Bad Bride Good Cowboys (4 page)

“Sweetheart, he sounds so broken hearted.”

Okay, so the honesty was lost on her mother. She’d listened to the lies because her fiancé had given Felicia an overpriced and way too big for her –diamond rock as a token of his commitment. Yeah, Paul was the epitome love and devotion all right…err…not!

“
Felicia, are you there?”

She glanced
at the wedding photos of her mom and dad and her grandparents, the same grandparents she’d come to live with after her dad died. Life sucked. She cast a sideways glance at Mickey and Brady who were carrying on a silent conversation amongst themselves via random expressions. “I’m here mom, but I’m in an area where cell phone coverage is weak.”

Lies
, but she’d officially stopped caring.

“Sweetheart, about Paul—”

Her patience broke. She was over Paul and all his BS. “He can screw himself. The wedding is off and I’m losing connection. I’ll call soon.” She hit the end call button and sighed with semi-relief.

She faced the two men
. Now both had their hands on their hips and were staring at her in what she guessed was disbelief.

“Your mother means well,” Brady reminded with a sigh.

“No, my mother is meddling and is living her life vicariously through me.” Frustration consumed her. “You were both there for the fiasco at the bridal shop.”

Mickey took a step forward. “We also noticed the lipstick on his collar.”

Felicia furrowed her brows. “It could have been mine.”

Brady groaned and scrubbed his jaw with his hand. “Since when do you wear pink lipstick?”

He had meant the question most likely rhetorically, but the ramifications were big enough that whatever thin stick of patience Felicia had left—snapped. Both men knew her better than the man she was supposed to be marrying—someone who she wouldn’t even be planning a fatal trip down the aisle with if one of them had stepped up to the plate with her instead of each other. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw her phone at them or burst into tears from the irony of the situation.

Felicia pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and fought to find some sanity in the storm of emotions raging out of control within. The solemn expressions on the men’
s faces put her already shattered nerves on edge. “The three of us know I don’t wear pink lipstick or pink anything else.” She nodded and willed herself not to cry. “Thanks for proving my point though, because my stupid soon to be ex-fiancé didn’t know that detail.”

The guys exchanged a confused expression a
s she turned toward her closet and pulled open the door. She had brought a few sexy selections and started the debate. She reached in and hauled out a short, red, off the shoulder number and a black barely there style dress with an open back. Again, she faced the guys and held up both fashion choices. “Which one?”

She
might as well have pulled a corpse out because the blatant horror and surprise on their wide-eyed handsome faces wasn’t hard to miss.

Brady recovered first and crossed the floor to her in a single stride. “Definitely not the red and where the hell is the rest of this top?” He demanded with a wave of his hand toward the black shiny fabric hanging on the hanger.

“Are you planning on wearing jeans with those?”

Felicia ignored Brady for the moment and
turned her attention to Mickey. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course not! I’ll wear high heels—they’re dresses.”

“Then neither!” Brady barked. “Both will barely cover your as
s and the black, God knows it won’t cover anything.”

“Quick reminder
, I’m not eleven—I’m all grown up now.”

“I’m all too aware of that.” He snapped with a hint of temper, which caught her off guard.

She met his gaze and her lips thinned. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

He never responded
; they just stared each other down a long moment. Finally Felicia surrendered. “Typical of you.You and Mickey both.” Sadness hit her full force and she shoved past Brady bumping his shoulder as she walked toward the bathroom. “Do me a favor boys, don’t wait up.”

Chapter Three

Mickey paced the living room floor and
, for what he was sure was the hundredth time in less than an hour, glanced at the clock. Where the hell was Felicia? It was quarter after two in the morning. She should’ve been home long before now.

She’s followed through on her words and is in some man’s bed.
A nagging voice taunted him.

When she
’d walked out of the house earlier in the little black dress, he’d hoped to God she’d taped the sides, since she couldn’t wear a bra with the amount of skin the poor excuse for fabric revealed and, with the wrong move…the amount of spillage could be catastrophic. She’d been dressed for sex and he hated the fact.

He shook off the thoughts and the memory of how incredibly stunning she’d looked and how much she’d turned him on. Mickey lifted his hands to his face and tired rubbing the images out of his mind and the jealousy poking at his heart.

Jealousy? No he couldn’t be. Things with Brady were good—most of the time great. He didn’t have complaints, yet…

Mickey lowered his hands and again shot a scowling glance
at the clock on the wall. So maybe he was jealous a bit. Felicia was attractive, smart and funny. She deserved more than Paul.

“Are you going to wear a path in the floor doing the caged animal routine, or are you going to resign
yourself to the fact that she’s a grown woman, and probably making bad choices as we speak?”

He shifted his attention to Brady
who wore nothing but his boxer briefs and leaned against the wall where the hall and the living room connected. “She’s not home yet.”

