Bad Boy's Bridesmaid: A Secret Baby Romance (6 page)

I shook my head.
“I have to go. We’re supposed to go shoe shopping, and Lindsey wants me to wear
her heels to stretch them out before the wedding—”

“At some point,
you might have to tell your family
no
.”

I had a whole
lot more to tell them, and right now
yes
was the easiest and caused the
least trouble. I shrugged.

“Thanks for
letting us use your pub.”

“You can repay
me. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”

He was
relentless. I smiled. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“The invitation’s
on the table.”

“And here I
thought it was in the bed.”

“There’s a variety
of invitations, and you’re welcomed to take any or all of them.”

“Good to know.”

He arched an
eyebrow. “Wear something sexy.”

“Garters and
high heels.” I laughed. “With little tassels for my nipples.”

“It would make a
statement.” He winked. “But your tits are perfect without decorations.”

“Thanks, I
think.” I turned to the door but couldn’t help myself. “And thanks for what you
said earlier.”

“About what?”

I swallowed.
“That we’re…friends. I could use a friend right now.”

“You could use
more than that.”

Probably, but
for now, I needed to know I had someone in my corner, even if he didn’t know
why we hid there.

My life was
about to change, dramatically, overwhelmingly, and so was his. I’d protect both
of us for a little while longer. Once the wedding was done and I neared my
second trimester, I’d reveal the truth.

Until then? I
had to guard myself from his advances.

I was already in
over my head. I didn’t want to be over my heels too.

Why was I doing
this?

I parked outside
Mandy’s house and waited for my semi-hard mistake to pump some blood back into
my brain.

Christ, I was
like a teenager again. Whenever I thought of Mandy, every synapse in my head
fired directly for my crotch.

And for
what
?
Mandy didn’t understand that she was the only woman who ever made me want
more
.
My cock had a mind of its own, and somehow it convinced the rest of me that it
was a good idea to pursue her.

Mandy flipped
between hot and cold, but even at her craziest, she never turned frigid. She
refused to admit it, but every word she had spoken to me was layered with
desire. She might have thought our night together was
wrong
or
just
this once
, but I knew the instant I took her, everything had changed.

That revelation should
have scared the piss out of me, but it only got me harder. Convenience and
persistence brought us together that first time, but I’d take her again.

It didn’t make
sense to walk away from something so…amazing.

Shadows walked
the path to Mandy’s house. I recognized his limp.

I hoped Dad didn’t
visit the Prescotts because he saw me parked in the driveway. He stopped before
the steps to their front porch and waited for me.

I swore. He
didn’t flinch when I slammed my car door shut.

“Nathan.”

My father
clutched his favorite bible. The dark leather wore down under his fingers,
leaving lighter, tan streaks against the book. That didn’t make him a martyr,
and the black clothes didn’t make him any holier.

“I didn’t expect
to see you here,” Dad said.

“You either,
Pastor
.”

“The Prescotts
invited me to their home to help…mediate.”

Mediate?

I glanced over
my shoulder. The SUV. Right.  I was so used to seeing Conrad’s vehicle in the
driveway that I forgot it no longer belonged.

“A shame about
their separation,” my father said. “But perhaps with my intervention, they
might see their daughter’s joy with her upcoming marriage and remember their
own happiness.”

“Or maybe you
shouldn’t get involved?”

His hair had
greyed, but he didn’t act like it. He shoved his barrel chest into everyone’s
business. “I go where I’m needed. These people are in pain.”

He was so full
of shit I didn’t want to stand downwind of him. The Prescotts didn’t need a minister;
they should have called an exorcist. They fought viciously and loudly, and when
I was growing up I usually heard them from my house down the street. No one
could repair what they’d fucked up, least of all my father.

Or my mother.

She hurried across
the sidewalk, dressed in a new suit and skirt. Pressed to perfection, as
always. Her hair piled high on her head, and she clutched some brand name purse
I didn’t recognize. Doubted Dad did either, but as long as the price tag
matched the image he wanted to project, it wouldn’t matter. Our family wouldn’t
squeeze through the eye of a needle, but at least we’d look respectable.

She nearly
stumbled in her heels as she hurried to my father.

