The Stand-In (21 page)

Patrick grinned. He so loved this woman.

* * * *

They lay, tangled on the couch, and Patrick combed his fingers through her hair. “Hey,” he said, nuzzling her head. “You never told me the deal with the next wedding. More pirates? No. Let me guess. Zombies. A zombie wedding.”

“I certainly hope not.” She laughed. “Actually, I didn’t really look at the details. I suppose I should.”

He slapped her ass. “Where is it? Let’s have a laugh.”

Smiling, she got up from the couch and walked over to where she’d stashed her purse by the door. Patrick took the opportunity to ogle her naked wiggle and whistled when she put a little swing into it for him.

“Busby, you have a luscious ass.”

With a coquettish wink, she bent over at the waist and stuck her luscious ass up in the air as she searched for the wedding invitation. When she retrieved the envelope, she waved it at him.

He let out a growl. “Get over here, woman.”

She walked back, holding the invitation over her breasts, as if trying to preserve her modesty. It hardly mattered when her beautiful pussy was on display for him, still wet with her juices.
Fuck
. He had half a mind to spread those gorgeous legs again and eat her until she cried for mercy.

He sat up on the couch and made room for her between his legs, patting the couch in front of him. She sat with her back to him, nestling her bottom against his crotch.
Jesus
. As she opened the envelope and read the invitation, he fondled her breast with one hand and slid his other hand between her legs. His fingers met with her slick seam and penetrated easily. Still so wet, still hungry for him. Fucking awesome.

She sucked in a breath and read out loud. “‘Together with their parents, Michael Robinson and Stacy Blair’…oh, my God…”

“I know, baby. You feel so good.”

“No. Wait.”

He circled her clit, so desperate to see her come again. “I can’t wait.”

She wiggled in her seat and pulled away. “Patrick, stop!”

Her cry yanked him out of his lusty haze. “What’s wrong?”

She dropped the invitation, as if the paper was on fire. She then bent over to retrieve it and scanned the script. As she stared at the pretty paper, her gaze taking in each whorl of silver script, her face paled. She must have reread it a couple of times because he saw her gaze flit from the bottom to the top of the invitation, as if not believing what was written.

He pulled her onto his lap and took the paper from her, reading it. “I don’t understand. Why are you upset?”

“Because this man…Michael Robinson…is Shithead Mike. And Margie just contracted me to act as his bride’s maid of honor.”

“No, Winn. It can’t be. Surely there’s more than one Mike Robinson in Toronto.”

“But his girlfriend, his fiancée, is Stacy Blair. That was her name, Patrick. Because of this woman, he left me at the altar. And now I have to stand up for them at their wedding…in front of people I used to know.” She gulped at air. “Oh, God. Can’t breathe…”

Even as he passed a comforting hand over her back, even as he sought to help her, he could tell her throat was closing. Her face turned red and white and red again, and he could almost envision the walls of her trachea as they thickened and swelled. She opened and closed her mouth, in an attempt to retain air in her lungs.

Shit! She hadn’t had a panic attack in some time. He wouldn’t let her endure one over fucking Shithead Mike.

Keeping his voice as calm as possible, Patrick held her gaze. “Breathe with me, Winn, sweetheart. In. Out. In. Out.”

Tears formed in her eyes but her chest still did not rise.

“Dammit, Winn! Do
not
let this bastard defeat you. Do you hear me? Now, breathe, or I’ll turn you over my knee and paddle your cute ass.”

The hollow at the base of her throat went concave, as if she were trying to suck in air. She opened her mouth, like a dying fish, and then let out a huge breath that
whooshed
out of her. All at once, she clutched at air, her chest rising and falling, and made loud sighing noises.

His heart pounding, Patrick touched her cheek and mimicked her breaths, in an attempt to steady hers. Still far too erratic for his liking, he watched her for a minute or so to ensure she didn’t suffer another attack. He then bundled her in the spare blanket he kept on the couch and carried her to his bedroom. He lay her down and joined her on the bed, holding her close.

When he was certain her breathing pattern had returned to normal, he said, “You are
not
doing this wedding, Winn. Not in a million years.”

“Margie confirmed it while I was there,” she whispered. “She told the bride…Stacy…that I’d be there.”

