The groom, Troy, studied a fork like it was engraved with Megan Fox’s personal phone number. Velma’s expression puckered in concentration at something Sophie said.
Velma’s white dress getup had an entirely too-high neckline, a skirt that brushed her calves, and a thin belt that cinched her waist, accentuating her ass nicely. One glance at her, and his pulse beat against his throat and lower in his—
“Brek, you made it.” Velma beamed at him, her expression covering the clear concern in her eyes. “I explained to Sophie and Troy about how bad traffic has been downtown today.”
“Yeah. Sorry, I got caught up.”
Velma hesitated for half a second before putting on that fake grin she liked so much.
He might’ve been pissed at her. But she was still V, and he was still Brek.
The future Mrs. Murtz didn’t glance up from the place settings. Her oblivious groom gave a little wave and set down the Megan Fox fork.
“We were discussing napkin rings.” Velma held up a gold one with thin silver wire twined through it.
He fuckin’ hated napkin rings. Fold the damn thing and lay it across the plate. Or, better yet, save everyone the trouble and wrap a paper napkin around some silverware.
Velma slipped the dog into his arms. The thing smelled like fancy perfume. The dog glanced up to him with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen on a canine, and son of a bitch, he was a goner. So, he liked the dog? It wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Hey there, little miss.” He tickled under her chin.
“Little dude,” Velma corrected. “He’s a boy.”
No way.
“His name is Buttercup.” Velma practically dared him to say something.
Brek tucked the little guy under his arm like a football. “What’d you come up with so far?”
Velma hesitated and glanced to Sophie, who, for the first time in his presence, went quiet.
“Sophie mentioned the flowers changed to orchids, so she’s feeling more of a tropical vibe now.” Velma’s attempt at cheerful didn’t work.
Brek let out a breath through his nose.Sophiewas two weeks away from her big day at a mountain resort in Estes Park that Aspen had reserved over a year ago. How the hell would they make a log cabintropical? Then again, given Sophie’s ability to pitch a fit, it wouldn’t shock him if she requested all the pine trees be uprooted at the resort so they could transplant palm trees.
“We’re brainstorming ideas.” Velma dropped the rings into a bowl.
“Tropical log cabin?” he asked Sophie, using his best you’re-a-bride-so-I-have-to-be-nice tone.
“Exactly.” Her face brightened. “Iknewyou’d understand.”
“Troy?” Brek asked her groom. “You okay with this?”
“Whatever she wants.” Troy shrugged and went back to investigating spoons.
“Could you get some of that grass thatch and cover the roof of the cabin? We could hire some of those hula dancers to perform at the reception. Maybe even roast a whole pig? Would your caterer do that?” Sophie was on a roll with ideas. Which would’ve been great—six months ago.
Brek held in the sigh threatening to spill out. Aspen had booked the band Sophie insisted on last fall, and Eli had spent the last month sourcing the ingredients for her extremely specific menu. “You don’t want the swordfish and grass-fed buffalo steaks anymore?”
She shrugged. “Buffalos aren’t tropical. Swordfish is still good, though.”
He pasted on his best attempt at a placating smile and scratched at his temple.
“It’s like Swiss Family Robinson in the mountains?” Velma piped in. “You could keep everything the same, but we have Jase add palm leaves to the table decorations and Eli can have the bartender add umbrellas to all the drinks?”
Sophie’s eyes went dreamy. “Champagne with little umbrellas?”
“We could even have a tree house. Everyone could take photos with it. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Velma was on a roll again. The kind that went right downhill.
