Always a Bridesmaid (A Revved-Up Romance Book 1)

Chapter 1

Jane Pearce survived by a steady diet of color-coded tabs, an extensive planner, and a roll of open-in-case-of-emergency chocolate doughnuts. As a bridesmaid for hire, organization was a necessity. Chocolate was a way of life.

She had taken a happenstance, filling in as a bridesmaid at a complete stranger’s wedding—because why not?—and turned it into a budding empire. As the co-founder of Bride Buddies, Jane took her job as always a bridesmaid and never the bride seriously.

There were three main reasons people hired Jane. The first one was obvious and sad, they just didn’t have any friends. The second was more common: their other bridesmaids were drama-causing, unsupportive, hot-messes who needed to be wrangled by a professional. Most brides were honest with their friends and family about hiring a professional bridesmaid, and Jane attended those events as herself. But the third, and Jane’s favorite kind of hire, was when someone wanted her identity to remain a secret, and this was where Jane shined.

She’d played the role of a distant cousin, a stepdaughter once removed, and the college roommate. This meant collecting extensive files on the entire wedding party, a detailed family history, and creating a believable origin story between Jane and the bride-to-be. The key was knowing her facts and sticking as close to the truth as possible.

Did she dream of walking down the aisle with that veil trailing behind her, a diamond winking off her ring finger, the man of her dreams waiting for her on the other side of the altar? Sure, didn’t most women? But for now, she was happy playing Cupid’s wingwoman.

Juggling multiple weddings per week every year, not including dress fittings, engagement parties, and bridal showers, Jane had mastered the art of blending into the bridal landscape, but her latest gig posed a unique challenge. She would be portraying an actual person at her first international event for a high-profile client.

Okay, so Sarah wasn’t so much high-profile as was her older brother. But because of his athletic prowess and international fame, her role-playing had to be on point. Just to be considered for the job, there was a complete background check conducted on her; her business partner, Roxy; their company; not to mention the NDAs they signed. None of that would deter Jane. An event of this magnitude, and a payout this huge, was going to take Bridal Buddies from a two-person, besties-boutique firm into a high-profile company that offered top-of-the-line services for brides all around the world.

This would only be possible if they had the money to expand their business and include a diverse range of bridesmaids for hire. Bridesmaids who would allow Jane to focus on growing and running a seven-figure company, which had been her dream since college. She’d always been business-minded—that she got to help other women in the process only made her job that much better.

As it stood now, she was the face and the backbone of the company, which was why things were falling through the cracks as of late. Like forgetting to set her alarm when she took a nap and waking up an hour late for her red-eye flight, which forced her to forgo a shower and head off to Austin-Bergstorm International Airport in black leggings, an oversized sweatshirt with a dark smudge on the sleeve—which she’d put her money on was chocolate—and a ball cap.

The line for the bag check was longer than Space Mountain at Disneyland and she’d been rammed and bammed by so many passengers it was like being trapped in a game of bumper cars without a bumper. She’d had her toe stepped on, her right boob elbowed, and coffee dripped on her left. There were only three checkers working, and she was positive that if things didn’t turn around fast, she’d miss her flight—which would mean she’d have less time to settle in and prepare for the biggest job of her career thus far.

“This is why I should’ve just brought a carry-on,” Jane mumbled to herself. “One less line to stand in.”

“Oh, those were the days,” the woman beside her said. The woman looked exhausted. She had an infant strapped to her like she was tandem skydiving, a toddler holding her hand, and enough bags to open a luggage shop. “I’m lucky to get out of the house without needing a bellhop.”

“Though I can’t really stuff a bridesmaid dress into an oversized backpack.” Not to mention the wigs and other necessities one needs when moonlighting as a master of disguise.

Jane wasn’t just a bridesmaid for hire this trip, she was playing the role of an actual person: Elle Vaughn, Manhattan socialite, accomplished equestrian, and the bride-to-be’s childhood best friend, who had recently sold Sarah out by revealing private information to the press about her older brother. Since the bride had been talking about Elle nonstop to her family and admitting to Elle’s betrayal would mean having to come clean about nearly costing her brother his big racing contract, Sarah couldn’t have a bridesmaid be a no-show. Enter Jane and Bride Buddies.

“A wedding,” the woman said dreamily. “I remember those days. My friends and I are now in the swollen ankles and breast-pumping phase. A night with martinis and menus that aren’t peanut- and gluten-free sounds like a dream.”

