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“You were supposed to wear cocktail attire.”
“This is clothing, and there will be cocktails. It’s a barbecue. My clothes are on point.”
“Ryan.”
“Bliss.” I respond in a high pitch tone.
She stepped closer and straightened the hem of the shirt over my jeans. “You look like the best man left a country club, robbed a college student, and joined a hockey team.”
“Almost spot-on, but I would never grace the steps of a country club.”
“The hat is backward.”
“The hat is me.”
She reached toward the brim.
I caught her wrist. “Choose your next move carefully, Bride.”
Bliss narrowed her eyes before looking over my shoulder. “Your best man is threatening me.”
Cade approached in dark trousers and the same powder-blue atrocity. His attention moved over my clothes, paused briefly on the hat, then reached my face.
“He needs to feel like himself tonight,” Cade said. “Consider the shirt a win, Pip.”
Bliss’s irritation softened around something quieter before she looked at me again. “I was considering it a partial victory.”
“No, you were preparing to turn my hat around.”
“It looks juvenile.”
“It looks like me, amiga.”
“Everything you own should look expensive now.”
“Milwaukee pays well, and my account stays full because I’m not a frivolous fucker.”
Cade’s mouth moved while Bliss released an aggrieved breath.
“Fine. Keep the hat.”
“I was always going to.”
“You could pretend I have authority.”
“You have a megaphone. Don’t become greedy.”
Her expression brightened. “I forgot I had your flask.”
“I didn’t.”
“You may have it after greeting the guests.”
“That agreement did not include performance requirements.”
“It does now.”
Cade wrapped one arm around her waist and steered her toward the ballroom. “Go greet your family before you redesign Ryan.”
