Page 26 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

Peyton laughs, gladly following Emma to the bar but looking over her shoulder to give me an apologetic smile. “I promise he’s not that bad. He’s a total softie—almost a teddy bear, really—underneath that reformed bad-boy attitude and football star muscles. He’s just terrible at letting anyone in.”

Emma’s only response is to laugh, and I don’t know if that laugh is a good thing or a bad thing.

Before I can ask, they stop at the bar that is draped in a sheer white fabric. The material blows in the wind with the soft breeze, and it makes me stop and really take a look at the event happening around us.

Flowers have been brought in and placed everywhere. Paired with the flowing, sheer, white fabric they have on every table and draped along arches, it really is a beautiful sight. It all looks perfect for Peyton. I hope today—and all the festivities for the week—are everything she’s dreamed of when it comes to her wedding.

“Everything looks great,” I tell my sister, wrapping my arm around her as she waits for a drink. I pull her into my side, resisting the urge to mess up her hair the way I always used to when she was a child.

Peyton nods her head, looking around at the busy event. There are definitely more people here than there were at the event last night, but there’s far more space for people to spread out.

I look around at all of the faces, only vaguely recognizing some of them. “How many of these are Mom and Dad’s friends?” I ask, watching Emma take a tentative drink of the champagne Peyton handed to her.

Peyton follows suit in looking around at the party. A small sigh escapes her lips as she focuses on the group of people surrounding our mom. “A lot of them,” she confesses with a groan. “I couldn’t say no as they kept adding more and more people to the list. Plus, I felt bad. They’re paying for the wedding. Shouldn’t I let them invite whomever they want?”

I’m quiet for a moment, not wanting to give my opinion on it. She’s got to be getting a ton of different ones with everything going on; she doesn’t need mine as well.

“I’m sure it means more wedding gifts,” Emma pipes up.

This makes Peyton laugh. She waves her champagne in Emma’s direction. “That is very true. I had to keep adding useless things to our registry because everything was purchased, and Mom kept telling me to add more. I now have enough dishes to host twenty people if needed.”

“Are you a good cook?” Emma asks, staring at Peyton with a small crease along her forehead.

Peyton gasps, shaking her head. “Not at all. Jackson doesn’t even allow me in the kitchen. I almost burnt the entire townhouse down once when I was trying to make garlic bread.”

The garlic bread incident happened years ago, and it’s still funny to hear about. It’s true that Peyton was never really good at cooking, but she also wasn’t ever interested either. She was too busy to stay in one place. She’d help in the kitchen for five minutes before she was ready to move on to something else in the house.

“Plus, I don’t think it’s my fault,” Peyton continues. “Preston got all the good cooking genes and left none for me.” She nudges me with her shoulder and a smile before looking over at Emma. “Be honest. Was it his cooking skills that sold you?”

Emma looks at me for a moment, an unreadable look on her face. “He’s truly full of surprises,” she finally answers, avoiding the question by not really answering it at all.

Peyton’s eyes light up when she notices Jackson walking our way. He’s really gone for it today with his outfit. He’s wearing a polo and a sweater vest—completing the outfit with a visor with the word GROOM etched across the front.

“I’ve got to go see my groom,” Peyton says excitedly, pushing away from the bar and practically skipping. She twirls to face us, a knowing smile on her lips. “You two enjoy some time to yourselves, okay? We’ll catch up more later!”

As soon as Peyton joins Jackson and is out of earshot, Emma looks at me with wide eyes.

“You’re a hot quarterback in the NFL and can cook? Is that even fair?” she asks accusingly, as if it’s the worst thing in the world that I’m all of those.

CHAPTER 14

EMMA

“Emma, darling, tell us more about your family,” Gram softly demands from across the table.

My stomach sinks a little as I try not to pay attention to the number of eyes on me. We’ve been at the event for a little over an hour, giving me the opportunity to meet the guests at the same table as us. We’re under a tent, giving us a small reprieve from the hot rays of the summer sun.

“Um,” I respond. My leg taps underneath the table as I try to think about how much I want to divulge to the people looking at me. They seem nice for the most part—except Marsha, who has been staring daggers at me the entire time I’ve been here.

A large, warm hand finds my leg. Preston’s fingertips burn through the thin fabric of my dress as he digs them into my thigh, forcing me to stop with the anxious tapping. “Gram, why don’t we not interrogate my girlfriend over hors d’oeuvres?”

A shiver runs down my spine at the possessive way he says girlfriend. I’ve only heard it come from his mouth a few times, and it’s something I don’t know if I could ever get used to.

Gram gives me an apologetic smile before taking a drink of her whiskey. It’s something I love about her. The server stopped by to try and hand her a champagne with cotton candy placed on top, and she immediately shot the server down. She was polite about it, but it didn’t take long for her to request something a little stronger—something certainly with more of a kick.

“I’m sorry, Emma. I don’t mean anything wrong by the question. I’m just so intrigued by the woman who finally locked down Preston’s heart.”

My cheeks heat with her comment. I fight the urge to correct her that I absolutely haven’t locked down Preston’s heart. I wait for Preston to do it, but he doesn’t. Braving a look over at him, I find him already watching me. He seems deep in thought, two tiny lines appearing right between his dark eyebrows.

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