The Worst Best Man(38)

“Frankie, you’ve got to get down here. My dad and Chip’s dad are fighting in the aisle.”

“Fistfight or wrestling?”

“Ha. Basically, screaming at each other about how the other’s kid is a selfish asshole.”

Frankie could hear shouting in the background. “What are the groomsmen doing?”

“Putting action on it. Most of them think my dad can take Mr. Randolph because of the years of pent up rage.”

“Ugh. I’ll be down in two minutes. In the meantime, have your wedding coordinator do literally anything.”

“Hurry!”

Frankie hung up and stared in horror in the mirror. The left side of her face was covered in blood. Only some of it was dried. Her carefully coiffed hair was exploding out of the last of the torture pins that were still hanging on. She had an entire vine stuck in there somehow. And the dress?

The dress was cleaner now but still destroyed. Did bridesmaid dresses come in distressed fabric? Pru was definitely going to kill her.

There was a knock at the door, and Frankie tripped over the hem in her haste to get to it.

“What the hell do you want?”

Aiden was standing there in an annoyingly pristine, perfectly tailored tux. No blood or bruises on his face. Just a ghost of a smile and a garment bag slung over his shoulder.

“I thought you might need this,” he said, handing over the bag.

“Like there’s anything you could give me that I’d accept right now,” Frankie snapped. Her head hurt and so did her heart.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to, Aiden reached over and unzipped the bag himself.

It was her bridesmaid dress. Or at least an exact replica. “How in the hell—”

“Do you really want to know how, or do you want to put it on?” he asked.

“On.” Anger and shyness be damned. She had a best friend to please. Frankie slid out of her dress, shoving it into a pile on the floor.

Aiden lost that smug smile and simply stared.

“Like you haven’t seen a thousand tits before,” she muttered, stepping into the new dress.

He steadied her when she wobbled and zipped her up in the back.

“Perfect,” he said.

“How did you know my size?”

“Did you forget I’ve had my hands on you?”

“That was eighteen hours ago. How did you get a gown in my size here that fast?”

“Why don’t we take care of the blood and the hair instead of focusing on the hows?” he suggested.

“How did you get dressed so fast? Is Chip ready? Oh, God. You didn’t leave him alone did you?”

Aiden pushed her into the bathroom and wet a washcloth.

“Why are hotel towels always white?” Frankie winced, as he began to clean her face. “Those stains aren’t coming out.”

“Do you always babble when you’re nervous?”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous. I’m a freaking rock over here. I didn’t almost die or give myself a concussion or ruin my best friend’s perfect day.”

“Shhh.” Aiden worked the cloth gently around her temple.

“Look. You don’t have to be all gentle about it. We gotta get down stairs and keep Win and R.L. from killing each other. They were four seconds away from wrestling when Pru called.”

“Got it covered.”

“You just have everything covered, don’t you?”

“I would if you’d let me.”

“You could have told me. That you knew who had him. That you were working on a plan.”

“I didn’t want to involve you in Kilbourn business. It’s messy and ugly, and I’m trying to impress you. So, how appealing would I have been if I told you my half-brother orchestrated this entire thing to ensure my vote for a new chief financial officer?”

“I find honesty a lot more attractive than someone who never gets dirty, Aiden.”

She turned to look in the mirror. He’d done the best he could with the cleanup, and she no longer resembled a car accident victim. “Oh, my hair.”

“Leave it down.” He pulled a pin out before she could object. “Don’t try to tame it.”

Their eyes met and held in the mirror. She was still mad. But marginally less mad. It must be his pheromones that he was giving off. Sexy, wealthy pheromones.

“We better get down there,” she said, grabbing a stick of deodorant and her lip gloss and shoving them in her clutch. “I can finish in the elevator.”

She made a dash for the door only to turn around. “Shoes!”

Aiden held up his hand, her sandals dangling from his fingers.





Chapter Twenty-One


The wedding was, despite the events leading up to it, picture perfect.

Well, after Pruitt’s father, R.L. tried to take a swing at Chip when he handed off his daughter to her groom. But besides that, it had been rather nice, Aiden decided.

Pruitt glowed in her gown and didn’t even seem to mind that Chip was wearing an eye patch. A scratched cornea, according to Dr. Erbman, an optometrist who was attending the wedding. The couple said their vows and sealed them with the requisite kiss. It appeared as though all transgressions had been forgiven and everyone was ready to enjoy the party. Everyone except Franchesca.