The Dating Game

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Damn, she looks beautiful,” said twenty-six-year-old Ivy Parker. She couldn’t keep her eyes from the scene in front of her: her sister Taz on the makeshift dance floor in the arms of her husband of five hours, Jerry O’Rourke—and man, could he dance.

Taz’s white gown swept the floor, cut low in the back and front, and her dark hair was pinned up with orchids. Jerry was dashing in his elegant black tux, and for the first time it hit Ivy how right they looked together. It was a happy thought that left her feeling so sad and lonely.

“Happy too, the b***h,” said Naomi, her sister, who was also a bridesmaid and very much as single as Ivy. The two stood in identical peach gowns that draped to their ankles. The only problem was that the dress looked better on all her sisters’ slender frames, whereas it seemed to add at least twenty pounds to Ivy’s size ten—okay, maybe twelve if she was being honest. She’d finally stopped looking in the mirror, horrified at how the dress looked like a grain sack on her and made her ass look far bigger than she knew it was. Another reason, she was sure, that she was fighting to keep a smile pasted to her face.

“What are you two going on about?” said Brandyne, their eldest sister, as she slipped in between them and put her arms around them. Her dark hair was long and wavy to her slim waist, and her wedding ring was the first thing Ivy had noticed of late. Brandyne was married to a Montana sheriff, with five kids from a cowboy she’d hooked up with years before. She too was slender and curvy. Damn, so unfair.

“Oh, you know, our sister over there dancing with Jerry. Still can’t believe she’s married, and so soon after meeting the guy. She traded us all in and left us, just like you,” Ivy said. She glanced over her shoulder to Brandyne, who seemed a little startled. Naomi too gave her an odd look. She shrugged. “Sorry, just things are changing faster than…” She stopped talking when Brandyne and Naomi’s disapproving glares turned darker.

“Boy, are you ever in a funk,” Brandyne said, and Naomi nodded in agreement. “Shake it off. This is Taz’s day. I hope to all hell you didn’t lay any of this at her feet?”

“No, of course not. I smiled and did everything I was supposed to as the maid of honor: fussed over her, did her nails, got her some sexy underwear with garters and an indecent lacy push-up bra. Jerry’s going to go weak at the knees when he pulls her dress off tonight. I even provided the necessary shot of whiskey when Daddy showed up to lead her down the aisle and I saw the panic about to take hold at what she’d gotten herself into.”

Her sisters were still looking at her oddly. She decided it was best to leave out the part where she’d offered to drive the getaway car just in case the last-minute jitters and panic attack were Taz’s intuition’s way of stepping up to warn her about the giant mistake she was about to make. No, she figured that part would likely get her a scolding from just about everyone, considering even Taz had burst into laughter, believing the offer was Ivy’s sense of humor gone wild. It wasn’t, but Ivy noted painfully that it had been the confidence boost her sister needed to get up, take her father’s arm, and practically skip down the aisle to say “I do.”

Scarlett, their seventeen-year-old sister, bounced to Ivy’s other side. She was in a party mood. “OMG, have you seen all the hot guys Jerry invited? I swear this is the most fun I’ve ever had and the best party this county has ever seen.” Her short dark hair was growing out but still made her round cheeks and bold, mischievous eyes really pop. Then she set her hand over her heart in such a dramatic way. “I still can’t believe she’s married and living in Denver, and there’s now, what, four of us left? Wonder what Daddy and Mama will do with Taz’s cottage?”

From her expression, Ivy could see the calculations going on in Scarlett’s mind. She was over-the-top dramatic about everything and was always looking for the angle, for what was best for her.

“Do you think Daddy will let me have it?” she said. There it was, all about her.

“Yeah, don’t think so, Scarlett,” Ivy said as she took in all the guests, three hundred neighbors, friends, and distant cousins along with a few of Jerry’s family and business associates—hence the drop-dead gorgeous guys with hot babes on their arms. Her parents were also now on the dance floor. Riske, the live band Jerry had brought in, were clients of his and were currently at the top of the charts, another reason Scarlett was beside herself. They were good and loud.

“You know what, Ivy? Your turn will come,” Brandyne said. “You’ll find your Mr. Right, your perfect partner, and then you’ll be the one up there looking so happy and over the moon.”

Ivy couldn’t even pretend to believe a word she was saying, so she just grunted. Unlike Scarlett, Ivy hated being the center of attention and anyone making a fuss over her.

“Looks like Mama’s having a great time,” Brandyne said. “Haven’t seen her laugh like that in a long while.”

Her dad was a pretty good dancer, too, and her mom glowed in her cream dress, smiling and relaxed for the first time since the wedding plans had begun.

“You’re right,” Ivy said. “She was a wreck, worried and nervous right up until they said ‘I do.’ She’s the wedding coordinator, the one who made this dog and pony show, as Daddy’s put it several times over the past few weeks, a reality.” She gestured to the magnificent huge tent that had arrived on a flatbed along with all of the tables and kitchen equipment the caterers needed at their disposal.

“This is awesome,” Scarlett said. “Exactly how I want my wedding, lavish, expensive, all the flowers, the crystal, the meal served by waiters—but I’d also like ice sculptures and champagne, and white doves released just when we say ‘I do.’” She pressed her hand to her chest, and Ivy was absolutely speechless. Apparently so were Naomi and Brandyne, who exchanged a look as if Scarlett had lost her mind.

