14. Hot Mess
14
HOT MESS
SOPHIE
The wedding rehearsal was about as atypical of a walk-down-the-aisle moment as possible. The hot weather and sunshine only made matters worse. Who held an outdoor wedding in Vegas in the summer heat with no shade over our heads? The bride would probably melt by the time she reached her groom. If she survived that walk, the groom would probably keel over from heat stroke.
The outdoor Vegas venue sparkled, though, beautiful in bright silk flowers of pinks and yellows, and lit up in a way that only Sin City could pull off—from the arch at the front to the runway-style lights pointed down the aisle.
Melanie had insisted on the theme of the rehearsal segment: “Love, Light, and a lot of Skin.” All for the cameras and ratings, of course. The women outdid each other in the tiniest bikinis ever, only rivaled by the low riding board shorts on all the men. Of course, Keaton’s torso was the only one I cared to gaze upon, dying to tease my fingertips along every ridge, and trace his tattoos with my tongue.
If I thought middle school girls had horribly bullied me for what was—back then—my big front teeth, they had nothing compared on these adult women here today with the way they peered down their noses at me.
Judging by the jealous faces as I held my head high, my hand on Keaton’s elbow, as we walked in, I realized the target on my back. My cheeky red bikini, while flattering, held the envy of women as they practically snarled at me when we passed by. Keaton was one of the most well-loved bachelors in the show. But it’s their loss for not chasing him since then.
He’s at my side now. Mine.
Only for this weekend. But… why couldn’t it be more? Last night, he all but admitted he wanted me. What did that mean for us?
Starla strutted past, stealing my thoughts away. She stopped in front of us, and I rolled my eyes. What was she up to now?
She reached down to her hem and slowly dragged her swimsuit cover over her head. Her white sequined swimsuit showed so much skin she might as well have gone without.
She looked down at me like I was no better than the ground under her feet. Then she winked at Keaton, grabbed her bag and carried on. My head snapped to his, immediately pleased to see his eyes were closed.
“Is she gone now? You said to keep my eyes on you. I saw her coming and shut ‘em,” he muttered.
I giggled. “Yes, you can open them. And thanks for taking me seriously. You just avoided World War III between us.”
“You said to keep my eyes and hands on you. When you tell me what you need from me, I’m going to deliver, every single time. And then some.” He nuzzled into my neck, kissing and sucking there.
Oof. My heart. My body. Keaton hardly had to do more to prove he could be excellent boyfriend material—exactly what I’d want. If I was looking for a guy in my life, that is. Wait… was I looking for one?
The wedding march began, the perfect distraction from dwelling on things. Vanessa floated in first on white studded stilettos, lovely and smiling, her makeup perfect, her platinum hair swept up and held in place with a short veil—except she wore the exact white sequined two-piece Starla had on.
Instead of turning up the aisle to Ben, Vanessa detoured, continuing straight to Starla. Her face morphed from sweet, innocent bride to bridezilla in two seconds flat.
“You fucking bitch,” she yelled. “ I’m the bride. How dare you dress like me?”
The camera people sprinted to follow and adjust, hoping to get it all on film.
“I cannot believe Starla’s audacity,” I whispered.
“I can. This was what the TV show was like. Nonstop.” Keaton didn’t have to watch, continuing to plant tiny kisses across my back and shoulders, tickling with his beard. I wasn’t complaining. My skin broke out in goosebumps, dying to know the feel of him everywhere else.
But I watched the tense scene before us intently. Melanie circled nearby, giddy like a kid in a candy store.
Cassandra entered then, as the Maid of Honor, like a B-list celebrity. Not to be outdone in the spotlight, her black bikini was only strings. She gave me a once-over and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Hope you brought your A-game, Sophie. These girls play rough,” shesnickered.
“I can handle whatever you or they dish out,” I snarled back. Keaton squeezed my arm as if reminding me I didn’t have to prove anything to them.