“I do love me a good wedding,” Jane had to admit. The flowers, the glowing bride, the first dance, the romance of it all. They were like the fairy tales Jane used to weave about her father when her mom’s military career had taken them all around the world and she would rather say her dad was a roadie with whatever her favorite band was at that time than admit that he was dead.

“Where are you headed? Tell me it’s someplace beautiful.” The woman’s eyes were wide and expectant as if hanging on Jane’s every word.

“London actually.”

“Is it a destination wedding?”

“No. It’s for my childhood best friend. She’s from there,” Jane said, pulling up all the details like a spreadsheet in her mind. Her back straightened, her words became more precise—more Upper East Side Elle and less middle-class Jane. “We met at equestrian camp when we were just thirteen. Every summer we’d bunk together and throughout the years we’d write to each other. We had journals we’d pass back and forth, sharing our secrets and dreams. By the time we aged out of camp and pen-pal antics, our friendship was cemented.”

It took everything Jane had not to gag on that lie. The truth of it was, just two weeks ago, Sarah had been inches from killing Elle. As Jane understood it, Sarah trusted Elle with a secret about her brother and Elle went straight to TMZ. Henry was still in the dark about how his secret meeting with a rival team became public knowledge, and Sarah wanted to keep it that way, at least until after the wedding. So she’d hired Jane to play the role of Elle.

Armed with tales of s’mores, friendship bracelets, and secret midnight swims—and every detail of Elle’s history that Roxy could scour from online—Jane was determined to make this her best performance yet. She’d been training her entire life for this, after all.

“That is so sweet.”

“I’ve never met her family.” Thank god for that. It was the only way this particular job was going to work. “So this should be a fun trip.” Seven days to play the part of a backstabbing socialite? And help a distressed bride in need? She was up to the challenge. Jane loved helping other people turn what could have been a traumatic experience into something to be treasured.

She knew trauma, had lived it. So if she could save just one person from that kind of pain, then her hard work was worth it.

“Oh, I think you’re up,” the woman said, looking past her to the travel attendant standing behind the counter.

“That’s me. It was lovely meeting you and I hope you have a safe trip.”

“Have a martini or three for me.”

“I will!”

Jane grabbed the handle of her roller bag and took a step toward her future. Only before she could take another, some jerk took a step of his own—right in front of her, cutting her off and nearly knocking her on her ass.

“Excuse me.” She held her ball cap to her blond hair before it fell off.

“Sorry, love. I didn’t see you there,” a man who sounded exactly like Mr. Darcy said. And Jane loved her some Darcy. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, sounding a little breathless. But if there were ever a man to get breathless over it would be him. Her Dreamy Darcy was at least six feet, with lean muscles for days, and big masculine hands. One of which was holding her elbow, strong and secure, steadying her as she gathered her bearings.

Jane wasn’t really looking for a man. In fact, between Bride Buddies and renovating her dilapidated bungalow in downtown Austin, she didn’t have time for a man. But she could appreciate a good one when she quite literally bumped into him.

“Next time try signaling before merging into traffic,” he said all cute-like, but she didn’t find it cute. Was he blaming this on her? What a jerk!

“No harm, no foul. But I’m running late, so if you’ll excuse me.” Jane started for the counter and again he cut her off.

There was that smile again. “Normally, I’d say ladies first.”

“Let me guess? Today isn’t normal.”

“Sorry, love. You aren’t the only one running late.” He went to move to the counter, and she grabbed his arm.

“Hey! There’s a line and it starts back there.”

“I was in line.” The jerk jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the roped-in area that looked like the red carpet at a Hollywood event. Which was fitting since he was dressed like he was going for a jaunt down Wilshire Boulevard. He was just in jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, but they all screamed money. Then there were the mirrored sunglasses. Who wore sunglasses inside an airport? “Since I’m in first class, I’m next.”

“First class checks in there.” Jane pointed to the check-in counter that was occupied. “This is economy.” She held up her boarding pass. “See? Economy.”

“First class checks in at the first available counter,” he informed her. Even with the mirrored glasses and his ball cap shadowing his face she could see the smugness in his eyes.

“Says who?”

“The rules.”

He flashed her a smile that had her heart doing a strange little flip. Blaming it on heartburn, she said, “Yeah, the sexy charm and dimple? That”—she pointed to his face—“doesn’t work on me.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

She rolled her eyes. “More like an asshole. And you’re missing the whole point.”

