How to Rope a Real Man Read online

  Jenna fiddled with the tag on the towel. “I’m not sure about the merits of comparing men to fish. I think they’re more like—”

  “Peacocks? Donkeys? Hyenas?”

  Jenna laughed despite herself. “I was thinking more like elephants.”

  Carrie gasped. “Hold on a sec. That sounds to me like you’ve seen this Matt guy naked. And he’s . . . he’s hung like an elephant! This changes everything. Honey, you can’t let this one slip away.”

  “What? Sorry to disappoint you, but no. I haven’t seen him naked and I have no idea how he’s hanging.” Not actually true because she’d felt his arousal while they’d waltzed and caught a glimpse when she’d woken on Tara’s couch, so she knew firsthand that he was hanging just fine, thank you very much.

  “Damn. You know that’s one of my top twenty things I want to do before I get married, right?”

  “Sleep with a well-endowed man? Yeah, I’m aware of that.” As far as goals went, Carrie’s might be shallow, but it had merit.

  “Just once,” Carrie pined. “One magic night of hedonism is all I’m asking. I mean, how are we supposed to know if the adage ‘size doesn’t matter’ is true or merely a cruel urban legend perpetuated by teeny-weenie men?”

  That was a conundrum. Jenna tried, but she couldn’t hold back a giggle, as usual when their conversation plunged into the gutter. “I’m already feeling better. Thank you.”

  “I’m here for you anytime. You know that. Okay, I’m off my magic wang soapbox—for now. Tell me, why are men like elephants?”

  Jenna indulged in one more laugh. Nothing like a magic wang soapbox to put her problems in perspective. “Okay, so Tommy and I were watching this show on elephants a few years ago. Did you know male elephants don’t live with the pack of females or their kids? They can’t even live together in a herd of males because all their macho maleness makes them too aggressive. It’s the female elephants that run the show, feed the young, and protect the herd. And men . . . well, they only come around when they want to get laid.”

  “That’s a really jaded view of dating and relationships for someone who’s about to watch her sister get hitched.”

  “I know.”

  She wasn’t entirely convinced of the accuracy of her analogy, and if pressed, she could come up with lots of examples of men who were the doting, stick-around types, her soon-to-be brothers-in-law included. But it made her feel stronger to think of herself like one of those powerful elephant matriarchs, wise and unflappable, protecting her own and dismissing the male gender as nothing but baby-making love machines. After all, she’d done more than all right for herself and Tommy without Carson’s support, or any man’s, for that matter.

  “Forget about the hot lawyer,” Carrie said. “He can’t be Kellan’s only single friend at the wedding.”

  She had a hunch where Carrie was going with the conversation and grinned, the last of her anxiety evaporating. “He’s not.”

  Carrie always did think outside the box. Besides her wicked sense of humor, it was one of the things that made her such a great study partner and friend. She wished she could’ve invited Carrie to the wedding, but there was no way she could’ve gotten away with it without explaining where she knew Carrie from.

  “So, do your thing. Shake your moneymaker and show Mr. No-Commitment what he’s missing. Didn’t you tell me Tommy was leaving the reception early with a babysitter?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  Carrie hummed, intrigued. “I think it’s time for mama to have some fun.”

  Jenna stood and drew a heart on the fogged-up mirror. She was definitely overdue for some fun. It’d been six months since her get-your-rocks-off fling with a guy from her computer-engineering lab. That had been a nice distraction, with a lot of screwing and not much talking, but the whole time, that hollow, lonely feeling had dogged her. When the relationship had run its course, she’d been right back to wishing for something more substantial.

  Something with Matt.

  “I’ll see what I can manage and report back tomorrow.”

  “See that you do,” Carrie said in an overly formal voice. “If I can’t live vicariously through my best friend, then what good are you?”

  Jenna swallowed a comeback about how, since Carrie was single and kid-free, Jenna should be the one living vicariously through her. For all her big talk about big men, Carrie was just like every other woman Jenna knew, herself included—an old-fashioned girl at heart, waiting for Mr. Right to come along and love her forever.

  After connecting with Carrie, Jenna felt more grounded and able to face Matt, the wedding craziness, and the Parrishes. Wrapped in a robe she’d found hanging on the bathroom door, she stepped from the bathroom into the main room of the bridal suite. Rachel and Amy were alone and sitting close together on the sofa.

