Page 30 of Framing the Pitch (Red Dirt Romance #1)
The first thing I notice when Trace and I walk into the little boutique off a main street across town from the hotel is the group of women in the back, laughing. They don’t notice when Trace and I enter, even though a bell over the door dings and an attendant comes running out of a back office.
“Hello, what can I help you with today?” she asks, her cheeks rosy and looking genuinely happy.
“I’m here with the Jenna Baer party?” I glance over her shoulder and spy some vaguely familiar faces, but not my sister’s.
“Oh yes! Right this way!” She looks over at Trace to beckon him forward as well, but after the initial jolt of recognition, she smooths her features into a practiced smile and—even though I can see Jenna’s bridesmaids from here—leads us back to the group of women.
Trace puts his hand on the small of my back as we walk through the brightly lit boutique, and the growing warmth between us helps ease my nerves as I approach Jenna’s friends.
The employee disappears through a light peach-colored curtain as the group of women turns to greet us. Eyes widen and jaws drop, but nobody looks disgusted because Jenna’s older sister is here—a pleasant surprise on my part.
A short woman with dark hair and green eyes stands up, a smile on her face.
“Naomi!” She extends a hand, and I shake it, a small smile of my own growing. It takes a second to recall her name—Melissa, Jenna’s closest friend, and a fellow snowboarder who has attended a few family functions I’ve gone to in the last few years.
“Jenna’s in the back, getting her dress on for the final fitting, but she should be out any minute.
” Melissa looks over my shoulder, and I can see her chest rise and fall in a deep breath, her smile widening in excitement, as she takes in Trace’s presence.
The starstruck look in her eyes is as familiar to me as breathing at this point.
Her attention swings back to me, and she pulls me closer by the hand.
“When Jenna said you were bringing him , I didn’t believe her. ”
I lean back and laugh, settling into Melissa’s familiarity.
While I’m not close with any of Jenna’s friends by any means, if this weekend is to go off with as few incidents as possible, staying on friendly terms with the rest of the wedding party is a must. I don’t try and pull away as she leads me by the hand into the circle of low, plush chairs.
I sit on a cream loveseat, Trace gently dropping beside me and wrapping one arm around me.
“So many people have said that lately, Naomi,” Trace teases, smoothly injecting himself into the conversation. “I’m starting to think you never talk about me.”
I smack his knee with the back of my hand. “We’ve known each other since college,” I tell Melissa, trying to ignore Trace’s fingers dragging across my bare shoulder. “But we started dating fairly recently.”
Trace’s big hand covers my shoulder, and he pulls me into him, lowering his lips to my opposite shoulder .
Melissa’s eyes follow Trace’s lips, and when he pulls away, she has a dreamy smile on her face.
I hope my face has a similar expression because my insides are now petitioning for Trace to do that again.
Her eyes are telling me lucky girl while she leans back, opening up the circle for me to see the rest of Jenna’s bridesmaids.
Melissa introduces both of them—Anika and Berkley, who until now I only knew by name—before she leans toward me again.
“We’re all so glad you’re here, Naomi. It really means a lot to Jenna.”
Her eyes are soft, and I feel a pinch in my heart.
While I never really got along well with my sister when I lived at home, with time and distance, I’ve come to realize that it’s mostly because we were compared so much as kids.
Everything, especially when it came to my parents, was this or that—me or Jenna.
I’ve tried to let things go over the years, but my parents—especially my mom—never gave us the chance to develop the foundation to build a good relationship on. Everything was a competition.
Who won more events.
Who accomplished more.
Who Mom and Dad spent their time with.
Being pitted against my sister in everything from the time she was born didn’t exactly foster an Erica-and-Alyssa relationship between us.
Thanks to how differently Mom and Dad treated us because she decided to be the next big X Games star and gold medal Olympian while I devoted my life to a sport I knew they would never understand, our relationship was chilly at best.
When I moved out, I was able to see things from a distance with a clarity I’d never experienced.
It was like, suddenly, I finally took off a pair of dirty glasses and saw the world without my parents’ messy fingerprints marring my point of view.
