Free Ready to Wed by Cindi Madsen Page A

decorations were sparse and there were piles of clutter here and there that, okay, I kind of wanted to sort and put away. Even though he was fairly neat already, Grant hired a maid to come in and clean, and his decorations were pieces he’d picked up in high-end galleries. He’d minored in art, so he knew the history behind each painting, too.
    I had a feeling Brendan’s pictures had a history that went something like, they came with the house. Not that I was really into art or cared about that kind of thing. I just tended to look at a person’s style, vehicle, etcetera, and see if I could guess what his or her personality was like. When it came to brides and grooms, I was about 75 percent right.
    “You like it?” Brendan pointed at the picture hanging on the wall that I’d been studying.
    “Where’d you get it?”
    “Came with the house.”
    A smug zip went through my core.
    “I’m going to decorate eventually,” he said. “I’m thinking movie posters.”
    “In the kitchen?”
    “Why not?”
    I shrugged, because I couldn’t think of any reason besides it wasn’t usually done, and that didn’t seem like a good enough one. “I suppose you’ll have sports stars and 49ers posters plastered on your walls, too, just like you did when you were a kid.”
    “Yeah, my bedroom—the only room I’ve decorated so far—still has some. But now they’re framed, because I’m way more mature and fancy.” He nudged my knee with his hand. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna be impressed by my signed and framed Steve Young jersey.”
    “No way. You have a signed jersey?”
    He nodded, a crease forming in his cheek as he grinned. “Not so smug about mocking my decorating choices now, are you?” He stood and held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
    I slapped my hand in his and let him pull me up. The living room had a giant television on one wall and a large sofa with recliners and cupholders facing it—all function. I spotted a PlayStation in the entertainment center, too, so he clearly still liked his games. It’d been years since I played. I wasn’t bad, but I never could sit there for hours on end like Brendan and the rest of the guys, and I was always trying to get them outside instead, hellacious Vegas heat be damned.
    Brendan pushed open the door of his bedroom. Like the kitchen, there were piles—clothes strung here and there, and the top of his dresser was a mess. But there on the wall were a couple of 49ers posters, one for the Colorado Avalanche, and a Steve Young poster. All were nicely framed. Then there was the scarlet jersey in the middle, Steve Young’s name scribbled across the white number eight.
    “Not only is it signed, I was there when he signed it. Got it the year he retired.”
    Brendan and I used to always watch the games together, and we agreed the 49ers quarterback was the best, hands down. Dad was there, too, yelling at the players and then giving a simple nod when they did something good, the same way he did on the field with his own players.
    “Well, I’m definitely impressed, and it’s totally awesome you got to be there. Still not what I’d decorate my bedroom with, but it’d definitely go in the den or entertainment room”—I flashed him a smile—“along with your maturely framed posters.”
    My email chime went off. I only had an alert for clients, because I assured them I was available when they needed me. They had my cell, too, but some brides preferred emails, and I preferred those brides. “Excuse me. I’ve got a wedding Sunday, so just gotta check if it’s urgent, or something I can add to my to-do list for later.”
    It wasn’t Erika, this weekend’s bride, but one with a wedding scheduled this winter. I regret to inform you that I’ve chosen to go a different way… I scanned through the rest, my muscles tensing. From some of the phrasing about not being sure I was equipped to handle her wedding, I was sure she’d read Phoebe’s column. The