Barefoot in Lace (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 2) (13 page)

“That’s not what I want, at least not if the universe doesn’t have that in the plans for me.”

“It’s not what I want, either.” Gussie sighed. “But I have a question for you since you’re all about ‘there’s one for everyone’ and the universe is going to send him. What if you think he’s the one and he doesn’t think you are?”

“Are you asking that because of Tom or just as a general question of my beliefs?”

“Tom’s not the one,” she said, barely hearing her friend’s question. “I mean, he’s a ton of fun and great for my ego, but he doesn’t know the meaning of forever. And the closer I get to thirty, the more I want forever.” Or at least more than a few fun weeks.

Ari reached over and touched her arm. “I told you, I got a really good vibe from him. And Alex is crazy about you. Why wouldn’t you go?”

She was still trying to come up with a reason that made sense, other than she was scared to death to fall for a guy who’d break her heart.

“Come on,” Ari said, opening the driver’s door. “Let’s see if they’re dressed and interested in company.”

“Okay,” Gussie agreed. “Maybe Willow will be the voice of reason. Maybe she’ll see that with less than a year under the belt of the Barefoot Brides, none of us is really in a position to take time off for romantic jaunts to the south of France.”

“See?” Ari whipped around to make her point. “Even you are calling it a romantic jaunt.”

“Well, I told you what happened at the warehouse. And I asked you to go tonight so you could give me your opinion on him.” Gussie climbed out of the car and slammed the door harder than necessary. “I didn’t expect you to betray me.”

“Betray you? By helping you get an all-expenses-paid dream vacation? Maybe you can betray me sometime, too.”

“Are you two betting again?” Willow’s question surprised them both when it came from the darkened porch.

“Discussing,” Ari said.

“Ending our friendship,” Gussie corrected.

“Get up here.” Willow appeared at the top of the three steps, gesturing for them to join her on the porch.

“Are you alone?” Gussie asked.

“Of course not.” Nick Hershey’s deep voice came from the corner, followed by the squeak of the swing. “Her soon-to-be better half is here.”

“Are we interrupting anything?” Ari asked.

Gussie could have sworn Willow shot a warning look over her shoulder at the man she loved, but it was too dark to be sure.

“We’re just talking,” Willow said. “What are you two ending your friendship about now? The last pink bubblegum cigar in the state?”

From the corner, Nick chuckled. “Is that the wager of the day?”

“We’re not betting,” Gussie said, folding into the corner of the rattan sofa. “We’re discussing how thrilled Willow will be when she finds out one-third of the company is considering being gone for a couple of weeks in August.”

“Who, you? When? Which couple of weeks?” There was definitely a note of panic in Willow’s voice and another silent look exchanged with Nick.

Of course she wouldn’t want Gussie to bail, no matter how few weddings they had in the peak of the hot summer months. They still had a business to run.

“Yes, me. And soon. Like, next week soon,” Gussie said. “I took Ari to dinner with Tom and his niece because I needed a second opinion on the guy, and what do you know? She loves him.”

Ari curled up on the other side of the sofa. “How can I not? He’s awesome. I think he’s a perfect fit for Gussie.”

“Really?” Willow finally sat down on the swing, as close to Nick as she could be without actually burrowing inside him. “He is hot, Gus, no doubt about it.”

Nick slid her a look, but let it go.

“Yes, he’s hot,” Gussie agreed. “And I’m attracted to him. And I made out with him on the warehouse floor today, but—”

“Whoa. You sure you want me to hear this?” Nick asked.

“You’re practically family now,” Gussie said. “But I don’t know if it’s smart to get on a private plane, fly to the Riviera, stay in an apartment, and…”

Fall hard for someone I can never have.

Willow laughed. “So far, it doesn’t sound like it would suck.”

“Right?” Ari asked, happy for the support. “You’d have the time of your life with a guy who is not only attracted to you, but clearly cares about others.” Ari crossed her arms, confident in her assessment. “You told me I can read people really well, Gus, and what I read was good. Did you see how he acted when his niece got emotional about her mother? He melted, for God’s sake.”

“And that’s enough reason for you to encourage me to do something wild and spontaneous and potentially”—
heartbreaking—“
dangerous,” she finished weakly.

