The Bridesmaid Lotto

  Tessa DeVante

  © 2021

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, event, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material in violation of the author’s rights.

  Love Me Collection

  Love Me, Ella #1

  Love Me, Raine #2

  Chapter 1

  Rowan laughed as the clamour along the bar grew in volume. Nothing to be done but to comply. The tradition couldn’t die with me. There’d be no living with that level of shame.

  “Shoot it!” Sharp retorts punctuated the words as people thumped pints of beer and multiple glasses against the solid wooden bar. “Shoot it! Shoot it!”

  More voices joined in the chorus until it seemed the entire club had joined in.

  Rowan lifted her glass in a salute. “To Sadie! May her married life be full of joy.” She linked arms with the bride, and they tapped glasses before they each tossed back their shots of tequila, bringing loud cheers from the party guests. Rowan twitched and grimaced at the burn in her throat, surprised by the tartness of the clear liquid as she sucked a lime wedge. She squinted at the bartender and scrunched her nose when she caught the wicked gleam in his eyes.

  Rowan and Sadie moved onto the next set of glasses, then the next, and the next, sucking down each portion in turn, finally ending with the fifth and final glasses with more lime wedges.

  “Brava, ladies. Those rounds are on the house.” The dark-haired bartender winked at Rowan before turning to pour out more shots as similar scenes played down the length of the bar.

  Tomorrow Rowan may regret the man’s sass in slipping her some actual shots of tequila, but only a little. Tonight was all about celebrating Sadie and her upcoming nuptials in a manner befitting the sixth member of their close-knit friend group tying the proverbial knot.

  At first, Rowan had protested at the idea of another drunken bachelorette, but she’d been overruled with remarkable speed. Each and every one of their friends who’d married in the past years had gone through this same ritual. Now they were pared down to only four remaining unmarried, the bevy of single ladies becoming increasingly sparse. Three. Soon only three of us left in the single ladies club.

  Mallory, the maid of honour, interrupted Rowan’s silent moment of mourning by grabbing their hands and hauling them both onto the floor. The light upbeat dance mix carried on the airwaves, the fairy lights ringing the roof top terrace glimmering against the dark summer sky. This wouldn’t last, these magical hours between midnight and dawn. Soon, their allotted time in this oasis would be up.

  Rowan swayed to the music, lifting her arms and letting go. The time to rue the death of her own dreams of happily wedded bliss flitted away. Six months had flashed by in a blur since the end, leaving her in a dreamlike daze. Time to move on.

  Move on. Move on. The familiar ached surged through her even as the words echoed in her head, morphing into the lyrics of the next song. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes for what she assumed was a millisecond, opening them to find she’d gained a dance partner. A familiar and extremely hot dance partner.

  Connor Ashton. The man waggled his brows, joining her in moving to the beat, wrapping an arm around her waist as she turned. He pulled her close, holding her tight against his firm body.

  This weirdness added another disjointed moment in the haze. This weekend of all times, this man decides to single me out? The tiny crush she harboured for this man had simmered for so long she’s stopped trusting herself around him. She pulled away and headed toward the far side of the terrace, catching the eye of the bartender. The man tapped his watch to indicate it was nearing closing time and set a tall, icy glass on the bar. She made a slight detour to retrieve it. “Thanks, Nick,” she said, making a mental note to add an extra-generous tip for the guy when she cleared the tab.

  Circling behind a some greenery, she found her favourite bench, collapsing onto it to take the weight from her aching feet.

  “Rowan? Are you okay?”

  She looked up into the amber eyes of Connor, taking in the concerned twist of his lips. “All good. You?”

  He nodded, but showed no sign of retreating. Instead, he propped himself against the edge of a massive stone planter. “Surprised you aren’t under the table, considering the amount you’ve packed away.”

  Lifting one shoulder, she sipped her ice water. Did I want to reveal my sleight of hand or uncover my accomplice? “After all of these bachelorette parties, I’ve learned to handle it well. Besides, tonight my job is keeping the bride safe and sound.”

  “I’ve seen you in this role before. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride?”

  Rowan quelled the urge to roll her eyes at the tired cliché. “Don’t you have some blonde waif to pursue? Isn’t that your preferred type?”

  Maybe the bite back was unworthy, but the reminder of her failure to make it to the altar burned in unexpected ways. Not that she necessarily cared about Connor’s opinion or his usual taste in women; she definitely didn’t. The issue lay in the painful echo of the words, another voice berating her about matters beyond her control. She gulped a mouthful of icy water, hoping to soothe the lump in her throat.

  “Nope, no preferred type.” His searching look seemed a touch regretful. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

  She shook her head, powerless to speak, but she wouldn’t discuss his direct attack on her heart. Rising, she hurried back toward the dance floor, ready to lose herself in the celebrations. Time to move on. Move on. Move on.

  * * *

  Despite the late night, Rowan arrived right on time for their Friday morning strategy session. She peered around the restaurant, spotting the group of bridesmaids at a long table toward the back of the restaurant.

