Read No Weddings Online

Authors: Kat Bastion,Stone Bastion

Tags: #Romance

No Weddings (3 page)

BOOK: No Weddings
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As my thoughts drifted from my party high note, I reflected on the rest of the night. “Barbara Willingham said she was glad she stiffed the Taylors’ annual gala to attend our party. And that was before her third vodka tonic.

“I also overheard someone commenting they’d kill to have a party like ours. I think it was Phoebe Trent. Yep.” I nodded, remembering. “She went on to say, ‘That country club overcharges for its pretentious toothpick affairs. I’d pay double for something new and wild.’”

Kendall chimed in behind the opened refrigerator door as bottles clinked. “Kristen, didn’t Missy Thompson ask if she could have our help with a Valentine’s Day party?”

Kristen nodded, as if suddenly recalling. “You know, she did.”

Upending my second beer, I took the new bottle Kendall offered and pointed it at the three of them in silent accusation until I finished swallowing. “See. You all were so busy worrying about the details of the party, you had no time to enjoy it. Tragedy, really. Everyone else did. We pulled together an incredible event.”

Silence filled the room. I wisely kept my mouth shut, predicting the flow, knowing the conclusion before they ever uttered a word. I knew them well. Knowledge was the only way a Y chromosome would survive unscathed in a nest of all these X’s.

I took several more long pulls of my beer; I needed to be less sober for this.

Soft words came from Kiki. “I say we form a business.”

I wasn’t surprised Kiki was the one to speak up. She’d graduated from art school, but although a few of her pieces were displayed in some high-end galleries, none had sold yet. Starving artists grew bolder when hot on the trail of easy money.

I waited.

“I second that.” Kendall held her beer in the air.

Kiki followed suit.

Kristen straightened from her former lump on the other end of the couch. She grabbed an uncapped bottle from the refreshers Kendall had brought and lifted it up. “I third it.”

Tradition. The element ran thick as blood in a family whose tree hailed from such things. Old money mixed with new throughout our family’s history of business endeavors and worthy philanthropic causes. And our generation was no exception.

Bottles brandished from their outstretched arms, like we’d done as kids with wooden swords to defend tree houses.
All for one and one for all.

I raised my bottle, ready to capitulate.

“I fourth it…
with conditions
.”

Their arms sagged without our common celebratory shout. Kristen eased into her corner of the couch, but remained upright, watching me, waiting.

Luckily, I was in my last year at Wharton. Business wasn’t just the focus of my master’s, it was my passion. I lived, ate, and breathed all things related to making money.

I glanced at them, one at a time. “We are
not
taking all comers. We do have pride, after all. This isn’t about money on the front end. We establish a reputation for only holding events that meet our standards.”

“How do we develop standards?” Kiki swished her half-empty bottle, staring into the beer vortex behind the glass as it spun.

“Well, I don’t know about you girls, but I have a few rules. Like
no
kids’ parties.”

Kendall shot upright, thrusting her beer-bottle sword into the air. “I second that!”

Kiki stared at me with narrowed eyes from across the room, sitting uncomfortably in the wingback chair I’d relegated her to. “No parties given by
anyone
you’ve had sex with.”

I shot my bottle up also. “Fuck, I second that.” I didn’t need to be bossed around by some scorned client on a tear because I hadn’t called her back.

Our reserved Kristen added to the list of rules, raising her bottle. “No balloon animals.”

“We already said no kids’ parties,” Kendall replied.

“Oh, no. I’m laying down the law. No balloon animals. Even at an adult party. They freak me out.” Kristen shivered while a vibrating “ehhh” came from her.

We busted up, laughing.

“No clowns.” Kendall’s morbid tone made us choke back our laughter, only to set it free again.

When our amusement faded, we sipped from our beers, each lost in thought.

Kristen set her bottle down on the corner of the table. “We need a name.”

