Page 3 of Rebel Bride
“Okay, you take care now,” she said as I walked by. The words came out twangy, almost irreverent. Interesting, that. I wouldn’t have thought she had that kind of snark in her.
A couple of minutes later, I headed back into the bar, determined to start putting away those IPAs.
I was just in time for the main event. The player group I had passed on my way to the restroom was standing in a circle, wider than before, and as NoBo leaned to one side, I saw why.
Carter was on one knee.
“Babe,” he was saying, his dark head turned up, his hand outstretched with the Tiffany-blue box open to reveal a rock the size of a puck. “Will you marry me?”
Jakey’s broad back blocked Summer, so I shuffled an inch to my left and fixed my gaze on her face. Two spots of color flagged her cheeks, and she pressed a hand to her chest.
“Dash, I-I can’t believe this.” She blinked quickly and snatched a breath. It was quite the act.
“C’mon, babe. Just say yes.” He pushed the ring toward her, dangling it like a leash, an owner encouraging his puppy to go walkies.
My heart thundered. Maybe she’d have the common sense to turn him down. Surely, she saw what I did. What everyone did.
He’s not good enough for you.
You need a guy who knows your worth. Who will worship the ground beneath your feet and the air above your head.
“Okay, uh, yes?” She let out a nervy tinkle and blinked again.
The crowd roared its approval like Carter had just found the net. The circle around them tightened as the team rushed in to offer the happy couple their congratulations. They were completely surrounded but I caught a fleeting glimpse of Summer’s face, her eyes all a-glitter now that she’d won her prize.
Pulse rocketing, I turned away and headed for the bar where the beer bottles celebrating my acquisition were lined up like a row of accusing judges.
As elder statesman and team captain, my father had already moved in to give Carter his best. No sign of Conor, which meant someone was getting lucky. That left my uncle Jason at the bar, watching my approach with a concerned frown.
“You okay?”
“Just fine.”
His green eyes, same as my dad’s, same as mine, searched my face.
“Seriously, J, it’s all good.” I eyed the bottles on the bar. I wasn’t sure they would be enough, or that there was sufficient alcohol on the planet to blot out what I’d just witnessed. “I’m going to head out.”
Jason gripped my shoulder. “Your dad’s thrilled you’re on the team, Hatch. You’ve done a good thing.”
“I know.”
He wanted more, but I didn’t have it in me to give it. As I left the bar, a champagne cork pop and a celebratory cheer mocked my exit.
This next year was going to suck.
Chapter One
One year later
Summer
* * *
“Is that … a tattoo?”
Arabella Carter’s shriek pierced my ear drums, but to be fair, my hearing had become attuned to the decibel levels. For the last week, my future mother-in-law had criticized every aspect of the wedding preparation in the highest volume possible.
Nothing I did passed muster. My wedding dress showed too much leg (who wears a high-low hem beyond the age of six?), the rehearsal dinner had too many guests (I’m sure half of these people were not on the list), the wedding favors of hockey puck Christmas ornaments were too tacky (in July? And adding a diamond to the center is trying a smidge too hard, isn’t it?), the reception table centerpieces had far too much lilac (a trashy flower choice). Even the church was too liberal (was that a rainbow flag I saw outside?).
