Daring Brides by Ava Miles Page B

later with the rest of the guests. The plan was for them to blend into the background in normal clothes so no one would make the connection. Otherwise, the gig would be up before they’d even made the transition.
    “Sit down before you wear the carpet out,” Rye Crenshaw told him.
    His buddies hadn’t henpecked him about girly bridal traditions like his mama and cousin liked to do. No, they kept telling him to chill—like today was any other day—or they were lamenting the loss of his bachelorhood.
    He gave his friend a hard look and continued pacing. “I can’t stand all this waiting. Why did Abbie and I choose five o’clock for the ceremony?”
    “Because it’s closer to dinnertime,” Rye responded, throwing a handful of salted cashews into his mouth.
    “All he ever thinks about is his stomach,” Clayton Chandler, Rye’s deputy manager, said, kicking up his black boots onto the walnut coffee table.
    “Good thing you and Abbie decided to go with that huge buffet,” songwriter and legal genius John Parker McGuiness added from his perch on the sofa. “Otherwise Rye might have created a shortage with his appetite.”
    Rye’s insatiable appetite for good food was an ongoing joke among them. Today Rhett would have hunted down a ham bone for his friend in exchange for help sneaking into Abbie’s hotel suite for just one measly second. But no. Since his buddies were Southerners too—and sometimes gentlemen—they had blocked his plans, citing wedding customs and potential death.
    The death part would most likely be at the hands of Rhett’s future sister-in-law, Peggy McBride, who could pretty much shoot an apple from a pig’s mouth at thirty paces. Not that he ever planned to challenge her. She was plenty scary enough without a weapon. Even if she was Mac’s wife.
    “Come on, bubba,” Rye said, standing up and coming over to clap him on the back. “Have a bourbon with us before you end your days as a single man.”
    And there it was again. Another lamentation. “I’m happy to be ending my days as a single man,” Rhett told them.
    Rye and Clayton winced like he’d gone plum crazy and would end up sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch for the rest of his years alongside a broken washing machine. John Parker met his gaze with sympathy. If anyone had family man written all over him, it was John Parker.
    “Y’all will change your tune once you find the right woman,” he said. Not that they ever believed him.
    “Can’t ever see that happening,” Rye drawled, shaking from head to toe in utter terror.
    “Not a chance in hell,” Clayton added through a tight-lipped grimace.
    “Can’t wait,” John Parker chimed in with a grin. Rye and Clayton glared at him, and he held up his hands. “What? I’m serious. I can’t wait to find my special lady and settle down.”
    Rye poured the round of Pappy Van Winkles and passed them around. “You’re as hopeless as Rhett here is.”
    The door to the suite clicked open, and Mac Maven strolled in like he owned the place—which he did. “Since I knew you were stewing about how Abbie and Dustin would react to your note, I thought I’d come down to tell you they both cried.”
    Rhett’s air passage felt like it narrowed to one of those small wedding tapers he and Abbie had chosen to light the ceremony. “She did? Dustin too?”
    Mac slid his hands in his pockets. “Yes. Happy now?”
    “I didn’t mean it to make them cry.” This was Abbie’s wedding day, for heaven’s sake. And Dustin was a teenager. What teenager liked to cry in front of his mama?
    “Rhett, this was crying in the best way possible,” Mac said. “I know I’ve said it before, but it means the world to me that you’re adopting Dustin. Sending in the paperwork today was a wonderful idea.”
    “I’m the one who should thank you,” Rhett said as his chest tightened. “Heck, I’m getting all choked up now. Mac, if you hadn’t thought me good enough for your