Do-Or-Die Bridesmaid

“Sweetie, you look beautiful. Joe is the luckiest of men. Take a deep breath.” Conor had always admired how Leslie had kept her three daughters in line. Such different personalities. Different activities all through school. Different emotional and parental needs. A little diplomacy, a little bargaining, a little bit of cajoling. But then she barked an order, and all three women snapped to attention, falling into line behind the young ring bearer. “Now. Everyone smile. Ron? Take your place. Here we go.”

Conor turned away from the scene in the lobby and finally found a reason to chuckle. Leslie Karr had a little bit of five-star general in her, too. He recognized that tone from his own mother’s bag of tricks when it came to raising him. His mom and Leslie had been such close friends—they’d probably traded parenting secrets.

Leslie walked down the aisle on the arm of an usher, followed by Tim Colfax and his son, the ring-bearer making vroom-vroom sounds as he carried the pillow by the truck.

Then he saw Laura. The moment she stepped into the sanctuary, their eyes met. Her mouth rounded with a startled O of surprise and he winked. The blush on her cheeks deepened to a rosy hue and her megawatt smile lit up the church. Yeah. The tomboy of the family had sure grown up. She made cute work on her compact, curvy frame. She fluttered her fingers in a friendly wave before hurrying over.

“Hi.” Those same fingers curled around his neck and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hey, Squirt.”

Just as quickly as she’d kissed his cheek, she stepped away and fell back into line. She made a face and tapped her cheek, indicating he check his own face, before heading slowly toward the altar again.

Conor dutifully pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at the mark she’d left, leaving a smear of rosy pink lipstick on the white cotton. He was glad someone here could elicit a genuine smile from him. He folded the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket, letting his gaze follow Laura down the aisle.

Her cotton candy dress swirled around her calves, drawing his eyes down to slim ankles and strappy high-heels she wouldn’t have been caught dead in back when she’d been in middle school, hitching a ride with him to school activities before she could drive. Conor leaned back in the pew to do a little bit of math. Those memories had been from a decade ago. Laura had to be about twenty-five now, five years younger than him. She’d been at college when his breakup with Lisa had happened, and he’d moved away. He recalled now that she’d sent flowers and a heartfelt condolence letter to his mother’s funeral, but she hadn’t attended because something with work had kept her out of town. He’d have remembered the swing of those hips and that wire-free smile if he’d seen Laura recently. All grown up. Sharing little resemblance to her taller, willowy sisters beyond the changeable hazel color of her eyes.

He traded a smile with Linda when she entered the church. He pointed to her belly and whispered congratulations. Then the music changed and everyone in the congregation stood.

Conor buttoned his jacket and held his breath, waiting for that gut-check of recognition when he saw Lisa on the arm of her father. They paused for a moment at the back of the church. She was an elegant vision of sparkles and lace in her figure-hugging white gown. Yes, she was beautiful. But seeing her gaze seeking out Joe at the front of the church, her taut expression relaxing into a genuine smile, did more to bring closure to their relationship than her returning his ring ever had.

Hell. She didn’t love him. Not anymore. Certainly not the way he’d loved her.

He must have been scowling at the thought because when their gazes finally met, Lisa hesitated. She mouthed, “Are you okay? We’ll talk later.”

She was that worried about him? He wasn’t so hard up that he wanted a woman to settle for him just so he wouldn’t be alone in the world. If Lisa wanted Joe, she should be with Joe. He was man enough to accept that. Conor smiled before he doffed her a two-fingered salute and waved her on down the aisle to the man she loved.

And then she walked away from him. Again.

Where was the knife to the heart he’d been expecting? The fires of jealousy burning through his veins? He’d been so certain he needed to come here to save his pride, to prove to everyone in his old life he could be happy and successful without their interference, that the confusion he felt now was a little unnerving. As the guests sat and the ceremony started, Conor admitted he was melancholy that their long history had been tossed aside, his planned future altered.

But he wasn’t angry.

His mother’s illness and truly accepting that he and Lisa were never going to be left him feeling...empty.

Great. Understanding was a humbling thing. He hadn’t needed to prove anything to anybody but himself by coming here today.

