Pete.” Jesse ignored the prickly fabric of his own tuxedo and tried to forget the sugary scent of vanilla cupcakes that still teased his nostrils. Of all the people he could possibly run into—the local police chief, the busybodies from the Ladies’ Auxiliary, the gossipy Amberjack brothers—it had to be Gracie. Talk about rotten luck.
“Stop your bellyaching,” he told Cole. “You’re wearing it and that’s that.”
“Pete don’t give two licks about a freakin’ tuxedo with a girly purple cummerbund and matching tie, so why should I?”
“Because he’s marrying Wendy and she does give two licks.” Jesse lifted one arm so Mr. McGinnis, the shop’s owner and tailor, could adjust the hem on his sleeve.
Cole eyed his reflection. “But the cummerbund looks almost pink.”
“It’s actually lavender.” The comment came from the petite blonde who appeared in the curtained doorway. Her blue eyes narrowed as she eyed Cole. “And you’re right. It’s all wrong.”
“See?” Cole pushed back a strand of unruly brown hair and stared defiantly at Jesse. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”
“You’ve got it hooked in the front,” Wendy announced. “It’s supposed to hook in the back. Isn’t that right, Mr. McGinnis?”
“Sure enough, Miss Wendy.” The older man slipped the last pin into Jesse’s hem and turned to work on Cole’s tux. In a matter of seconds, he readjusted the shiny taffeta material and stepped back. “There. Now it’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” Cole frowned. “But I look like a—”
“Where’s Pete?” Jesse cut in, drawing Wendy’s attention before Cole could say something he would later regret.
And Jesse had no doubt his middle brother would do just that. Cole had zero filters when it came to running his mouth, which explained why he ended up in more than his fair share of bar fights.
“He’s trying on his tuxedo in the next room,” Wendy replied. “He’ll be out in a second.” She turned a grateful smile on Cole. “Listen, I know you don’t feel comfortable all dressed up like this, but I really appreciate it.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Jesse cut in before Cole could open his mouth again.
“Damn straight it is.” The comment came from Billy, who waltzed in wearing the same tuxedo.
Wendy turned on the youngest Chisholm and her eyes went misty. “You look wonderful!”
Billy winked. “Anything for you and Pete.” He stepped up on the dais next to Cole so that Mr. McGinnis could work on the hem of his pants. “Ain’t that right, bro?” He clapped Cole on the shoulder.
The middle Chisholm shrugged free. “I guess so.”
“I was hoping you’d feel that way.” Another smile touched Wendy’s pink lips and Jesse knew she had something up her sleeve even before she added, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Cole. See, one of my friends is flying in from Houston and I need someone to pick her up at the airport. I would get Red to do it, but Hannah—that’s her name—comes in smack-dab during his soap opera time, and you know how that goes.”
Red owned the only cab in Lost Gun. He was also a die-hard soap opera fan. Since he was as old as dirt, he hadn’t yet discovered TiVo or a DVR, which meant he was completely out of commission between the hours of 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. on any given weekday.
“She tried to get a different flight,” Wendy went on, “but it’s the only one that will put her here in time for the rehearsal dinner.”
“No problem,” Jesse said. “Cole here would be happy to pick her up for you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder, his hand lingering. “Isn’t that right?”
“But I’ve got a training session—” the younger Chisholm started. Jesse dug his fingers into muscle and Cole bit out, “All right, already. I’ll do it.”
“You will?” Excitement lit Wendy’s eyes.
Jesse dug his fingers even deeper and the younger man blurted, “Sure thing. Family’s family,” he muttered. “We stick together.”
“Great, because I told her all about you and she’s dying to meet you.”
“Who’s dying to meet who?” Pete Gunner walked into the fitting area and slid an arm around his wife-to-be.
“Hannah,” Wendy told him. “Ever since she moved to Houston from New York, she’s been dying to meet a real cowboy. I told her all about Cole and she’s super hyped.”
“Wait a second.” Cole shrugged loose from Jesse’s warning grasp. “Picking her up is one thing, but this sounds like a setup.”
“Don’t be silly. You don’t have to be her date for the wedding.”
“That’s a relief.” Cole tugged at the tie around his neck as if he couldn’t quite breathe. “For a second there, I thought you wanted me to babysit her the entire night.”
“Of course not.” Wendy smiled. “Just sit with her during the reception. And maybe ask her to dance once or twice. Oh, and make sure she gets back to the motel that night and—”
“Pretty much babysit her the whole danged night,” Cole cut in. His mouth pulled into a tight line. “Hell’s bells. I knew it. It is a setup.”
“Okay, maybe it is.” Wendy shrugged. “But it’ll be fun. And speaking of fun, I’ve got to decide on the actual centerpiece so the florist can finalize the order.” She planted a kiss on her groom’s lips and headed for a nearby doorway and the endless array of floral arrangements spread out on a table in the next room.
Cole opened his mouth, but Pete held up a hand. “Don’t fight it, bro. It’ll only make things worse.”
“But I can get my own date.”
“True, but Wendy doesn’t want you bringing one of your usual buckle bunnies to the wedding.”
“He’s talking about the Barbie triplets,” Billy chimed in.
“They’re not triplets,” Cole said. “They’re just sisters who are close in age. And I wasn’t going to bring all three. Just Crystal. She’s the oldest and the prettiest.”
“And the wildest,” Pete added, “which is why she’s off-limits for the wedding. Wendy thinks you need to meet a nice girl.”
“I meet plenty of nice girls.” Cole unhooked the cummerbund and handed it to Mr. McGinnis.
“Nice and easy,” Billy added.
“What’s wrong with easy?”
“Nothing if you’re sixteen and horny as hell,” the youngest Chisholm pointed out. “You’re twenty-nine. You should be thinking about your future.”
“Like you?”
“Damn