“Am I?”

“God, it’s like your head is floating in an ego-filled cloud.”

A flash went off and Jane saw spots. When her vision came back to normal Dickhead Darcy looked nervous. He was tugging his hat low on his head and trying to make himself smaller.

“Please, love. May I just check in my bags and be on my way?”

“If you hadn’t told me to use my blinker I might have said yes, but you had to be an ass about it.” Another camera went off. And another. She looked behind her and people were snapping pictures of Dickhead Darcy. Not wanting to get her face caught in a single photo, because doing her job meant keeping a sense of anonymity, she turned her back to the crowd.

“Who are you?” she asked him.

“Nobody special.”

“I don’t like liars.”

He laughed and his shoulders relaxed. Her body was as tense as a coil. She didn’t like all the whispers and phone cameras going off—all the attention. But he seemed to expect it.

“Are you always that direct?”

“With liars I am.”

“Well, it looks like today is your day. Now I’m going to be here for a while. Enjoy your flight,” he said and made a grand gesture toward the counter as if he were being the bigger person by letting her go first.

Jane wanted to stay and argue some more but was too afraid of missing her flight, so she checked in her bag and watched with curiosity as Dickhead Darcy was swarmed by other passengers asking for autographs and selfies.

Henry Norris was usedto making snap decisions in heavy traffic driving at a steady three hundred kilometers per hour. It was his ability to weave in and out without colliding that made him the current World Formula 1 Champion. So the collision with the smart-mouthed, sexy America had been unexpected—and refreshing. It had been a pleasant distraction from the rumors swirling about his team loyalties.

Not only did she call him out on his shit, but before he’d made that blinker comment, she’d found him cheeky—and she hadn’t a clue as to who he was. That hadn’t happened in a long while. Granted he’d been in the States, which was more NASCAR than real racing, and he’d been as incognito as possible, but even when the flashes had started, she’d seemed more concerned with making her flight than fifteen minutes of fame.

Which was the only reason that could explain why he was still thinking about her as he parked out front of his mother’s Georgian-style terraced house in Chelsea, London. With six bedrooms and seven bathrooms, the sprawling residence was the first thing Henry bought after he signed his first big contract with Apex Motorsports, seven years ago.

His mind flashed back to that first day when he moved his family in. The maternal pride on his mum’s face was forever ingrained in his memory.

After his dad abandoned them to chase his dreams of being a Formula 3 pit mechanic, his mum sold the family house and moved them to a two-bedroom apartment, taking on three jobs at times to keep his younger sisters fed and Henry in racing academy. He’d vowed that one day he’d take care of her the way she deserved. He was proud to say that he’d fulfilled that vow—at least fiscally. Emotionally was up for debate.

He would drop everything and come if his mum or sisters called. But that was the problem, he didn’t come home unless they called. Something he was working on. He could blame it on his career, but that would be a lie. He didn’t come home as often as his family would like because it reminded him that this was never his home.

While Henry had been chasing his dreams of fast cars and podiums, his family had been creating lifelong memories. His mum and eldest sister, Sarah, had tried to keep him in the loop, but hearing things secondhand had made him feel like a bit of an outsider.

That was what he’d sacrificed when he’d been selected at age fifteen by Apex to be part of their exclusive racing academy in Monaco. A normal childhood. Most days he backed his decision, but every once in a while, like today when the whole family came together to break bread and tell family tales, he wondered what it would be like to be a part of those memories.

Henry sat in his sports car, stomach bottomed out, staring out the front window. The surrounding London plane trees were heavy with the day’s rain and the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow off the drops hanging from the leaves. The driveway was full, calling out that he was the last to arrive.

With a sigh of exhaustion, he hopped out, his legs still cramped from making the long red-eye flight from Austin earlier that day, where he’d shot an ad for one of his sponsors. He hadn’t even checked into his hotel, coming straight here hoping to have a private moment with his sister Sarah, the blushing bride, before his soon-to-be in-laws arrived.

Grabbing the red Cartier box he’d picked up for Sarah off the passenger seat, he walked to the front door. Only, when he reached it, he hesitated. He’d been an adult by the time he’d been able to afford to buy his mum this house, so he’d never really lived there. In fact, besides the holidays, he rarely stayed there—always opting for a hotel in lieu of the room his mum had set up for him—so he never knew if he should knock or just let himself in.

