My Big Gay Secret Wedding (Wedding Disasters #3)

Chapter 1

1

MAC

Can you call a honeymoon a honeymoon if the wedding implodes and you don’t get married? Asking for a friend.

My best friend.

Rainn eyes the four glasses in front of me. Three of the shots consist of a creamy brown liquid layered over a clear one, with a cherry at the bottom. The other shot glass is empty. He frowns. “Are you drinking tonight, Mac?”

“You told me to loosen up.”

“I said stop scaring the bridesmaids.” His shot glasses are all empty and lined up in front of him, which is why his depth perception is a little off when he attempts to poke me in the chest. “But you don’t drink. Ever.” The last word is punctuated by another poke, but this time, his finger stays where it is, right below my collarbone.

I grab his hand and move it. “Not true. I had a beer at the wedding. I mean the non-wedding.” I don’t mention that Holly, one of Cher’s bridesmaids, downed one of the Slippery Nipples to help me catch up .

He gently presses his fingers into my palm, right over my scar. “I can drink them for you.”

Taking my silence for consent, he downs one of my shots. I grab the remaining two before he can steal them. Although, if I’m being honest, I have a hard time denying him anything.

Rainn Harding is a good man who was dealt a lousy hand. Deserted by his mom. Homophobic dad. Estranged—until recently—from his brother on his mom’s side. I’m his family. The person he counts on.

The person he most cares about.

Well, until Cher. The woman he almost married two days ago. The woman currently wearing her wedding veil—because she can—and tugging him out of the booth. “Dance with me, Rainn.”

He shakes his head, and I think he’s going to refuse, but he lets her drag him to the dancefloor. Great. Fantastic. I down the remaining shot.

The casino bar is loud. Music competes with the noise from the slot machines and the cheering crowds. And why is everything so colorful? Small disco balls hang over the bar area, and even the booth seats are gold with dark wood trim that looks purple in the sparkly lights. The tabletop is smooth, unlike the scratched wooden tables of the bar at home. This bar is fancy, but the Loose Bricks Bar and Grill is more my style. Except, I go there to play pool, not drink.

Rainn’s right. I almost never drink. And I’ve never been drunk in my life. The fist-sized indention in our wall at home, hidden by the family portrait, is a constant reminder not to even start that crap.

As is the scar on my left hand that I got when I was nine. Seventeen stitches. But that had been an accident.

My relief over Rainn not getting married was short-lived when I realized they were trading Bali for Vegas. Because that big lug would probably end up drunk-married to Cher out of guilt for not marrying her the first time.

I need to stop the trainwreck. It’s my responsibility as Rainn’s best friend.

My phone pings for the thousandth time. My dad probably. Wanting to know the status. Or my mom telling me to stop ignoring my dad.

I don’t check my phone. My eyes are glued to the couple on the dancefloor as Cher wraps her arms around her ex-fiancé and his hands find her hips like they belong there. The veil slips over her face, and she whips it away with a grin.

Objectively, they make a cute couple. Cher is stunning—according to her social media followers—with big brown eyes and high cheekbones. Her dark hair is cut into a bob with chunky highlights. Rainn stands a foot taller than her, with broad shoulders and muscles to spare. But his face is sweet. Honest. Light-brown hair and freckles across his nose. His clear blue eyes remind me of the early morning sky.

Rainn and Cher complement each other.

But they don’t belong together.

He laughs at something she says, his eyes full of affection as he pulls her closer. A sharp pain shoots through my chest, making it difficult to breathe. It reminds me of the time my horse Daisy got spooked. When she reared up and knocked me off, I fell flat on my butt. It was unexpected. And it stole all the air in my lungs. Yeah. Just like that.

I’m jealous. Obviously. Although it was hard to admit at first. Rainn has been my best friend forever. So it’s normal to worry about losing him. It’ll happen at some point. One or both of us will find a woman and settle down.

But it won’t be today.

And it won’t be Cher.

Maybe that’s the reason I down the last two shots in front of me and stride over to the dancing couple, intending to pull them apart. But standing and walking prove to be difficult as the alcohol hits me quicker than expected. I stumble into Rainn, clinging to his arm to keep from falling.

“Mac?” His eyes are on me and not Cher, and for some reason, I like that.

Letting go, I suck in a lungful of air. “Can I cut in?”

“Sure, dude.” His eyes are wary as he steps back to leave me with Cher. But he has it wrong.

“Thanks,” I say, dismissing Cher and pulling Rainn into my arms. Not too close. I’m not into guys. The spicy scent of his aftershave surrounds me, and my head spins. Maybe I shouldn’t have downed those drinks. “What are you doing, Rainn?”

His eyes widen and there’s a hint of something in them. He laughs, but it’s not his normal deep, amused laugh. It’s high-pitched. “What are you doing?” He licks his lips—he does that when he’s nervous—and I tear my eyes away to answer.

“No clue.”

