Every Bride Needs a Groom (15 page)

“Wait . . . secretive?” Brady looked confused.

“Of course.” My aunt clasped her hands together and squealed. “It's so obvious when I see the two of you together. I've put the puzzle pieces together. Katie told me all about the fiasco with the fella from Fairfield.”

“Fiasco?” Brady looked at me, wrinkles forming between his brows.

I felt the blood drain out of my face but couldn't muster up a word. Not a word.

“And now it's as plain as the nose on your handsome face. My sweet niece is really secretly engaged . . . to you!” Alva pointed at Brady. “Do I have it right? Is that why it's all so top secret?”

“W-what?” Stan paled and I thought he might have to be revived. He sat and put his head into his hands. “I knew it. I
knew
she was a distraction.”

“W-wait, what? No!” Brady shook his head. “I'm so confused.”

“I might just have to reconnect with the Fisher family if Brady James is a member.” Alva's face lit into a smile. “Those ladies up at Curves are going to be green with envy once they hear that the Mavericks' point guard is my nephew by marriage.” She giggled. “I can't wait to tell them.”

Brady glanced my way, and I could read the panic in his expression. Still, to his credit, he said nothing else.

I felt panic rise up inside of me as well. “Aunt Alva, you can't tell them that!”

“Okay, okay, I won't rush to tell anyone right away. You two want your privacy. I get that.” She poked her finger in Brady's chest again. “But you'd better take good care of this girl. I've known many a man who said he'd love and cherish a woman, only to drop her like a ball dribbling down the court. If I hear you've done anything to break Katie's heart, I'm coming after
you faster than a long shot in the last two seconds of the game. You hear me?”

“I, um . . .” Brady looked at me, concern in his eyes. “I wouldn't deliberately hurt anyone. But honestly—”

“Good. Because I've known far too many women who were mortally wounded over a love spat.” Her eyes clouded over, and she used the back of her hand to swipe at them. “Well, you two didn't come to talk about all of that, though I'm glad you've let me in on your little secret.”

“Aunt Alva, we don't have any secrets. Honestly.”

“Well then, it makes me feel very special that you've included me. It's been years since anyone in the Fisher family”—she spat the words—“felt the need to include me in anything.”

An awkward pause followed, and I tried to gauge Brady's reaction. Oh boy, were we going to have a lot to talk about after this.

“I, um, think we'd better get out to the front of the store,” Brady said. “I'm guessing Jordan Singer is here by now.”

“Jordan Singer?” Alva's nose wrinkled. “Who's that?”

“He's the reporter for
Texas Bride
, and he's about to interview Katie, since she won the dress.”

“The one she's going to wear when the two of you get married.” My aunt giggled. “Oh, this is perfect. Absolutely perfect!”

Brady took off so fast it made my head spin. Stan turned and glared at me. If I hadn't been so dumbstruck, I would've hollered, “It's not true! None of this is true!” but I couldn't seem to get my brain and my tongue working in unison.

Madge stood in total silence, eyes wide as saucers.

Aunt Alva slipped her arm through mine, and we followed the men back into the store. She chatted all the way, going on
and on about how wonderful it would be to have a pro basketball player in the family.

And Brady? Well, I could tell that he had located the reporter by the businesslike tone in his voice when he addressed the man standing near the counter. “Perfect timing, Jordan,” Brady called out. “C'mon over and meet our bride, Katie Fisher.”

“
Our
bride.” Aunt Alva elbowed me. “
Our
bride. I get it now, Katie. I get it.” She said something about how her life would be complete once I married the pro ball player, but I missed most of it. I pretty much missed the interaction between Brady and Jordan Singer too.

Right now, one thing and one thing only held me captive—the sight of my three brothers sauntering through the front door of Cosmopolitan Bridal.

I think growing up in a small town, the kind of people I met in my small town, they still haunt me. I find myself writing about them over and over again.

