Every Bride Needs a Groom (24 page)

I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of the streets.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

P
erched in the passenger seat of Brady's truck, all adorned in white, I felt like a bride. Well, a pretend bride on her way to a stockyard for a photo shoot, anyway. My tuxedo-adorned groom glanced at me and laughed. “I'm sorry, but something about the way you're sitting cracks me up. You're like a stone. A white stone.”

“I'm terrified to move.”

“Because of the dress?” He tugged at his collar. “Afraid you'll ruin it?”

“I'm just a klutz. Knowing me, I'll spill coffee all over it.” I sat perfectly still, afraid to breathe.

“There's no coffee in my truck.”

“Right. Well, maybe motor oil.”

“I don't think you'll be touching any of that.” He grinned and then eased on the brake to stop at a light. He gave me a comforting look. “Just rest easy, Katie. And if you do run into any problems, don't worry. Dahlia will have an emergency kit with her.”

“Emergency kit? Huh?”

“Yep. Instant stain remover. Needle and thread. Mini scissors. You name it, she'll have it.”

“Good.” I nodded and did my best to relax. “Is it hot in here?” Ribbons of sweat trickled down my back.

“I'll adjust the AC.” He turned the fan directly on me and increased the flow of air. I tried to settle against the seat, but my sweaty back made it impossible. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Queenie would do if she saw me like this. She'd call for the WOP-pers to pray, naturally. And if Alva saw me sitting here in a wedding dress next to Brady? Well, she'd go on assuming the two of us were a couple.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Brady drive the truck. He talked about nonsensical things, everything from the weather to the photo shoot. Something about his voice—that soothing, comforting voice—calmed my soul. It also gave me the tingles. Or maybe the dress gave me the tingles. The taffeta parts were a little itchy, after all. Still, being here with him, all six feet four of him, made me happier—no, giddier—than I'd been in ages. I couldn't help myself as the giggles bubbled up.

Brady looked my way and grinned. “You okay over there?”

“Peachy. Just peachy.” Saying the word
peachy
reminded me of the night I'd been crowned Peach Queen back home in
Fairfield. As wonderful as I'd felt that night, sitting here with Brady, dressed in wedding duds, felt even better.

We arrived at the stockyard at exactly five minutes till three, just in time to meet with Jordan and the photographer, who'd wanted to capture the shots mid-afternoon due to the setting of the sun. Brady pulled the truck into the parking lot and tried to strategize the best place to park.

“I don't want you to have to walk far in that dress.” His nose wrinkled. “On the other hand, I don't want to be near the front of the parking lot because the ground is still wet from the rain we had yesterday. No point in getting muddy.”

No, indeed. If I got this gorgeous Loretta Lynn gown muddy, Nadia would never forgive me.

He parked in the middle, in a spot with enough open space on either side to accommodate my full skirt. Then he placed a call to Madge, who had gotten tied up at the shop with a bride.

“Looks like Madge and Dahlia are going to be a little late,” he said. “Think you can make it to the shoot without them?”

“I'll do my best, boss.” I laughed. “Sorry, I think I've just heard the others call you that so many times it stuck.”

Brady came around to my side to help me out. When he took hold of my hand, it felt perfectly natural. I couldn't help but smile.

“You ready to do this?” he asked.

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

The moment we stepped out of the truck, we drew a crowd. I'd worried about how people would respond to seeing a bride walking down the main street of Fort Worth, and I prayed that they wouldn't get the wrong idea about Brady. With someone as well known as Brady James, the risk of media showing up was very real. Why hadn't I thought of that?

“Oh, Brady.” I shook my head and took a few steps away from the crowd. “We can't do this. People are going to think . . .”

“Don't worry about the fallout, Katie. I've already put Stan to work on a story for the media so people don't get the wrong idea. If I know him—and I do—he'll come up with some slant to get me back on the court.”

“No doubt.” I giggled.

He leaned over to whisper, “If anyone asks, we'll explain that I'm just a prop.”