“Bloody hell, it’s just a family get-together,” he told himself, opening the door and walking in. He was greeted with the welcoming aroma of his mum’s bread pudding, the sounds of warm family chatter, and late-winter memories being made. All of which ignited a hot pang of longing in his chest.

Henry could handle a fifty g-force impact, but the idea of a simple family gathering swapping childhood stories and inside jokes that he wasn’t a part of made his palms sweat. The recent memories, he could be a part of those, he told himself, he just had to attack his personal life like he did the track.

“Is that my Henry, I hear?” his mother, Julia, called out and, god, the sound of her voice shook off some of the nerves.

“Sorry I’m late,” he announced, rounding the circular stairwell and entering the sitting room, where everyone had gathered. And he meant everyone. Between his mum, sisters, and Sarah’s soon-to-be in-laws, every seat in the room was taken.

“Henry,” Sarah squealed and leapt to her feet.

He’d barely got his arms out when his baby sister, Camilla, threw herself into his arms. “You’re finally here!”

Before he knew it, he was surrounded by a gaggle of Norris women fawning over him. He wasn’t all that fond of being fawned over, but growing up the only male in a house of women, he’d become accustomed to it.

“My flight was a bit delayed,” he said, wrapping the three women up in his arms and resting his cheek on his mum’s head. His sisters might be all grown up, but they still barely came to his chin. And his mum? She hadn’t changed one bit. She might have a little silver in her hair and a few more laugh lines, but she had the same youthful spirit he remembered when he’d been a child.

When he released them and stepped back, Sarah said, “Hen, I want you to meet Wayne, my fiancé. Wayne, this is my brother.”

Wayne rushed to stand and thrust out his hand. “Hey, Hank, nice to meet ya. Can I call you Hank or is it too soon for bro-names yet?”

It took everything Henry had not to roll his eyes. Wayne was exactly what he’d imagined. Tall, lanky, overzealous. American.

Henry took his hand and to the rest of the room it looked like a polite greeting between two men, but what Henry gave him was a long, hard, painful handshake. Wayne’s eyes went wide as Henry leaned in for that bro-hug and whispered, “You hurt my sister and whatever you do to her I will do to you ten times worse.”

The groom cracked a nervous smile, but not Henry. His face didn’t move a tick.

“Why don’t you introduce your parents,” Henry said.

“My parents. Right.” Wayne took his hand back and cradled it to his chest. “These are my parents, Debbie and Donnie.”

Donnie was a mirrored image of his son, just a little softer around the middle and grayer. Debbie looked like she was the president of her local quilting bee and canned jam for fun.

“We’re big fans,” Donnie said, giving Henry a warm handshake.

This was familiar territory for Henry, but for some reason, being seen as World Champion Henry Norris in his mum’s house threw him off-balance for a second. He was always happy to sign a hat or smile for a selfie, but not when he was in the privacy of home. Hoping no one noticed, he pasted on his best for-the-camera smile. “Thanks.”

His mum met his gaze and hers was apologetic. She’d noticed. And something about that made his world tilt back to right.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Debbie said. He stuck out his hand, but she shot her arms out to the side. “None of that. I’m a hugger. Now come here and give me a hug.”

Henry did as he was told. And the woman wasn’t lying, she was a hugger alright. She rocked him from side to side, back and forth, rubbing his back and patting his shoulders like he was five and this was year one drop-off.

Finally, the woman released him and asked, “So tell us, Hank, do you know Dale Earnhardt Junior?”

“Mom,” Wayne gasped, his ears turning red. “Dale’s in NASCAR. Henry races in Formula 1.”

“Well, they’re both race car drivers, aren’t they?”

“That’s like asking if he knows Travis Kelce,” Sarah tried to explain.

Debbie’s eyes lit with excitement. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Henry said. “We did a charity event together. He’s a great guy.”

“How exciting,” Debbie said, then turned to her husband. “Isn’t that exciting, honey?”

“Where’s your lady friend?” Julia cut in, eyeballing him.

“What lady friend?” Henry asked, wishing they’d go back to grilling him about just how many famous people he knew.

“The blond actress.” Julia flapped a hand as if that was description enough. “The one who was naked in that film. I thought you’d bring her tonight.”

“There’s no blond actress. Where did you hear that?”

“The news.”

He sighed. “Mum, the Globe is not the news.”

“So you’re not dating then?”

