He tossed a box on the next chair. “If I stop answering, she’ll panic, pull her ass outta bed, drive over here, and then Ma will be pissed at me because she’s not in bed. Jacob will be pissed at me because she’s not in bed, and I’ll be pissed at her because she’s not in bed. So, I keep answering her calls and everyone’s only minimally annoyed.”
“Mr. Montgomery.” The mother of the bride’s nasally voice was hard to miss.
He turned.
Mrs. Winthrop had enough work done on her face to age her down at least twenty years. He knew her type before she set foot on the grass in her red custom Versace gown that came with an honest-as-fuck cape.
“Be a dear and get me an aspirin. I have a killer headache.” She sat and draped herself on one of the chairs.
Velma raised an eyebrow at him. She needed to stop turning him on with her facial expressions when he was in the midst of the wedding of the century without any aspirin for the mother of the bride.
“I have something in my purse. Hang on.” Velma gave him a pointed glance and strutted toward the building.
So, they’d make a pit stop and get everything on Aspen’s ridiculous list. Point made. Although he had no idea why anyone might need a shower cap at a wedding.
“Coming, dear.” Mrs. Winthrop stood and followed Velma.
He finished placing the chocolate in his hand, glanced up, and…shit-fucking-son-of-a-bitch. The woman had sat on one of the chocolates. And by the look of how her ass was covered, apparently the chocolates had melted. Aspen thought the truffles would withstand the heat. She was wrong.
His heart stopped. Just quit. Boom. No more beating.
When the lighting at a show wasn’t just right, his drummer could toss a tantrum better than anyone he’d ever known. When the guitar pick wasn’t the right shade of blue, his bass player had a tendency to lose his mind. Put the whole band together? The energy that made their music top the charts was the same energy that made their fights turn into full-on brawls. But he had a feeling the fit Mrs. Winthrop was about to throw would top anything his boys could’ve imagined.
And she was headed for Velma.
He grabbed the dog’s leash and hightailed it to the door. Buttercup kept up beside him.
Then the scream. The scream that made his blood clot on impact. He yanked open the door and saw that Velma had spilled aspirin all over the Berber carpet tiles in the foyer.
If fury had a color, it would’ve been the shade of Mrs. Winthrop’s face in that moment—mottled red with splotches of pink, white, and even orange. “My dress.”
Little white pills crunched under his boots. “Mrs. Winthrop, it’s gonna be fine. We can fix this.”
How? He had no idea. Nothing would fix this.
The woman’s mouth opened and closed like one of the goldfish Velma had gotten for the tablescapes.
Velma’s eyes were massive round orbs. “The chocolate melted.”
Yeah, he’d gotten that. He snatched up the dog and set him on a nearby table to keep him out of the painkillers. He tossed the necklace box next to Buttercup and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves.
Mrs. Winthrop sucked in a breath.
He didn’t think it was possible, but Velma’s eyes got bigger. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
He shoved his shirt to her. “Go take off your clothes.”
Mrs. Winthrop puffed up like a peacock. “Mr. Montgomery. I don’t know what you’re getting at here—”
“Velma’s gonna give you her clothes. She’s gonna put on my shirt. I’m going to take your dress to get the chocolate out.”Was he the only coherent one of the bunch?
He was the one standing there with no shirt, but he had a plan. Still, the women didn’t move.
“I didn’t sign up for this.” Velma crossed her arms.
“Excuse us.” He nodded to Mrs. Winthrop and scooted Velma to the side.