  “Where did everyone go? I thought Marti was going to style my updo.”

  “She is,” Amy answered, “but I sent her to make sure Kellan’s hair was behaving itself. Lord knows he can’t get it to lie flat. Really, though, I wanted to get you two alone to tell you the good news.”

  Good news? Excellent. Good news was the best kind of secret. And, bonus, Amy hadn’t kept them waiting long at all to spill the beans. Jenna sank onto the sofa on the opposite side of Amy from Rachel, her heart rate picking up speed in anticipation.

  Amy sat up straighter, curling her hands over her knees. “As you know, the tequila shot I drank last night didn’t sit well with my stomach.”

  Rachel snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. The way you sounded in that bathroom, I thought an alien was trying to break free of your body.”

  The look Amy gave Rachel could’ve leveled a building. “Thanks for the poetic reminder, Rach. Really.”

  Rachel didn’t take the hint to zip her trap. “Are you telling us you have good news about puking up tequila?”

  Amy’s wedding dress rustled as she jagged sideways on the sofa with a little hop to face Rachel. “I swear, you are the most literal person I have ever known.”

  And they were off. Jenna shot to her feet and wedged her posterior between her sisters. “Time out. You two can argue while I’m getting my hair done. Spill it, Ames—what’s your big secret?”

  It took rolling her tongue over her teeth and a deep sigh for Amy to collect herself. “Back to my story. After that one time getting sick at the saloon, I felt better until the morning when I couldn’t hold down breakfast.”

  That kind of intermittent nausea could only be one of two things, Jenna figured. And the anxiety attack option didn’t involve sitting your sister down for good news. She clapped a hand over her mouth as reality dawned on her, trying desperately to let Amy finish her story.

  “Kellan insisted on dragging me to urgent care, hoping that whatever was wrong, we could get some medicine. Not only so I could function at the wedding, but because we’re leaving on our honeymoon tomorrow. Imagine how stupid we felt when the nurse told us—”

  “You’re pregnant!” Jenna hadn’t meant to beat her to the finish line, but she couldn’t contain her joy any longer.

  The smile stretching Amy’s lips told Jenna she didn’t mind Jenna stealing her glory. “I’m pregnant. And not just pregnant—I’m nine weeks along.”

  Rachel rocked back, her eyebrows high into her forehead. “Well, I’ll be. You haven’t had your period in two months and it never occurred to you that you might be knocked up?”

  Jenna put her mom skills into practice with a searing knock-it-off look that’d been known to put grown men in their places. Luckily Amy was now floating on cloud nine, complete with a dreamy, faraway expression, and didn’t register the bite in Rachel’s admittedly logical question. “I thought it was wedding stress. You know how I get.” She hummed and drew her shoulders up, hands around her middle. “Kellan and I are so happy. I can’t believe I have to wait seven more months to meet our baby.”

  Rachel slipped her arm behind Jenna and rubbed Amy’s shoulder. “Congratulations. I can’t
wait to meet him either. Or her. That’s going to be one spoiled baby, I’ll tell you that right now.”

  Amy hugged her belly tighter. “No doubt about it.”

  Jenna pulled her into a tight hug. “Rachel’s right. Congratulations, sweetie. Even if means you won’t be toasting your wedding with champagne, this is still the best news ever.”

  “You don’t think the alcohol I’ve had will hurt the baby, do you?”

  Jenna shook her head. “No way. You threw up all the tequila before it could hit your system.”

  Amy pulled back, a shadow of worry on her face. “I’ve had more than that. A glass of wine here and there to relax. Kellan likes the way I get silly from drinking.”

  Rachel groaned. “T.M.I., for God’s sake.”

  Amy angled around Jenna and poked Rachel’s shoulder. “Stop acting like a prude. You know what? I bet you have the dirtiest mind and busiest sex life among us. In fact, I bet you’re into all kinds of kinky stuff. The loud-mouthed, judgmental ones always are.”

  Rachel snorted in protest, even though her cheeks pinked. “You’re getting me mixed up with politicians.”