Cassandra coaxed Vanessa away from Starla, and they finally made their way up the aisle. A man and woman who I could only imagine must have been the parents of the bride stood to see if she was okay.
Vanessa gave assurances, then reached for Ben, who greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, taking both of her hands in his. As if they were Ken and Barbie, never had there been a more perfect pair.
If anyone thought that’d be the end of Starla’s interruptions, though, they were wrong. She reared her head again at the point of the rehearsal ceremony where the officiant mentioned the part about ‘If there is anyone present who knows of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.’
Starla ran up the aisle, screaming, “Wait! You can’t marry the father of my baby.” She threw herself into Ben’s arms in hysterics.
Vanessa’s shriek could’ve shattered glass. “You? I knew you’d pull something like this. How dare you? Get your claws off my fiancé!”
“No. It’s true,” Starla insisted, complete with her hand on her belly. “I’m having our love child.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t do this,” Ben seethed at her.
Vanessa gaped at him, shocked. “What are you talking about?”
“You know those little work trips he takes for business to L.A.? Well, let’s just say that I’ve kept him warm and satisfied in my bed for the past year. Especially since he says you’re nothing but a cold fish,” Starla gloated.
“This cannot be happening to me,” Vanessa cried, alligator-sized tears streaming down her face. “I don’t believe you. Ben? Talk to me. Tell me she’s insane.”
“I’m sorry. It’s true.” Ben hung his head. She openly wailed at the altar. A part of me felt for her situation, another part of me couldn’t believe what I was watching, as if this were simply another unbelievable, zany reality episode of Brewed for Love. If I worked in an office, this would be the type of scene that would be all anyone talked about at the water cooler.
“I love you Bennie. Our baby is going to be the best baby ever,” Starla wrapped her arms around the very stoic groom. He hardly acknowledged her, red faced. The curtain had finally exposed him to be far from the perfect bachelor, after all.
“No. He was my Bennie, not yours.” Vanessa cried, “You’ve wanted him all along though, always texting and flirting with him, playing it off like you two are just friends. You probably got him drunk and threw yourself at him in L.A.”
Starla blinked innocently with a haughty laugh. “Oh please. He’s been fooling around on you from day one, even undressing everyone here with his eyes all afternoon. I’m doing you a favor, sweetie. You can’t handle a man like Ben and all of his many… tastes and desires.”
Ben looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Vanessa, babe, I swear she’s lying about other women. I don’t even like her.” He thrashed his hands around desperately, like a man whose days were numbered as America’s perfect bachelor.
“How could you say that when I’m carrying our child?” Starla insisted.
“You know what?” Vanessa snapped, sniffled, and straightened to her full height, and practically glowed with rage. “I don’t deserve this. I’m done. You can marry the next swimsuit that walks by. This wedding is off.” She stormed away, flipping the bird at the camera as she passed. Her parents followed quickly behind her.
“Oh, Bennie. Now you and I can get married.” Starla seemed genuinely hopeful—and oblivious. Was this all a ruse for drama’s sake or real?
“What? I can’t marry you. Vanessa? Vanessa!” Ben ran off the set, with Starla chasing after him.
“Cut!” Melanie danced in place like Christmas had come early. “We got it all, right? Please, for the love of God and all things reality show holy, tell me we caught all of that on camera,” she shouted at the crew, practically salivating.
My stomach twisted. I’d had enough. I stormed over to where she was reviewing the playback on a monitor, every inch of me vibrating with disbelief. “Hope you’re happy.”
She barely glanced up. “Don’t worry. Drama drives the big payoff. The couple will fight, makeup, and get back together. Happens every season and makes for great TV.”
Keaton joined me, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Vanessa is a pastor’s girl from Texas and her daddy didn’t look too pleased running out of here. If Starla really is pregnant with Ben’s baby,I don’t think Vanessa’s family would approve of this marriage proceeding ahead.”
Melanie’s smile faded. “What do you care? You got your product placements, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I snapped. “But without a bride and groom to marry, it doesn’t do you or Keaton’s brewery any good.”
