Free Ready to Wed by Cindi Madsen

from Dad—but something he’d still be proud of.”
    “I’m sure he was.”
    “He came to all of my games. One even overlapped with football, and he let the assistant coach take over for that game. I still kind of can’t believe it.” Movement in the back of the restaurant caught my attention. Antonia was talking to a tall, scrawny guy who looked like he’d just gotten out of high school. She pointed at me, and I had the feeling he was the nephew she suddenly wanted to set me up with.
    I ducked behind Brendan, using him to hide me, though it was too late anyway.
    “What are y— Oh.” Brendan chuckled. “He looks like just your type, D.J. Probably barely made it out of jailbait age.”
    I gripped the back of his shirt. “You’re so not helpful.” I tipped onto my toes so I could peek over Brendan’s shoulder and see if Antonia was still pointing at me. Not sure what hiding was going to accomplish, but it seemed like the thing to do.
    Antonia came up front—alone, thankfully—and handed us bags of food that smelled of garlic and marinara and made my stomach rumble in anticipation. I did my best to hide the fact that I’d been using Brendan as a shield. Though I did notice he was a rather sturdy one.
    We took the food and got back into Brendan’s truck. As he drove, he bobbed his head to the music, humming along with the radio, and I relaxed back in the passenger seat, glad to have someone to chill with on a Friday night.
    “So, how do you like being back?” I asked. “And what exactly do you do at the casino?”
    “So far so good—some of my best memories are here.” He glanced at me and warmth flooded my chest. Then he looked back out at the road, the streetlights outlining his profile and the way he draped his arm over the steering wheel. “I take care of security for our high rollers and make sure no one steals from the casino. And if they do, I make sure I grab them before they get away. There’s a lot of carding for underage gambling and taking care of people who get drunk and disorderly, too. And a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff that I can’t really talk about.” He said it lightly, but I could tell he was higher-level, and that he took his job seriously.
    “You go with your James Bond self.”
    The headlights from a car coming the opposite way flashed across his curved lips. “You never finished telling me how you got into planning weddings. You were too busy hiding.”
    “Well, if I knew you were practically a spy, I would’ve asked for a cooler avoidance technique.” I readjusted the seat belt and twisted my back against the door. “It all started when a teammate’s mom got married, and I went to the wedding. I was awed by all the flowers, decorations, and waiters serving fancy meals. Everyone looked so happy, too. I started wondering how it’d all come together. It looked like a challenge, and I wanted to know if I could pull off something like that. So I looked into planning, and since organization has always been my thing, it just fit. And I like that no matter how many weddings I do, they’re always different. Problems inevitably arise, and I get a rush when I take care of them and manage to pull off another wedding.”
    Except for mine. I totally failed at that, no awesome adrenaline rush included. I quickly shook off that unwanted thought and shrugged. “Plus, I get to boss people around.”
    “You always did like to do that,” Brendan teased, and I smacked his arm.
    He turned into a newer subdivision and pulled into the garage of a tan two-story house with Spanish roof tiles and a tall palm tree in the front yard. Within a few minutes, we were seated at the table in the kitchen, digging into dinner. As our conversation hit a lull, my mind started spinning. At first it was focused on how nice it was to be with Brendan again, laughing and joking the same way we used to, but then I was thinking about how different he and Grant were. Not just in looks, but Brendan’s