“Your ankle
still bad?” I asked.

Mom’s eyes
widened as she saw me, but she smiled and kissed my cheek.

“You shouldn’t
be in heels,” I said.

“Oh, it’s
healing. Just a little tight sometimes.” Mom didn’t look at Dad. “I was in too
much of a hurry leaving the house.”

“I told you to
be ready for eight,” Dad said.

Mom apologized,
her natural state. “I couldn’t find my necklace, and I wanted to make sure I
looked perfect.”

“No one is
perfect,” Dad said. “Only the good Lord.”

And him. He
wouldn’t say it, but Dad thought he was as good as Jesus H. Christ, and damn
anyone who said otherwise, including Mom.

It wouldn’t have
killed him to give her a nice compliment once in a while.

“What are you
doing here, son?” Dad’s stare was about as welcoming as a punch to my cheek. “I
doubt you’re offering the Prescotts counsel.”

“I’m not
convinced you are either.”

“Nathan.” Mom’s
warning came with a smile. “You know your father cares very deeply for his
parishioners.”

He cared more
about being the man others confided in during times of crisis.

Dad raised his
chin. “There’s still time, son. The good Lord calls…but he doesn’t hang up.”

“You couldn’t
get me within ten miles of a seminary school.”

“No matter how
much you needed it.”

They wouldn’t
have taken me anyway. Minsters weren’t supposed to sleep around as much as I
did, and it wasn’t acceptable for them to drink as much as I liked. And I
refused to end up like a carbon copy of my family. My parents worked to create
the
ideal
marriage, meaning I was supposed to go to seminary, find a
parish, marry some virgin, then start knocking her up like a brood mare to
create a family of suburbanite perfection.

No thanks.

Dad didn’t hide
his disappointment. “I know why he’s here. Nathan is after the Prescott girl.”

Jesus, she had a
name. He didn’t always have to sound so damned sanctimonious, especially when
we were neighbors with the
Prescott girl
.

“I’m a groomsman
in the wedding,” I said. “I got things to go over with the Maid of Honor.”

“You leave that
girl alone.”

“I’m not doing
anything to
that girl
.” At least, not yet.

“Amanda Prescott
deserves a nice man.”

“Who says I’m
not nice?” I shrugged. “And who says I’m even after Mandy?”

“Oh good.” Mom
patted a flat hand over her heart. “I was worried.”

I frowned. “About…?”

“Well, the
Prescotts are…and you’re…”

Were they
serious? Somehow time warped me into a conversation better suited for 1962. 

“That’s great,”
I said. “Who would Jesus date, right?”

My mom
protested, but I ignored her, taking the steps to the house two at a time. I
hated that it looked like we planned to come together. I’d been out of the family
and away from my dad’s expectations since I was eighteen. Five minutes in his
presence and I was outraged again.

I knocked. Mom
licked her thumb and tried to rub an invisible smudge of dirt off my cheek.

Fantastic.

Mandy opened the
door, her mouth dropping open as she looked from me to my parents. I gave a
little shrug. It confused me too. She didn’t care.

“Pastor
Kensington, Kathy, thank you so much for coming.” Mandy nearly leapt into my
father’s arms. He offered a hand to shake, but she used it to haul him inside.
“I hoped we wouldn’t need you to intervene, but…”

“I understand,”
Dad said. “Some families require a little spiritual intervention to focus on
what’s important. I’m here to give advice and guidance during this time.”

Mandy nodded. “Yeah,
you aren’t wearing a flak jacket by any chance, are you?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Can
I get you some coffee?”

My parents
always did love Mandy, though apparently, not as much as I thought. They smiled
as she led them inside, practically ripping their arms out of their coats to
play hostess.

I followed her
to the kitchen. I wasn’t about to witness my father witnessing to the
Prescotts. Not sure why he insisted we pretend to be so perfect when every
other family greeted him with puckered asses and false sincerity. My dad’s
ideal world was some
Leave it to Beaver
bullshit…until the oldest child
disrespected the father’s wishes, got the hell out of the house, and became a
stain on their good name.

The American
way.

Mandy leaned
over the sink. She sipped the running water with her hand only to spit it out.
Every muscle in her body tensed, and she took a breath deep enough to twist her
inside out.

