Page 39 of Framing the Pitch (Red Dirt Romance #1)

Knocks sound at the door much earlier than I want the next morning. I know the schedule—I’ve memorized the dumb laminated card—but that doesn’t negate the fact that dragging me out of bed to spend hours getting ready for a wedding is not my favorite thing in the world.

I grab my toiletries, makeup, and heels on my way to the door. I’m grateful that either Trace wasn’t woken up by the flurry of light knocks, or he is kind enough to fake being asleep to spare me the guilt of waking him up earlier than needed on a Saturday morning.

Melissa’s perky face greets me when I open the door, and when she takes in my early morning RBF, she sighs, the cheerful facade vanishing.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she exhales. I close the door behind me and fall into step with her back toward the suite we were in last night. “I’m so relieved you’re not one of those happy morning people.”

“Point me in the direction of coffee, and then we’ll talk.” Our chuckles fall flat thanks to our lack of caffeine.

“There should be some back in the suite. Jenna put a pot on before I left to gather everyone.”

Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, I follow Melissa up to her suite, where Jenna is waiting with coffee for the bridesmaids as we trickle in. The other two come in with towels around their heads, obviously having showered in their own rooms.

After taking turns showering with Melissa and Jenna, and downing more coffee than I probably should, I’m mostly awake by the time the makeup artists and hairstylists arrive. I put the finishing touches on my usual post-shower routine as I wait for my turn in one of their chairs.

“I knew that second beer was a bad idea,” Berkley moans from where she’s sitting on the couch across from me, checking her face in her handheld mirror.

“I hardly slept last night. Jenna, if your mom catches me with these bags under my eyes, I think she’ll kick me out of your wedding.

” She laughs at her joke, but it falls a little flat.

Looking across the room at where Jenna is being transformed into a bride, I can see her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting to the back of Berkley’s head. Even though this is her wedding, neither of us doubts what Mom is capable of doing to make the day “perfect” for her baby girl.

“I think I’ve got something,” I tell Berkley, reaching for my toiletry bag on the coffee table.

Digging through it, I find the miracle eye cream that Erica slipped to me like some sort of illicit drug deal before I left.

I know she meant it to be for me if I stayed up too late with Trace—her insinuations were very clear—but I’m a girl’s girl.

Berkley thanks me profusely, rubbing a healthy amount into the dark circles under her eyes.

When she passes it back to me, I throw some on, too.

I didn’t lose any sleep last night, either from Erica’s implied nighttime activities or a hangover—it was actually the best sleep I’ve had in weeks, curled up with Trace’s arms around me—but I’ve made it this far.

I’m not going to let my mom’s perceived imperfections ruin this day for my sister.

When it’s my turn to sit in a chair, I try to relax, knowing this is my last chance to do so before I’ll be spending the rest of the day in the same room as Mom.

I’m familiar with prep for photoshoots, and although someone else is doing my hair and makeup today, it’s not so different.

I’m poked and prodded by brushes, told to hold things, asked about the usual small talk things.

Jenna, ready to go with everything except her dress, brings my bridesmaid dress and hangs it over an empty chair. Glancing around the room, I see the rest of the bridesmaids slipping into their own gowns.

I grab her hand as she turns away. “Are you ready, Jenna?” I don’t know why I do—it should be Melissa asking her this question, checking in on her. It’s not what I do.

“As ready as I can be.” Jenna smiles at me and squeezes my hand.

“Ryker’s a lucky guy,” I say quietly, and Jenna nods.

I’m quiet for a moment, and I think Jenna’s going to pull away, but she stays, as if sensing I have something else to say.

“Are we good?” are the words I find falling out of my mouth.

After last night, I figured we were on our way there, but needing to know for sure has been nagging on me all morning.

Jenna’s other hand wraps around mine. “We’re good.”

The sincerity in her eyes makes mine fill with tears, but the makeup artist in front of me glares at me good-naturedly. Message received: don’t mess up the makeup until after pictures.

Jenna slips away to go talk to another one of her bridesmaids, and I sit patiently as the hair stylist finishes pinning half of my hair back, leaving the rest of it in loose curls that hang down my back .

When I’m given permission, I get out of the chair and grab my dress.

Finding an unoccupied corner, I slowly ease my oversized shirt over my head, avoiding flattening any of my curls.