The song is slow. Romantic. Why didn’t I notice before? But my only thought had been to separate them before they decided to begin the Harding-Webber wedding part two. Rainn’s hands settle on my hips—like they belong there—and after a moment, he pulls me closer. Good. The music is loud. Easier to talk this way.

We’re both around six feet, with Rainn slightly taller. I slip my arms around his neck. My head feels too heavy, so I lean it on his shoulder and sigh. “You can’t marry Cher.”

He laughs. “I got that memo. Lived it, actually.”

“You two looked cozy.”

I feel the next laugh all the way down to my toes. “Cher was berating me. Told me I was a fucking idiot who needed to get my shit together.” His next breath sounds shaky. “Stop ignoring what’s right in front of me.”

That’s clear enough. “She wants you back.”

He shakes his head, bringing his mouth close to mine. “That’s not— Why is everything so fucking hard, Mac?”

At the hitch in his voice, I lean back to study his face. His eyes plead for something, but I have no idea what. His lips part. Red and full. And his tongue slips out. It’s like a punch to the gut. No, lower.

What the heck? I will never drink again.

“Mac?”

My eyes dart to his face as heat floods through me. I swallow my embarrassment. “Rainn?—”

Ringing draws my attention down. The bar is dark, but I can make out his—I suck in a breath at the bulge in his pants. Is he still hard from his dance with Cher? That has to be it.

He steps away and grabs his phone from his back pocket. His scowl tells me who it is before he even says the words. “Fuck. It’s my dad.”

“Turn it off.”

“I can’t. He’s still pissed.” He rubs the back of his neck, and my hip feels bare—almost bereft—without his hand. “He’s threatening to cut me off.”

“You don’t need him.” But that isn’t remotely true. Rainn has two more years of med school to get through.

The song ends, and we stand there awkwardly. What now? Rainn darts a glance at our table and gives me a smile. It’s weak as heck. I usually see that smile aimed at his stepmom, never at me. Did I make things weird? He shifts and scrubs a hand through his hair.

Time to take charge. Grabbing his wrist, I pull him toward the table. A drunk faux-cowboy—at least according to the sequined cowboy hat on his head—stumbles into Rainn, and I wrap an arm around Rainn’s shoulder to hold him steady. When I’m sure no one’s going to end up on the floor, I grab his hand again and lead him toward our table. My hand tingles, but it doesn’t feel wrong to hold my best friend’s hand.

His grip is strong like he’s afraid of letting go. Of losing me in the crowd.

“You guys are so cute together,” Holly says when we reach them. Then her smile drops and her eyes dart to her best friend. “But not as cute as—” I’m not sure what stops her. Cher’s look or Sally Jo’s cough. But she shakes her head and downs another shot. She’s definitely making the most of this trip.

Rainn drops my hand and scoots into the booth beside Cher. The booth is a U-shape, going around the table. Sally Jo is petite with short blonde hair and a somewhat pointy chin. She pats the seat beside her at the other end, but I pretend I don’t see her and slip in next to Rainn. I’m not sure why she came on the trip. Our fight after the wedding disaster ended our short reunion. Going with my ex to the wedding was a terrible idea, as Rainn pointed out several times. But he’d been marrying Cher at the time, so I’d ignored him.

Now I regret bringing her. She continuously complained about my friendship with Rainn when we were dating, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.

If she can’t understand my loyalty to my best friend, that’s her freaking problem. Not mine.

“What’s going on?” Cher asks Rainn, her eyes darting to me and back to him. There’s a slight grin on her mouth like she’s amused. It must be the alcohol. She’s usually annoyed with me.

I used to be a huge Cher fan. Literally. I followed her Insta account like millions of other people. But that was before she and Rainn got together and almost married.

Her eyes change from amused to calculating as she scoots closer to Rainn.

Cher basically called off the wedding. She has no say in what happens anymore. I push back the impulse to wrap an arm around Rainn. Claim him. What the heckity heck? I need to stop drinking. Now. But when Holly hands me another shot, I remove the cherry and down it. How is it so smooth?

“Dude, you might want to slow down. That’s vodka.” Cher waves her hand around, almost smacking Holly in the face.

“No, it’s rum,” Rainn says. “And Baileys.”

Holly downs her shot and slams the glass on the table. “Idiots. It’s sambuca.”

A giggle escapes me, and I slap a hand over my mouth. Rainn stares at me, his jaw practically on the floor. The look on his face reminds me of the wedding two days ago when Rainn stunned the wedding party and the millions of people live-streaming it by announcing he’d slept with the dude of honor. Twice.

And that’s funnier than it should be. Rainn is straight, or I thought he was until he announced otherwise. Sure, there was that one time…but that didn’t count. We were fifteen, and it was storming. Rainn is terrified of storms.

“How many have you had?” But Rainn doesn’t wait for an answer, and I don’t bother giving him one as he counts the shot glasses in front of me. “Five? Seriously, Mac?”

Did I drink that much? I try to focus, but my head is spinning. No, wait. I distinctly remember Rainn stealing one of my drinks. Doesn’t matter. He’s not in charge of me. “Same as everyone else.” I cross my arms and glare at him. How dare he lecture me?