But now that he’d admitted the truth, skipping out the back of the church was hardly an option, unless he wanted to start some real gossip or face more heartfelt letters of concern for his well-being. Just like a stakeout assignment, he was here for the duration of the ceremony and reception.

But he had a bad feeling that today was going to be a lot longer and more stressful than any stakeout.

* * *

“ARE YOU TALLER?” Conor smiled at the warm greeting and wound his long arms around tiny Leslie Karr, treasuring the maternal hug at his waist. “Conor Wildman, I think you’re taller. I’m not shrinking, am I?” Keeping one arm linked around his waist, Leslie turned to her husband beside her in the reception line. “Ron, am I shrinking?”

“No, dear. You’re as petite and perfect as always.” Ron Karr seemed to be taking the demands of the day in his familiarly patient stride. Probably a life skill learned from raising three daughters. He extended his hand. “I’m glad you could make it, Conor. It’s good to see you again, under happier circumstances.”

“Yes, sir.” Conor shook hands with the father of the bride. “Congratulations, Ron. How are you two holding up today?”

“Fine.” His forehead wrinkled with concern. “We should be asking you that question, though.”

Leslie patted Conor’s stomach, tsk-tsking between her teeth. “You’re thinner, though. Are you eating well? Taking care of yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s fit, Les, not skinny.” Ron patted the cummerbund of his tuxedo. “I’m the one you need to be fattening up.” At six feet, Ron Karr towered over his wife, but he still had to look up to meet Conor’s gaze. “She’s got me on some crazy diet where I eat weeds and straw five nights a week. She hasn’t baked me a pie in six months. Trust me, once it’s cut, I am diving into that wedding cake.”

“Oh, stop,” Leslie chided over the men’s laughter. “The doctor said we both needed to cut down on sugar and red meat.” She tilted her chin back up to Conor. “I promised your mother I’d keep an eye on you. Of course, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that with you being a million miles away.”

Conor grinned at the exaggeration. “It’s only eleven hundred miles.”

Leslie frowned. “Is it really that far?”

“A couple days’ drive. Or one really long one.”

“You must be exhausted.”

He hugged her shoulders, silently reassuring her that he’d passed his KCPD physical with flying colors, and that she didn’t need to honor the mom code of perennial worry. Not on his behalf. “I got in yesterday. I’m staying at Mom’s house. There are still a few things to go through there, some repairs I need to line up before I put her house on the market.”

Leslie’s sigh was audible. “You’re selling Marie’s house? You’re not coming back? Ever?”

Come back to what? Constant reminders of all he had lost here in Arlington? His old boss was here. Lisa. Memories of his mother. Even the ancient scars from his father. Still, Leslie’s stricken expression reminded him of those last days with his mother in the hospital. One of Marie Wildman’s regrets was that she’d never see her grandchildren.

“Conor, you will have children? You’ll have a family?”

He’d gently squeezed her frail hand and promised, telling her whatever she needed to hear to ease her worries and keep any last bit of strength she had for herself. Back then he’d been gutted by Lisa’s rejection. All he had left was the precious life slipping away in front of him. “I will, Mom. I promise. One day, I will.”

“Don’t wait forever.” Marie’s hand had trembled in his. “Life isn’t always what you expect it to be. It’s been just you and me for a long time. And now I’m leaving you all alone. I wish I could be at your wedding. I wish I could see my grandchildren...”

“Mom—”

“I don’t regret a moment. I’ve been happy. I’ve lived a wonderful, fulfilling life. I want the same for you.” Even though her energy was flagging, there was a smile on her gaunt face. “I’ve always been so proud of you. My brave son risking his life for others. I don’t want you to mourn me forever. You live your life. Don’t you dare settle for anything. Or anyone. Lisa never understood how deeply you feel things—I don’t think you even know.” She reached up to stroke his cheek. “But I do. The right woman is out there for you. I want you to love and be loved the way the way your father and I once...” Her voice faded away. He supposed heartache like hers never completely went away. “Find your happiness, son. Hold tight to it with both hands.”

Life isn’t always what you expect it to be...

Conor roused himself from his thoughts and smiled down at the woman who had always been like a favorite aunt to him. “I don’t know my future plans yet, Leslie. For right now, though, they’re in Kansas City.”

