Chapter 1
Ican honestly say that, until that Saturday in Twin Lakes, Colorado, I’d never seen such a day intended for beauty and love turn so ugly so fast.
I guess I should have seen it coming.
Even though love was not in the cards for me, I had hoped it would be for my best friend Dani.
She’d been engaged to Braden for a long time—but every time we talked, it was clear that she didn’t love him as much as he did her…
and definitely not as much as he deserved to be loved.
She’d said that much herself. Maybe no one else knew that she still cared about Zack, but I did—and I’d told her long before the wedding that she shouldn’t settle if she didn’t truly love Braden.
But I knew it was easier said than done. Braden was one of the nicest men I’d ever met—and Dani had said the same. She wanted to love him with all her heart…but there was Zack and she’d loved him since high school. He was the man she’d given her virginity to, for God’s sake.
Still, the morning of the wedding, she seemed committed—but something seemed off, and that was probably why I kept popping in her room every so often.
Of course, I was dating the world’s most possessive guitarist, so I had to spend most of my time around him so he knew I wasn’t cheating on him.
Seriously. In a bridesmaid dress. In five-minute intervals.
The man was an ass and, after spending the day before arguing with him in this idyllic though chilly place, I’d decided I couldn’t take it anymore. Immediately after the ceremony, I was going to kick him to the curb—but, until then, I wanted to placate him so he wouldn’t make a scene.
When I got to the door of Dani’s dressing room, I knocked on it a little too loudly, taking out my frustration with my date. Not my boyfriend, because he absolutely hadn’t earned that status. When Dani said, “Come in,” I put a sweet smile on my face so she wouldn’t worry about me.
Even though I’d seen her earlier, the sight of her still struck me.
Dani was a typical rocker chick with a few tats and a penchant for wearing ripped jeans and t-shirts.
Now, though, she looked like she could have been on the cover of a bridal magazine.
The dress, made of white taffeta and tulle, fitted her form like a glove, and the jewelry she wore made her look like a million bucks.
Usually, she wore her long hair down and loose, but today it was piled elegantly on her head—and, now that she had the veil on, I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful bride.
And her smile looked just like an expectant bride’s should. Was she finally happy with her choice?
I asked, “Are you ready, Dani?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t you look beautiful?” Closing the door behind me, I crossed the room to where Dani stood.
“You look pretty damn beautiful yourself.”
For a quick second, I looked in the full-length mirror beside Dani.
If she hadn’t had that nervous look on her face, I might have taken a picture.
Two crazy rocker chicks looking elegant as hell.
Still, we didn’t seem strange at all. My dark hair was in an updo like Dani’s, and it was hard to see the purple streaks in it.
I’d started getting that done so musicians I interviewed would remember me.
Even if they forgot my name, they’d remember I was the interviewer from Ferocity magazine with the purple in her hair.
And, until that moment looking in the mirror, I never would have realized that wearing a pale purplish pink—mauve, as Dani’s mom called it—would have seemed to match.
But I preferred wearing black.
Turning to my friend, I asked, “Are you nervous?”
She half laughed. “What do you think?”
I gave her a big hug then, trying not to accidentally pull on the veil.
“Yeah, I would be, too. But if it’s any consolation, you look like you were destined for this.
” Then I let her go and looked her over once more to assure her.
“You look perfect, doll.” I imagined I, too, would feel nervous if I ever got married.
She and Braden were making a spectacle of their love while everyone cheered on.
How could a person not feel a little jittery under those circumstances?
“Can I get you anything else before we do this?”
“No, but thanks.”
I gave her one last smile—relieved that, even though she was a little anxious, she seemed happy to be Braden’s bride.
I knew most women would be. A man like Braden was a rare gem and he treated Dani like a goddess.
What woman wouldn’t want that kind of adoration from the man she loved?
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you out there. I have to get my bouquet and then go wait with Dean.