“Easy. ‘The Party Posse.’” My snarky remark earned me groans and a pillow launched at my head, which I expertly deflected with an arcing forearm, not spilling a drop of beer; then a crumpled cupcake wrapper landed on my chest with a soft thud. “Hmmm.” I picked up the chocolate cake crumbs with a licked index finger and stuck them on my tongue.

Other names were tossed around, but nothing stood out.

I sighed. “We need something different. Unforgettable.”

Kiki, ever the creative one, sat taller. “What about inspiration from wedding invitations?” Her eyes lit with excitement. “They always begin with ‘You’ve been cordially invited…’, and Cade, you said we need to be selective. What about ‘By Invitation Only?’”

We fell silent, mulling over the suggestion, which was more than we’d done for any other contender. We were cautious because we all knew the stakes; once a decision had been made by us, it stuck.

One by one, their gazes turned toward me. I nodded slowly, repeating the three words in my mind. “I like it, but it seems off. Doesn’t roll off the tongue. What about shortening it? ‘Invitation Only.’”

“I love it!” Kiki squealed out.

“Invitation Only!” we shouted simultaneously, creating our new business name.

“Oh, that reminds me. I have one more rule.” I sat up from my comatose position on the couch.

Kristen exerted her status as eldest. “You don’t get another rule. We each had one.”

I shook my head. “This rule is nonnegotiable. You want me in this? I won’t budge on one important stipulation.”

They looked at one another, considering the idea of giving me an additional condition.

I set my jaw, holding fast. No way in hell would I bend on this point.

“Fine, what is it?” Kristen cast me a put-out expression that matched her tone.

“Do you agree to it?” I crossed my arms, drawing a battle line.

“You want us to agree without knowing what it is?” Kendall chimed in.

“It’s a deal breaker. Does it matter what it is?”

One by one they all looked to Kristen, giving slight nods.

Kristen slid a cautious glance toward me. “Fine. We all agree to your mysterious rule. Please tell us, dear brother, what have we agreed to?”


No weddings.

Raised brows and nods followed. They knew on the surface that weddings with me around spelled disaster. What they didn’t know was how deep the damage went.

They moved on from my condition as if it was a nonissue and went into earsplitting screeching from their excitement about the new business. In fact, the drunker they got, the more they warmed to my last rule, citing legendary wedding stories, including my coup at Kristen’s wedding.

“But you did her right before the wedding!” Kristen wailed into her beer, still lamenting the fact.

I shrugged. “You’re the one who put those sexy friends of yours in
fuck-me heels
.”

“And, of course, you had to give her
just-been-fucked hair
to match,” she grumbled.

I grinned, recalling how that uptight bridesmaid’s hair had become loosened curls. “Of course.”

Kiki whispered to me from across the room, her expression conspiratorial. “Didn’t you also bang Simone?”

I nodded. “Hey, at least I waited until later that night. Her hair was intact when the reception began.”

Kendall laughed. “She was picking grass out of it on the way to the valet.”

“See, ladies? I rest my case. You don’t want me anywhere near a wedding.”

All-seeing Kristen stared hard at me from her corner of the couch. I knew her MO. Behind her calculating stare, she tried to figure out why the “no weddings” thing.

My reasons didn’t matter. They were none of their business. And as all three had learned over the years, when I wanted to keep something from them, I succeeded.

I gazed at her coolly.

With reluctance, she looked away, forfeiting the unwinnable battle.

“Ben would be our bar guy,” Kendall murmured, scrawling notes on the back of an extra silver paper napkin from tonight’s New Year’s bash.

“Yep.” I swallowed down the rest of my beer and closed my eyes, my buzz helping me relax further into the couch.

“Hannah could do the cakes!” Kiki’s high-pitched tone was too animated for 2:00 a.m. But then her tone dropped, heavy. “Oh, and
no
doing the help.”

I tilted my head, cracking open my eyes long enough to see the deadpan look from Kiki. “Uptight Ice Queen Hannah Martin? No problem.” But the woman did have memorable curves, and oddly, her attitude had drawn me in until she’d shut me down cold.