Brady nodded and stepped deeper into the room. Though the expression on his face was unreadable, the walk and stance of his defined legs and his strong shoulder muscles indicated he was just as worried. “I know.” The simple reply fell between them in a weighted sigh.

“Collin made us promise—”

Brady flinched. “I know what we promised. Make sure this wedding goes flawlessly and she gets whatever she wants.” He glanced away then met Mickey’s gaze. “What if
her wants aren’t a wedding or Paul?” Indescribable emotion filled his blue eyes and even under the dim light cast by the table lamp, it wasn’t hard to miss. Something more than he was saying was bothering Brady.

“Well
, her not being home by now indicates she probably won’t be.” The words sounded bitter. By rights they should, bitterness had taken over.

“I know what she said before she walked out the door, but I don’t think she’ll fall into bed with a one night stand.” The undercurrent in his voice revealed he believed the words.” He heaved another weighted sigh. “It’s not her style.”

Really? Mickey didn’t want the other man upset but he wasn’t so sure if he carried the same confidence as his friend. “She’s always been a good girl.”

“And I’m guessing she is about tired
of that routine.” He shook his head and paced the floor, taking over where Mickey had left off. “I’m telling you, she has that glint in her eye, the same one she had the summer she came back from her first year at college.”

Mickey wasn’t blind—just in denial. However, he knew the summer Brady was referring
to. He wouldn’t ever forget it. The memories had burned themselves into his mind and most definitely his heart. “What are you saying?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and flexed his jaw before shaking his head. “I saw it in her eyes at the bridal shop and then later at the table at lunch. She doesn’t want Paul. She doesn’t want the wedding and I think—no
, I know Clarissa wants this wedding more than Felicia does.”

Brady’s words filtered into his brain and he digested the statements. “Then what the hell does Felicia want?”

The conversation Brady had overheard earlier echoed in his mind. No. There was no way. Felicia surely was just being smart mouthed. Or was she?

“I don’t know what she wants, but I’m wondering if—”

Mickey’s cell phone rang and he glanced at the heavy wood coffee table. Felicia’s picture reflected up from the screen and he swiped the device and hit the answer button. “Felicia?”

Brady cast him a worried look
. By the set and flex of his jaw, he knew the other man was equally as concerned.

“Mickey, omigod, I am so glad you’re awake.” Her words were a bit slurred but her tone revealed relief. “I was freaking out.”

His heart started to race. “Are you okay?”

“Welllllll…kinda.”

His heart slammed to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

Her familiar giggle tickled his ear and heat
raced over his skin. “The car got way drunk.”

What the…? “Hang on I’m putting you on speaker, I’m with Brady.” He exchanged a glance with Brady who wore a puzzled expression then hit the button. “Doll, go ahead.”

“Hi Brady!” She squealed into the phone. “I’m sorry to call and bug you guys but the car got drunk—too many Jell-O shots—the raspberry ones were really good. I liked the watermelon ones best though.”

“
Doll, where are you?” Even with the dim lighting the amusement dancing in Brady’s sky blue eyes was apparent.

“At the bar. The cute bartender, who is cute
, but not nearly as hot as either of you, told me I should call for a ride.”

“Oh god she’s
more than a little drunk,” Brady whispered then grinned. 

Being at the bar still meant she wasn’t with some guy. A drunk Felicia—that wasn’t as much of a relief—but what had got
ten him in trouble the first time. “Okay, doll stay put, Brady and I will come and get you and the car.”

“Thank youuuuu
soooooooo muuuuuch.” She sighed with relief then giggled. “Oh, oh oh….”

Brady covered his mouth
with his hand to suppress the laugh and Mickey sunk his teeth into his tongue hoping to God she hadn’t lost the keys or anything else. “Yes? Is there something else?”

“Yeah
, could one of you hotties bring me a coat? I’m a bit chilly.”

Hotties? What the hell? Who was this woman and what had she done with Felicia? His rollercoaster emotions crashed to a halt. “Well
, you wouldn’t be chilly if your outfit covered your body.”

“Amen,” Brady breathed and again met Mickey’s gaze.

“Mickey, I hate when your right, but I looked soooooogood.”

More like sex in stilettos.

“Fabulous” he replied and wondered what the hell he and Brady were getting into. “Keep your barely covered ass parked, we’ll be there in ten minutes or so.”

“Ok-dok
ey and thank you…you guys are the bestest.”

The call ended and Mickey exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “
You might want to get dressed.”

Brady blinked at him with
an unreadable expression. “She’s not the same girl.”

He’d already figured that one out by himself. “We’ve dealt with her drunk before—true
, but not in the last four or five years.”

The other man shook his head.
“Three and a half years ago in Mazatlán, remember she’d just broken up with the computer geek.”

“Right.” Mickey remembered that too
, it had been a fun trip, despite the sudden bursts of torrential rain. “Let’s go get her and get her ass to bed.”

