Toss the Bouquet (23 page)

“April, pay attention,” Kristin whispered. “Why are you choosing my wedding to daydream?”

Their hatred . . . it also ran deep.

“I wasn't daydreaming,” April shot back. “What do you want?”

“It's time for the rings. If you're not too busy, could you hold my bouquet?”

April forgot her tears as her gaze turned hot. “Stop complaining and hand it over. Geez, you'd think this moment was all about you.” She grinned at her unintended words, and just like that her anger dissolved.

As did Kristin's. It didn't take long until both of them were giggling. Onstage. In front of everyone. At a wedding. A wedding that had cost a lot of money and time and effort to impress the socially upward. At the exact same moment, they remembered their mother and the heated glare she was likely sending from her spot on the front row. April tried to catch a glimpse of her, but as luck would have it, her eyes connected with Jack's and stayed there before she had the chance.

And then, of course, April forgot all about her mother. Because Jack was staring right at her, the sweetest look of concern lining his features. She could get used to that look. She could swim in it and hang out inside it for a while and probably never want to leave. And more than anything else at that very moment, it was what she wanted.

April blinked. Why, of all the men she could one day meet, was she thinking these things about Jack Vaughn? And why,
when she was standing at her sister's side, holding her bouquet, listening to their heartwarming handwritten vows that she had personally written and rewritten a half dozen times, did she suddenly wish she were a bride in her own wedding?

That was a problem. One so big, April barely recognized herself.

And as she listened to her sister exchange vows and rings and a kiss with the man who had just become part of their family, April didn't see an end to this problem.

Worse, as she chanced a look at Jack out of the corner of her eye, she no longer thought she wanted one.

The moment April stepped into the reception hall with the
rest of the wedding party, she knew. She halted her steps, sucked in a breath, listened to Kristin scream, and she knew. The entire room had Jack's fingerprints all over it, because who else had this kind of money? Her parents were well-off, but they had been given strict instructions by Kristin not to go overboard. Kristin wanted a normal Nashville wedding.

But this. This was anything but normal.

One look at Kristin's face, though . . . Clearly her sister was just fine with it.

The room had been transformed into something so grandiose, April had never seen anything like it. Reminiscent of five-page spreads in
InStyle
magazine, April almost expected celebrities to be sprinkled along the perimeter—holding crystal goblets filled with Dom Pérignon, decked out in tailored Armani tuxes, draped with sparkling twelve-carat diamonds.

In a word, this place was unbelievable.

Gone were the birdseed cups with the little yellow umbrellas they had worked to assemble just yesterday afternoon. Instead crystal champagne flutes were filled with creamy white rose petals and stacked in a pyramid pattern that began on the floor and stretched nearly to the ceiling. Gone were the small, neatly arranged bouquets draped with yellow ribbons and gingerly placed in the center of the tables. In their place, mounds of moss and ivy and every white flower imaginable hung in a mass along the ceiling, attached to light-strewn wooden trellises. Gone were the simple white linen tablecloths that had been rented at a nearby party store and positioned over plain wooden tables. Billowy silk fabric replaced the plain linen—mounded high and draped to the floor. Each table gleamed with oversized lighted candles and spotless silver place settings.

The only thing April recognized were the paper lanterns, but they had been moved to the four corners of the room, hanging in an asymmetrical pattern and back-lit in a way that made them appear to float on air. The room felt like a dream. April fully expected Cinderella to descend a magic staircase followed by fairies waving sparkling wands. But even as April took it all in, even as she scanned the room with her mouth hanging open because for some reason she couldn't seem to close it, even then everything combined wasn't the most shocking feature.

The photographer with the massive camera and the
People
magazine credentials hanging around his neck was the most shocking . . . and outlandish . . . feature.

People
magazine?

What in the name of everything holy was
People
magazine doing here? More importantly, who were they here to interview?

Kristin latched onto her arm, squeezing like April's bicep was a stress ball meant for kneading and twisting and reshaping into something more pliable. April fully expected fingerprint indentions to remain long after she let go, which wouldn't be anytime soon.

“Did you know about this?” she asked. If April thought for even the slightest second her sister would be upset about the change in décor, her breathy, high-pitched squeal put that fear to rest.

“I had no idea. Still have no idea what is happening . . .” She let the sentence hang as Jack walked up to her, a shy smile curling one corner of his mouth.

“I hope you like it,” he said, looking truly concerned that both women would be angry. Gloria Quinn chose that exact moment to enter the room. Her shocked gasp could be distinguished even over the hum of two hundred guests. April had never heard such an unflattering sound come out of her mother's mouth; the woman had forever preferred decorum and reservation over the reveal of honest emotion.

“What on earth has happened here?” But like both her daughters, the words were laced with dreamy incredulity rather than offense. “It's like an entirely different world than the one we left last night.” If April had been in the frame of mind to giggle, she would have chosen this moment to do so based on her mother's spellbound words. But she felt a little dazed herself. Dazed and completely baffled.