That one landed. Her fake smile slipped. “Shit,” she muttered and grabbed her radio, calling for her assistant to send chocolates and flowers and teddy bears to Vanessa’s room immediately with a card signed From Ben with love.
Keaton snorted, clearly enjoying watching her sweat for once. He turned to me, that devilish glint back in his eyes. “I doubt there’ll be a bachelor or bachelorette party tonight. We might as well go enjoy our time in Vegas. What do you say, Sophie? I’ve been dying to hit the craps table.”
I took his arm without hesitation and let him lead me away. But as a former fan of this show with a never-ending hope that two people could find true love on Brewed for Love, a part of me left the venue sad about the turn of events.Like saying goodbye to a good book I’ve read, I left a friend behind.
On the way out, Anthony and Cassandra were mid-argument as well, and we avoided them. It was as a little too much reality had tainted if the entire day, hell, the whole weekend. I was ready to escape it.
Back at the suite, I dropped my bag by the door and flopped onto the couch with a groan.
“I’m going to need therapy,” I muttered. “Or a very large cocktail.”
Keaton locked the door behind him with a guffaw and tossed aside his shoes. “Skip the therapy. We’ll get room service and get drunk on overpriced bourbon instead.”
I lifted a brow. “Thought you needed a night out at the craps table?”
He smirked and plopped down on the cushion beside me. “We’ll do it all. We have time to enjoy ourselves now.”
I leaned my head back and sighed. “I don’t think I could handle being on a show like that, if today was any sign of what it’s like.”
“You understand why I didn’t want to attend now? I entered the show originally so na?ve about the experience.”
I nodded and took in his gorgeous profile. Such a nice guy who didn’t need to be wrapped up in this. “Why did you get involved? What, the dating pool was too small for you in Holly Creek?”
“Sounded like fun, at the time. I don’t regret most of it. Guess I’m just ready to move on from it.”
“Melanie’s going to spin this whole thing and come out smelling like a rose, isn’t she? Meanwhile, poor Vanessa. She did not know any of this was coming.”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it. Vanessa probably discovered Ben and Starla’s relationship a month ago, after mailing the invitations. Then Melanie talked them all into having this big blowout on camera. It’s all a big mind fuck if you ask me.”
“Really? Either way, I can’t help but feel a little sad for Vanessa.”
He reached an arm over my head, landing behind my shoulders. “You’re being way too nice, considering they weren’t exactly pleasant to you.” He pulled me closer, into his side. “Now, enough about them. Where does that leave us?”
“Us?” My voice turned breathy. “Well, I supposed my obligation as your wedding date is over since there’s no wedding.”
“You don’t know that. We could arrive at the wedding tomorrow, and there’ll be some bride and groom getting married. Who knows?”
“So I’m not off the hook? Still your weekend date?” My stomach twisted. Not at all ready for this weekend with him to end. I should’ve played it cool. I should’ve laughed and tossed back another snarky line. Instead, I fluttered my lashes at him.
“Still mine,” he confirmed with a sly smile. My breath caught in his last word. His fingertips drew figure eights on my shoulder. “So why don’t you let me take you out for a night on the town?”
“I’d like that.”
He stood, and I let him pull me up. He tugged a little too hard, and I fell into his arms and the comfort of his hug.
“By the way, thanks for not looking at Starla.” I gazed up into his face. “That meant more to me than I expected.”
“Told you,” he murmured, “my eyes are only on you.”
His hand slid up my back, and tangled in my hair, holding me in place while his mouth moved over mine with slow and greedy purpose. My body melted into his, every nerve ending ignited. I relished in his possessiveness, which took us far beyond pretend. A kiss like this had to mean more.
His whiskers softly tickled my chin, the scent of cedar and lime beard balm titillating. Our tongues and breaths tangled to a feverish pitch, like we depended on each other for survival. With no cameras, no one else around, this wasn’t for anyone but us. And when it broke, I wasn’t sure I could play pretend with him anymore.