Annie Baker

I
f someone had asked me, “Where's the last place on earth you'd ever imagine seeing your brothers?” I might've gone with “a high-end bridal shop in Dallas.” I'd seen them in a variety of places over the years: on the ball field, chugging Mountain Dew in front of the Exxon station, swallowing down barbecue at Sam's, giving themselves brain freezes at Dairy Queen . . . but never, ever in an ocean of white taffeta and tulle. And certainly not surrounded by experts in the wedding business.

And yet, I couldn't deny the fact that Jasper, Dewey, and Beau stood at the front door of Cosmopolitan Bridal looking like small-town deer caught in the headlights of a big-city BMW.

“Ooh, incoming country boys.” Crystal giggled.

“
Handsome
country boys,” Twiggy echoed.

“What have we here?” Dahlia stared at my three brothers. “Not sure what we ever did to deserve these three, but I pray they're not grooms-to-be.”

“They're not.” I swallowed hard. “They're my brothers.”

“Your brothers?” The ladies spoke the words in unison.

“Yep. My brothers.”

“Well now.” Alva rubbed her hands together. “Plot twist.”

It was a plot twist, all right. I tried to envision Jasper, Dewey, and Beau through the eyes of the bridal shop staff. Three burly boys in jeans, plaid shirts, cowboy boots, and baseball caps. They looked as out of place as fish out of water.

Just when I thought the day couldn't possibly get any more interesting, Beau gave me a friendly wave and called out my name. “Yoo-hoo! Katie Sue!”

Dahlia looked at me, eyes wide. “You should've warned a girl.”

“I had no clue they were coming.”

“I just can't believe I'm looking at Jasper, Dewey, and Beau.” Aunt Alva shook her head. “They look nothing like the little snot-nosed boys I remember. Last time I saw them was in a photograph your mama sent me years ago. They were hanging upside down from a tree in your side yard. I do believe one of them was hiding from your father because he was in trouble.”

“Not much has changed then.” I returned Beau's wave and tried to figure out what they were doing here.

“Well, I'll be.” Alva chuckled. “I knew they'd be all grown up, but those fellas look like men, not boys.”

“Oh, they're men, all right.” Dahlia fussed with her hair as my brothers drew near.

I watched as the girls greeted my brothers and welcomed them to the shop. Dewey, known to our locals in Fairfield as a bit of a player, took one look at Dahlia and froze in place. Now here was a side to my middle brother that I'd never seen before. Player, yes. Womanizer, yes. Frozen in place by a gal he'd just met? Never. She greeted him with that thick Swedish accent of hers, and it appeared to hold him spellbound.

Behind Dewey, Jasper stood in a similar statuesque pose. I'd seen my oldest brother smitten before, but when he clapped eyes on Crystal, he couldn't seem to see straight. Or walk straight.

The one who surprised me most, however, was Beau. He might be twenty-two, but all of Mama's babying had pretty much kept him away from the dating scene. I'd secretly wondered if he would ever take any serious interest in the opposite sex. But unlike the older boys, he didn't seem frozen at all. In fact, his fluid movements in Twiggy's direction caught me completely off guard. And when he sidled up next to her with a twangy “How do you do?” the shock was apparently enough to de-ice Jasper and Dewey. They startled to attention and greeted the ladies.

I did my best to make proper introductions, but no one seemed to notice I was even there. Well, no one but Aunt Alva, who whispered, “Do the boys know you're engaged to Brady James?” in my left ear. I shook my head so hard that I almost gave myself whiplash.

I'd just started to respond when I noticed Brady still standing by the counter with the reporter. He signaled for me and Madge to join them. My brothers must've thought they were invited too. They looked at Brady and Jasper gasped.

“Doggone it, it's true!” Jasper took several steps toward the ball player. “You're Brady James.”

“I am.” Brady gave him a warm smile. “And you are . . . ?”

“My brother Jasper,” I said.

“Oh, family.” The reporter grabbed his tablet and turned it on. “It'll be great to have additional input for the article.”

“Article?” Jasper looked perplexed by this. He turned his attention back to Brady. “See now, Josh said you were workin' at the bridal shop, but I didn't believe it. Had to see it for myself.”

From behind the counter Stan let out a groan. “See, Brady? No one can believe it.”