  Mallory waved and beckoned. “You’re looking good.”

  Rowan slid into a chair beside the cheerful maid of honour. “You too. How’s Sadie this morning?”

  “Rough,” said Coco, their fellow bridesmaid and long-time friend. “I set up the usual morning after pack for her. She’s well equipped to manage the hangover, plus we booked a couple’s massage and a light lunch at the hotel spa. I’ll check on her later to ensure she’s ready for the rehearsal and dinner.”

  “Perfect. Everyone will receive their assignment for the afternoon in a moment,” Mallory said, tapping something into her phone. The action set off a series of chimes down the table. “If we divide and conquer, we’ll have time to meet up for drinks before the rehearsal.”

  “You are so organized.” Rowan lifted her Mimosa in a toast to Mallory’s organizational skills. The woman was unrivalled in her ability to complete her MOH duties with time to spare, turning out elegant event after elegant event, all tuned the strict budgets and exacting specification of each couple.

  “Back at you. The terrace last night”—Mallory kissed her fingertips with a flourish—“simply perfection. You ready to pull out all the stops for the venue?”

  “On it.” Rowan checked her phone and frowned. “Is this accurate? What body part did you sell to get Connor to decorate?”

  “He volunteered.”

  Ha, right. Probably scoping out his options. “Yeah, I just bet he did.”

  “Would I lie to you?” Mallory’s over-the-top saucy wink made Rowan laugh. “Just think, you can spend the entire day bossing him around.”

  She pictured his reaction to the lovely blonde caterer with her trim figure. “He’ll be sorely disappointed the lovely catering staff won’t be in until tomorrow morning.”

  “He’s not that bad.” Mallory giggled. “I’ll send reinforcements once some of the other guys have picked up the tuxes and completed their duties, so you won’t be tortured all day by our resident playboy. Anyway, rumour is he’s reined in those womanizer tendencies.”

  “Grady told me that too,” Coco said. “My sweetie knows Connor better than anyone, so it must be true.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Rowan muttered, but she pasted on a smile. No way would she fail on one of the most important missions of the wedding, so the man would simply have to fall into line. If the decor wasn’t perfect, there would be hell to pay, and Connor would be shelling out for that particular bill. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in line.”

  “Excellent. He’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes so you can share a ride to the hall.” Her friend snickered. “You’ll have a pleasant afternoon admiring his fine physique while he performs all the heavy lifting.”

  Rowan smothered a snort. If only he didn’t change women with the same frequency as his socks, he might be worth another look. Her final hope of spending as little time as possible with the man faded, leaving her with the small consolation of enjoying him like a morsel of eye candy. It could be worse.

  Chapter 2

  Rowan arrived in the lobby to find no sign of Connor. She glanced at her phone and crossed her arms as her foot took up a staccato tapping beat against the tile. The decorating would take hours, and she couldn’t afford to wait. She sighed and headed through the sliding glass doors, slipping on sunglasses to protect against the bright summer su

n.

  “Rowan. Ro! Wait up.” Connor jogged up and fell into step. “Sorry.”

  “Thanks for taking this seriously.” She sped up, jingling her car keys as she pulled them from her bag.

  “Hey.” He caught her arm and pulled her to a halt. “Tate is one of my best friends, so yeah, I do take this seriously. A family issue came up, so I had to take a call.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Not particularly, but that’s what happened.” He motioned toward a low-slung convertible. “Let me make it up to you and do the driving. I’ll get us there quickly.”

  “Alive, I trust?”

  “I’m an excellent driver.” He pressed his hand against the curve of her back, guiding her toward his fancy sports car.

  “Fine.” She had to admit his ride appeared far more comfortable than her rental car, so she allowed him to open the door. A sigh of bliss escaped as she settled into the buttery leather of the plush passenger seat.

  As the engine purred to life, she failed to contain her snicker.

  “What?”

  “This car is so you.”

  “Why do I suspect you’re not complimenting me?”

  Rowan lifted a shoulder and turned toward the window, pretending to be intent on the scenery.

  They drove in silence for several blocks before he said, “Why do you hate me?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Really?” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel before fiddling with the stereo. Soon, the smooth tones of a classic rock ballad flowed from the high-end speakers. “Tell me, Ro, why do you never talk to me?”

  “We’re talking now.”

  “Are we? This seems more like me talking, and you evading my questions.”

  She looked over at him, taking in the firm set of his lips. “You really want to know?”

  He glanced her way before turning his attention back to the busy highway. “Why else would I ask?”

  “Okay. Well, you never take anything seriously. You in your fancy suits, always wooing some woman or other, then dumping her as fast as you picked her up. Even today, you made some lame ass excuse for being late. This weekend should be about your best friend’s wedding, not dodging whichever woman you sequestered in your room last night.”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  “If the suit fits.” She angled away, wishing for their destination to magically appear before she slugged him. “A family crisis. Pleeeasssse.”

  “Actually,” he said in a low voice, “my little sister got brutally dumped by her boyfriend of two years. She called me in tears, and I had to talk her down from the ledge.”

