All Jacked Up (Rough Riders 8)

Jack shook his head. “If they overheard that part of our conversation they didn’t say anything to anyone. Trust me, your brothers would’ve brought it up when they were grilling me. For hours.” He smiled with pure male cockiness. “But I didn’t break. I just told them to butt the f**k out and let us work it out ourselves.”

“Have we worked it out?”

“Yes, except for one thing.” Jack curled his hands around her face. “Will you marry me? For real this time?”

“Did you ask my dad?”

“Yep. He grumbled about being the last to know important shit, which strangely enough reminded me of you, but I think he’s okay with it now. Because he did give me his blessing.”

“Well…seein’s we’ve already had the engagement party, you bought the ring and everyone already thinks we’re in wuv, twue wuv, I suppose it’s inevitable.” She gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth.

“Plus, I love you like crazy, Jack-ass.”

“Same goes, buttercup, same goes.”

Epilogue

Two months later…

Keely suspected she resembled a ghost more than a bride.

She leaned closer to the lighted mirror and scrutinized her reflection. Scratch that. Maybe the Bride of Frankenstein. Yikes. Why had they gobbed so much gunk on her face? Especially when her face was completely covered? She batted at the frothy white veil, knocking the headpiece off-center. Again.

“Stop fidgeting,” Chassie hissed, smoothing the gossamer fabric back in place.

The door to the bedroom opened. Women scurried forward in case Jack might try to sneak in.

Keely smiled, hoping he would attempt to infiltrate the inner sanctum and cart her off.

But a collective sigh echoed as the minister waltzed in and asked, “Has anyone seen the ring bearer?”

“Which one? I have six.” Keely had drafted her oldest nephews for the wedding party. They’d drawn straws to decide which unlucky sucker got stuck carrying the “girly” satin pillow.

“I’m looking for the ring bearer with the rings.”

“Gib is missing?”

No one answered. Maybe because no one had heard her over the din of giggles and gossip?

Seizing the opportunity to escape, Keely muttered, “I’ll find him.” She tried to stand; her butt was firmly shoved back down on the tufted velvet chair.

“Nice try, missy, but park it. You’re not going anywhere.” India jammed more pearl-coated bobby pins in her hair.

“Ouch!”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. You didn’t whine this much when I tattooed you.”

“Stop gnawing on your lip too, or you’ll smudge your gloss,” Domini added as she shifted Markus on her hip, directing his grabbing hands away from the veil.

Just wait until the minister pronounced them husband and wife. Keely planned to smear the carefully applied gloss all over Jack’s lips. Then she’d rip off the ridiculous headpiece and stomp on it with the equally ridiculous pointy-toed satin shoes.

Temper temper.

Love aside, why did people go through this rigmarole? No wonder couples eloped. She and Jack could’ve skipped this part and gotten straight to the good stuff: the island honeymoon.

She blew out a frustrated breath, twisting away from the array of beauty products, which ensured she didn’t look one bit like herself on the biggest day of her life. Would Jack even recognize her?

A tiny hand tugged on her sequined sleeve. Keely sucked in a surprised breath at the unyielding fit of the wedding gown when she bent at the waist. “Yes, Eliza,” she said, squinting at the beribboned flower girl through the gauzy veil.

“I know where Gib is.”

At least someone was worried about the missing ring bearer. “Where?”

“He threw up in the bathroom ’bout five minutes ago.”

“What?” Panic escalated along with her voice. “Is he sick?”

A sneer wrinkled Eliza’s pert nose. “He’s not sick, he’s stupid. Kyler dared him to drink—” Her eyes widened, she clapped a gloved hand over her mouth and started to back away.

But not fast enough. Keely grabbed her spindly arm. “What did Gib drink?”

“Pickle juice,” Eliza blurted.

“Pickle juice?” Keely repeated. “Where on earth did he find pickle juice?”

Eliza debated, then said in a rush, “There’s empty pickle jars all over Auntie Caro’s kitchen.”

“And he couldn’t find Kool-Aid or something better?”

“No.” Eliza leaned closer and confided, “Know those hot kind with red peppers in the bottom?” Keely nodded warily. “Kyler bet Gib a dollar he wouldn’t take a drink.” A grudging sort of admiration lit Eliza’s blue eyes. “But Gib showed him. He drank the whole jar.”

“No wonder he’s barfing,” she muttered. “Where is he now?”

Eliza shrugged her delicate shoulders, staring with acute fascination at the grass-stained toes of her white Mary Janes. One gloved finger twisted a springy ribbon on her flower basket.

Keely hated to play hardball with Kade and Skylar’s stubborn daughter, but if Gib was lost, then so were the wedding rings. She whispered, “You’d better spill it, Eliza Belle, or I’ll tell your mom about the plate of mints you stashed in your backpack.”

Without hesitation, Eliza rattled off, “He’s hiding in the empty closet at the end of the hallway with Thane, Braxton, Kyler, Hayden and Anton.”

“Better that than knocking back shots of Wild Turkey in the gazebo with the other groomsmen,”

Ramona added with a snort.

“What!”

“Ramona!” Jessie McKay gasped.

“I’m not supposed to tell her that her brothers and male cousins are giving Jack very detailed advice on how to handle her?”

India, Jessie and Domini vehemently shook their heads no.

“I’ll kick Trevor and Edgard’s asses if they’re in on it,” Chassie assured her.

“Same goes for Carter,” Macie promised.

Why had Jack needed a stiff drink? He wasn’t stuck wearing a feather duster on his head.

“I’ll find my oldest wayward son,” Channing said, shifting Austin on her hip away from her pregnant belly. “Don’t worry. Pickle juice is nothing. Gib has an iron gut.” She offered Keely no such promise about Jack’s condition. “I hope you and Jack have all girls.” She sighed and kissed Austin’s dark head. “They’ve gotta be easier than McKay boys.”