Burned Deep (Burned 1)

chapter 1

“Where’s my groom?” I muttered under my breath.

Tamera Fenmore tore her gaze from the dark clouds rolling in—the same ones I kept my eye on. “Just saw him a few minutes ago.” The tension in her voice mirrored mine.

She was the officiant I’d subcontracted for this extravagant creekside wedding at a renowned resort in the intimate upscale community of Sedona, Arizona. Unfortunately, our unpredictable monsoons made late summer a sketchy time of year for outdoor events. A torrential downpour could obliterate this ceremony with very little warning.

That was only one of my worries. We were surrounded by lush green grass, full sycamore trees, and breathtaking red-rock canyons, yet all was not right with this scene—and it wasn’t just the crackle of electricity and the scent of rain hanging in the air that set me on edge.

Keeping my voice low, between us, I said, “My groomsmen are missing, too.”

I’d only turned my back briefly to mend the strap that had pulled too tight and snapped on the maid of honor’s dress. Suddenly I was missing half of my bridal party.

Tamera frowned. “Now would be a good time to panic.” Even her lovely British accent couldn’t mask her dread.

“This can’t be happening.” My stomach knotted.

Sure, I’d dealt with MIA grooms before. Ones who’d had their bachelor parties on the eve of the big day—never a good idea—and ended up in the emergency room after a barroom brawl, passed out in a back alley or on a great escape to Sin City.

I hadn’t considered Sean Aldridge a flight risk. My bad, because he and his buds were nowhere in sight. While two hundred guests waited for the nuptials to begin, nervously stealing glances at the increasingly ominous sky.

Tamera was all set to head to the front of the event lawn just before the sun started its gradual descent, hopefully breaking through the cloud cover to splash radiant color across the white caps of the flowing rapids. The sound of water rushing over smooth rocks filtered through the trees, mingling with the rustle of leaves as a breeze picked up. Another bad sign. If a storm hit, microbursts and downdrafts could rip through the partially covered east patio where the cocktail reception was to be held, effectively destroying that portion of the evening as well.

Inclement weather had posed a threat for me before, but this was my biggest event thus far and the last thing I needed was drenched and disgruntled guests glaring at the wedding planner—even if it was the bride who’d waved a dismissive hand when I’d repeatedly warned her of the dangers of monsoon season. For fear tents would mar the scenery she’d insisted none be erected.

Meghan Delfino currently paced the polished wooden floor of the elegantly rustic cottage the resort had comped her, so no one caught a glimpse of her stunning one-of-a-kind Carolina Herrera gown. Not until that precious moment when Meghan stepped out of the thicket and paused at the top of the short set of stone steps built into the grassy knoll above the lawn.

Even the steel-nerved father of the bride was ready to walk his pride and joy down the aisle that was lit by ornate lanterns and accented with dozens of elaborate sterling silver and white rose bouquets. Though his patience crept toward agitation, if the darting of his alert hazel eyes was any indication. And they kept landing on me.

Tamera consulted her platinum boyfriend watch. “We’re straight-up seven o’clock, Ari. Sun’ll be on the move in eleven minutes.”

“Damn it. They must be in the bar.” I whirled around and marched off. My low heels crunched the underbrush of the nature trail woven through the heavily wooded property and I dodged wayward branches that jutted out onto the path. The wind whispered through the trees, taunting me with its potential to become a menacing howl. Deep-vibrato, rust-colored chimes hanging from limbs added a ghostly effect to the overcast evening, bringing on a razor-sharp vibe. Or maybe that was just my nerves getting the best of me.

I reached the outdoor dining area along the water’s edge, the servers already cranking down the tall umbrellas to keep them from toppling over if a violent gust whipped along the creek.

I required less than forty-five minutes of tame weather—the ceremony was to be a quick one. I could move the predinner reception inside if need be, but I desperately wanted the vows to be as Meghan had envisioned.

Not to mention, I needed referrals from this wedding. Bridal consulting wasn’t exactly a lucrative business in such a small town, especially when you were an independent planner. And rent didn’t come cheap in Sedona.

I blew into the bar with a stiff draft that sent cocktail napkins flying from tables. Gazes snapped to me, but I ignored them, due to my current tunnel vision.

As I’d suspected, I found the rest of my wedding party congregated around two high tops they’d pushed together in the middle of the bar, slamming shots of tequila.

My pulse racing, I simply said, “Gentlemen, tick-tock.”

“Hold up. I’ve got one more round coming,” the groom told me before sucking a wedge of lime between his teeth. As though time were not of the essence here.

“You’ve got a bride ready to say I do,” I pointed out, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice. “And a storm brewing.”

Sean seemed like a good kid. At twenty-two, he was four years younger than me. Fresh out of college. A bit too early in his adult life to tie the knot, in my opinion, but with his twenty-year-old girlfriend of eight months in her first trimester, it was no surprise a shotgun wedding had been in his immediate future. Especially when said girlfriend was the former Valedictorian of a legendary all-girls Catholic school and the only child of a global communications tycoon.

“

Join us, Ari,” insisted Kyle Jenns, the best man. He was an easygoing sort, with sandy-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, an athletic build, and a gorgeous smile, all pearly white and vibrant. A college friend of Sean’s whom I’d just met when the whirlwind planning had begun. They’d both attended Arizona State University in Phoenix, played football together, and belonged to the same fraternity.

Today was the first time I’d seen Kyle in something other than a tight T-shirt that showed off all of his muscles, the hems of the sleeves always straining against his bulging biceps. Even wearing a tuxedo now did little to conceal his solid frame. Obviously, he hadn’t quit the gym after his last season as quarterback.

“You look like you could use a drink,” he said in his amiable tone. “One for her, too,” he told Grace Hart, the bartender setting out the shot glasses.

“Hi, Ari.”

“Nice to see you, Grace.” She and I had gone through senior year of high school together. Like me, Grace was one of the very few who’d stuck around after graduation, despite the sparse career opportunities a community of eleven thousand offered. Some of us just couldn’t shake the allure of what USA Today called the most beautiful place in America.

“You sure you want one?” she asked.

“If it’ll get them closer to the altar, bring it on.”

Kyle’s grin widened. “Now that’s a wedding planner, people. One who’ll do a shot with the groomsmen.”

Sean nodded. “Give Ari three weeks and you, too, can be on your way to wedded bliss—in first-class style from start to finish.” He didn’t bother hiding the grimace—not at all directed at me. I couldn’t fathom the pressure he was under with his new Forbes list in-laws and a baby on the way. I empathized with Sean, having high hopes for this marriage.

I had high hopes for every marriage. An inherent dream following the horrific parental breakup and subsequent financial fallout I’d lived through years ago. The exact reason why I wouldn’t be escorted down an aisle anytime soon. As in never.

“How many has he had?” I asked Kyle.

“Going on his second one. Sean won’t slur his vows, I promise. Just needed a little fortification so he doesn’t sphincter up when the I now pronounce you husband and wife part comes.” He winked. “Couple of wedding-day jitters, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”