He inwardly groaned.
And as tempting as it is, not ours.

Felicia’s night had not gone as planned. She knew she should not have let all those really cute guys buy her drinks, because somewhere during the night, the plan to get laid switched to thoughts of Brady and Mickey. The two men were most definitely to blame for the current mess she was in—and not the little bit drunk one, but the whole engagement to the completely wrong man thing.

Brady pulled her car into the dirt drive in front of the house. The lights from Mickey’s pick up stopped illuminating the interior of the vehicle as he brought the truck up next to where Brady had parked.

“Are you going to be okay getting into the house?”

She turned to the sexy man
sitting in the driver’s seat and blew a wayward ringlet away from her eye. “Yep. Just ducky.”

An amused smile curled across h
is firm mouth and she wondered if it would be a bad move just to lean in and kiss him. So when she ended up old and bitter like her mother she could say,
“yeah, but I kissed Brady and damn it was good!”
The kiss would be good. How could someone like him, built for sex with defined chest and ab muscles and strong legs, kiss badly?

True he was technically taken, but Mickey was her friend too and well
, friends shared. It’s not like she was borrowing a designer blouse to wear for pizza. Not that Mickey owned a blouse, at least she hoped not. He’d look terrible in drag. Besides sneaking one little kiss wasn’t like she was home wrecking, she was just scratching something off her bucket list. Not that she planned on dying anytime soon—well maybe if she didn’t take the strappy high heels off.

Brady’s brows furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”

“No my feet hurt. Cute shoes do not mean comfort.”

His grin broadened. “Don’t move
; I’ll help you out.”

She blinked at him. “But I have to move to get the shoes off.” Shifting in her seat she tried to reach her shoes but was trapped.

A warm chuckle filled the interior of the car. “Might go a bit easier there, doll, if you undid your seatbelt.” As if on cue the familiar click filled the air and freedom was hers. Right away she leaned forward and noticed her balance was a bit off. Oh no, the little Jell-O thingies were catching up with her. Not good. Felicia glanced over the dashboard toward the front steps like a dog eyeballing something yummy on the counter. She could make the fifty feet and four steps providing her knees hadn’t got lost at the bar somewhere. Her gaze dropped to her legs. Yep, her knees were still there.

The car door opened. “Okay, take your time.”

Time wasn’t something she had. If she took too much time those last little blue alcohol yummies would be hitting her blood stream and she could forget walking and especially the stairs all together. “I’m good,” she assured with a wave of her hand. Mickey’s cologne and pure male scent tickled her senses and filled her lungs.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced at the worried cowboy who looked damn fine in those faded jeans and denim shirt. “I smell Mickey.”

He nodded and again smiled. “It’s because you’re wearing his jacket.” He shook his head and outstretched an arm. “Give me your hand.”

“Okay-dokey, gotta grab my shoes first.” She scooped up the strappy shoes with the fingers of one hand then placed her free one in his open palm. His fingers curled around hers and an electric heat shot up through her wrist and arm, heating her skin. With a bit of maneuvering and a little bit of a tug from Brady she exited the car and again her balance wavered. “Uh-oh!”

Strong arms went around her waist and her breasts hit his solid chest.
She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and steadied herself. Felicia glanced up at the cowboy and again blew a ringlet out of her face. She seriously needed to start wearing headbands when trying to look at hot men. “Thanks.”

For some strange reason Brady was no longer smiling
, but staring at her intently. Their faces were only inches apart. She may be drunk and somewhat delusional—maybe, but if she was going to kiss him, now would be the time.

“Are
you two okay over there?”

Or not
. The moment was gone. Gone forever, like the dinosaurs. Both she and Brady turned to Mickey. “She is a little wobbly.”

She turned back to Brady. “A bit, b
ut the phone in your pocket is poking me.”

The weirdest expression crossed his handsome face.

She eased back a bit putting a bit of distance between them and smiled. “But you smell really good. You always smell good.”

Brady’s arms were still around her, and possibly a good thing considering she needed to get her bearings
and balance would be good too. “Felicia, I—”

“It’s never dull with you, doll.” Mickey called as he walked up, grinning like an idiot—which he wasn’t and bounced his gaze between them. He finally rested his attention Brady. “Can she walk?”

“Probably not gracefully.”

“I’m graceful, just not at this exact moment—or maybe the next ten moments,” she clarified. “I can walk though, I did all night.”

Brady pursed his lips and shook his head. “We’ve known you over half your life and have heard that line more than once only to have it end with disastrous results.”

What?
“Like when?”

“
Mazatlán,” both men responded together.

“
Oh yeah, that night at the beach after all those long Island iced teas. Still don’t get why they called them that when we were in Mexico.”

Mickey chuckled and shook his head. He steadied her from Brady then swung an arm behind her knees scooping her up.
“Come on, doll, let’s get you in the house and into bed.”