  Time to swing the conversation back to neutral territory. She squeezed Amy’s hands. “Sweetie, before I found out I was pregnant with Tommy, you know I was no angel, but he came out fine. Of all the things you could be thinking about right now, that one’s not worth your energy. The OB-GYN’s going to tell you the same thing. Here’s what I want to know—when are you going to start telling people?”

  “Kellan should be telling his mom and brother right about now, and then . . .” If possible, her smile grew even wider. “We’re going to make an announcement at the reception.”

  Full-steam ahead must be Kellan and Amy’s relationship theme because nothing they did was gradual or cautious in the least. “Oh, my. That will certainly be the icing on the cake of what was already bound to be the most perfect night ever. The good people of Catcher Creek will be wagging their tongues about your wedding for years to come.”

  A knock sounded at the door; then Marti poked her head of bottle-blond hair in. “Everybody decent?”

  “That’s negotiable,” Amy answered. She poked Rachel’s shoulder again and whispered, “Kinky beast.”

  Rachel grabbed Amy’s finger and twisted it until she squealed.

  “You wouldn’t hurt a pregnant lady, would you?”

  “You better watch it, little sister, or I’ll advise Kellan to smash that wedding cake right on your nose.”

  “He wouldn’t dare!”

  Hopeless was what her sisters were. Jenna stood and scooted out of the line of fire. “Glad you’re back, Marti. Time for me to get ready for my close-up.” She took a seat on the chair Marti patted. “Amy, Rachel, you’d better get moving for the pictures before you ruin each other’s hair and makeup.”

  Chapter Seven

  The wedding-party photographs went off without a hitch, even though it took all of Jenna’s best kid-wrangling skills to keep Tommy from bouncing off the walls or getting his suit dirty and wrinkled. At the rate he was going, they’d be lucky if his boutonniere survived until the end of the wedding ceremony, much less the reception.

  When the photographer announced, finally, that they were done and could release the smiles they’d plastered to their faces and regroup before the ceremony, Amy and Rachel headed back to the bridal suite, while Kellan and his groomsmen chatted up the arriving guests. Jenna tucked into a corner of the lobby, keeping one eye on Tommy as she took the opportunity to skim her checklist before showtime.

  “Yo, little man,” Kellan said. “You’re looking so fine in that suit that you’re making the rest of us guys look bad.” He squatted to get eye level with Tommy. “It’s not fair. Nobody can compete with cuteness this extreme. But wait, you’ve got something on your jacket. Let me get that.” He stuck his finger in Tommy’s armpit.

  Giggling, Tommy buckled over as Kellan doubled his efforts with a finger to Tommy’s other pit. The next time Jenna glanced up from her list, Kellan had Tommy upside down while Tommy retaliated by tickling Kellan in the back of his knee. Petals from his boutonniere sprinkled to the ground. Oh well.

  “Your boy’s gotten so big since the last time I saw him. And so handsome.”

  “Thank you.” She marked her place with her finger before looking up to see who it was. When she did, her insides clenched. Mrs. Parrish.

  “He reminds me of my boys when they were young. Full of spit and vinegar.”

  Jenna swayed. The room exploded into a vacuum of space, the sounds far away and floating—the cascade of water from the fountain in the atrium, conversations, the click of heels—and she had no anchor.

  “Mommy, I broke my flower,” Tommy said, running her way with a handful of petals.

  “It’s okay, buddy. Flowers aren’t meant to last forever.” Heart pounding, she took the flower remnants and gripped his shoulders. He squirmed beneath her touch and stepped behind her as though sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

  Mrs. Parrish got down low at Tommy’s level and beamed at him with the wide-eyed, exaggerated enthusiasm of someone who wasn’t used to being around kids. “Hello, young man. We need to have your mommy bring you to my store. I keep candy there.”

  He buried his face into Jenna’s dress. “I’m not allowed to take candy from strangers.”

  “What a smart answer!” She stood and aimed her too-bright smile at Jenna. “You know, when you were a girl, your daddy brought you into the shop all the time. You loved the cinnamon candies. Neither of your sisters had a tolerance for the heat of them, but you used to strut around, a sassy little thing, flaunting your special treat. How about you bring Tommy around to the shop sometime soon? I could use a fix of the little ones, since none of my own children have seen fit to provide me with any grandbabies.”