“I have no idea,” April answered, seeing that Kristin was still too out of it—spending her time craning her neck to see the flowers, the arbor, the lights that she seemed to be counting one by one—to speak. “But I think Jack may have had something to do with it.”

Three heads snapped in Jack's direction, all laced with varying degrees of uncertainty. Yet they each wanted the same thing: an answer.

“You did this?” Everyone heard the underlying tone of accusation in Gloria's question. It was slight, but it was there.

Reluctantly, Jack nodded, a kindergartner approaching his teacher's desk to explain a missing assignment. “I did. I heard you talking about what you would do if you had more time, so I took it upon myself to take care of it. I have connections and a few people who owe me favors, and . . . I hope you don't mind?”

April's breath caught as she stared at her sister. Did they mind? Because she didn't think they minded. She didn't even think they minded if he offered to put the whole family up for the week at an upscale resort in Fiji. In fact, maybe she should make that important fact known just in case—

“Of course we don't mind.” Kristin, clad in twenty pounds of silk and lace and tulle and pearls, flung herself into Jack's arms. He looked as surprised as April felt.

It was the first time she could remember anyone in her family displaying anything besides anger toward Jack Vaughn. It was a weird sensation. The death of a pact. The end of an unspoken mission to unite in their hostility where he was concerned. And as she watched her sister locked in a hug-fest
with the guy who used to be her bitterest rival, every negative emotion she'd ever held against him dissolved. Finally, after all these years, April was no longer angry.

What she felt for Jack didn't resemble anger at all.

“And then my coordinator quit last-minute and I had to
fill the role myself. Doing all this work was exhausting, especially with only four days to make it happen. If anyone deserves a vacation, it's me.”

And this was the sort of crap April had been listening to for the last two minutes as her sister answered questions for her upcoming mention in
People
magazine. The article would highlight Jack's return home before his upcoming tour began—the magazine had asked for a feature on him for months, which he had consistently turned down until now—but of course Kristin's wedding had been part of the deal. It was a favor. A way to make peace. An olive branch extended by a guy trying to make good on a past gone wrong. Kristin had grabbed on to that branch and shredded a few leaves in the process. Her excitement was an electrical current charging through everyone in the room.

Except April.
Doing all the work was exhausting?

“Um, I seem to remember you having a little help,” she said, unable to take it anymore.

In response, Kristin waved her off. “This is my sister, April. She stepped in a couple of times when I needed some extra help. But for the most part, I was on my own. And let me tell you, when that happens right before a wedding as high profile as mine, the stress level is sky high . . .”

April turned away before the desire to punch her sister took over. This wasn't the time or place. Next week—right after Kristin returned from her honeymoon—that was the perfect time and place. April made a mental note to mark it on her calendar.

“Interview is going well, I hear.” Jack walked toward her, on a short break from singing. The band was providing background music for the moment; his time off wouldn't last much longer. “I could hear her talking from the stage. Sounds like you should have stepped in to help more, slacker.”

The gleam in his eye kept her from scheduling a personal beat down for him too. Punching two people in one day sounded just so exhausting, anyway.

“Yeah, poor Kristin. Having to do all the work in between massages and pedicure appointments must have been a killer. I'm not sure how she managed to handle it all.”

When his face broke into a grin, she felt her irritation give way to something else. Something that was growing increasingly hard to ignore. She swallowed and gave it the old college try. Even though she knew it wouldn't work. Because she hated college in the two years she'd attempted to go. Found it a complete waste of time.

Besides, musicians didn't need college anyway.

“That's Kristin, at least the one I remember. A hardworking control freak.”

“You got that last part right.” She stared at him a long moment. “You sound good up there. Yet I'm still waiting to hear ‘Open Arms.' It's the one I'm really looking forward to.”

“I'm sure you are. Nothing more fun than seeing a musician make a fool of himself onstage,” he said. “Although it won't be the worst thing I've ever done.”

April laughed. “I want to hear that story sometime.” She caught herself, aware the words sounded like an invitation. An offer to make herself available for a future . . . date? She swallowed, trying to measure her level of excitement. Was she excited? Would she welcome another chance to see him again after tonight?

If the way her pulse raced was any indication, she would. She definitely would.

She blinked up at Jack just as a slow grin began to tilt his mouth. “I'm still here tomorrow night if you want me to tell it to you.”

She bit her lip on a smile. “Sure. Can't think of anything I need to do, plus I'm off work.”

He nodded. “Great. I'll buy you some fries and we'll hang out.”

That earned him a scowl. “Coffee, ice cream, and fries? You spend less money on dates than my fourteen-year-old boyfriend in eighth grade.”

He frowned. “You were allowed to date in eighth grade?”

“That's not the point.”

He shrugged. “Fine. I'll take you to Husk.” When he couldn't quite hide a smile, she knew she'd been played. Husk was of the nicest restaurants in Nashville. At least this was what she'd heard. Not many lounge singers with an income like hers could afford to go there, especially considering she refused to borrow money from her parents.