Page 4 of All's Fair in Love and Blood - A Romantic Comedy Novel

Mindy dropped her hands. “That’s because your favorite show is on at the same time.”

I grinned, because she was partially right. I was obsessed with a docuseries called Confessions of a Forensic Pathologist on YouTube. A new episode is uploaded every Saturday night. I was planning on watching it on my phone. But I was willing to do anything to stay out of the way of my new stepmother. “Okay, fine. I’m a wimp.”

“You’re not a wimp. You’re amazing. I only wish you could see that.”

I wish I could too.

The Reception

Oh, crap. I hate when I get wedding cake down my bra. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. It wouldn’t be the last. I was sitting in a quiet out-of-the-way spot at the country club where all my father’s wedding receptions have been held, except the one to my momma. It was a cozy little nook near the stone fireplace in the lobby. I set my phone down on the hardwood floor next to me. Thankfully, I could pause my show. Not only was it fascinating, but I kind of had a crush on the host, Landon Drummond, one of the world’s top forensic pathologists.

Before I wriggled my hand down my bra, I made sure no one was around. Good thing I was alone—I had to really dig. Those dang crumbs dove deep. One thing can be said for my body, and that is I have some ample, perky boobs. Which was good because my dress was strapless. I had no issues holding it up. The problem was, I was doing too good of a job keeping it up. It was a tight squeeze trying to retrieve the pesky, though scrumptious, dark chocolate cake crumbs from my voluminous cleavage. Auggie did have good taste in cake. Women, not so much. Apart from my biological momma, the only other woman I loved was his second wife, Naomi. She was the momma of my heart and the reason I was obsessed with forensic pathology and my show.

If only Naomi were here. She would have already cut me out of the SPANX and brought me another piece of wedding cake. Yet, seeing as how Auggie was still in love with her and she with him, it would have been in poor taste. He would never admit to being in love with her. He never admitted to loving anyone. Not even me.

Anyway. Cake crumbs. I think I just about had them.

“Scarlett,” a sexy voice drawled.

My head popped up to see Kane walking my way. Yep, my hand was still down my bra aaand . . . I’m pretty sure the ring I always wore on my right hand was now stuck on it. It was a tiny diamond ring—my momma’s promise ring. Auggie had gifted it to me on my sixteenth birthday. It was the most tender thing he had ever done for me. He had called me into his study that day and, with some emotion, told me he had given the ring to my mother on her sixteenth birthday. He had promised her that day that he would marry her, but first he needed to make something of himself. He’d made good on both accounts. But right now, that didn’t really help my precarious situation. Why did these kinds of things always happen to me?

Kane, in all his beautiful black tux glory, stopped a few feet in front of me with his head tilted. I had to squint hard to see the more-than-concerned look wash over his angular face, which had the finest layer of stubble I’d ever seen.

I think he may have believed I was having a mental episode. He wasn’t too far off.

“Um . . . some crumbs dropped down my bra.” Did I just say bra in front of him? “What I meant was, my breasts.” Oh. My. Gosh.

Kane pressed his lips together, obviously holding back the laughter that was dancing in his gorgeous eyes.

“My ring got caught,” I lamely added.

“Ah. That does present a problem, now, doesn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Would you like some assistance?” he hesitantly asked.

“Maybe you could turn around,” I suggested.

“Yes, of course.” He spun on his heels and faced the other way.

I did my best to yank the ring loose, to no avail. The bra was going to rip.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked while waiting.

“Oh, uh, watching a docuseries on YouTube.” Could I sound any more like a lunatic?

His silence said he agreed with the lunatic assessment. Who watches YouTube videos at her father’s wedding reception?

I kept yanking.

“What’s the name of the show?” he asked after a long pause.

“It’s called Confessions of a Forensic Pathologist.”

“Sounds intriguing. Would you like some help?”

I weighed my options. Rip my bra and risk a possible nipple situation—which, unfortunately, wouldn’t be my first one. Call Mindy to come save me and pray no one else catches me in my current situation. Or, let Kane unzip my dress to give me some working space. None of these were good options.

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