“I don’t fucking care if Margie told her you have seventeen toes. You are not going to this wedding.” He dragged her closer to his body, all too conscious of how she shook.

And all too aware of how his muscles trembled with fury.

* * * *

“What do you mean I can’t get out of this wedding?” Winn demanded.

Margie drummed her perfectly manicured fingers on her desk. She blinked once and smiled. “I think I was clear when I answered you the first time, Winn. You’re booked now.”

“Didn’t you hear a word I said? That man left me at the altar. For her. I can’t be her bridesmaid, not even her fake bridesmaid.”

Margie’s smile barely faltered, the edges barely registering a downward twitch. “I would have appreciated knowing this information before I hired you. You gave me no indication you had trouble with the functions of the job, and now I discover you’ve been having panic attacks?”

“I know. I’m sorry, but I needed the job and the panic attacks didn’t start right away.”

“But they’ve continued. Winn, this is not the image I want my girls to present.”

“Then let me out of this wedding. One of the other stand-ins should be able to do it. I’ve helped them all out before.”

“They’re all booked. With Ava taking off for Aruba, I’ve had to redistribute some of my resources and all the stand-ins have commitments this weekend.” She gritted her teeth. “I need you to do this wedding. I won’t lose my fee.”

“Margie, I’ll know people there. Do you have any idea how mortified I’ll be?”

“With all due respect, Winn, I can’t afford to worry about that. You’ll have to pull yourself together.”

Winn sat back in her chair, gawking at her boss. “Then I quit. I’ll walk out the door right now.”

Cool gaze pinned on Winn, Margie reached into her desk drawer and whipped out a stapled set of papers. She placed it on the desk. “Your contract. I’d like to draw your attention to the fifth clause on the second page. It says, quite clearly, that because of the timely nature of this work, you are to give me one month’s notice. The Robinson wedding is four days away.” She put the contract back in her drawer. “You can walk out the door, Winn, but be prepared for a call from my lawyer.”

“You’d sue me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

She pushed away from the desk and stood. “Fine. But you know what, Margie? I think I now understand why you had to hire a bridesmaid.”

The only movement in her employer’s face was a slight flaring of her nostrils. For a moment, Winn thought she might offer a retort, but decided she didn’t want to hear it. She turned and exited the office.

* * * *

“Winn, just walk away from the job.”

“She threatened to sue me, Patrick.”

“She’s bluffing.”

“And I’m not prepared to call her bluff.” She curled up on her couch, on the corner bearing Amber’s mascara marks, and tucked her legs under her backside. “No. I gave my word. I’ve signed a contract. I have to do Mike’s wedding.”

If he’d been wearing one of those blood-pressure cuffs, it would have popped right off his arm. “Your last panic attack was the worst I’ve seen. Winn, your lips almost turned blue. You don’t have to do this.”

“I can’t afford a lawsuit.”

“Well,” he replied, grasping at straws. “I’ll retain my dad’s lawyer and I can help you with any legal fees.”

“Thank you, but I’m not taking your money.”

“It’s worth every penny if I can stop the panic attacks. Let me help you.”

“No. I’ve been thinking about this. A lot. One of the reasons I took the stand-in job was for closure, the closure I never got with Mike. It seemed to make sense in theory but didn’t work so well in practice. Enid was right. I should have confronted him ages ago, should have told him exactly how much he hurt and embarrassed me.”

Even hearing her say the words hurt him. He could swear his ticker seized each time he imagined her in a room with Shithead Mike. “Fine. Tell the bastard exactly what you think of him, but not like this. Not on his turf. Not at his wedding. You shouldn’t have to be a witness to it.”

“I admit, it’ll be a challenge.” She held her head high. “But I’m a good actress, Patrick. I know I can do this and that I can come up with a satisfactory story for me being there.” The quiet giggle that escaped her made his heart thump again. “And in a perverse way, karma is getting him back. He may have left me for Stacy, but they’ll have to look at my smiling face in their wedding photos for the rest of their lives.”

He had to admit the idea did make him want to chuckle like an evil clown. “I’ll give you that much but it’s a small consolation.”

“Maybe.” One side of her mouth twisted upward in a sly grin. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “And you know what might make it even better? If I bring a stud muffin escort, one who’ll dance the night away with me and maybe even grab my ass in public.”

