Free Revenge of the Bridesmaids by Chastity Foelds

my flowers.  His eyes were locked on my cleavage!  I dropped my gaze.  Oh, I was showing a lot of cleavage, and now a red bloom broke out across my exposed chest.  My heart quickened.  Devon was totally checking me out.  It was soooo embarrassing.  And kind of flattering too.  Whew!  I was missing the whole ceremony with my daydreaming.
    The Reverend continued.  "And do you, Chet, take this woman, Lisa, to have and to hold, to honor and obey..."
    Hunh?  I thought they cut out the "honor and obey" part.  Lisa didn't say it, I was pretty sure.  Only Chet did.
    Chet managed not to stutter at all during the ceremony, and I was very happy for him.  Maybe Lisa was exactly what he needed.  She seemed to scare the shortcomings right out of him.
    Before long the ceremony was over, and the guests proceeded to the restored barn for the cocktail hour while we, the bridal party, posed for a seemingly infinite number of photos.
    "Okay," said the photographer, a balding fat man who squeezed into a cheap suit for the wedding.  "Now, bridesmaids in the front, and ushers behind.  Ushers, arms around the bridesmaids." 
    Devon stood behind me, and I smiled over my shoulder at him.  He seemed pleasant enough.  I was still holding my bouquet when Devon slipped his hand under my arm, and pressed his palm against my little pooch of a tummy.  The fingers of his other hand graced my hip before they also found their way to my tummy.  I became terribly self-conscious that Devon could tell I wasn't wearing undergarments.  Silly, I knew, but I felt that way just the same.  I worried about what kind of signal that sent. 
    Craning his neck forward, Devon placed his head alongside mine, just like the photographer requested.  He smelled nice—sweet and manly.  "Ooh, hello there!" I said when he surprised me by brushing his smooth cheek against mine.  Boy, he smelled good.
    "You look quite beautiful today, Amber," he cooed.
    "Uh, thank you.  You're not so bad yourself."  Geez, that canned reply just slipped out of me.  Devon was likely to get the wrong idea.  What an idiot I was.
    His arms hugged me snugly, and his fingers spread out along my front, as if he were claiming me.  I found myself leaning back against his strong chest, mainly to keep my butt from touching him, when the flashbulb finally went off.  I was leaning back so much that when I went to step away, I lost my balance.  My ankle buckled, and I started to drop, but Devon's strong arms held me up.  His hands were right under my breasts.
    "Thanks," I said.  "You saved me from falling on my ass."  That was no canned reply.  It was entirely true. 
    "Anytime," Devon said.  “I work at restoring classic cars, so protecting objects of beauty is kind of my thing.  Cassie tells me you’re on the rebound, and looking for some casual fun.”
    Objects of beauty?  Was he talking about me or the cars?  How brazen, and what a lame line!  That’s the way the world worked—gorgeous guys could get away with lame lines.  Just because he was all muscular and had that surfer vibe, and smelled so good, and had those dreamy dark blue eyes, Devon seemed to think he was irresistible.  He certainly was confident.  I’d give him that.  Way confident.  Being gorgeous engenders confidence.
    Cassie was watching us, hanging on our every word.
    “Yeah, I’m up for casual fun,” I replied, looking Devon right in his piercing blue eyes.  “Like a good game of Parcheesi.”  He grinned at me.  Of course, his teeth were perfect, and framed by full lips.
    "Okay," the photographer droned on with an air of jadedness that made me think he'd done this too many times.  "Now, just the bridesmaids."
    “Bye-bye, Parchessi Pal,” I said to Devon.
    He kissed the back of my hand and replied, “See you soon.”  My cheeks burned hotly as I watched him walk away.  What a smoothie.
    I stood next to Brenda.  The photographer was fiddling with his camera settings.  We