car keys. In fact, her mother had driven her to the church. She had nowhere to hide. Humiliated beyond belief, she was like a rat trapped in a maze, only there was no piece of cheese waiting for her. No perfect soul mate waiting in the wings. Only more humiliation.

A car pulled into the parking lot, and before she could stop to consider what she was doing, she bolted for it. The car slowed down, the driver probably stunned by the spectacle. She saw an opportunity and took it. Opening the passenger door, she glanced down at the bouquet in her hand. Without thinking, she tossed it toward the wedding guests congregating on the lawn.

Megan’s grandmother’s eyes lit up. “That bouquet’s mine, bitches!” She leapt for it just as one of Libby’s college friends grabbed it too.

Gram tackled the younger woman to the ground and a wrestling match began.

Her eyes still on the melee, Libby slid into the car. “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars if you get me out of here
right now.”

Half the guests had spilled out onto the lawn now, and Mitch stood in the front, looking dazed and confused.

What had she done? She’d been so certain activating the curse would lead her to the man of her dreams that she’d ignored the little voice in her head whispering that she was callously using Mitch. But now the proof of her selfishness was literally staring her in the face.

“Only a hundred?” an amused voice answered. “My plane ticket cost more than that.”

Libby gasped in relief when she recognized the voice of the driver next to her. But then she remembered he’d stood her up.

Noah McMillan was a dead man.

Noah McMillan had known more than his share of women. He’d dated plenty in high school, but it wasn’t until college that he started plowing his way through too many women to count. And while his easy-come-easy-go lifestyle had continued after graduation, it wasn’t until his younger brother Josh joined the family business that he gave up all pretense of giving a shit.

Why should he bother when Josh gave a shit enough for the both of them?

He knew he was a disappointment to his brother and mother, but he couldn’t find it in himself to make an effort. The truth was, he’d stopped caring about much of anything after his father died a week before he graduated college.