“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t go reserving a forum just yet, David. Because you’d lose every stinking cent you’d put down.”
David waggled a finger at him. “You just watch and see if it doesn’t happen to you.”
“Never.” He checked each of his cuff links and sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere talking to his brother now. And if they didn’t get out of there soon, he was afraid David would put on a teapot to boil and suggest they reminisce about old times. “You ready?”
“For the past thirty years of my life.”
Connor cringed, thinking that out of the four weddings he’d attended in the past year, this one was going to be the most nauseating yet.
SIX HOURS LATER, OUTSIDE the swanky downtown D.C. hotel, the warm spring sun was setting, birds were singing, cherry blossoms were blossoming. Inside, in a lavishly laid-out ballroom, under artfully painted ceilings and curving archways, a dark cloud hunched around Connor McCoy’s shoulders, threatening to unleash a storm he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with.
He leaned against the bar and eyed the happy couple across the hall as they engaged in the traditional first dance of the night. David’s blond head angled closer to his bride’s ear, murmuring something that made Kelli blush then turn into his kiss. The sight was so intimate, so private, Connor couldn’t help but feel like he was somehow intruding on the moment, despite the very public display, even though two hundred others looked on with him.
He swore under his breath then turned away.
Who’d have thought that one year could make so much of a difference? Twelve months? Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days? He sure wouldn’t have guessed at the same time last year that he would be standing at David’s wedding reception, the only McCoy male still single.
“You look like an accident waiting to happen,” Sean said coming to stand next to him.
Connor’s grimace deepened. Well, okay, he was the second single McCoy male left. Pops was the first. Though he’d never really considered Pops just a male. He was a widower. His father. Not exactly prime bachelor meat up for grabs to the first bidder.
He looked down at his suit. “This is the fourth time I’ve had to rent a tux in a year. The rental-shop girl asked if maybe I wanted to buy the sucker. How do you expect me to look?” He tugged on the sleeves of the jacket, feeling as if the material had somehow grown snugger since he’d had it on earlier that day. Leave it to David to schedule his wedding ceremony at noon, his reception at seven, making him have to wear the suit not once, but twice in the same day.
Sean ordered a brew, then straightened the lapels of his own tailored suit. With his white hair neatly combed, his shoulders wide, he was, in fact, looking very much like an older bachelor up for auction. He said, “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I was expecting you to look happy for your brothers, maybe? Proud?”
Connor nearly choked on his own beer. “Proud?”
Pops grinned, though his gray eyes were watchful. “Yeah. I know I’m biased, but I think our boys have picked themselves a great bunch of women. Don’t you think?”
Connor glanced away. There was something about the way his father had said “our boys” that made his stomach twist tighter than it already was. On the dance floor petite Michelle was pulling gangly Jake onto the parquet floor next to Mel and Marc, who were dancing as if they were the newlyweds instead of new parents.
Speaking of which…
Connor scanned the surrounding tables where draped linens and colorful flower arrangements competed with guests’ apparel. There. There she was. He spotted Melanie’s mother Wilhemenia. She wore a navy-blue dress that reached up to her neck and down to midcalf. But despite the severe clothing, her face was softer than he’d ever seen it as she held up little Sean Jonathon McCoy, named for Sean, and Mel’s late father, Jonathon. Wilhemenia’s lips moved as she said something to the infant, then she pressed her mouth against his temple.
Connor’s gaze moved to his nephew. Three months old. He could still remember when David was that age. And now David was married.
Where did the time go? And why did he have the unsettling feeling that it was passing him by?
Sean cleared his throat. “Certainly you didn’t expect your brothers to stay single, did you?”
Connor blinked at him. It took him a moment to register what his father had said. He shrugged. “Sure, why not? What’s wrong with being single?”
“Nothing. But I think the applicable question here is what’s the matter with being married?”
Connor narrowed his eyes, his gaze again trailing to Wilhemenia Weber. “Are we talking about you here, Pops? Because if we are—”
“No, we’re not talking about me, here. We’re talking about your brothers.” He drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out. “You…well, you’ve made it quite clear on where you stand on my being involved with a woman, so I’m not interested in revisiting that topic—especially since this is the first time you’ve done more than grunt at me in months.”
“I don’t grunt.”
“Whatever you say.” His father’s grin caught him off guard. Connor found himself grinning back.
“Yes, well, I learned it from the best.”
“That you have. And one of these days you and I are going to have a long talk about that.”
“Pardon me. Connor?”
At the sound of the female voice, Connor swung around so fast, his beer nearly sloshed over the side of his glass. He found himself staring at one of the purple-clad bridesmaids. The cute one with the blond hair and the impish smile that looked all of twelve. And came to about his navel standing on the tip of her toes.
“Would you care to dance?” she asked.
Dance? Him? He’d never even set foot on a dance floor, much less danced on one. And he had no intention of starting now. “No.”
The young woman darted away without so much as another peep.
Pops cringed next to him. “You were a bit abrupt, don’t you think?”
Maybe he had been, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his father. “Nope. I’ve found it’s the only way to be. Try being nice and women think you’re playing hard to get. Put them off, hoping they’ll take the hint, and they come back.” He watched the pretty young blonde hurry to rejoin the rest of the wedding party, then shrugged. “Give her five minutes. She’ll get over it.”
Pops stared at him in a way Connor couldn’t decipher and didn’t particularly like. “What?” he finally asked, inexplicably irritated.
Sean shook his head. “Oh, nothing.” He gestured with his glass toward the dance floor. “You know, for David’s sake, you could maybe pretend that you’re having a good time.”
“I’ve never been very good at pretending.”
“No, that you haven’t.” He put his glass down. “You don’t mind if I have a little fun for the both of us then, do you?”
Before Connor could answer, he watched his father head toward the dance floor and cut in on the bride and groom. Kelli laughed as he said something to her, then he swept her away from David like Fred Astaire on a bad dance day.
Connor turned back toward the bar. For a minute there he’d been afraid Pops meant to ask Mel’s mom, Wilhemenia, to dance. He was curious at the mixture of relief and disappointment that his father hadn’t.
Someone put a full wineglass on the bar next to him. “I’d like to exchange this for a glass of beer, please.”
He glanced over to find Kelli’s friend—what was her name?—standing beside him. He drew