Page 21 of Wicked Pickle

Dad rubs his hands together. “I didn’t know you were dating someone, particularly someone in Bailey and Rhett’s circle. I guess you’re turning into a family man after all.”

Like hell I am.

But unless I throw off my mother and act like more of an asshole than I prefer in front of my family, I’m stuck walking with them out a side door to an enormous garden in the back.

It’s grossly perfect. Soft green lawn. Round white tables scattered around with floral centerpieces that match the bridesmaids’ dresses. And roses everywhere. Trellises are lined all around the garden, exploding with flowers.

At the front are three tables, the middle one on a low riser for the bride and groom. My cousins have already headed for their seats to the right of the main table. I’m guessing the one on the left is for the bridesmaids.

And me.

I look for Symphony and spot her on the edge of a patio near a string quartet that is setting up to play. She has her back to me.

“So, are we going to see more of you now?” Dad asks. “How is Merrick? I assume he’s with you.”

Chit chat. The last thing I need. “He’s fine.”

“I heard you own a bar,” Mom says.

My head snaps in her direction. “Who told you that?”

She twirls a bit of loose hair from her updo around her finger. “Oh, a little birdie.”

Bailey. She knew about my bar somehow. But how? And why did she drag me here? She didn’t clue in her bridesmaids to the plan, or else Symphony lied her face off.

Fuck.

“Well?” Dad prompts.

“Merrick and I run a bar, yeah.”

“Is it far from here?” Dad asks. “We could come by and see it before we fly home.”

Like hell they would. “Hours away. And not open on Sundays.” A lie. “Or Mondays.” I throw in that there in case they’ve added a couple of days to their stay. Also a lie.

“Shoot,” Mom says. “Martin, maybe we could stay longer.”

“You wouldn’t like it,” I say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”

Mom lets me go. I should have used that line sooner.

I stride through the tables like hell is on my heels. I need to know everything my family knows and how they know it. That little bachelorette party is obviously the key.

All three of the bridesmaids have homed in on me like I’m coming in for a kill. Maybe I am. I plan to get the information out of them and not nicely.

“Ladies,” I say, more of a growl than anything.

“Diesel,” Symphony says, her chin up. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

I don’t bother responding to that. “You better fucking ‘fess up right now, all of you.”

Symphony’s eyes get big, and I think maybe she’s scared. But then she says, “Bailey’s here.”

I turn. Rhett and Bailey have entered the space. Everyone claps.

Symphony steps close. “You promised you wouldn’t make a scene.”

“I haven’t been paid for that promise yet.”

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