  “Sure. Of course,” Jenna said, choking on the lump in her throat.

  “Such a sweet lad.” Mrs. Parrish reached out to Tommy. He dodged her hand and bolted toward Rachel, who was walking their way.

  Rachel took his hand, then leveled a pointed look at Jenna and Mrs. Parrish. “Sorry to interrupt, but Jenna and Tommy are needed in the bridal suite because the ceremony’s about to get started.”

  Inching toward the hall, Jenna offered Mrs. Parrish a conciliatory smile. “Thanks for coming. I’d better not keep the bride waiting.” Heart pounding, she hastened after Rachel and Tommy through the hall, not breathing until Tommy disappeared through the bridal suite door.

  Though she’d never claim to feel this way as a rule, today Jenna was grateful that five-year-old boys had the attention spans of puppies hopped up on caffeine. Because nobody expected Tommy to remain standing with the wedding party for the duration of the ceremony. Amy wanted him to try to last, but Jenna and Mr. Dixon—Amy’s sous chef and the honorary grandpa of everyone at Sorentino Farm—had created a carefully constructed backup plan involving Life Savers hard candies for when his wiggles got distracting.

  As they’d practiced at the rehearsal, he walked with measured steps down the aisle while holding the ring pillow, then stood between Jake and Vaughn. During his walk, Jenna kept one eye on him and the other on the Parrishes, who beamed at him and whispered to each other, hopefully about how precious and cute he looked—not how familiar. She didn’t detect any gleam of awareness in any of their eyes, but that didn’t mean her secret was safe.

  Jenna’s anxiety must’ve been palpable because Rachel elbowed her and told her to relax because Tommy was doing great. Tommy took his place between Jake and Vaughn and smiled proudly at Jenna. She shoved aside her fears and nerves and gave him a thumbs-up as the opening strains of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the air.

  Amy appeared from around the corner, so radiant and glowing that she seemed to float on Mr. Dixon’s arm. She smiled at the rows of standing people, then her gaze found Kellan’s and she burst into silent, effusive tears.

  Amy hadn’t even managed to make it all the way down the aisle at Mr. D
ixon’s arm before Tommy’s distracted bouncing of the ring pillow against his knee devolved into whacking himself in the head with it. Thank goodness Jake had the foresight to rescue the rings and transfer them to his pocket.

  Mr. Dixon handed Amy off to Kellan’s arm with a kiss on her cheek, then, after exchanging a smile with Jenna, took Tommy’s hand and led him to a seat.

  Thanks to Tommy’s inability to stand still, the Parrishes only had a couple minutes to study him, but Jenna remained off balance and nauseous until Amy and Kellan were standing in front of the minister and the people in the audience had settled in to give their full attention to the bride and groom.

  She recited the alphabet backward to R and gradually felt her spirit snap back into alignment with her body. Only then did she process how beautiful a ceremony she’d helped orchestrate.

  The atrium was a tropical oasis, with floor-to-ceiling windows behind a massive waterfall fountain dropping into a dark pool lined with fauna. Tara had floated pink flowers and candles in the pool and lined the edges with flower petals. One of the arrangements Jenna, Matt, and Tara had created cascaded from the arch behind the minister in a burst of glorious excess that coordinated exquisitely with the bouquets, boutonnieres, and flower-adorned updos of the wedding party.

  Amy and Kellan couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Amy’s hormones were probably going haywire because she wept through the whole ceremony. Jenna wouldn’t have put it past Kellan to have planned for Amy’s high emotions because he conveniently produced a handkerchief from his pocket to intermittently dab at her tears and runny nose as the ceremony wore on. It was a romantic, intimate gesture that spoke volumes about Amy and Kellan’s rock-solid relationship and chased Jenna’s nerves away.

  Her focus drifted over the groomsmen. Jake stood next to Kellan, looking every bit of the odd man out. Jenna didn’t think she’d ever seen a man more uncomfortable in a Stetson, suit, and dress boots. He squirmed a lot and scratched the beard he’d chosen to keep. Though he’d trimmed it neater, it still carpeted his neck and disappeared behind the tie he’d probably be ripping off the first chance he got.