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“Yoohoo, John Gideon, tonight’s the night you bang your woman!”
Gideon groaned and turned his head as the quite literally larger than life Lucky Roberts from his crew—and another one of our friends—stampeded across the grass. He had on a bright turquoise suit with a ruffled shirt that looked as if he’d borrowed it from Elvis, circa 1975.
“He realizes Macy is already pregnant, right?” I asked in an undertone.
“He knows. He’s just an asshole.”
That was the last thing he got out before Lucky lifted him off the ground in a ribs-cracking bear hug.
“Congratulations, man. Don’t know how you did it, but good fucking luck!”
Gideon was a big guy himself, but Lucky was a battering ram. And he sounded as if he’d already had some liquid lubrication to get his night started.
Since Gideon was now being swarmed by the rest of his crew, I turned to leave, but he called my name before I’d taken a step.
“Here, man.” He whipped out his wallet and opened it to withdraw a small square item. He pressed it into my hand and lifted his brows. “I don’t need this anymore, so just in case.” He gave me a quick one-armed hug. “Thanks again for the arbor.”
Gideon and his band of merry men turned to go on their way, and I was left staring down at the foil packet cupped in my palm.
John Gideon had given me a condom.
One side had the picture of a metallic swirled lollipop. The other contained a prophetic bit of advice.
If you lick, be quick. If you stick, take this.
I couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten this. For all I knew, it was a joke rubber, not meant to be used. But it wasn’t as if I carried any with me on the regular, and it wasn’t smart to be too hasty.
Sexy feminine laugher carried on the wind, and I caught sight of a swish of familiar red hair in the growing crowd.
Swallowing hard, I slipped it into my jacket pocket.
Just in fucking case.
Three
What a night.
Music blared from a pair of fancy speakers that had to have been provided by Rory, my bestie’s husband. No one else had access to that kind of equipment in this town. I got passed around a few times as spontaneous dancing started as soon as the groom kissed the bride.
A navy star-strewn sky chased the raspberry and purple sunset, leaving the park and the pier in fiery orange, purple, and white lights. Everything swayed due to the wind off the water. Mason jars lit up the trees and flickered like fireflies in the summer.
Only it wasn’t summer.
No, it was the dead of winter in Central New York, and we were hardy people. In fact, I dared to say this was a delightfully balmy evening in our little lake town. Children ran around with sparklers, laughing and clapping in what was probably their Christmas finery—miniature peacoats, snowsuits, and mini-me adult-style jackets.
The townspeople were also dressed to impress. Brilliantly colored dresses peeked from long jackets and winter coats as coffee, hot chocolate, and ice cream were passed around. Because of course there was ice cream. I was pretty sure some of it had actually been dumped into various mugs to boot.
It was chaos and perfection.
Crescent Cove wasn’t the usual town. Getting married here was a big deal. Even strangers stopped to watch the New Year’s Eve wedding in the gazebo. Most of the town had turned up to see Macy take the plunge. Not just because Brewed Awakening had become Crescent Cove’s hub, but because she’d been so anti-marriage, kids, and l
ove.
Joke was on her.
This was one of the most romantic weddings I’d ever seen in all my twenty-six years. Granted, I hadn’t attended too many of them, but living here was certainly changing that.
Gideon had a mug in his hand as he climbed up on one of the big speakers. “Hey, everyone. We’re having an open reception at The Haunt. Join us there so we can warm up, huh?” He looked down at Macy. “My gorgeous bride and I aren’t ready for the night to be over.” He quickly grabbed for his daughter, who was climbing up after him.