Ron seemed to sense the dark turn of Conor’s thoughts and pulled his wife back to his side. “Les, dear, we’re holding up the line. The rest of our guests are waiting.” He shook Conor’s hand again. “Come by the house anytime. There’s still a gate in the fence connecting our backyards. The walkway is a little snow-packed this time of year, but it’s still there.”

“Thanks. I’ll stop by before I leave town.”

Still raw from that trip down memory lane, Conor wasn’t prepared for Lisa stepping out of line to hug him. For a moment, he stood there in shock. Another second gave him time to remember the way her tall frame fit against his body, like two pieces of a puzzle joining together. A third, saner moment reminded him to pat her back instead of squeezing her tightly, and then push her away. She wasn’t his to hold anymore.

“Congratulations, kiddo. You’re a beautiful bride. But then, I never had any doubt you would be.”

“Con—”

“Take the compliment.” He cut her off before she could turn his words into any kind of apology.

“Thank you.”

Dismissing Lisa to move on down the reception line, he reached out to take Joe’s hand and pulled his friend in for a back-slapping bro hug. “Congratulations, man. You dress up pretty good for a numbers geek.”

Joe grinned. “I can be taught.”

But his intent to move past the bride and groom to greet Joe’s parents was thwarted by the tug of Lisa’s hand on his. “Are you happy, Con? Please be happy.”

“Why is everyone so worried about my happiness?” he joked. “This is your day. We’re here to celebrate you two.”

Lisa’s gaze darted to Joe, then back up to Conor. “We never meant for our engagement to hurt you. But I know it did. Losing your mom and then running away...” Her grip on his fingers tightened. “We’ve been so worried. You don’t call. You don’t write. Don’t throw away your life here because of us.”

Conor pulled his hand from hers. He schooled the irritation out of his tone. “Guess what? I didn’t run away from anything. I went where the job took me. Remember? The job I’m obsessed with?” He immediately bit down on that snap of sarcasm and apologized. He was over this. He was over her. But being back in Arlington was stirring up painful memories. “You should be thinking about your honeymoon, not me. If you two aren’t happy together the rest of your lives, I’m gonna come back and kick both your butts.”

“No worries, man,” Joe assured him, looking relieved to hear the teasing.

“Thank you. You’re just so important to both of us.” Lisa’s next hug was a little too long and a little too uncomfortable. When he heard the telltale sniffle against his lapel, he leaned back, automatically pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket for her.

But Joe had pulled one out, too. He tucked his into Lisa’s hand, kissed her cheek and suggested she take a break to powder her nose.

“Sorry about that,” Conor apologized, balling his handkerchief into his fist. “That’s just the way my mama raised me.”

Joe nodded, looking not at all threatened by any old habits Conor might have that involved his new wife. “Heard you took up drinking.”

One bender the night Lisa had dumped him, and suddenly he was an alcoholic. Conor shook his head. “Is that the rumor?” He nodded toward the doorway where Lisa had slipped out of the reception. “No wonder she’s so worried about me. I swear my only vice is coffee. Strong and black.”

Joe laughed, reminding Conor of the camaraderie they’d once shared. “That’ll eat a hole in your stomach.”

“Standard hazard of the job.”

“I also heard you left the Marshals Service.” Joe pulled back the front of his tuxedo to slide his hands into his pockets. “Does that mean you’ve found someone to settle down with in Kansas City?”

Even the accountant wasn’t above interrogating him. “I’m still a cop.”

“So that’s a no.” Joe’s deceptively casual stance never changed. “It never was a competition between us. You know that, right? I would never move in on your woman. I didn’t ask Lisa out until you two were done.”

His breakup with Lisa didn’t seem to bother Conor as much as it seemed to bother everyone else. But this big ol’ pity party, expressing all this concern for his welfare, was rubbing on his last nerve. “No hard feelings, Joe. Just take good care of her. And make sure she takes good care of you.”

“I will.” Joe extended his hand. His grip felt firm and familiar. “Take care of yourself, too.”

Conor congratulated Joe’s parents and then backed out of the line, turning toward the main reception area.