“So anyone know where they’re off to on their honeymoon?” Ivy said. She hadn’t a clue, and Taz had said it was a surprise. Jerry wouldn’t even tell her whether she needed a bikini or a parka, just that they’d be flying off after the reception tonight and he’d taken care of packing her things.

“Can I have your attention, please?” the emcee said. “I need all the single women up here on the dance floor. The bride is going to be throwing the bouquet. All you single guys, don’t worry. Your turn’s coming up next.”

A hand wrapped around her wrist. “Come on, Ivy.” It was Mason, their youngest sister, her hair dyed strawberry red to match the dress, she said, though Ivy thought it clashed with the peach.

Mason pulled her into the already crowded dance floor, which was packed with all the single women of Kaycee. Ivy slipped to the back, hoping to hide and make her way out of the tent into the dark. She peeked around Martha, the town’s thin and reedy librarian, who had thick glasses and an overbite, to see the closest opening. Everyone was counting, and she was being shoved by Tina, the drugstore clerk, thirty and single, who was literally fisting her hands and flexing her muscles, obviously prepared to take down anyone who got between her and that bouquet. Tina shouted something, pumping her fist in the air, which had Ivy taking a step to the side and squeezing through the women pushing behind her.

She was shoved and then bumped, her foot stepped on as she slinked to the edge of the tent. She could see Brandyne and her handsome sheriff husband, Blake, laughing at the sidelines, most likely at the crazed women all determined to be the one to catch that bouquet, as if it were any guarantee that person would actually be next to marry. What a stupid tradition! Ivy wanted no part of it.

“Two!” she heard the emcee shout from the stage.

The women were all screaming, and she was one step closer to freedom and sanity. She lifted her dress as her feet pinched in the ridiculously high sandals she’d squeezed them into. The women were going nuts. She was elbowed from behind and grabbed a chair when she nearly lost her balance. “Excuse me, sorry about that,” she muttered to who she thought was Irene, the owner of the local bar, in her late forties.

“One!”

She stepped to the edge of the tent.

“Ivy Parker, would you stand still so I can throw these flowers your way? Get on back here,” Taz yelled out, and everyone turned to face her where she stood, one high-heeled foot on the dirt outside the tent and one on the makeshift floor that would be gone the next day. She wanted to kill her sister as she gestured to cut it out.

Too late. Everyone was looking her way as the flowers flew in a near perfect line drive and hit her in the face. She grabbed them only to preserve her dignity as she stumbled back. She was sure her heels would break, her ankle twisting. Warm large hands gripped her waist.

“Whoa, there,” the man said. He had a deep voice and was tall, dark haired, and totally ripped, from what she could tell in the navy suit he wore. His tie was loosened, and he was strong, judging by the way he lifted her as if she weighed nothing and set her back on her feet.

“Yeah…” She couldn’t think of what else to say, holding a bouquet, hearing her sisters in the background and ignoring every one of them. She felt stupid. He was rough and gorgeous, not pretty but hard, chiseled, now smiling at her as if teasing her.

He glanced over her head and let his hand fall from her waist. “Think you’re being summoned.” He gestured with his chin.

“Ivy, get on back here!” Taz said, now holding the mic. Ivy wanted to kick her as she shook her head, intent on getting the hell out of there. She was done with this spectacle and refused to be dragged to the center of the floor to be displayed as a spinster, to have it pointed out to everyone that hey, just maybe she was next, as if being single were something to be ashamed of.

“I think they want you back there,” he said. She was sure now she could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, no, I think not,” she said and laughed, then nearly cringed at the giddy sound in her voice. She didn’t do giddy. What the hell?

He was still smiling, and the light touched his amber eyes. He had long lashes for a guy. Who’d have thought they would make him that much hotter? She was envious. Then a hand gripped her arm and she was yanked away.

“Scarlett, let go of me,” she said and batted at her. Scarlett was unbelievably strong. Flower petals fell to the floor around them.

“Since you just had to catch the bouquet, you know the tradition. You’re now next to get married. So you just stand here like a good girl and wait for the guys’ turn.”

Ivy could hear the jealousy spitting from her sister and wanted to correct her about all of it. “You know what? You take it. It’s all yours. I’ll just get on out of here.” She tried to hand the flowers over, but Scarlett gave her the flat of her hand.

“Too late,” she said and left Ivy to stand like an i***t, alone on the dance floor.

The few guys who stepped up cheered and hollered as Taz lifted her leg on a stool and Jerry lifted her skirt, showing her bare leg and the garter on her thigh. He slipped it off her leg, balled it in his fist, and tossed it. The five men there all jumped, and time stood still.

A hand in the air held the garter, and the men parted to reveal the brown tweed and pot belly of Vern Butterfield, the seventy-year-old widower from the next spread over.

“Good God,” she heard Naomi hiss from behind her. Then she was pushed to the center of the floor as Vern made the face of a man who’d had too much to drink and had just won the lottery as he strutted toward her. The band started up, and he grabbed her hand.

“Hey, my lucky night,” he said. “Guess this dance is mine.” He stank of one too many beers as he rested a sweaty hand on the small of her back, whipping her around as if he could dance, which he couldn’t. He just jumped with two left feet.

All she could think was that this was about as bad as it could get.