No, they were not. That didn’t mean that they hadn’t shared a night here and there. But they were definitely not together. In fact, he wasn’t with anyone. Hadn’t been serious since his ex. All it took was someone you loved to sell your relationship secrets to the press to learn that lesson.

“Still single.” It was as if he’d just told her that the Pope had died.

When Julia didn’t look like she was going to drop it, Sarah intervened. “Why don’t we all make our way to the dining room. I’m sure dinner is ready and we wouldn’t want it to get cold now would we?” She took her mother by the elbow. “Mum, why don’t you lead the way.”

Sarah waited for everyone to leave the room, but tugged Henry back when he went to leave. “I am so sorry about that. They’ve just never met someone famous before. And I talk you up all the time. So it’s like they already know you.”

Henry was used to unbalanced meets where one side knew everything about him and he didn’t even know their name. It came with the territory.

“Everything’s fine, Sarah. We’re all just getting to know each other. There’s bound to be some awkwardness.”

“But I want this week to go perfectly.”

He smiled down at her. “And it will. Because no matter what happens, I will always back you and I will always be here for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I just want you to like Wayne.”

“If you like him, then I like him.”

“I love him,” she corrected. “And I know I’ve said that before, but this is different. He’s different. He’s not Oliver.”

Something protective and feral knotted in his chest at the mention of that prick’s name. Not only had Sarah’s ex turned out to be a complete wanker, but he’d also been a user and Henry hadn’t seen it until it was too late. Even worse, Henry had been the one to bring Oliver into his family’s inner circle.

Oliver never loved Sarah. He’d only been chasing the lifestyle that came with rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. He was a leech dressed in a slick suit and Henry had been too busy with his own career to notice the guy moving in on his sister. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Which was why this time he’d hired an investigator to do a full background check on Wayne and his family. So far, they were what they seemed. A typical upper-middle-class, midwestern family who had close ties and owned a construction equipment rental company out of Missouri. Wayne bought his first house last year, a single-story, ranch-style home, as the investigator had put it, that was located a few blocks from Debbie and Donnie.

Not that he’d imagined Wayne would want to stay there since Sarah’s flat in Notting Hill was three times the size and value. It was a present from Henry for graduating top of her class from university.

“Oliver was on me,” he said gently. “Not you.”

“I was the one who agreed to keep our relationship a secret from you for so long.”

“You were still in uni. I had my focus on the wrong things. You fell through the cracks. That won’t happen again.”

“I don’t need a keeper anymore. I just need a brother.”

“You’ve got me.”

“I know.” She went quiet for a poignant moment. “Which is why it’s important to me that you’re close with my husband. I want you to be comfortable around him and vice versa because when we have kids I want you around. A lot.”

God, kids. His little sister was old enough to be thinking about marriage and kids. It seemed like just yesterday she’d been crying in his arms asking him why their dad wasn’t coming home. Now she was a graphic designer for a mid-sized marketing firm in London and about to get hitched.

He tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear and smiled softly at the idea of being an uncle. “You couldn’t keep me away.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the red jewelry box, holding it out for her.

She eyed it with surprised delight. “What’s this?”

“An early wedding present.”

“You’re paying for the whole wedding.” He was paying for an entire week of wedding festivities, but he wanted the best for his sister. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to.” And that was the truth. He loved spoiling the women in his family. Showering them with gifts was his love language. He couldn’t always be there in the flesh, but he could bring a smile to their faces with a thoughtful gesture.

When she didn’t reach for the box, he opened it and held it out to show her. Her eyes sparkled with appreciation, then went misty. She pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s beautiful.”

“It should cover your something new and something blue,” he said, displaying the sapphire and diamond necklace that would frame his sister’s neckline perfectly. At least that’s what the woman at the jewelry shop had said when he’d shown her a photo of Sarah in her wedding gown. “Unless you had something else in mind.”

“No.” Lifting her hair, she turned around. “It’s perfect. Can you put it on? I want to see how it looks.”

Henry clasped the necklace around Sarah’s neck, and she raced to the mirror that hung behind the sofa. She touched it like it was as fragile as the morning frost. Her gaze met his in the reflection and she smiled.

“Thank you. And because you’re being so sweet tonight, I won’t kick your ass for threatening Wayne earlier.”

“Just because you want me to like him doesn’t mean I won’t threaten him from time to time. That’s the perks of being the big brother.”

“And the perks of being the little sister? Blabbing to Mum that you totally banged that blond actress.”