Two Weddings (and One Near Funeral)

T-3 Days (11:00 PM)

Jackson ducked a flying g-string and snagged another beer from the huge tub on Dixie John’s bar. “This is a madhouse.”

Alec made a grumpy noise and glared until the psychic stripper who’d been headed in his direction veered away sharply. “At least Miguel’s going to singlehandedly put half of them through college. That’s something.”

“Too much money, not enough sense.”

“He’s young,” Alec allowed with another grumble. “Just hope Kat’s shoving twenties in some cowboy’s gun belt right now too. Fair’s fair.”

The groom was a little drunk, something Jackson had only seen a few times in all their years of acquaintance. “Twenties? You must trust Nicky to have hired better entertainment.”

Alec snorted. “She’s snobby about everything else. Plus, I’m gonna keep on thinking Kat doesn’t know stripper etiquette. I’ll sleep better at night.”

“Hey, so long as Carmen doesn’t know it, you’re set.”

His face screwed up in another scowl, one that brought Derek ambling over from the other side of the room. “What did you do to Alec to make his face look like that?”

“Nothing that should’ve worked.” Jackson slapped Derek on the back. “Remind the man how blissful married life is.”

“Like a dream, Alec.”

“I’m not worried about being married,” Alec snapped, reaching for another bottle of beer—his sixth. “I just want this fucking circus of a wedding over with.”

Was that what he was telling himself now? That the hoopla would end with their vows? “One thing I’ve learned over the last week or so is that I was wrong. Dead wrong. This is the pre-show, man. The real circus starts when you two move to New York.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Alec rubbed at his head and sighed. “Why is the woman still marrying me?”

“Because she adores you.” Julio leaned past Alec to retrieve another beer. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that you’re going to live happily ever after?”

“Maybe,” Alec muttered. Then he sighed. “This may only be the beginning, but it’s the last time I’m letting them shove me into a tuxedo in front of a few hundred people. And maybe the last time I’m letting my mother anywhere near me.”

“Kenzie could still punch her,” Jackson offered. “She dying to, you know.”

Derek laughed. “Nick could help. Let them at her, Alec. What’s the fun of having cranky alpha women around if you don’t let them start fistfights once in a while?”

Julio snorted. “That hit is Carmen’s to take, even if she won’t do it.”

“Too bad.” Alec drained his beer and raised both eyebrows. “What the hell are you all doing staring at me? Did you decide to leave all the strippers for Miguel?”

He wanted to be sitting there about as much as Carmen probably wanted to be staring at a buffed and waxed cowboy stripper. “Come on,” Jackson said, rising. “Let’s get you to Mahalia’s so you can rescue Carmen. I’ll drive, and you can sober up on the way.”

It was a sign of just how bad things were that Alec capitulated without so much as a murmur of protest.

T-2 Days (12:30 AM)

Mackenzie handed Carmen another martini and leaned against the table, trying to position herself to block the sight of Sera writing her phone number on the Tarzan-themed stripper’s arm in sparkly blue ink. “Drink that before I do.”

Carmen giggled and downed it in three gulps. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Until Jackson gets here with Alec. They’re on their way.” Though Jackson’s text message had made it clear he’d be taking the long route—long enough to let Alec sober up, which was a good thing. Carmen was drunk enough for both of them. “I think Sera’s going home with one of your strippers. Should I be stopping that?”

“Nah.” She waved a hand. “It’s a free country, Mac, and love is a beautiful thing.”

“Uh-huh.” Mackenzie surveyed the room again. Aside from the outliers—Kat was reading a book on her phone and Sera had moved on to letting Tarzan write his number on the inside of her arm—everyone was enjoying the entertainment with a good-natured enthusiasm that, nonetheless, was a far cry from love. “I guess so.”

“It is. You know.” Carmen wiggled her fingers and laughed again. “You glow too, because Jackson makes everything okay.”

Mackenzie couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, he does. And we’re both glad you came along to make Alec smile, because he was an unhappy bastard for a long time.”

“Mmm, not anymore.” Carmen leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “When he forgets all these other things, the ones that don’t matter, everything inside him is still. Peaceful.”