” When I turned for one last glance, my hand on the doorknob, her face looked lined with worry, so I hoped to reassure her.
“You’ll be great.” Then, as I walked out the door, a thought popped into my head about just how momentous an occasion this was.
“Holy shit! Next time I talk to you, you’ll be a missus! ”
As soon as I exited into the hallway at the front of the barn-like structure where the venue typically held weddings—but not for Dani and Braden, who would be getting married in a huge tent on the property in front of the barn—I breathed a quick sigh of relief.
Dean hadn’t followed me here, so I had a moment to process.
I glanced in the big room where weddings were usually held.
There were two staff members dressed in black and white placing silverware on the ornately decorated tables where the reception would be held not long after the ceremony.
For one moment, I almost asked one of them where my bouquet could be found—but there was a table to the side that held two lovely sprays of flowers.
Dani’s bridesmaid, one of Braden’s sisters, must have picked hers up because there was only a label with an empty space where hers had been.
Mine, labeled Maid of Honor, was still sitting next to the bigger one with the sign Bride.
After picking up my bouquet, I checked my phone to see I’d missed two messages from Dean.
Ugh.
As I left the building and headed to the gigantic tent where several guests had lined up to enter, I tried to ignore the chill on my bare arms. This location felt like my childhood home in the high country in Montana where spring started later than everywhere else.
Nowadays I lived in Los Feliz, a neighborhood in L.A.
, so I’d say I’d adjusted to warmer weather, but that wasn’t really true.
Anymore, I had a bit of a nomadic life thanks to my job at Ferocity, and I stayed in cheap hotels more than I slept in my own bed.
But I wouldn’t have changed a thing about it.
I loved my job because I loved hard rock and metal music but had no talent in that area like Dani—and I got to travel on the magazine’s dime.
Granted, I didn’t get to actually see much of the places I visited, but I managed to get a bit of the flavor, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Until I’d gotten on full-time with Ferocity, I’d waited tables at different restaurants in L.A.
and hoped to never go back to it. I’d made good money, but it was hard work—and definitely not a passion.
As I made my way just inside the tent, I noticed for the first time the beautiful music pouring out from large speakers near the front.
Dean was easy to find, because he was standing exactly where I’d left him ten minutes ago.
Of course, he spotted me immediately. When I approached him, he asked, “Why do you have to keep checking on her?”
A great response might have been Why do you have to keep tabs on me? Although I kept my voice low, I was at the end of my rope. “I’m the maid of honor, Dean. She needs me.”
He furrowed his brows, his brown eyes barely containing what might have been fury or mere impatience.
It was hard to tell with this guy. When I’d hung out with his band MAIMD for a week on tour, the band had paid for all my expenses.
I viewed it as an opportunity to give our fans an exclusive look at them, both on video and as a huge write-up, but the band was doing it to promote a documentary about them.
Being around that guy for a week had made it hard to resist his charms, and I fell for him hard.
At the time, I’d thought he was ridiculously hot—with short brown hair, deep, dark, intense eyes, and tattoos all over his chiseled body, and, man, did he have a way with words.
When he asked me out on a date, I’d turned him down at first. I knew as a reporter that a lot of the guys in bands wouldn’t take me seriously if they thought I was easy and sleazy.
So Dean had to ask a few times before I finally said yes.
And what a stupid idea that had been. I should have stuck to my rule: don’t date rock stars. Not because they weren’t hot as hell but because they could ruin my reputation.
Oh…and they could be verbally abusive. Well, at least Dean was.
And that had kind of been my track record.
My first boyfriend back in Montana would get a little handsy on occasion, but he was over the top when it came to verbal abuse.
He must have learned it from his macho father.
And it seemed like I always managed to pick those kinds of men, even when I thought I was choosing someone different.
Dean hadn’t had that vibe at first. In fact, he was smooth and oh, so tempting, like a piece of chocolate cake and you’ve got a fork in your hand.
Yeah, he’d figured out how to play me and it had worked.