Page 16 of Always a Bridesmaid
Evidently there’d been an unspoken agreement that the game couldn’t resume until Ford came clean, so he might as well get it over and done with. “Eh. She’s cute in a lost, walking-disaster sort of way. But she’s also sorta volatile—and I’m sure we all remember why I gave that up. My truck certainly does.”
In some states, the amount of love he had for his truck might border on illegal, but the girl had never let him down. The massive grill, roll bar, and lightbar meant she could take on rough terrain, no problem.
Trina, his off-and-on girlfriend through high school and for a misguided year after he’d graduated college, had erratic mood swings. Things would be great, and then suddenly she’d lash out at him.
Not only could he not do anything right, no matter how hard he tried, their relationship began interfering with emergency calls. Trina would demand he stay and finish whatever argument he’d inevitably lose, even as others’ health and occasionally lives hung in the balance.
When Ford finally told her he was done—for good this time—she’d taken a key to the hood of his truck.
“What’s an ass cube?” Tucker had asked when they’d come out of the Old Firehouse and spotted Trina’s handiwork.
“She must’ve gotten tired after carving the giant A, S, and S, so she added a circle. Only curved lines are hard to draw with keys, so it looks like a square.”
For two whole months, he’d driven around his “ass cube” truck, no money or time to get it fixed. When Dear Old Dad had seen it, he’d guffawed and added insult to injury with his “Told ya, son. They all turn eventually.”
“I like my women a little volatile,” Easton said, and Ford did his best not to react, in spite of the foreign, toxic churning in his gut. Surely that wasn’t jealousy.
It was…indigestion. Yeah. From not eating dinner and then eating chips and drinking a beer. That had to be it.
Easton casually raised, the racket of his chips hitting the table grating Ford’s nerves for some odd reason. “She has a nice ass, too.”
Ford whipped his head toward him and spoke through a clenched jaw. “That’s enough, Reeves.”
Oohswent around the table, along with an “I knew it” from Easton.
Okay, so Ford had also checked out her ass in those yoga pants. He’d done his best to refrain, but then she’d bent over the oven, and…well, he could see hearts and a hint of writing through the thin fabric of her pants, and he indulged for a moment before reminding himself to be a gentleman.
“You know, I forget why I hang out with you pricks.” It was his turn again, and since he had jack and shit, he folded. “Speaking of women, Shep, yours is scarily organized. Does she plan out your time between the sheets? Do you get spanked when you go off book?”
Shep flipped him off. Then a grin split his face. “Guess what we’ve had to do as groomsmen so far?” His grin spread to evil-villain range. “Nothing.”
“Not a damn thing,” Easton echoed.
Addie flinched. “Sorry,” she said to Ford. “I didn’t think about the planning part when I asked you to be my dude of honor.”
“Joke’s on them; I like it.” He draped his arm over her shoulders, and this time, she didn’t shove him away. If she had to endure the planning, he’d be by her side for every overly detailed session.
“Yeah, me, too,” Addie said, and Tucker snort laughed.
“Usually your poker face is much better, babe.”
She kicked him under the table, a gleam lighting her eyes when Tuck grunted and rubbed his shin. “And guess what we get to do tomorrow? Cake tasting at Maisy’s.”
The smug expressions faded one by one.
“As groomsmen, we should also attend and make sure you get the right cake and frosting,” Shep said.
Addie flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “Sorry, boys. It’s strictly bridesmaids. And my seventy-two-year-old flower girl, since my nonna is impossible to say no to.”
And Maisy and her sister, Ford mentally added. When it came to cake, he was all in. If he got to see Violet again because he was part of the bridal party…?
Well, there were worse ways to spend a Saturday morning.
Chapter Four
A swell of sugary-sweet air greeted Violet as she stepped inside the bakery. She inhaled and held in the aroma, the way a good addict would do. The only way she’d survive getting her feet back underneath her without those feet having to carry around extra pounds was to inhale instead of indulge.
She finished typing her response in the Bridesmaid Crew bubble. Leah and Amanda were most active, but Camille, Alyssa, Morgan, and Christy responded here and there.
