Bolted (Promise Harbor Wedding) - By Meg Benjamin Page 0,2

to her in a tux in front of a minister. What do you think?”

Greta half expected them to whip out their junk for a quick comparison. The wedding was rapidly descending into a shouting match.

“I think that if you don’t let her talk to me, you know that she’ll always wonder. You don’t want that, do you? To have your wife wondering about another man?”

Good question, actually. Greta shifted the bride’s bouquet to her other hand so that she could move a little closer. This was better than Lifetime. Who knew her brother’s life had this much drama? Josh had always been Mr. Responsible, Pride of the Brewsters. He never screwed up. It was a rule. And now it looked like his life was headed south, not unlike Greta’s.

She tried to dredge up some sense of outrage over Gavin Whatever His Name Was and failed completely. She’d had a suspicion Josh and Allie weren’t all that right for each other to begin with, their personal perfection notwithstanding. They were affectionate enough, but not…hot. Not can’t-wait-to-tear-your-clothes-off passionate. Of course, who was she to talk about passionate? She’d practically had to make an appointment for sex with Ryan.

Watching Allie chug a ridiculous number of really awful drinks the night before had cemented her impression—Allie just wasn’t behaving the way a full-on, joyous bride should behave. Of course, that could have been because Allie was a lot more level-headed than Greta herself had ever been. You’d never see her running into something like a bad marriage. Except now it seemed like she had. Maybe Greta and her sister-in-law-to-be had more in common than she’d ever realized.

Josh blew out a long breath and shoved his hand through his hair. Greta wondered if she’d ever seen him look that frustrated before. Then he half turned toward his fiancée. “Allie?”

Allie turned toward Gavin the Hunk. She looked like she was trying to gather her wandering thoughts together again. “What would I wonder?”

“You’d wonder what I had to say to you so badly that I would fly over four thousand miles so I could rush in here to stop your wedding.”

Allie stared at him for a very long moment, then shifted her gaze to the congregation that waited breathlessly for whatever the hell she was planning to say. There wasn’t a sound in the church beyond the occasional snap of a camera shutter. Greta repressed the urge to scratch at her crinoline again.

“Allie?” The Hunk looked faintly worried.

“You’re too late,” Allie whispered.

Greta took a closer look at her almost-sister-in-law. She still looked immaculate, although slightly green around the edges—still more than perfect. But there were tears in her eyes. Well, crap.

In Greta’s considered opinion, Josh was toast.

“Bullshit,” Gavin Whoever He Was said. He stepped forward, dodging around Josh, bent and scooped Allie into his arms, then headed for the side door, looking sort of like Rhett carrying Scarlett up those stairs. Bernice Cabot was probably ecstatic.

“Gavin!” Allie gave a couple of halfhearted kicks, but he seemed to have tightened his hold.

“Just a damn minute—” Josh started.

“Give me a chance,” Gavin said, turning back again. “Let me talk to her. Let me tell her what I came here to say. Then if she wants to come back, I’ll walk her down the aisle myself.”

And leprechauns will sing while unicorns frolic in the ferns. That was probably the single most outrageous request Greta had ever heard somebody make at a wedding. It was also probably a mark of her own attitude toward marriage that it didn’t seem that far out of bounds.

Sure. Go off for a trial honeymoon with somebody else. If it doesn’t work out, you can always come back for a second try with groom number one.

On the other hand, the Hunkster was clearly delusional. Did he really think Josh would wait around while another guy made a pitch to his fiancée, and then take her back, no questions asked? Did Allie think that? Did anybody but the Hunkster really believe this was a workable idea? Greta leaned forward to see what would happen next, balancing the bouquets on her hip.

Josh stared at Allie, who had stopped struggling for the moment. Greta stole a glance at her mother. Her face was rigid with shock, the hand with the Kleenex curved into a fist at her side. Terrific. Greta had a feeling she’d be doing damage control with Mom as soon as this was over.

Gavin the Hunk murmured something in Allie’s ear. In this case, it probably was