“Let me get my brothers in on this action.” Jasper called for Dewey and Beau, who turned their attention from the girls long enough to acknowledge Brady. Before long all three of my brothers had engaged him in an intense conversation about that infamous game with the Spurs.

When Jasper stopped for a breath, I tapped his arm. “Are you saying you guys drove all the way to Dallas just to meet Brady?” I asked.

“I would've driven twice as far,” Alva interjected. She stuck out her hand to Jasper. “Howdy, boy. I'm your aunt Alva.”

“Aunt Alva?” My brother stopped in his tracks and looked her over. “Whoa.”

“Whoa is right. Wouldn't have recognized you for anything,” she said.

“That's strange, because I definitely would've recognized you. You look just like Queenie, so I'm pretty sure I would've figured it out in a hurry.”

“Just like her,” Dewey agreed.

“Spittin' image,” Beau added.

“I'd appreciate it if you'd stop bringing up her name.” Alva's expression soured. “But listen here, boys, your timing stinks.
Your sister here's got a big interview with this reporter.” Her nose wrinkled. “'Course, I probably wasn't supposed to say that out loud, with everything top secret and all, but she's gonna talk to him about that wedding dress she's getting.”

Jasper looked at me. “You're getting a wedding dress? But why? I thought you and Casey were . . .”

“Tsk, tsk. Don't go there.” Alva gave me a wink. “It's all top secret.” She laughed and slapped Jasper on the back. “Only, now you boys are in on it. And I don't mind saying I'm relieved I'm not the only one who knows. Having a ball player in the family is going to be the best thing that ever happened to any of us, don't you think?”

“Wait.” Dewey pulled off his baseball hat. “Having a ball player in the family?”

Madge coughed. “There's been a huge misunderstanding. Fellas, let me offer you some homemade peanut butter cookies, baked by Crystal this very morning. They're in the workroom. Alva, why don't you come with us so you and the boys can catch up on old times?”

I cringed as my aunt left with my brothers. No telling what she'd say to them. I'd be dead in the water before this day ended. Jasper, Dewey, and Beau would tell my parents everything. And Queenie . . . I shuddered as I thought about how she would respond if she heard any of this.

“Katie? You ready for the interview?”

“Hmm?” I looked at the reporter.

“I'm assuming from what I've just overheard that your fiancé is a ball player?” Jordan asked. “Is that right? Casey plays ball?”

“Oh yes. Casey has always played ball.” At least I didn't have to fabricate that. “Baseball. From the time he was a kid.”

“Got it.” Jordan looked around the shop as he shifted his tablet under his arm. “Well, let's find a place where I can inter
view you. Would you mind if Brady stayed with us? I have some questions about the shop's role in the contest, if you don't mind.”

“I don't mind a bit.” In fact, having Brady there felt strangely comforting. We would have a lot to talk about when this day ended, no doubt, but at least he kept silent for now. Still, he gave me the strangest look as we walked back to the studio. Poor guy. He probably wondered how—or why—he'd gotten stuck in the middle of my family drama. He was probably also wondering why my aunt assumed we were a couple. I couldn't figure that part out myself.

Right now I just wanted to run straight out the front door. Instead, I tagged along behind the guys, through the workroom, where I saw my brothers eating peanut butter cookies and flirting with the girls. I gave Aunt Alva a warning look as I passed through the room, and she waved in response and gave me another wink. I followed behind Brady and Jordan until we reached the studio, where I took a seat at Dahlia's work table.

I glanced down at the sketch of the Loretta Lynn dress and sighed. Off to my right I saw the fabrics for my gown, already cut, with the ruffles started. “Oh, look!” I grabbed one of the pieces and examined it. “Dahlia's been working.”

“She's moving fast on this one,” Brady said. “The photo shoot is just a month away.”

“To the day,” Jordan added. “July 15.”

“It's going to be the prettiest dress ever.” No sooner had I said the words than my eyes filled with tears. I didn't deserve a dress like this. And I certainly didn't need a dress like this, what with being single and all.

