Wrecking the Wedding

Chapter 1

Logan

I hate weddings.

But I love free food.

So here I am, back home to attend my cousin’s all-inclusive wedding where I will get to stay at a hotel for a few days, eat to my heart’s content, and maybe even enjoy some no-strings-attached fun.

A few months ago, I was planning to bring my boyfriend, and come out to everyone at home, but since that ship has sailed, I decided against a plus one.

In my experience, weddings make people amorous, and it’s always easier to seduce hotties if it doesn’t seem like I’m taken. I intend to have a grand time and use my hotel room to the fullest.

“So what really happened with that girl you were dating?” Dad asks, looking up from his plate.

I stiffen, trying not to squeeze the knife and fork too obviously, but I can’t help the tension passing through me as Dad’s eyes settle on me.

Just like mine, they’re bright gray and piercing.

For a moment, I fear he somehow found out that the girl whose photos I showed them was just my roommate.

And she was very much not the guy I’ve been dating for almost a year.

But then Mom clears her throat and gives Dad’s hand a gentle slap.

“Oh, leave him be! He clearly doesn’t want to talk about her anymore. It’s been months since they broke up.” Her lips spread into a smile that deepens the wrinkles around her mouth as she glances my way. “I’m sure the right one will come along sooner than you might think.”

I groan, wishing I didn’t have to endure this.

You’d think parents would stop hovering over your life when you’re almost twenty-five and a grown-ass man, but nope.

It’s for the better that I moved from Texas all the way to Indiana, because, it would be super frustrating to endure this kind of questioning on a daily basis.

“Or won’t,” I shrug and stab my potato. “I’ve got other things to do than spend my time looking for a partner.” I leave the gender vague, because if I do end up dating a woman next, what’s the point of them losing their minds over my bisexuality?

Dad rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, the suspicion on his sunburnt face like a rock thrown my way. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

I’m taken aback. I know exactly where this is going. “Like the business I’m going to grow. After, you know, graduating with a business degree.”

So maybe my business plans are still in their infancy, but I have high hopes for the future.

For now, I’m more than happy working at my local stables, spending time with my horse, enjoying nature, and getting potential business leads for the future.

All while getting laid, being free, and not having to explain myself about being seen with a guy in town.

Mom sighs. “Give him a break, Tom, he’s got time.”

“I’m sayin’, there’s horses here. You could apply for an office job at the Hones’ riding school. Or even use your business degree to grow the ranch, since you’re our oldest child.”

This again.

I lean back in my chair, placing the cutlery on the plate.

I do miss my hometown at times, as well as the people living here, and the ranch is profitable—Dad is right, I could take it to new heights in the future.

But if I stayed in a place that holds so many shitty memories and where everyone knows I’ve been jilted at the altar like a dumbass, it might just drive me crazy.

I left home for a reason, and I do not plan on coming back.

“You know Ann loves this place more than she loves diamantes on her shoes,” I say, meeting Dad’s gaze, but he’s already getting all red in the face. He’s got high blood pressure, and I don’t want to agitate him, but he’s the one who started this damn conversation!

“Your sister likes riding, caring for horses, and teaching people. That’s not the same as taking care of the business side of things,” Dad says as Mom has a sip of sweet tea.

“You know, it’s really a shame we can only come for the wedding itself,” she starts in a neutral tone, but her attempts at changing the topic are not gonna work now that Dad got going.

“She will need you once we retire,” he says, gesturing at me across the table.

I’m angry at myself for not going straight to the wedding venue, but the guilt over not contacting my parents often enough won. And once again, the same conversation repeats itself. I’m so tired of it. Why can’t they let it go?

“You can employ someone to deal with that.”

“This is a family business, and it should stay that way!”

“Then I’ll talk to Ann at the wedding.”

That gets Mom to her topic of interest. “Was there really no one you could bring?”

I chew my last piece of steak in frustration. “I asked Jolene, but she was unresponsive.”

Both my parents glare at me. Okay, so maybe joking like that about my sister’s horse is a bit mean, but could they not give it a rest?

I soften the blow. “This was delicious, Mom. I’m meeting a friend in town, so I really need to go.” I get up and grab their plates as well.

My blood is buzzing and if I don’t let off some steam tonight, I might just explode. I’m not a violent guy, but I’ve punched a face or two in my life, and my parents are not people I want to even exchange hurtful words with.

It’s enough that I have to endure the shame of them knowing what a disaster my own almost-wedding was. I cringe just thinking about it.

“We will get back to this conversation,” Dad says, and I hear Mom shushing him as I grab my denim jacket off the hook by the door.

It’s hard to believe that there was a time when I itched to do exactly what he wants me to. But the dreams of living out the rest of my life on this ranch, with a loving wife and children are long gone. They were dumb anyway.

There are no friends to meet. I just need to clear my head on horseback, and since I don’t want my parents to know this, our own stable is off limits. But I know just the place to go instead.

Unless something changed during my long absence, that is. My southern accent and cowboy hat immediately single me out as a transplant in Indiana, yet it’s here that I feel like an outsider who no longer fits in. Funny how things change.

I hate it. But it is what it is, so I get in my car and head off, exhaling with relief once I’m out of speaking distance and no longer have to watch everything I say or do.

The trip only takes twenty minutes. The sky’s dark blue and orange when I step out of the vehicle and face the reception building housing all the offices, as well as community rooms for the people boarding their horses here.

So close to Dallas, the Hones have lots of business from people living in the city, and while I haven’t been here since I first left for Indiana, I can see that the riding school must be thriving.

I spot a new barn close by, and the coat of paint on the reception is fresh.

I see no other vehicles in the parking lot, but there’s a light on in one of the windows, so I head for the entrance and step right in.

“Hello?”

No one’s at the desk, so I walk past the door to the stables, inhaling the calming scent of fresh hay.

Someone whistles beyond the stall inhabited by a particularly beautiful dark horse, leading me in the right direction.

I smile and tip my hat at the tall animal, but when I get close enough to see the back of a man bending over to get fresh hay on his pitchfork, I stop in my tracks to admire the view.

What can I say? I’m a red-blooded man with steam to blow, and that right there is the Ass of the Year.