Things have gotten better over the years—more lukewarm than chilly—but not so much that I’m not sure what to expect when I finally see Jenna today.
“I’m coming out now,” says a voice from behind the curtain, and the chatter among the women in the room ceases. After a second pause, Jenna’s hand parts the curtain, and she steps into the room, looking like a goddess—as every woman should look in her wedding dress.
Jenna and I couldn’t be more different. While she takes after our mom—blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and vertically challenged—I got all of the hidden genes from our dad’s side that put me a head and shoulders taller than her with hair that could double as a distress beacon in a snowstorm.
Her height is actually an advantage for her in her sport.
Her lower center of gravity and small body make it easier for her to perform all the flips and tricks she does on a snowboard while she’s careening down a mountainside.
And standing before me and her circle of friends in a stunning gown with delicate beading over the bodice that melts into airy chiffon, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my sister look more radiant.
When Jenna looks at me, relief crosses her face, and in a matter of heartbeats, a sort of truce forms between us.
Jenna’s other bridesmaids ooh and ahh over the dress, even though I’m sure they’ve seen it before.
I sit in almost stunned silence while Jenna soaks in the praise, the worry vanishing from her face.
For a moment, she’s just a pretty girl in a pretty dress, and the worries of tomorrow and the wedding are gone and can wait their turn.
“Naomi,” Jenna says, breaking away from her posse, who titter excitedly between themselves when my sister steps away, “come back with me. You can help me get out of this dress and try on your own.” She extends her hand down to me, and I can’t help but notice the hint of stress that creeps back onto her face, like she’s expecting me to not take her hand.
But I work up a small smile and let her pull me to my feet and guide me back behind the soft curtain. I glance over my shoulder at Trace as I step away, and find him grinning and shaking his head at Jenna’s bridesmaids who have all scooted toward him on their chairs and couches.
“How did you meet Naomi?” I hear one of them ask as Jenna pulls me behind the peach-colored fabric.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jenna breathes once we’re finally out of earshot.
“My girls have been wonderful, but none of them really understand Mom, you know?” Jenna stops a few feet into the secluded room that’s sectioned off into dressing rooms with similarly colored curtains.
She turns and looks up at me, the weariness she’s been hiding finally overtaking her face.
“Mom has been a nightmare since we got here. Ryker has been busy keeping his parents and the groomsmen as far away from her as he can.” I detect a hint of sadness at the fact that she’s been kept apart from her fiancé.
“Look, I know things haven’t always been great between us, but I want you to know how much it means to me that you’re here…
and helping.” A shy smile overcomes her exhaustion.
She extends her arms—an offering of a hug—and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I was hoping we could start off on a new foot this weekend.”
I take two steps forward and envelop her in a tight hug, resting my chin on the top of her head.
“I’d like nothing more, Jenna.” I can feel the emotion rising in my throat, and I have to fight to keep the tears at bay.
I won’t lie and say I don’t mind that we have a rocky relationship.
If I’m being completely honest, I’d have to say that I’m jealous of the friendship Erica and Alyssa have and I wish things could be like that between me and Jenna. I guess this is the first step.
Jenna sniffs and steps back with a laugh.
“Okay, enough of that.” In an instant, she flips into the bubbly woman I saw when she interacted with her friends in the other room.
“Come try on your dress. I was worried it wouldn’t be done in time, but the ladies here are the best.” She pulls me toward a peach curtain and flips it back, checking that my dress is in there before sliding it to the side.
Jenna turns and heads for another identical curtain. “Do you need me to help you with your dress?” I ask, sidling into my dressing room.
Jenna looks back at me with the most genuine smile I’ve seen from her since we were teenagers. “Nah, I’ve got it. I made sure to get one that’s easy to get on and off”—her eyebrows bounce up and down—“if you know what I mean.”
She doesn’t wait for my face to flush to an unflattering shade of rosy—both from her insinuation and the fact that she actually joked with me—before sweeping into her dressing room and closing the curtain.
I duck into my own room, and after sliding my curtain shut, I turn to find the missing bridesmaid dress waiting for me on a hanger.