“Is this guy a threat?” Nick leaned forward, making the swing screech. “What do you know about him?”

“Very little,” Willow said.

“I know all I need to know,” Gussie said. And she didn’t mean from following his work. “He’s a…” Man who has no home, lives the high life, and would never settle down and be a
family
. Not a family like the one she grew up in, not the family she wanted to re-create…perfect, whole, and happy. Did Ari and Willow even realize just how much she longed for that? Her dreams were more than having kids—Gussie wanted the wholeness of a real, solid family. She’d had it once and wanted it again.

“What’s stopping you, really?” Ari asked. “Be honest, you’re among friends.”

“I guess I want to think about it for a while, and that’s what I told him. A trip to Europe is a big commitment.”

“And so is sleeping with him,” Nick said.

Gussie gave him a light kick in the shin. “Way to remind us that Willow snagged the last greatest guy on earth.”

“No, I didn’t,” Willow said. At Nick’s look of dismay, she laughed. “I’m pretty sure there are two more for my best friends.”

“There are,” Ari said with certainty. “And maybe Tom’s one of them.”

Gussie snorted. “And maybe we’ll see some pigs soaring next to the window of the private jet.”

“So you’re going?” Ari asked.

“You’re missing the point,” Gussie insisted. “I am deathly afraid of having my heart broken, Ari.”

“I’m sorry.” Ari reached across the sofa and put her hand on Gussie’s arm. “I thought all you needed was a little prodding, and that guy seems like he’d be a lot of fun for you. Really, that was all I was thinking. He’s really nice.”

“And superhot,” Willow added.

“So we’ve heard,” Nick said dryly.

“Really, Gus, it was my mistake,” Ari said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I thought the only thing stopping you was the commitment to work, and I wanted to reassure you we had it covered. I didn’t think you were evaluating him for husband material.”

Gussie felt her face burn, grateful for the dim light. “I’m not.”

“And it is kind of the trip of a lifetime,” Ari added.

After a beat, she realized Willow hadn’t joined in, but instead was looking at Nick, both of them carrying on a wordless conversation the way only people in love could do.

“I guess I don’t have a really good reason not to go,” Gussie said, half to herself.

Willow took a deep breath and turned to the other two women, still holding Nick’s hand. “Actually, we might have one for you, depending on how long you’ll be gone.”

“Might?” Nick asked, a tease in his voice. “There’s no
might
, honey.”

“He’s right,” Willow said. “Fact is, the Barefoot Brides actually
are
going to have a second wedding in August. My parents are able to come the last weekend and, well, we don’t want to wait any longer, so…”

Gussie blinked, the rest of the statement not necessary, because they all knew what was coming.

“You’re getting married!” Ari and Gussie exclaimed in unison, and they all popped up, the three of them hugging hard, with Nick wrapping his strong arms around the whole group.

“I know we always said we wouldn’t have weddings ourselves,” Willow told them.

“Big-deal weddings with crazy in-laws and plastic cherubs,” Ari said.

“Of course you’ll have a wedding,” Gussie agreed. “And we will be there, no matter when and where it is.”

Willow hugged them again. “Well, don’t worry. It’ll be right at the resort, and I promise small, intimate and, well, I’d say classy, but with a rock star for a father, I’m not guaranteeing anything.”

“Well, I hope there are at least two bridesmaids,” Gussie said.

“Co-maids of honor,” Willow said. “If Gussie’s not still in France with the superhot photographer.”

“Ahem.” Nick elbowed her.

“As if I’d go to France and miss your wedding. I should be back by the last weekend of the month.” Then she caught herself. “If I go,” she added quickly.

And her two best friends laughed, knowing her like the real sisters they were.

Chapter Eleven

At T-minus five hours before the Bernard-Lyons wedding, all three of the Barefoot Brides consultants went to work. This was when they forgot about their own lives, problems, candy bets, and future plans. Nothing mattered but making that day perfect for one starry-eyed, nervous-wreck woman—and maybe her mother—who’d spent her life dreaming about it.

At least, that’s what Gussie told herself as she headed down the hall to the far end of the Eucalyptus spa to prepare the dresses, shoes, makeup, and jewelry for the bridal party, which would arrive in about an hour. Except, instead of Hailey’s sculpted lace and imported satin slippers, Gussie’s mind was lingering on a decision she’d yet to finalize.