“You could never be just a prop.” My words came out sounding a little too passionate.

He smiled. “Well, thank you for that.” He held out his arm and I slipped mine through his. “We're going to march down Main Street like we belong here. Let the chips fall where they may.”

“Speaking of chips . . .” I pointed down to the road, where the cattle drive had taken place a few hours prior. “Watch your step, cowboy.”

He laughed.

And off we went, the happy bride and groom, arm in arm. A crowd continued to gather around us, and people pulled out their phones to take pictures.

“Hey, Brady!” an older fellow called out. “You gettin' hitched?”

“Nope,” he called out. “I'm just a prop, folks. Just a prop.”

“You look like a cake topper,” another man hollered.

“Told you.” Brady looked my way and rolled his eyes.

“A very handsome cake topper.” I gave his arm a little squeeze. “Chin up, Brady. We'll get through this.”

“No wonder your head hasn't been in the game,” the older fellow added. “You're distracted.”

Great. Someone else who thought I was a distraction in Brady's life.

Thank goodness Brady didn't feel the need to respond to that last comment. He just held his head up and guided us through the crowd to the spot near the museum where the photo shoot would take place.

Jordan met us there, a broad smile on his face as he saw us coming toward him.

“Well now, I get two for the price of one—a bride and a groom.”

“We aim to please.” Brady grinned and released my arm. “Hope you don't mind that I'm playing the role of groom.”

“Don't mind a bit, if the Someday Bride doesn't.”

“The Someday Bride doesn't.” I giggled.

“Show him your dress, Katie,” Brady said with a smile.

I did a little twirl and showed off the ruffles in the skirt.

“Looks great.” Jordan smiled. “And it's going to photograph well, I'm sure. We've got a spot all set up for the first shot.” He pointed at the area, which had been taped off to keep the crowd away. “Perfect background, right?”

Perfect was right. Underneath the mid-afternoon sun, the area felt like a scene from the Old West. In a few hours, if this photo shoot lasted that long, Brady and I would be riding off into the sunset. For some reason that got me tickled. That, and I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he'd called himself a prop.

Jordan introduced us to the photographers—a married couple, Hannah and Drew Kincaid from Galveston. Turned out they had done a lot of photo shoots involving brides, so they knew just how to ask me to pose. Good thing too, because I froze up the minute I stepped into the spot they'd prepped for me. The first couple of shots were rough at best. And it didn't help that total strangers were watching, whooping and hollering, and asking Brady about the big day.

Madge and Dahlia finally showed up, but their presence didn't serve to calm my nerves, especially with Dahlia fussing over the wrinkles in the dress. Only when the photographers decided that Brady should join me in the photos did I begin to calm down.

He stepped into place next to me and slid his hand on my back. “The prop has arrived.”

“You're no prop,” I whispered. “And I'm no model.”

“Oh, I don't know. You're prettier than a picture, that's for sure.” He gave me a little smile and I calmed down immediately.

“Okay, you two.” Hannah gestured with her hand. “I hope this doesn't make you feel too awkward, but you're going to have to give us some up-close and personal poses. Can you do your best to get cozy?”

Oh, I could definitely get cozy with this guy. On the other hand, he was a full head taller than me. Maybe more so. Hannah saw my plight right away and brought me a wooden crate to stand on.

“Try this.” She put it in place and gestured for me to make use of it.

With Brady's help I climbed up onto the crate, nearly falling in the process. He caught me around the waist, and the cameras started snapping. I settled into place and gave them a funny pose, one that sent me toppling right into my groom. The cameras kept snapping. Brady, in an impulsive move, grabbed me around the waist and lifted me into the air. The crowd roared with delight.

“Three-point shot!” someone hollered.

He laughed and set me back down on the crate.

“Let's try some sweet poses now,” Hannah instructed. “Cheek to cheek. That sort of thing.”

“Happy to oblige.” Brady gave me a little nod.

“Face each other and put your palms together,” she instructed. “And then lean in.”

