Page 4 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

They would be thrown together all evening, not to mention tomorrow.

Time to shore up his resolve. Maybe watch a Braves game.

He’d like to think he was a smart guy. But when it came to Daley Martin, he was feeling a lot like a hormonal teenage boy.

Daley considered faking a stomach virus to get out of the rehearsal and dinner. Somebody else could stand in for her. It wasn’t rocket science.

Imagining Tabby’s disappointment stopped that idea in its tracks.

Daley was the maid of honor. The role was an almost sacred female imperative. And Tabby was her sister. Daley still remembered the day her parents brought the new baby home from the hospital. Daley had fallen in love on the spot.

For a decade, she had been her mother’s right hand. Nothing had been too much of an imposition or a burden. Daley loved her sister, and she loved caring for the little girl who had become her shadow. Occasionally, they might squabble, but for the most part, they were as close as two siblings could be.

As much as it pained her to admit it, she had no choice but to suck it up and put on a smiling face, Tristan or no Tristan.

After all, how bad could it be? She would have to practice taking his arm and walking down the aisle. Once they were up front, the bride and groom would separate them. Then, when the ceremony was over, Daley would have to touch the best man’s arm again.

She could do this.

Besides, there would be at least two dozen other people present.

Daley would smile and be nice if it killed her.

On the back lawn of the hotel, two long white tents stood ready for the festivities. Tabby and John had chosen to include only family and close friends this weekend. Then—when they returned from their Polynesian honeymoon—there would be a larger, fancier reception.

Daley couldn’t fault their choice. Weddings were stressful under the best circumstances. Designing this one to be intentionally small would make the whole weekend intimate and meaningful.

Unfortunately, the setup also meant that the maid of honor and best man might spend more time together than necessary.

Didn’t matter, Daley told herself stoutly. She could handle Tristan Hamilton. She would handle him.

After a quick shower, she studied the dresses she had brought with her for the rehearsal and dinner. Tabby had seen and approved both. One was a safe choice—a teal sheath, sleeveless, with same-color embroidery at the neckline and hem. The color suited her blond hair and fair coloring.

When she stared at herself in the mirror, wearing the dress, she made a face. It was nice enough. But no wow factor. For some reason, she was feeling the need to prove something to Tristan Hamilton. Like maybe the fact that she didn’t need him or his prestigious ad agency.

When she slipped into the second outfit, her stomach flipped uncomfortably. The low neckline showed off her ample breasts more than Daley remembered. Tabby was slight and dark-headed and took after their dad. Daley had inherited her mother’s more voluptuous figure.

This blush-pink dress accentuated every curve. The spaghetti straps bared her shoulders—which would be a plus in the late-May heat. The waist was fitted and then flared into a poufy skirt that ended a good six inches above her knees.

It was a dress that required confidence.

Daley had embarrassed herself that day she stormed into Tristan’s office. She would like to erase his memory of her semi-rant. She wanted him to take her seriously as a businesswoman. If he was sincere about not poaching, then maybe the flip side could be him sending clients her way who did want a more twenty-first-century approach to branding.

When someone in the hallway knocked, Daley peeked out through the fish-eye and saw her sister. She yanked open the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.

Tabby’s smile was amused. “Can’t a bride come see her maid of honor?”

Daley detected a hint of strain. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Tabby paced. “Is it normal that I’m not freaking out?”

“Seriously?” Daley chuckled. “You’re freaking out because you’re not freaking out?”

Tabby perched on the side of the bed. “I know. I’m an idiot. It’s just that everything is going perfectly. I’m happy and excited to be marrying John. I guess it all seems too good to be true.”

“You deserve every bit of happiness, hon. And it’s all good. Your wedding party is here. Your family is here. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Unless you and Tristan go ballistic with each other.”

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