Should she go with Tom to France? She’d already decided that she’d make her mind up by the end of the day, sensing that seeing him “in action” would seal the deal one way or the other.

Unlocking the dressing room door, she stopped to inhale the lingering scents of lavender and rose, makeup and hairspray and powder, instantly calm and happy.

She busied herself by taking out the gowns she’d hung after last night’s rehearsal dinner, starting with three sea-foam-green bridesmaids’ dresses and then moving to Hailey’s stunning Alfred Angelo A-line with an illusion boat neck. Not Gussie’s favorite style, but it suited Hailey’s understated personality.

She fitted the gown onto the dress form, spreading out the train for the most gasp-inducing effect when the bridal party arrived. Next, she headed back into the closet to find the shoes so she could line them up on one side, and on the way, she snapped on the sound system to play the soft classical music Willow loved and made sure the lights were set to perfection.

Carrying a load of five shoe boxes that blocked her vision—Rhonda had hers in here, too—Gussie navigated her way back outside when she heard a loud click.

“Perfection.” Tom’s voice was a little louder than the music. “Sheer perfection.”

Gussie slowly leaned to the right to see around the shoe boxes. He was flat on his stomach, a camera up to his eye, his lens focused on the train she’d spread.

“What are you—”

“Shh. I’m getting you the money shot.”

“Of a dress on a form?”

“The opening act, Pink.” He snapped a few more, giving her a minute to lower the boxes and watch. And what a sight it was. Faded jeans hugging his ass and long legs spread wide to anchor him. His broad shoulders were propped up on his elbows, his hair fanning over the white T-shirt pulled snug over his muscular back.

White T-shirt? Wait a minute. “What are you wearing?”

“Work clothes. Shh.”
Click. Click. Click.
And he rolled to his side to capture another angle.

“For a wedding?”

“I get dirty when I work.” And he rolled again, all the way onto his back, looking right up at her. Well, the camera was. “Auburn today? I like it.”

Click.

She backed away from the lens, lifting the boxes to cover her face. “Don’t take pictures of me.”

“Why not?”

Because there were few things she hated more in the world. “This isn’t my wedding. I’m supposed to be totally in the background.”

“I’m going to take pictures of everything, foreground and background. Then I’m going to make a masterpiece of a wedding album, and it’s going to be so amazing that you…”
Click. Click.
And he popped to his feet with one smooth move, angling to the side to snap her surprised face. “Lower the boxes.”

“Wha—”

“The boxes. Lower.” He put his hand on the top box and pushed down, clearing his view of her face. “Look down at them.”

She stared at him. “You don’t take pictures of the stylist, Tom. You—”

He leaned right into her and kissed her on the lips. As she drew back, open-mouthed, he snapped the shot without even putting the camera to his eye. “Tom!”

“That one’s for me. Let’s start on the shoes.”

She set the boxes on the makeup table, corralling her exasperation. This wasn’t a good start to what would be a long day. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Uh, shooting a wedding? I believe that’s what I was hired to do.”

“You were, but—”

“We’ll do it my way. And if you don’t like it, then…” He took one of the boxes and flipped it open, dropping the shoes to the floor. “Never mind. You’ll love it.”

He dumped the rest of the shoes, making a messy pile of sea-foam green and ivory satin, high heels, buckles, and bows. Then he started shooting, getting closer and closer and closer, until the last shot, which was nothing but the stitching on the toe of one of the bride’s shoes.

When he finished, he grinned up at her.

“Do you spend a lot of time on the floor?”

“A helluva lot.” He stood and lowered the camera. “Look, here’s the only rule for today. You do what you do and I do what I do, and when those two things overlap, I get the final say if it affects a picture, and you get the final say if it affects the wedding style. Deal?”

“I—”

“Deal.” He kissed her again, quick and playful. Too quick.

“What about when the bridal party gets here? You think Rhonda Lyons is going to let you take what photos you want to take?” Her eyes dropped to the skintight white T-shirt. “Dressed like that?”

He fought a smile. “I’ll handle Rhonda and the bride and the party and photography. Trust me, this is what I do.”