“The other twin, Bo, is marrying someone in the Chinooks’ organization. Someone named Julian.”
“Jules Garcia?” He motioned for Conner to come give him a hug good-bye. “Didn’t see that one coming.” Mostly because Mini Pit scared grown hockey players, and a lot of the guys thought Jules was gay. Sam had never thought so, but the guy did favor pastels, moisturizers, and hair products. He gave Conner a big hug, and it wasn’t until he was locked up in his truck on the way home that he realized what was different about Autumn. Nothing.
He took the 405 through Bel evue, the lights of the city a blur sliding across his windshield as he thought about Autumn and her deep green eyes. There was nothing in her eyes when she looked at him. No resentment nor hate. No passion or anger. Good. Nothing was much preferable to the anger he’d seen in her eyes for so many years. He’d caused that anger. Deserved his share of it, but no one had ever hated him like Autumn. Not even hockey players he’d sent flying into the boards. Living with Autumn’s hatred had always been a regretful fact of his life. One that had made his relationship with Conner difficult.
But what now? He just couldn’t ever see them as friends. First off, he didn’t have women friends, and second, there was too much bitterness and baggage. They’d been two combatants doing battle in the face-off circle for far too long. Guarded. Ready to fight. Except for tonight. She’d been relaxed, and he’d let his guard slip, and for a few brief moments, things had been easy. Maybe too easy. Hearing her laughter reminded him of the girl she’d been long ago. The one who’d joked and laughed and made love al day. There was a lot about that time in Vegas he didn’t remember, but there was enough that he did. Enough that twisted his head around and turned him inside out with guilt and confusion. She was the mother of his child. The woman who blew hot and cold. The very last woman on the planet he wanted twisting his head and turning him any which way.
Least of al on.
Autumn sat across her desk from Chelsea and Bo Ross. She was al business, in a black crepe dress from the forties with little cap sleeves and rhinestone buttons.
The moment the identical twins walked into her office, she knew the double wedding ceremony they wanted wouldn’t work. Bo’s dark little ponytail and black suit made her look like she resided on the wrong coast, while Chelsea was a riot of color in a purple-and-pink Pucci dress and red platform heels. They were short and cute, with big breasts and large personalities.
Chelsea leaned forward and put her hand on the desk. “We decided on the third Saturday in July.”
“The hockey season wil be over,” Bo clarified.
“Mark and I wil be moved into our house in Chapel Hil .”
“And Jules and I wil hopeful y have found a house by then.” Bo put her hand over her sister’s. “For our wedding, we were thinking understated. Black and white with a touch of pewter.”
“I doubt Jules was thinking black and white, and Mark doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t have to plan any of it.” Chelsea smiled and slid her hand out from beneath her sister’s. “I want a garden theme with lots of color. Purples and pinks with splashes of red and yel ow.”
“No.”
“Black and white is boring. You need more color in your life.”
“And you’re like an abstract painting that no one gets but you.”
“Ladies,” Autumn interjected. “How set are you on having a dual ceremony?”
They both looked at Autumn like she was speaking a language they didn’t understand. “We got engaged within days of each other.”
“It seems right,” they said at the same time.
“A double ceremony is tricky.” Autumn leaned forward in her chair and folded her arms on the desk. “And every bride deserves to have her day made special just for her. Bo, you’re very understated, and Chelsea, you’re bold and love color. You both deserve your moment, but I fear your tastes are so different, they’re incongruent to the wedding of your dreams.”
“But our family wil have to make two trips to Seattle.”
Bo shook her head. “Not if we have one wedding on a Friday night and the other on a Saturday.”
Autumn smiled. “Exactly.”
“I get Saturday.”
Bo shook her head. “Jules has more family. I get Saturday.”
“We don’t have to decide that today,” Autumn interrupted, and changed the subject to one every bride loved. “Have you two gone dress shopping yet? I can help you with that or give you the names of some great shops.”
“I’m not looking at dresses until after Christmas,” Chelsea said. “I’m having breast reduction surgery on the twenty-ninth, so I real y don’t see the point in trying on a dress now.”
Bo looked at her sister, a deep scowl between her eyes. “I read a statistic about the number of people who die from cosmetic surgery.”
“It’s not cosmetic.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn’t.”