“Con?” He glanced back to see Lisa hurrying to Joe’s side. Her makeup was all neatly in place again as she called after him. “Save a dance for me, okay?”

Yeah. That wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully, the other guests moving through the reception line demanded the bride and groom’s attention. He wondered just how long he had to stay before anyone else accused him of falling apart or running away.

Longer than Conor had planned, apparently. When one of his mother’s former bridge-playing friends linked her arm through his and invited him to join her and her husband at their table, he resigned himself to at least staying through dinner. But several old friends of his mother’s were at the table, too, and all their efforts to “help him” soured the taste of the prime rib and mashed potatoes he’d taken from the buffet.

“How long are you going to be in town?” Mrs. Martin, one of his mom’s friends, asked as he picked at his cake. “My niece just had her heart broken by a boy she’s been dating since high school. I think you two might have a lot in common.”

Conor set down his fork as the sweet icing curdled in his stomach. Now their concern had graduated to fixing him up with other women? “I won’t be in town that long.”

“I could give you her number for when you come back.”

Once he sold his mother’s house, he wasn’t coming back. “Sorry to hear that she’s unhappy. But no, thank you.” Conor pushed his chair away from the table. “Would you excuse me?” Conor eyed the patterns of foot traffic around the reception hall, taking note of the easiest route to an exit door. Maybe he could get a cup of coffee to go?

And then he spotted one of those sparkly feathered hair clips moving through the chairs and round tables, momentarily diverting him from thoughts of escape. Short, brown hair. Caramel highlights. Cotton candy-pink dress hugging womanly curves he shouldn’t be noticing.

Laura Karr.

When she moved past a table where the guests were seated, he caught a glimpse of her face. Her mouth was creased with frustration as she hurried after the groomsman with the dark hair and glasses. She caught up to him at the edge of the dance floor, grabbed the back of his black tuxedo jacket and forced him to stop and face her. Although there was too much noise with the band playing and the conversations buzzing around the tables to hear anything, he could tell by their body language that it was a heated discussion.

Conor’s gaze narrowed as the groomsman glared down at Laura.

Was that a lovers’ quarrel? Including lover in the same thought as the tomboy next door jarred his equilibrium, but he could tell Laura was upset. Was that guy picking on Conor’s little tagalong buddy? Giving her grief? Why was he so eager to dismiss her?

Conor’s emotions had been on the fritz since receiving the invitation to the wedding. Hell, they’d probably been offline long before that, but he’d just kept himself too busy to acknowledge them. But something pinged on his that-ain’t-right radar and made him curious to know why his longtime friend seemed so distressed—and why Glasses Guy was so intent on shutting her down.

Rescue. It wouldn’t get him out of this place, but it might get him out of his head long enough to forget the awkward discomfort of the evening.

He strode into the crowd of guests. “I’m comin’, Squirt.”

Chapter Two

Laura Karr might be the one person here who’d treat Conor like the guy next door he’d always been—not like the prodigal son returning home, or some poor lost soul who needed to be saved. The groomsman smacked Laura’s hand off his sleeve, and Conor hurried his steps to reach her.

Smacked her?

Uh-uh. That wasn’t gonna happen.

Conor came up behind Laura in time to hear a parting shot from the curly-haired man. “Don’t mess with things you don’t understand.”

Over the top of that glitzy pink fascinator, Conor locked his gaze on to the dark eyes behind the man’s glasses. “Hey, Squirt.” He settled his hand at the nip of Laura’s waist, alerting her to his presence so he wouldn’t startle her, but also warning the other man that she had a friend who’d intervene if the argument turned any uglier. “Is there a problem?”

Laura’s frown transformed into a bright smile when she faced him. “Conor. I was hoping we’d get a chance to connect before you ran off.”

Great. Not her, too. “I came to the wedding, didn’t I? Even brought a gift. I’m not running anywhere.” He kept a friendly grin on his face, ignoring the fact that moments earlier he’d been sizing up the room for his best chance to do just that. Run.

“Sure, you weren’t.” A heavenward roll of her green-gold eyes told him she wasn’t fooled by either the words or the grin as her arms went around his waist in a welcoming hug. But he barely had a chance to complete the hug before she pulled away to stop the other man’s retreat. “Isaac, wait.” She tugged on Conor’s hand and pulled him forward to make introductions. “I want you to meet a friend of mine. Detective Conor Wildman, this is Isaac Royal. He was Joe’s groomsman today. They work together at the accounting firm.”

