Bad Boy's Bridesmaid(4)

By: Sosie Frost

Maybe it was for the best they’d decided to get divorced. Like Mom said, some people didn’t belong together, no matter the babies they made. Of course, it took my parents thirty years to realize it. I just couldn’t imagine how either of them walked away from the love of their life like that…

I teared up. Not good. I wasn’t thinking about it now. Not a thought about parents or babies or relationships or…Nate.

My tummy flipped in a good way—how it always did when Nate looked at me, spoke to me.

Touched me.

“What can I check off…?”

I scratched off the tasks that were impossible or potentially illegal. Another couple had already reserved Lindsey’s preferred venue, but she begged me for the favor.

Because I loved my sister, I called to ask if they would trade dates or venues.

Because I wasn’t insane, I crossed off the line encouraging me to impersonate the county health department and scare away the couple with concerns of a norovirus outbreak.

Only Lindsey would compromise the Geneva Convention to plan her wedding.

I scribbled on my list.

Venue Change


Seating Chart


Cake Tasting

Hide the baby


Talk to Nate?

Don’t talk to Nate.

Bridesmaid Dress Colors

At least they were all doable, or would be, if Lindsey was in an accommodating mood. Otherwise it was time to prepare for war.

I drove to Mom’s house. Lindsey chose our childhood home as the battleground for all things wedding, and Mom supplied the ammunition. I didn’t know what I worried about more—the pregnancy or the grief I’d get for ruining Lindsey’s special day. This would be worse than the nosebleed I got at Lindsey’s sweet sixteenth—when the family was told I hemorrhaged for attention.

It’d be different if I had more money. A better job than just working for Dad at the advertising agency.

If I were actually dating Nate.

He might have been my first one-night stand…but I wasn’t his. I knew exactly the type of man I’d invited into my bed too. I had wanted something quick, easy, fun. No strings attached.

Nate was good for that. He had been string-less since he was a teenager—the original wooden boy, except this Pinocchio did lie, and it wasn’t Nate’s nose that grew. That part stayed nice and woody.

Impressive. Memorable.

Gorgeous, like the rest of him.

Fertile too, apparently. What I wouldn’t have given for termites that night.

Worst of all? Nate wasn’t the type to hang around once he got what he was after. Usually. He’d chased me for years, high-school into college, and while that sort of dedication earned an amazing night where the earth moved, the skies opened, and angels sang, I had hoped it’d last only one night. I guessed the consequences lasted longer…more like nine months.

I’d have to tell him. My stomach turned. That wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but it was early in the pregnancy now anyway. The last thing I wanted was to tell him and then have something…happen.

I teared up again.

The little guy was still so new to me, but it was good to see the momma bear instincts kicking in.

I shouldered my bags and grabbed as much paperwork as I could carry within the binders of wedding plans and bridal magazines. Lindsey’s obsession with Pinterest was only the beginning, and organization became a full-time job.

The door opened before I made it into the house. I thought it’d be my sister.

I was wrong.

Nate’s green eyes crackled with an electric amusement that teased as much as it shocked. His gaze wrapped around me like a pair of wandering hands, tickling everything he’d already touched, tasted, and catalogued for his own wedding memories.

Oh, this was bad. What was he doing at my house?

I nearly dropped the binder and ran.

Nate Kensington was pure sex—a man made of muscle and wicked ambition wrapped in a depraved, sensual fantasy. He was the best and worse idea a woman could have, and such thoughts belonged only in the darkest bedrooms, imagined under silken sheets.

That’s why I’d propositioned him. Nate embraced trouble as easily as he captured women in his charm. He didn’t even need a net. He wielded a glance that’d unhook a bra strap through the strength of his willpower, and it wasn’t a talent that should have belonged to a man more confident in a pair of beat-up jeans and boots than a wedding tux.

The blonde scruff on his hard jaw was as intimidating as his smirk, like a wolf licking his chops and preparing for the next course.

Which, of course, was me.

It had always been me.

Nate spent a majority of our time together eating me up, and it was pure bliss to be absolutely devoured by this man. I wished he took his taste and moved on, but Nate hadn’t let me escape from our one night unscathed.

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