“It can’t be going
that
bad,” I said.

She yelped and
spun to face me. I avoided the towel she pitched at my head.

“You should warn
someone before you sneak up on them.”

“You’re right.”
I grinned. “Bend over the sink again. I’ll make my presence known.”

“Very funny.
What are you doing here?”

So she was
playing it cold tonight. Good to know. But I wasn’t going to beg to get another
chance with her. Luckily, Mandy wasn’t cruel enough to get off on that.

“You wanted to
go out tonight,” I said.

“Oh my God, you
were serious?”

“You weren’t?”

“I never thought
you’d actually show up.”

Ah, a vote of
confidence. Great. “Well, here I am. You ready to go?”

“Are you
kidding?” Mandy pointed to the living room. “It’s Thunderdome in there. I can’t
leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because my
dad’s here, trying to figure out his half of the wedding costs while Mom is trying
to flip him upside down and collect the change that falls out of his pockets.”

“Sounds like
fun.”

“She’s telling him
to
mortgage his company
to pay for the string quartet. Lindsey’s cried
four
times. Bryce looks ready to walk. The Washingtons are terrified, and I’m trying
to sneak them out through the first floor bathroom window like this wedding’s
underground railroad.” Mandy groaned. “And somehow this is
my
fault
because I bought a turkey sandwich ring instead of the ham. If I could just get
a
simple dinner order right
, hell, maybe Mom would be renewing her vows
with Dad at this very moment.”

I wasn’t sure I
liked how her eye twitched. It was time to get her the hell out of here.

“I’m taking you
out,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Are you listening?
I
can’t
.”

“Yes, you can.
Let your sister and parents sort out
her
wedding. You don’t need to be
so involved.”

“Yes, I do. I
have to keep everyone happy.”

“Says who?”

Mandy didn’t
have an answer. “It’s…someone should play peace-keeper.”

“So send in the
UN. You don’t have to be in the middle of this.”

She distracted
herself by smacking the coffeepot, teasing the last few drops out. “I’m always
in the middle, Nate.”

“By choice.”

“And what would
you know about it?” She moved too quick and coffee grounds flew everywhere. “Not
all of us can leave home, open a brewery, and fall out of the family tree.”

I offered her
the towel and grinned when she grabbed it. I tugged it and her close. “You
should take a lesson from me. I’m getting out of Thanksgiving this year. If I
have it my way, I’ll only visit for Easter and Christmas.”

“Are you trying
to make me jealous?”

Mandy pulled
away and poured two mugs of coffee. She loaded the tray with creamer and sugar,
but swore. She turned to brew a pot of tea as well. I shifted out of her way as
she headed into the living room.

Mandy was a
gallon of crazy in a pint-sized container, but that was nothing compared to the
psych ward convening in the living room.

Lindsey cradled
a box of tissues and forced Bryce to fan her forehead. She rested on the couch,
feet up and head nestled against a bag of frozen peas. Sandra sniffled and held
my mom’s hand, crying into a handkerchief. Conrad frantically apologized to his
wife, his daughter, and baby Jesus.

The radio blared
gospel music, the TV blasted pre-recorded wedding-themed reality shows, and Bryce’s
iPad had been commandeered to slideshow different floral arrangements,
decorations, and color schemes.

If we caged a
lion and featured a trio of trapeze artists with spandex creeping up their
asses, the Prescotts could have charged admission for this circus and paid for the
honeymoon.

In the corner,
Bryce’s parents huddled on a loveseat. Darla clutched her coat, prepared to
bolt. Pretty sure Marcus was listening to a college football game through the
earbud he tried to conceal.

Mandy set the
tray on the table and offered my parents their coffee. She knelt at her mom’s
side, handing her the tea.

“Made your
favorite,” she said. “Can I get you another tissue?”

Sandra glanced
at her mug and the cups of coffee in my parents’ hands. She made a face. “You’re
supposed to serve what the guests are drinking.”

“But—”

“Mandy, I have
no idea where you learned your manners.” Sandra glared at Conrad. “But I have a
good idea.”

“Okay, enough,”
Conrad said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying I don’t want
centerpieces—”