So if that ice ever thawed, I’d have to watch myself. Because no matter how difficult it was for me to follow rules, keeping my word to my sisters was important to me.

She shook her head. “She’s not an Ice Queen.”

I snorted. “Says you. When a guy approaches a girl and frost coats his skin from the chilly reception, she is.”

Kendall crossed her arms. “Don’t blame a girl for being immune to your charms. Not every female wants her skirt blown up to her shoulders when you come near.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, she bakes a great cake; I’ll give her that.” Fucking awesome cake, actually. And all I’d done with Hannah was appreciate a beautiful woman I’d just met, yet she’d given me the glacial treatment all the same.

Kristen glanced at me. “You need to take that meeting.”

I coughed, nearly choking. “What?
Hell
no.”

“Yes, Mr. Wharton Business School.”

I pointed my bottle toward Kiki. “She’s Kiki’s friend. She should take the meeting.”

Kiki shook her head. “She’s not that good of a friend. I just know her from art class. Art. Business. You do the math.”

Kristen pursed her lips, staring at me. “You and I will go together.”

Knowing my going to the meeting made the most sense, I didn’t argue and gave her a curt nod. But the whole idea sounded painful. About as much fun as when my sisters tricked me into sticking my tongue on a frozen light pole when I was four.

Resigned, I mentally prepared to meet the Ice Queen again.

N
ine days later, I stepped out of the shower, barely awake, when my cell phone’s incessant buzzing on the nightstand caught my attention.

Irritated at the world that I had to get up early on the only morning I usually had to sleep in after a punishing week of school and work, I grabbed the damned thing off my nightstand, clicked it on, and shoved it against my ear. “What?” I growled.

“Cade, you need to go to the meeting at Sweet Dreams on your own.” Kristen sounded stressed. There was a beeping noise in the background, then a car door slammed and an engine started.

“Tell me you’re joking.” Gears started to click in my uncaffeinated mind—even she wouldn’t pull a stunt with something so important to her. “Wait. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Jason’s car broke down on the pike. Dead battery. I’m already on my way to rescue him so he can make his investor’s meeting.”

“Shouldn’t we reschedule?” I stared at my bed, thinking I could crawl back in.

“No.” she countered, her tone firm. “Today may be our only shot at this. Hannah was leery on the phone about the idea of partnering with us while launching her new bakery. Make sure you’re there by 7:00 a.m.”

I groaned. “Sis, I know nothing about baked goods. And I’m confident Hannah doesn’t like me.”

“Learn. And make her.” She hung up.

The day was off to a shitty start.
Coffee. I need coffee.
I went straight to the kitchen and poured a cup.

I couldn’t be mad at Kristen for rescuing her husband. I liked Jason and didn’t want him stranded either. Or late to his business meeting. A trifecta of sibling code, business code, and bro code obliterated the weak hold I had on my grumpy mood.

Waiting for the caffeine to kick in, I put on a pair of jeans, tugged a black T-shirt over my head, shrugged on a jacket, and pulled on my worn boots before grabbing my keys and helmet off the entry table.

I shivered and grumbled under my breath at Jason’s damned car battery. It was cold as fuck out so early, even with unseasonably warm temps in January. I eased back onto the cold, worn leather of my custom motorcycle.

A few turns onto the sleepy downtown streets of Glenhaven, and I saw my destination. A sign stating “Sweet Dreams” above a yellow-and-white-striped awning told me I’d found the right place. I parked then walked up to the entrance as I took a deep breath, not looking forward to the meeting.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, giving a grayish cast to the abandoned street, but faint light glowed from within the bakery from somewhere in the back.

With care, I knocked on the wood frame that surrounded the glass panes in the top section of the door. After waiting a minute and getting no response, I tried the knob. It turned, and I pushed in.

“Hello?” I surveyed the clean space while stepping inside. Three stools lined a low counter. Beside them was a large, empty display case.

BOOK: No Weddings
9.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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