Empaths. Thank God Kat was too busy reading about imaginary cowboys to get drunk and gawk at them. One inebriated empath was one too many. “That’s awful sweet, honey, but I bet Alec doesn’t want me knowing he’s peaceful. Ruins his brooding image.”

“Oh yes.” She opened her eyes and blinked. “He’s a very, very scary man with a very, very broody demeanor.”

The door pushed open behind her, and Mackenzie caught the familiar scent of Jackson’s aftershave. “Thank God,” she murmured. “Up we go, Carmen. We’re getting you home, okay? I think you’ve partied all you can for the night.”

“I can’t leave my own...” The words trailed off as a soft smile curved her lips. “All right. Maybe it’s time to go home.”

Jackson laid a hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder. “Is Carmen remotely sober?”

“Not even a little.” She leaned back against his chest and felt the heat of him, the solid warmth that shouldn’t stir her so readily when she curled up next to him every night. “Is Alec?”

“Not really,” he answered, though his words were almost drowned out by the way Carmen growled lustily as she crawled over the back of her chair and launched herself at Alec.

Alec was sober enough to catch her, but they careened backwards into the wall with a clatter that had Sera whooping her approval from across the room.

Kat seemed less amused. As Alec caught Carmen’s lips in a kiss that looked likely to last a good long while, Kat covered her eyes and groaned. “God, someone give them the keys to upstairs. She’s a drunk empath. This will not end well.”

Nick approached with a laugh, key ring in hand and her gaze averted. “They might not make it if we don’t, um, point them in the right direction.”

Kat hid behind her phone. Sera turned back to Tarzan.

Mackenzie sighed. “Fine. I’ll pry her off, but someone better keep Alec from punching me, or I’m kicking him in the balls.”

In the end it took a coordinated effort, but they managed to exchange Alec’s truck keys for the keys to the upstairs apartment and get them both shoved out the door. Mackenzie collapsed on a bar stool and groaned. “At least they’re having fun. I guess that’s the goal.”

Nick dropped beside her with a giggle. “We should’ve gone co-ed.”

“Oh Lord, no.” Mackenzie caught Nick’s gaze, then flicked her head toward Kat, who had returned to staring at her phone. “Can you imagine the mess?”

“Maybe, but you never know ’til you try,” Nick replied cryptically.

Mackenzie didn’t want to imagine the mess that could come out of Andrew, Kat, Miguel and the volatile introduction of strippers and alcohol. “Do you need some help cleaning up, or can we shove off? I need some sleep before all the rehearsal crap tomorrow.”

“Me?” Nick recoiled a little. “Hell, I hired a crew to come in first thing in the morning. I’m not cleaning this shit up.”

Jackson laughed and kissed the top of her head. “And Alec says you’re snobby.”

“He what?”

Mackenzie was too tired for this. She grabbed the back of Jackson’s shirt and hauled him toward the door. “Tomorrow, Nick. Tomorrow, and then the next day, and then this will all be over, and life can go back to normal.”

“Such as it is,” the tiny brunette called after her.

Jackson huffed out a laugh and stroked the back of Mackenzie’s neck. “Such as it is.”

She shivered, the heat from before blossoming into something a bit more urgent. Suddenly she needed to get Jackson home—or at least to his truck, which was old enough to have a bench seat with plenty of room to maneuver.

Pushing open the front door, she hauled him into the night. “Why don’t we...” Carmen’s car sat a dozen feet away, a silhouette inside clearly visible. They’d taken Alec’s keys, but not Carmen’s. “Shit, we can’t let them dri—oh, they’re not driving.”

“No, they are not.” Jackson wheeled her around. “Should we...do something?”

She wanted to run like hell. “Are they going to get arrested? Can you make sure no one sees them?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He whispered a low incantation, then gingerly touched the hood of the car. It immediately ceased its subtle rocking. “Best I can do, darlin’.”

It would have to do. “Let’s get the hell out of here. And not have sex in the truck.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Aw, damn it. Were we going to?”

“Were.” And maybe someday she could get rid of the mental image of the ways Carmen had to bend to screw Alec in the front seat of a Camry. “Take me home, Jackson. I’m really tired of wedding stuff.”

“Your wish is my command, Kenzie.”