“But…” He leans in, and I catch his spicy scent. Normally, Rainn smells like a mix of strawberry shampoo, antiseptic, and hospital. Not that I go around smelling him. Except now, I can’t help it. Is he wearing a new cologne? The scent is addictive. “You don’t drink,” he reminds me in a low voice.

He doesn’t mention the rest. Why I don’t drink. Why I don’t let anger consume me. Why I don’t cuss.

“It’s not every day my best friend doesn’t get married.”

His eyes soften, drawing me in. Have they always been that blue? Maybe sambuca has magical properties. It makes colors more intense. Blue so clear it’s like raindrops. My face heats. Must be the alcohol.

“Contest!” Holly announces, and we all stare at her. She holds up a cherry stem. “Who can tie this in a knot first?”

“What?” I glance around. No one else is confused.

“Jesus, Mac.” She laughs, shaking her head. Her blondish red curls bounce around her heart-shaped face. “You need to step away from the barn sometime.”

Rainn’s leg presses against mine. Warm. Strong. I appreciate his unspoken support. Most people don’t get it. All they know is I work in a barn and love horses. But I want to help people deal with trauma. Equine-assisted therapy is a real thing. That’s what I’m studying in school. Rainn calls me a horse whisperer.

Should I tell her I like horses better than most people?

She holds the stem out with a huff of impatience. “You tie it with your tongue.”

“Seriously?”

She acts as if everyone knows this but me. Maybe they do. Rainn and I live in a small town where farming and drinking are the main activities. Going to Kansas City for college taught me there’s a lot I don’t know. And somehow, Rainn easily fits in. I do not.

“Why?” I ask.

Everyone stares at me for a moment and then cracks up. Even my ex. Even Rainn. But his amusement is tempered by a fond expression.

“It shows you’re good at using your tongue,” Sally Jo says with snark in her voice. “Doubt you can do it.”

Ouch. Not that she ever complained. But this is payback. I get that. And it fuels me to prove her wrong. “All right. I’m down.”

Everyone else agrees too, and soon, we’re all staring at each other as we wrangle cherry stems in our mouths. It’s not as easy as I expect and the alcohol doesn’t help. Cher wins the contest with Rainn coming second. Others give up. But not me. I’m determined to prove Sally Jo wrong.

“It’s fine,” Rainn says, squeezing my leg.

I almost choke on the stem. I ignore my body—reacting to the alcohol, no doubt—and focus on twisting the stem into a knot. One thing people learn quickly about me is I don’t give up. I’m a master at the long game. Steady and sure.

They move on, talking about the cheesiest places in Vegas to get married. Tia’s Taco Wedding Chapel is currently in the lead. I’m barely listening as I finally get the stem to do what I want.

“Aha!” I hold up the stem triumphantly.

Sally Jo rolls her eyes. Holly gives me a thumbs-up. Cher laughs. And Rainn grins, his eyes shining with something—I can’t look away. “I knew you could do it.”

My face is burning up. Probably all the attention. I don’t like having the focus on me.

A buzz reminds me Rainn’s dad isn’t giving up. He reads the texts. “Fuck. I hate him so much.”

“Just don’t go back there,” Holly says like it’s that simple.

“His dad’s paying for med school.” Cher clenches her hands around her glass of beer. “He threatens to cut him off.”

“How is your dad so rich?” Holly tilts her head and studies Rainn. “Isn’t he a sheriff?”

Sally Jo laughs. “His stepmom has money.”

“Which means his dad has money.” Cher gives Rainn a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

I glare at the girls. Why is everyone spilling Rainn’s info? My arm rests on the back of the booth, not touching Rainn but close enough to show my support. If I move my hand an inch, I could trace the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. My mind betrays me as I imagine kissing him there. His hot skin on my lips. The wisps of hair against my tongue—lust jolts through me, and my heart rate kicks up like a wild horse.

I remove my hand…and the temptation. No reason to confuse things. Alcohol makes people do things they normally wouldn’t. I know this better than anyone.

Holly giggles, and I want to smack her.

What is happening to me? I am not a violent person. “This isn’t funny.”

“No.” She giggles again. “Sorry! But, Rainn, you almost married Cher. She could have been your sugar mama!”

“That’s—no.” Rainn sets his jaw, his eyes darkening to a midnight blue. “I don’t need Cher’s money. Or anyone’s.”

Cher gives him her Instagram smile. “But your dad liked me. That’s why it would have worked.”

“Oh!” Holly waves her hands around. “You just need to marry someone your dad likes.” She smacks her hand on the table, like she’s announcing the smartest thing ever. “Then he’ll leave you alone.”

That’s when I get the most brilliant idea of all. An idea that will keep Rainn from marrying some girl—or guy—he shouldn’t and keep his dad off his back.

Our families are super close.

Never mind that alcohol is distorting the parts of that plan that might not work out well. In that moment, it all makes sense.

And leads to me waking up the next morning hung over and wrapped in the arms of my best friend—a gold wedding band on his finger.