  Rowan cranked her head toward him. “Is she okay?”

  “She will be.” Connor shook his head. “It’s the proverbial ledge, by the way, not an actual …” He fell into silence at her exasperated look. “Ah, right. You got that part.”

  “Yup, because I’m not a total idiot,” she said, giving her head a tiny shake. “I truly hope she’ll be okay. Getting dumped sucks.” Sadly, she’d experienced too many of her own romantic disappointments, so she understood the potential for devastation. Her most recent brutal break up, which came after two solid years of dating and numerous unfulfilled promises for a rosy future, threatened to stick with her for eternity. Not that I’d tell Connor that.

  “It sure does,” he said. “I’m not sure what she saw in the guy. Never liked him much, but I still feel for her.”

  This coming from a heartbreaker who knew zilch about being the dumpee.

  “Lindsey’s sweet and trusting. Men tend to take advantage of that.”

  “Ya don’t say.” Ah, the irony.

  “Okay, okay, take it easy with the sarcasm.” He reached over and patted her hand, lingering a touch too long. “Maybe I deserve that, but I assure you, I’m trying to overcome the stupidity of my younger years.”

  She brushed him away. “What, you’re having some sort of epiphany? An early mid-life crisis?”

  He squinted. “I’m not even thirty.”

  “Hence, the early part.”

  “Yeah, I’m an unredeemable asshole, right?” The man sighed. “With that opinion, it’s clear why you barely tolerate me.”

  “Like you ever tried to get to know me. You were too busy sampling the flavour of the week.”

  “Ouch.” He grimaced as they pulled into the parking lot. “For what it’s worth, I’m not oblivious to my shortcomings. There are many things I wish I’d done differently, people I wish I’d treated better. That includes you.”

  Rowan tilted her head, assessing his words. The man certainly seemed sincere, but maybe he was a great actor, playing in his usual starring role. “Want to earn some redemption? Get your ass into that building and help me decorate for Sadie and Tate’s wedding.” She slid from the car and stalked toward the building.

  His theatrics had put them behind schedule, endangering everything. The true test would be seeing him step up and make good on his word.

  * * *

  The pictures from Mallory, sent in the early planning stages, didn’t do justice to the beautiful space. Rowan stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly, her worries about hall feeling cramped faded away. Despite the number of guests, the high ceilings and large windows on the West side, which overlooked a glorious meadow and clear blue lake, gave the venue a spacious feel. The view to the East was just as spectacular, facing high mountain peaks. Whistler proved a picture perfect place for a wedding.

  She took a long breath and closed her eyes, taking a moment to clarify her vision for the place.

  “Whoa.” Connor’s low whistle seemed to echo her thoughts. “This place is amazing.”

  “Mal outdid herself on this one. That she managed a venue like this in mid-summer is a miracle.” She pulled out her plans and unrolled them, smoothing her palms across the paper in an attempt to lay them flat. “We need to drape the tulle, hang all the lights and lanterns, set up the tables and chairs, and ensure everything is ready for the florist and caterer.”

  She twitched as the man leaned over her shoulder, assailed by the masculine spicy note of his aftershave. “The boxes are there,” she said, pointing to the cartons along the back wall, “and everything is marked with numbers corresponding to the plans.”

  The man chuckled. “Why am I not surprised you numbered and colour-coded everything?”

  “Do you have a problem with organization?” She narrowed her eyes. “This is what I do, Connor. People pay me a pile of money to plan for them. I leave nothing to chance.”

  “Aren’t you some sort of business strategist?” He quirked a brow. “Do you also moonlight as a part-time wedding planner?”

  Given the number of weddings in their group over the past few years, it certainly felt as if she’d taken on an entirely new role. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she enjoyed it. “I love making my friend’s major occasions special, so yeah, maybe my part-time gig is event planner. Ready to get to work? The others should be here in about two hours, but the first steps we can accomplish with just the two of us.”

  Connor gave her an odd look. “You planned out the tasks by …” He cleared his throat. “Never mind. I await my orders.”

  “Open box one. Carton two contains the tall folding ladder, so we’ll get started on the lights.”

  He snapped a mock salute, but headed toward the piles with no argument. As he bent and hefted the first box, his muscles strained against his tight black t-shirt.

  Mallory’s earlier words came back to her as she inspected the way his shorts clung to his taught, firm buttocks. A shiver coursed through her as she pictured those tight, bare cheeks, rubbing her hands over her bare legs as that night came back to her.

  Their group had never been shy, frequently skinny dipping in the lake when they gathered for their summer vacation. Usually, their nakedness was hidden in the darkness, only glimpses revealed in the shimmering moonlight, depending on the night. That night, however, she’d seen far more than she bargained for, getting the full moon view in more ways than one.

  The vision now hit her with force along with the desire she’d always kept under wraps. Closing her eyes, she clamped her teeth onto her lower lip and struggled to keep her breathing even. She could almost feel the smoothness of his bare ass cupped in her palms, the unfulfilled desire to have him inside her dampening her panties.

 

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