“Over my dead body.”

“You, Patrick. I was talking about you.”

“Oh, right.” He frowned, still not happy about the idea. “Well, it’s a good thing because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let you attend this wedding without me. I wanna
see
Shithead Mike and I definitely wanna talk to him.”

“Wow, I had no idea you could be so possessive.” Her flirty gaze danced toward his chest and back up again. “I kinda like it.”

Patrick clenched his jaw and looked away. She was taking this all too well, eerily well. For a woman who hyperventilated at the sight of a wedding register, it made no sense she’d be so content to work her former fiancé’s wedding. She’d been jilted, at the goddamn altar, for Christ’s sake! God only knew he wanted a piece of Mike and so should she. She should want to tear him limb from limb. Instead, Winn was planning her smile for the wedding album.

If she indeed attended this wedding, he fully expected her to fall to pieces.

And he’d be there to pick up every last one and paste her back together.

Chapter 12

“It’s not so bad in here. We’re totally outnumbered by the womenfolk.”

“Is that so? Maybe I should get my name on the list now.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Grandpa Ernie cast an appraising glance up and down Patrick’s form. “A young buck like you would kill in here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

Winn giggled as her grandfather tried to convince Patrick to move into the Sandy Lane assisted-living facility. “Maybe it’s a bit premature, Gramps.” She grinned at Patrick. “Besides, Mrs. Dooley would eat Patrick alive.”

“Really?” teased Patrick. “I’d like to meet this Mrs. Dooley. She sounds…promising.”

She shook her head, stifling laughter, as Gramps listed the attributes of both Mrs. Dooley and Mrs. Fletcher. Patrick sat and listened, his eyes wide with amusement and the faintest bit of horror.

With Mike’s impending wedding, she’d expressed a desire to visit her grandfather, knowing he’d give her a good laugh. To her surprise and delight, Patrick had asked to join her. It still caught her off guard when he expressed an interest in her family because Mike had never done so. It felt good. Especially when she considered the state of her crazy family. Her parents, newly reunited and constantly groping each other like a couple of curious teenagers, made her want to rush to the nearest washroom and bring up her lunch. She knew that was a conversation for another day, and Patrick assured her he’d be there to support her no matter what was said.

As she sat with her men in the home’s rec room, feeling relaxed despite the tension caused by the upcoming wedding, she smiled at Patrick. He’d been so worried about her working at Mike’s wedding, had shown such care and possessive tenderness. Seeing his reaction had almost obliterated her fear.

Almost.

She knew most people would think her an idiot for agreeing to be Stacy’s bridesmaid. Not that Margie had given her a choice. However, as she and Patrick had snuggled under the covers last night, she couldn’t help doing some self-analysis.

It was time to let go of Mike.

Sure, she hadn’t spoken to him in a year, but in her own sick way, she’d retained him in the darkest part of her heart. She’d allowed her anger and pain to fester. In permitting him to keep a small hold on her, it had prevented her from giving her heart to any others. It was time to free herself of his grip, in every way. That meant she had to release her anger, move past her embarrassment, and move on. Heck, she shouldn’t even call him Shithead Mike anymore. Every time she did, she gave into her negative feelings and granted him a bit more power over her.

He was just Mike, a man who had no clue, and he couldn’t have any more influence on her future.

She’d clutched at her fury so long, just as she struggled for air during her panic attacks. It was time to forgive and breathe easily.

Winn knew she wouldn’t have come to these realizations without Patrick. Okay, he might not feel the same way about Mike. In fact, she was pretty sure he wanted to pop her ex in the teeth. However, Patrick had shown her she had worth, a truth she’d long-since forgotten, ever since before Mike destroyed their wedding day.

Now, as Patrick arm wrestled with her grandfather, letting the old man win, Winn knew her heart better than ever.

She loved him, and she’d tell him later today. Excitement for the moment made her heart skip in her chest, like a child scampering to her favorite playground.

The door to the rec room opened. Enid stormed in, a rolled-up magazine in her hand. She looked at Winn and her crimson-stained lips compressed. Her gaze then flew to Patrick, where it narrowed in clear accusation. Her sister’s fist tightened around the magazine, as if she wanted to punch someone.