I slip into my dress, the silk feeling just as smooth as it did two days ago, and come back to the center of the suite, where I stuff my shirt and shorts in a pile on the couch with my toiletries.

Melissa is helping Jenna with the last few buttons on her dress when a knock at the door signals that our peace is ending. Annika opens the door to a smiling Christa and a scowling Heather Baer. Mom’s scowl disappears into a practiced smile as she steps into the room after the wedding planner.

“Good news,” she says, beaming at Jenna, who looks absolutely radiant. “There won’t be any sort of delay due to last night’s rain! I’ve got the hotel staff setting up the mountain venue right now, and we’ll be ready to go with plenty of time to spare. How are you feeling?”

I tune her out when Mom zeroes in on where I’m standing behind Jenna.

Her eyes sweep over me from head to toe, like she’s making sure there’s not a single hair out of place.

Like I’m the only thing that could possibly ruin Jenna’s big day now.

She gives me a flat look—a warning look—before turning her attention back to her favorite child.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. The hair and makeup artists vacate Melissa’s suite while the wedding planner gives us a detailed run-down of the day’s events.

We’re shepherded out of the room and through the doors to the gondola that will take us to the ceremony location at the top of the mountain.

Jenna is whisked away with Dad to a separate room in the reception venue while the rest of the bridesmaids are shown into the main area that’s filled with tables and chairs and beautifully arranged flowers, ready for the dinner and reception that will take place later today.

A few minutes later, the groomsmen and Ryker make it to the top of the mountain and join the rest of us.

Guests begin arriving by the gondola-full a short time later, directed to the chairs facing the overlook by the ushers.

A photographer flits around the venue, catching candid photos of everything as the guests fill the seats.

Melissa slips away from the group, no doubt to check on Jenna, and soon, Christa is gathering the bridal party and preparing us for our entrances for the ceremony.

Soft music begins, floating across the picturesque mountainside.

Arm in arm, Carson and I lead the paired bridesmaids and groomsmen across the manicured gravel and between the rows of guests.

Carson releases my arm as we reach the elevated wooden platform, and I step up and find my place near the edge.

As the remaining bridesmaids fill in, following what we rehearsed yesterday to a T, I scan the crowd for familiar faces, finding a few in old friends of my parents and a few of Jenna’s friends I’ve met over the years.

My heart’s steady rhythm speeds up when my eyes finally find Trace in the middle of the crowd on the bride’s side.

I should be more surprised that my eyes didn’t jump directly to him, since, even while sitting, he’s several inches taller than the people around him.

I barely have time to smile at him before the bridal march begins playing and the wedding guests stand.

While everyone else turns to watch Jenna be escorted down the aisle by our dad, Trace watches me for a few seconds longer before turning away to match the other wedding guests.

But when Jenna is far enough down the aisle for everyone to face forward again, Trace’s attention is drawn back to me.

And I can’t find it in me to look away from him.

His suit is the same one as last night, but something about seeing him in it out here, in the natural light, where each breath fills my lungs with mountain air that tastes like opportunities, makes me fidget where I’m standing.

Jenna continues down the aisle, and when she passes Trace, I should watch her, but I can’t take my eyes off the man in the audience, smiling at me.

When I don’t look away, even after Jenna is almost to the platform at the front, Trace smirks and sends a wink in my direction.

Heat floods through me, and I force myself to look away, my eyes finding Jenna as Dad kisses her cheek before handing her off to Ryker.

Maybe it’s altitude sickness, maybe it’s remembering our kiss from last night, but Trace’s crooked smile and wink make me light-headed.

The officiant signals for the guests to be seated, and I force my attention away from Trace and to my sister and her fiancé.

I can feel Trace’s eyes on me the entirety of the ceremony, but I force myself to not look, even though the temptation is great.

When the officiant pronounces Ryker and Jenna husband and wife, Ryker dips her into a dramatic kiss to the cheers of the entire crowd—except for one middle-aged woman in the front row.

The slight frown on Mom’s face slips away when Jenna is righted, and it becomes a beam as the new husband and wife make their way back down the aisle.

Mom’s smile stays in place until I link arms with the final groomsman.

It falls back into a frown as I pass, and I can feel my own smile slipping until I find Trace again in the crowd.

His eyebrows crease together, obviously not buying my straining smile, but I brighten it for him—because of him. And follow the rest of the wedding party back to the building across the mountaintop.