CHAPTER 1
If this was what marital bliss felt like, then the only boyfriend Mackenzie Hart would ever commit to would be battery operated.
It wasn’t so much that some guy had spilled his beer down the front of her overpriced dress. Or even the fact that she was two shots into the night and the rehearsal dinner still hadn’t started. Nope, what had Mackenzie flipping the universe the big one was that the only man she’d ever wanted to have and to hold was about to marry someone else.
“Ball and chain locked and loaded,” Cash Kane said from behind the bar, a big-ass grin on his face. “I can’t believe my cousin’s actually getting hitched tomorrow.”
Neither could Mackenzie.
“Next there’ll be a mess of kids, and our band will go by way of the Diaper Genie,” Paul, the band’s bass player, slurred, making it obvious that he had drowned one too many sorrows.
There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to numb Mackenzie’s pain.
Ever since Hunter Kane, local musician and legendary ladies’ man, had announced his shocking engagement to one of Nashville’s biggest debutantes, the band had been scared. Scared that his new wife wouldgrow tired of the long stretches on the road, scared that she’d convince him to go solo—like their label had been pushing for—and scared because they all knew damn well that without their front man, the Hunter Kane Band was going nowhere fast.
Mackenzie was scared too. So scared she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her headaches were coming more frequently, until her vision became so blurry she couldn’t drive a car without the fear of running into something—or someone.
Over the past few years, Hunter had gone from friend to writing partner, and eventually he’d become the man who taught her it was okay to trust. He was the only person in the world who really got her—looked past her hang-ups and saw the woman she could become.
Sadly, at the moment, the only thing she was in danger of becoming was sick.
“Well, at least he’ll have a hell of a honeymoon. I know it’s wrong to covet your bro’s woman, but man, oh man,” Paul said with a long look at Hadley, who stood under the twinkle-lit gazebo with Hunter, slowly swaying to the live band.
“They should have saved the money and stayed home for all the sightseeing they’re going to do,” the drummer, Quinn, joked. “Hundred bucks says they don’t see anything besides the hotel room ceiling.”
“Two hundred, they never even make it to the bed.” Paul reached into his pocket for his wallet.
Quinn gave the bride-to-be another slow once-over and shook his head. “Three hundred, he doesn’t even get her out of her dress.” Bills hit the bar top, and he looked at Mackenzie. “You in?”
Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “And listen to you try to mansplain how to get a woman out of her wedding dress? No thanks.”
The guys laughed.
Mackenzie didn’t. She was too busy trying not to picture Hadley in her wedding dress. And she sure as hell didn’t want to picture Hunter getting her out of it.
Nope, she wasn’t in a betting mood. Not tonight.
Because tonight symbolized the end of her dreams for love, family, and children. Tonight marked the end of her dreams period. For Mackenzie, Hunter was it. Problem was, his dreams lay in the perfect poise and beauty of the woman dancing in his arms.
From her vantage point at the bar, Mackenzie was able to see the bride’s slim back, her delicate sheath dress trailing to the floor.
Hadley Clemonte was tall and elegant, her glossy golden curls spilling over her shoulders and onto the white silk of her dress. Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and her smile spoke of a woman about to be married. Her unwavering poise showcased her family’s deep and moneyed roots. Her confident nature spoke volumes about the benefit a supportive and wonderful family offered.
Hadley was stunning, cultured, perfectly feminine, a real southern belle. Four things Mackenzie could never be.
“One more,” she said, waving her empty glass in the air.
Brody Kane, the band’s agent, walked up to the bar, his deep blue eyes going soft with concern. The familiar expression made her heart flinch, as thousands of memories washed through her. Even though Brody and Hunter were cousins, they were often mistaken for brothers. And the look in his eyes was so similar to Hunter’s it was difficult to swallow. So she shifted her gaze to the bottles lining the back of the bar.
“What?” she said. “It’s a wedding celebration. Look, I’m even wearing a dress.” She lifted her light orange dress, which Hadley had handpicked and Mackenzie was sure was the epitome of fashion. “The color is ‘cantaloupe whimsy’ and it has no straps, so Hadley used some kind of sticky tape to hold it up. Tape, Brody. I deserve another shot.”
Brody lifted his hand to order another round, then took the stool next to her. “Or you could tell Hunter how you feel rather than just walk out that door and disappear.”
“You mean walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, I got you the silver chafing dish off the registry, which I’m sure will come in handy on the tourbus. Oh, and by the way, I know you’re about to get married in front of five hundred of your closest friends, family, and journalists, but I think I like you. Check Yes or No.’”
Brody’s expression was one of gentle understanding. “Or how about, ‘I know you think of me as a friend, but my feelings for you have changed. I thought you should know, because palling ’round with you hurts. A lot. And it’s making our working relationship really difficult on me.’”
She shook her head.
