Hot Finish (Fast Track #3)(2)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“There’s nothing wrong with marriage,” Ryder said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Suddenly all eyes were on him.

“Yeah?” Ty asked, looking at him funny.

“Yeah.” Ryder put his bottle to his lip so he didn’t expand on his statement. He didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want anyone to know he was thinking a lot about his ex these days and wondering what exactly had gone wrong.

Evan said, “I still don’t want to be in this wedding.”

“Guess you don’t have to,” Elec told him. “But it looks like the rest of us are in.”

“What time is it?” Ryder asked, feeling his pocket for his cell phone. “We have to be at that wedding party- planning meeting thing at five.”

Ty glanced at his watch. “It’s quarter ’til.”

“We need to head out then. Should we all ride together? Elec, you can drive since you only had one beer and you’ve been nursing it for two hours.”

“That’s cool,” Elec said. “We’re all going to need a beer after this anyway, so we might as well leave your cars here. Evan, you going or not?”

Ryder settled his bar tab and stood up, hoping they weren’t going to be late. Bitching and whining while belly up to the bar had eaten up more time than he had expected and he didn’t want to disappoint Suzanne. Or more accurately, he didn’t want to listen to her reaming him.

“I’ll go,” Evan said begrudgingly. “I’ll look like a total ass if I don’t.”

“True.” Ryder clapped him on the shoulder. “Would it make you feel better if we let you plan the bachelor party?”

Evan perked up. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind that. I could do that.”

As they headed to the front door, Ryder wished that it were that easy to please himself these days. Something was missing in his life, and he was afraid he knew exactly what it was.

Or who, to be more accurate.

“YOU want fifteen groomsmen and fifteen bridesmaids?” Was she flippin’ serious? Suzanne Jefferson looked at her client, Nikki Borden, who arguably had cotton candy floating where she should have brains, and knew the girl was one hundred percent serious.

“Uh-huh.” Nikki nodded with a big smile. “My big day should be, well, big.”

Right.

Nikki’s thin, toned, and tanned arms went flailing out, a beatific smile on her youthful face. “Big like the Eiffel Tower. Big like elephants. Big like . . .” She paused, clearly at a loss for more large and lame metaphors.

“Big like the national debt?” Suzanne asked, shifting in her chair at her dining room table, unable to resist.

Nikki blinked. “Huh? What’s that?”

Suzanne bit her cheek and squeezed her lips together in the hope she wouldn’t laugh out loud and have Nikki guessing she thought the blonde had bacon for brains. Why the hell Suzanne thought she could go back to being a wedding planner when she’d never been able to hide her emotions worth a damn was beyond her. Oh, wait. She was dead broke, that’s why she was pasting on a big old fake smile and listening to the likes of Nikki natter on and on about her perfect man and her perfect proposal and her perfect wedding.

At one time, before her own marriage and divorce, Suzanne had enjoyed the challenge of wedding planning, making sure every last teeny tiny detail was taken care of, and taking pride in the joy on a bride’s face on her big day. There had been annoying aspects, sure, but they had rolled off her less cynical back a little easier in those days.

But since she’d spent the past four years working as a volunteer on the board of a charity that funded children’s cancer research, she was having a hard time seeing the value in picking the perfect shade of pink for bridesmaid’s dresses or suggesting the happy couple spend thousands of dollars on a cake that would disappear in under four hours.

Not that there was any point in whining about it. This was life, and she had to deal. The full-time position the charity had been promising her had disappeared with the budget cuts, and she had found herself without alimony or income. So she was going to squeeze the shit out of these lemons and force them into lemonade. Suzanne made a notation on her notepad. Fifteen big-ass bridesmaids.

Then she added a dollar sign on the end.

That made her feel a little better. She could cash in on Nikki’s enthusiasm for excess. “Well, that’s perfectly understandable, Nikki. You want to share your wedding with those most important to you, and it’s very difficult to cut anyone out.” Though from the sound of it, Nikki was planning to ask every cousin, friend, and sorority sister she’d ever had, plus the saleswoman who’d sold her shoes at a discount and the yahoo who changed her oil to be in her bridal party.

Nikki nodded. “Exactly.”

“But normally wedding parties run four to six bridesmaids and groomsmen. For a wedding party of thirty, plus your flower girl and ring bearer, that requires a lot of additional planning and coordinating. I’m going to have to increase my fee if that’s what you choose to do.”

“I understand.” Nikki just stared at her serenely.

“By double.”

“Sure.” Now a smug smile crossed the blonde’s face. “Jonas is paying.”

“The deposit? Do you have it?”

A check signed by Jonas Strickland passed from Nikki’s hand to hers and a glance down at it showed it was written for the entire original amount Suzanne had quoted Nikki.

“This is more than the deposit.”

“Jonas doesn’t like to be in debt. He said to just pay up front. I can get the rest to you in a day or two I’m sure.”

Nikki might claim to love Jonas, but at the moment, Suzanne really did. He had just padded her checking account substantially. Her smile to Nikki was very genuine. “That’s excellent, thank you. Now you said Jonas was going to be here, right? What time are you expecting him? We can go ahead discussing venues and colors, or we can wait for him.”

“He should be here any minute. And I think everyone from the wedding party said they could make it, too.”

Suzanne tugged at her red sweater, adjusting her cle**age. Surely she had heard Nikki wrong. “Excuse me? The wedding party is coming, too?”

“Yeah, I thought that would be fun! They can help us make choices.” Nikki beamed at Suzanne, clearly proud of herself.

Turning her dining room into sample central was working fairly well. She had access to all her books and menus and fabric samples, but there was no way in hell she could squeeze thirty people into her whole condo, let alone her dining room. There was really only room for her, Nikki, and a fat Chihuahua around this table.