The Harder You Fall

He’d started some kind of high-risk security firm with a few of his Army buddies.

Her: Fine. You suck. I clearly need to rethink our friendship

Daniel: I’ll make it up to you, swear. Want to have dinner later???

She stored her phone without responding, adding his name to her mental note. If he wasn’t going to ignore his responsibilities whenever she had a minor need, he deserved to suffer for a little while.

Of its own accord, her gaze returned to West. The past week, she’d seen him only twice. Both times, she’d gone to the farmhouse to help her sister with sandwiches and casseroles, and he’d taken one look at her, grabbed his keys and driven off.

Would it have killed him to acknowledge her presence by calling her by some hateful name, per usual? After all, he’d had the nerve to flirt with her at the diner, to look at her as if she’d stripped naked and begged him to have her for dessert. And now he ignored her?

Men! This one in particular.

Her irritation grew as he introduced his date to Kenna Starr and her fiancé, Dane Michaelson. Kenna was a stunning redhead who’d always been Brook Lynn’s partner in crime. The girl who’d done what Jessie Kay hadn’t, saving her sister every time she’d gotten into trouble.

Next, he made the introduction to Daphne Roberts, the mother of Jase’s nine-year-old daughter, Hope, then Brad Lintz, Daphne’s boyfriend.

Jase and Beck joined the happy group, but the brunette never looked away from West, as if he was speaking the good Lord’s gospel. Her adoration was palpable.

A sharp pang had Jessie Kay clutching her chest. Too young for a heart attack.

Indigestion?

Yeah. Had to be.

The couple should have looked odd together. West was too tall and the brunette was far too short for him. A skyscraper next to a one-story house. But somehow, despite their height difference, they actually complemented each other.

And really, the girl’s adoration had to be good for him, buoying him the way Daniel’s praise often buoyed Jessie Kay. Only on a much higher level, considering the girl was more than a friend to West.

Crap! Jessie Kay was actually kind of...happy for West. As horribly terribly insanely awful as his childhood had been, he deserved a nice slice of contentment.

Look at me, acting like a big girl.

West wrapped his arm around the brunette’s waist, drawing her closer, and Jessie Kay’s nails dug into her palms.

I’m happy for him, remember? Besides, big girls didn’t want to push other women in front of a speeding bus. Well, they might want to, but they never followed through.

Jessie Kay’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen.

Brook Lynn: Hurry! Bridezilla is on a rampage!!!

Her: Tell the soon-to-be Mrs. Ockley the guys look amazing in their tuxes—no stains or tears yet—& the room is gorgeous. Or just tell her NOTHING HAS FREAKING CHANGED

The foster bros had gone all out even though the ceremony was to be a small and intimate affair. There were red and white roses at the corner of every pew, and in front of the pulpit was an ivory arch with wispy jewel-encrusted lace.

With a sigh, she added an adorable smiley face to her message, because it was cute and it said I’m not yelling at you. My temper is not engaged.

Send.

Brook Lynn: Harlow wants a play-by-play of the action

Fine.

Her: Beck is now speaking w/ Pastor Washington. Jase, Dane, Kenna, Daphne & Brad are engaged in conversation, while Hope is playing w/ her doll on the floor. Happy?

She didn’t add that West was focused on the stunning brunette, who was still clinging to his side.

The girl...she had a familiar face—where have I seen her?—and a body so finely honed Jessie Kay wanted to stuff a few thousand Twinkies down her throat just to make it fair for the rest of the female population. Her designer dress was made of ebony silk and hugged her curves like a besotted lover.

Like West would be doing tonight?

Grinding her teeth, Jessie Kay slid her gaze over her own gown, one she’d sewn in her spare time. Not bad—actually kind of awesome—but compared to Great Bod’s delicious apple it was a rotten orange.

Jealousy struck her again, and struck harder. Dang it! Jealousy was stupid. Jessie Kay was no can of dog food in the looks department. In fact, she was well able to hold her own against anyone, anywhere, anytime. But...but...

A lot of baggage came with her.

West suddenly stiffened, as if he sensed he was being watched. He turned in Jessie Kay’s direction. Her heart slamming against her ribs with enough force to break free and escape, she darted into Harlow’s bridal chamber—the choir room.

Harlow finished curling her thick mass of hair as Brook Lynn gave her lips a final swipe of gloss.

“Welcome to my nightmare,” Jessie Kay announced. “I might as well put in rollers, pull on a pair of mom jeans and buy ten thousand cats.” Cats! Love! “I’m officially an old maid without any decent prospects.”

Brook Lynn wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone is here, including West and his date. I’m the only single person in our group, which means you guys have to set me up with your favorite guy friends. Obviously I’m looking for a nine or ten. Make it happen. Please and thank you.”

Harlow went still. “West brought a date? Who is she?”

Had a coil of steam just risen from her nostrils? “Just some girl.”

Harlow pressed her hands against a stomach that had to be dancing with nerves. “I don’t want just some girl at my first wedding.”

“You planning your divorce to Beck already?”

Harlow scowled at her. “Not funny. You know we’re planning a larger ceremony next year.”

Jessie Kay raised her hands, palms out. “You’re right, you’re right. And you totally convinced me. I’ll kick the bitch out pronto.” And I’ll love every second of it—on Harlow’s behalf.

“No. No. I don’t want a scene.” Stomping her foot, Harlow added, “What was West thinking? He’s ruined everything.”

Ooo-kay. A wee bit dramatic, maybe. “I doubt he was thinking at all. If that boy ever had an idea, it died of loneliness.” Too much? “Anyway. I’m sure you could use a glass or six of champagne. I’ll open the bottle for us—for you. You’re welcome.”

A wrist corsage hit her square in the chest.

“This is my day, Jessica Dillon.” Harlow thumped her chest. “Mine! You will remain stone-cold sober, or I will remove your head, place it on a stick and wave it around while your sister sobs over your bleeding corpse.”

Wow. “That’s pretty specific, but I feel you. No alcohol for me, ma’am.” She gave a jaunty salute. “I mean, no alcohol for me, Miss Bridezilla, sir.”