Free The Next Right Thing (Harlequin Superromance) by Colleen Collins

asked, but...I told her I’d like to do it, the pre-invitation. Because, deep down, this is really me asking you to stand up there on this important day...the most important in the last chapter of my life.”
    She glanced toward the kitchen, wondering how much of that electric limeade was left.
    Forget it. This was the time to think clearly.
    Okay, her uncle had always been there for her. Those years when it had been so tough at home with her mom, he’d always been a phone call away. And when she died, he insisted Cammie move into his place, and he helped her get on her feet. Tried to talk her into being a lawyer, but she’d refused. When she’d decided to become a private investigator, he’d made one request. That she specialize in legal investigations. She’d never regretted that career path.
    And then when everything had blown up in Denver with her job at Hamilton & Hamilton, he’d encouraged her to relocate to Vegas and move in with him until, again, she got back on her feet. He was right. Uncle Frankie was more a father than the one she’d never met.
    The thought of walking down an aisle in the Elvis Chapel—oh, Lord, would “Burning Love” be playing over some boom box?—pained her. The primary thought shrieking through her brain was I’d rather have a root canal than wear one of those butt-ugly dresses with bows the size of Kansas, but what came out of her mouth was balanced, sane-sounding.
    “Yes, Uncle Frankie. It’s my privilege to be your maid of honor.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    T HE NEXT DAY was a relatively uneventful day at the Cave except for “Marilyn’s” wardrobe malfunction in the middle of her lip-syncing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” When she pulled up after a give-it-all-you-got shimmy, the top half of her dress truly gave it up.
    Later, Val swore there was no malfunction. “I saw Felicia insertin’ Velcro strips in her top before the performance. That girl was ready to open the cupboard and show the goods before she even stepped on that stage. She’ll do anything to get these tourists to open up their wallets.”
    “Maybe,” Cammie agreed. “ʼCause she certainly got the best tips of the day.”
    “Snooper,” Val said, fisting her hand on her hip, “if I were to accidentally wardrobe misfunction, I’d have the best tips of the year. ”
    “Please don’t go there.”
    “Not to worry. I like to keep my pride and my clothes intact. Hey, hear from lawyer boy again?”
    Before work, Cammie had given Val the lowdown about Marc’s surprise visit.
    “No.”
    “He wants to hire you as a P.I. Here’s your chance to get back in that biz.”
    “Like I told you, he has no sway with my Nevada license.”
    “F’true? The way I see it, lawyers are like dogs. You take a poodle halfway around the world and it might not understand what people are sayin’ or where it’s supposed to lie down and sniff, eat and all that dog stuff, but you hook it up with another poodle and those curly-haired mutts get down. Know what I’m sayin’?”
    “If you want to view poodles as lawyers, keep in mind that each state has its own dog-attorney rules.”
    “There you go again.”
    “What?”
    “Got that wall up.”
    “We’re talking about legalities.”
    “You’re glum again, too.”
    “Because I said there’s different dog-lawyer rules?”
    “No, because you’re not talking about your real feelings. You’re talking the brain side of things.”
    “The factual side?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Cammie tried to give her best you’re-so-wrong look, which crumbled under Val’s I-am-so-right-again one.
    “Maybe,” Val said, “those walls give you an excuse to not go where you want to go.”
    “Marc’s not going to help me get relicensed.”
    “There’s that brain side again. You’re talkin’ about your license. I’m talking about a place inside that you’re trying to ignore.”
    “This is getting too deep for me.”
    “Hmm.” Val gave her friend an assessing look. “Like my nanny