“Lean in, eh?” Brady quirked a brow as he placed his palms against mine. “Don't mind if I do.”

My heart skip-skip-skipped as I leaned against his cheek for several photos. I felt his breath warm against my face. Hannah and Drew took several shots from a variety of angles while the crowd continued to whoop and holler.

“Okay.” Drew put his camera down and walked toward us. “We'll do a few shots of Katie with Brady looking at her.”

“Adoringly,” Hannah added. “Can you look at her adoringly, Brady?”

“Won't take much effort.” He gave me a little wink.

Madge let out a whistle and the crowd responded with another whoop.

“Katie, we'll do a bunch of different poses,” Hannah said.

And we did. I loved the ones with my back to the camera as I looked over my shoulder. I even loved the ones where I sat on the crate, sort of hunched over, like an exhausted bride after a long day. My favorite, however, was the one where I caught a glimpse of Brady looking at me from a distance, his eyes brimming with affection.

Wow, could this guy act, or what?

Hmm.

Hannah and Drew instructed us to take a break while they readjusted the sun deflectors, and Brady walked my way. He slipped his arm around my waist, and I gave him a curious look.

“They're not shooting right now,” I whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. He stared into my eyes and I felt myself melting, kind of like the Wicked Witch after being hit with a bucket of water. I couldn't seem to control the emotions
that washed over me as he pulled me closer still. “Can I be honest here?” he whispered.

I nodded. “Honesty is good. Take it from someone who's been afraid to be honest—with herself and with you.”

“I'm going to be perfectly honest.” He brushed a loose hair out of my face, and I thought I heard the click of a camera but ignored it, too drawn in by this handsome prop of mine. “This news of yours, about not being engaged?”

“Made you want to jump off a bridge?” I tried.

He shook his head. “No. Not even close.”

“Made you wonder how you were going to handle the press once the word got out?”

“Well, there is that. But that's not what I was referring to.” He gazed into my eyes with such tenderness that I felt like swooning. Not that I'd ever swooned a day in my life, but I suddenly understood what the term meant. The cameras continued to click, but I found myself completely ignoring them, enraptured by this awesome man in front of me.

I sighed. “Made you wish you'd never met me?”

“Good try.” He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “But you're 100 percent wrong on that count.” He laced his fingers through mine. “Your news about the wedding being off is actually the best news I've heard in a long, long time.”

“It . . . it is?”

To my left, the cameras continued to click.

“Mm-hmm.” He leaned in close to whisper in my ear, “Because I don't mind saying I can't stand Casey what's-his-name.”

“Lawson.”

“Lawson,” he echoed. “Never met the guy, but I can't stand him.”

“Oh?” My knees went weak as Brady pulled me into his arms.

“Yep,” he whispered. “I'm not like other guys I know—playing the field. I've been hanging on for the ride, waiting for God to zap me with someone who made my head spin.”

“O-oh?”

“And you?” He brushed his cheek against mine, words soft in my ear. “You made my head spin.”

I couldn't help but giggle. “And that's a good thing? Or are you saying I make you dizzy?”

“You make me dizzy, all right.” In a typical impulsive move, he grabbed me by the waist and spun me around. The cameras continued to click, click, click.

“Whoa.” I laughed so hard and so long that the crowd joined in. Before long they were all cheering.

Brady put me back down and took hold of my hands. “I don't mind admitting that I was half crazed, thinking of you marrying that Casey guy.”

“The one you hate.” I bit back the smile.

“Well,
hate
is a strong word. I strongly disliked him.”

“Because . . .”

“He had what I wanted.”

“What. You. Wanted.” I repeated the words but didn't have time to think them through before Brady's soft kiss on my forehead caught me off guard.

Oh. My. Goodness.

I stood there melting in his arms. Okay, maybe the ninety-degree heat had a little something to do with the melting, but still, I felt myself lost in a haze—a wonderful, romantic haze, one that included a crowd of onlookers and a couple of photographers who seemed to be enjoying this.