The man who’d walked Laura back down the aisle at the end of the service blinked rapidly behind his glasses. “Detective? You’re a cop?”

Conor arched an eyebrow at the dumb question. “Generally, that’s what the word means.”

“Conor’s with the Kansas City police,” Laura explained. “He moved to Missouri a couple of years ago.”

Since this seemed important to Laura, Conor extended his hand when the other man didn’t. “Isaac. Nice to meet you.”

Isaac Royal was clearly agitated about something. Did he have a reason not to like cops? Maybe he was just anxious to get away from whatever Laura had been pestering him about. His palm was sweaty when he finally reached out to shake Conor’s hand. “You, too.” He pulled away, adjusting his glasses on his nose. The corner of his mouth hitched up with a smile. “Heard what happened to you with Lisa. Women can be a bitch, right?”

Not the opening to a polite conversation Conor had been expecting. He bristled to his full height. “And some guys can be jerks,” Conor pointed out. “Whatever you two were arguing about, you’d better not be referring to Laura. And if you touch her in anger like that again, I will—”

“He won’t.” Laura stepped forward, not needing his defense because, apparently, Isaac’s snide remark hadn’t been about her, after all. “Give Chloe a chance to explain herself. Call her. She’s been absent all afternoon and evening. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“Let it go, Laura,” Isaac warned. “This is between her and me. Chloe made her choice.”

“But Lisa was counting on her. What if she’s counting on you? To save her?”

Isaac’s laugh held zero humor. “I’m done being her boyfriend when it’s convenient for her. I’m not picking up her pieces. That woman is not going to hurt me anymore.” Isaac excused himself, taking a shortcut across the dance floor and exiting into the hallway where the restrooms were located.

Feathers and bangles bounced as Laura fumed beside him, visually drilling holes through the archway where Isaac had disappeared.

Still clueless as to the source of the tension, but not liking how it affected his childhood friend, Conor sought some answers. “Everything okay? Do I need to have a man-to-man conversation with Mr. Royal?”

The set of her mouth was still tight even as she joked about his concern. “Just like you had a conversation with Scott Swearingen when I was in the eleventh grade?”

“A guy doesn’t tell a girl he can do better when she asks him to the prom.” Since no one had asked her, Laura had bravely taken the initiative and asked a boy to go with her. There were less cruel ways to say no than to belittle her for her not being the most popular girl in school. “I heard you crying up in the tree house that day. He was an immature jerk who hurt your feelings. What was I supposed to do?”

Laura nudged him out of the way of a row of line dancers sliding past them. “Maybe not go all big brother on his ass and embarrass me? You ambushed him in the parking lot after track practice, basically told him he was an idiot for not seeing the treasure behind my lack of boobs, straight As and wicked sense of humor.”

Conor had prided himself on not throwing a punch that day. “I called him worse than an idiot. And I never once mentioned your boobs.”

Although, mentioning them now, he found himself looking down at the shadowy cleft beneath the lace overlay on her gown—and just as quickly looking away the moment that most male part of him awoke with the knowledge that there was nothing teenagerish, tomboyish or lacking about Laura’s curvy shape now.

“Why do you think I was embarrassed? Do you think any other boy would say yes to me, knowing you were lurking next door, waiting to pounce on them, too, if they so much as looked crossways at me?” She raised her voice as the music crescendoed to its climax. “You should have at least offered to take me to the dance yourself. Now that would have been real chivalry.”

Conor dipped his head closer to hers to continue the conversation without shouting. Ignoring the subtly exotic scent that wafted off her hair and filled his nose, he reminded her of the facts. “I was home on spring break from college. The law frowns upon someone over twenty-one dating a high school kid. I couldn’t take you.”

“And I always thought that big, bad Conor Wildman was a rule-breaker. It was one of the tenets that my teenage adoration of you was based on.”

He grunted a laugh at the idea he’d been any teenage girl’s fantasy. “There are rules. And then there are laws. One of those, I don’t break.”