“I can tell you're emotional.” Jordan reached for his camera. “Do you mind if I get a quick shot of you as you hold the fabric? And the sketch too? The passion in your eyes will translate better to the page if I can capture it on film first.”

I didn't have time to say, “Please don't,” before he started snapping pictures.

Afterward he took a seat and reached for his tablet. I did my best not to let my nerves get the best of me, but I couldn't stop thinking about Aunt Alva, couldn't stop wondering what she might be telling my brothers right about now.

“I have quite a few questions for you, Katie,” Jordan said. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

When I shook my head, he pressed a button on his cell phone and set it on the table between us. Then he reached for his tablet once again and turned it on. “Okay, first question: what is it about the wedding dress that matters so much?”

“Oh, wow.” I stared at the reporter and tried to put it into words. “It's so hard to explain, but it's a magical thing.” My gaze shifted back over to the fabrics and ruffles near the sketch of my gown. “Kind of like Cinderella getting her ball gown from her fairy godmother. When you've got just the right dress, you believe that anything could—and will—happen. Happily ever afters. The perfect ceremony. Anything. Everything.”

“It all comes down to a dress?”

“Not the dress specifically, but the feeling you get when you're in the right one.”

Brady smiled. “My mom always says when a girl has the right dress, she's capable of just about anything.”

“Well, I happen to be married to a dress designer myself,” Jordan said. “Have you heard of Gabi Delgado Designs?”

I gasped as the realization hit. “Of course! You guys live in Galveston, right?”

“Right.”

“She's done a lot of great gowns, but I especially loved the one for the bride who was having twins.”

“Bride having twins?” Brady looked perplexed.

“Technically, she was already married.” Jordan laughed. “Bella Neeley and her husband D.J. recently renewed their wedding vows, and Bella was almost eight months pregnant at the time. They're good friends of ours.”

“Well, that dress was amazing. I'll never forget it.” I gazed at Jordan. “If you're married to a dress designer, then you get it, right? The right dress is like . . . like . . .”

“Finding the right person?” he tried.

“Well, finding the right guy is a lot more important than finding the right dress.” I swallowed hard at that statement. A wave of guilt slithered over me.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Madge's voice sounded from the doorway. “Your aunt wants to know if you want to meet her for lunch when you're done. She and the boys are going to a Mexican restaurant around the corner.”

“I have to get back to Lori-Lou's to watch the kids,” I said. “She and Josh are getting a new house.”

“Gotcha.” Madge nodded and then looked at Jordan. “Just for the record, I heard that last question. I've met many a bride who'd found the right dress but had the wrong guy. Even the best dress in the world can't fix that.”

“Some of them get married to Mr. Wrong anyway?” Jordan asked. “Just so they can wear the dream dress?”

Madge shrugged. “Just saying I've witnessed it firsthand. Once that dress is tucked away and preserved, the bride's still stuck with the wrong fella.” She gave me a knowing look. “Nothing worse than that. Don't ask me how I know.”

Some sort of subliminal message, maybe? Or did Madge have a story?

“Anyway, I'll tell your aunt that she and the boys should go on to lunch. Just hope the girls don't decide to take off with them.” Madge turned away from us, muttering something
under her breath, then added, “Gotta get back to the front of the store. Someone's gotta keep this place running while everyone else is busy flirting.”

“Flirting?” Jordan looked back and forth between Brady and me.

“Just ignore her,” Brady said. “Next question?”

“Well, let's get back to you, Katie.” Jordan tapped the front of his tablet and it sprang to life again. “Tell me what you like most about the Loretta Lynn gown, then tell me how it makes you feel when you see yourself in the gown that Nadia made just for you.”

“My favorite things about the gown? That's easy. It's not as fussy as some of the wedding dresses I've seen. I mean, if you think about Loretta Lynn, she comes from a simple background in Butcher Holler. I'm from a simple background in Fairfield. So having a fussy dress would've been too much. On the other hand, Loretta Lynn's style has always been ruffly and sweet. Look at the dresses she performed in during the eighties. Everyone wanted to look like her because she was so delicate and pretty. But in a nonthreatening way.”