You Say It First
Page 14

The brothers exchanged a look of confusion. Pallas recognized the potential danger and quickly changed the subject.
“Nick and Mathias are from a small town north of here. What was it called?”
“Fool’s Gold,” Nick said.
“The town has California’s longest serving mayor,” Mathias added. “Mayor Marsha Tilson. She’s a strange old lady who knows things she shouldn’t. We can’t figure out if she has friends at the NSA or God on speed dial.”
“Equally scary options,” Pallas murmured, glancing at Silver.
Her friend raised her eyebrows as if asking what was wrong. They both knew the answer. Silver had been about to go off on Drew—Pallas’s cousin and heir apparent to run the family bank. Back in high school, Drew and Silver had been an item. More than that—they’d been in love. But after graduating, Drew had broken up with her, saying he needed someone who ran in his social circle.
Pallas had never been sure of the exact phrasing but the message had been clear. He’d dumped Silver and had taken up with a sorority girl at his college. Ten years later, there was still bad blood between them.
The servers started passing out games. Pallas laughed when she saw the first one. “Hungry Hungry Hippos is one of my favorites,” she said happily. “I love this one.”
“Is it actually a board game?” Nick asked.
“If there’s a board somewhere, it counts,” Silver told him. “Watch out for her,” she said, pointing at Pallas. “She’s cutthroat when it comes to collecting marbles. There is no mercy in that one.”
Pallas stuck out her tongue, then turned the board so she had her favorite blue hippo in front of her. She stretched her arms, flexed her fingers a few times, then waited for the signal to begin.
Nick looked at his brother. “I think we’re in trouble.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
“HOW DO YOU feel about playing a courtier?”
Nick looked up from the panel he’d been sanding. Alan stood in the doorway to the workroom.
“Welcome back,” Nick said. “When did you get into town?”
“This morning. I’m here for the wedding tomorrow. So, are you up for it?”
“What do I have to do? More bride carrying?”
“No. This is a princess wedding. The bride rides in a coach. It’s glass, but not pumpkin shaped. We are a nonspecific princess kind of place. It’s very democratic.”
Nick tried to make sense of the information. “So this is the black-and-white wedding?” Somehow he’d thought it wasn’t for a few weeks. Had Pallas had time to get all the server costumes modified?
Alan shook his head. “Silly man. That’s a regular princess wedding. This is a Regency princess wedding. They’re totally different.”
“They don’t sound that different.”
“The Regency era is a specific period in history. Do you remember Pride and Prejudice? There have been maybe fifty different movie versions. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy?”
Nick thought a girlfriend or two may have made him watch something about that couple. “Maybe.”
Alan sighed. “Despite your lack of knowledge, the Regency wedding requires specific dress and music and food. The princess wedding is much more ‘I am a princess and I wear a poufy dress.’”
Nick shrugged. “Whatever.”
Alan stepped closer. “Fine. Let me put it in terms your artist brain can understand. Turquoise and cobalt are hardly the same color yet they can both be called blue. It’s like that.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? That makes sense. So what do you want from me?”
“To wear stockings and knee breeches and a floppy hat.”
Nick put down his sandpaper. “You’re kidding.”
Alan smiled. “Do I look like I’m kidding? The J’s have a tournament. Football, I think.”
“Basketball,” Nick corrected, wondering how awful the costume was going to be. He wasn’t totally sure what knee breeches were but sure didn’t like the sound of them. Would they be better or worse than a toga?
Of course if the J’s were busy, then Pallas was probably shorthanded.
“I’m in,” he said. “Tell me when and where.”
“That’s what I was hoping to hear. Tomorrow. Be here at two.” The older man hesitated. “You like her.”
Nick thought about their brief kiss and how much fun they’d had at The Boardroom a few nights before. Her competitive streak had been unexpected, but enjoyable.
“We’re friends,” he said as casually as he could. “You’ve known her awhile. What’s her story?”
Alan folded his arms across his chest. “You mean where was she born and did she ever want a pony when she was little?”
Not at all what he’d been asking. “No.”
“I thought not. Let me be clear. While I appreciate you helping with the weddings and restoring the panels, I’m team Pallas, all the way.”
“She doesn’t need protecting from me.”
“Neither of us know if that’s true or not, do we?”
Nick realized Alan had a point. “I would never hurt her on purpose.”
“Sometimes people don’t even have to try. It just happens.”
“Point taken. So there’s no guy?”
“You’re persistent.” Alan smiled. “Have you met Libby yet?”
“No.”
“Libby explains a lot. She taught her daughter that love had to be earned. All love. It was never freely given. Which means that sometimes love is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Interesting, Nick thought, but it didn’t answer his question. “Is there a guy?” he asked again.
Alan smiled. “Nuance isn’t your thing, is it?” He started for the door. “If you want to know anything else, ask the lady yourself.”
CHAPTER FIVE
NICK REFUSED TO look at himself in the mirror. He figured if he didn’t see the whole image, he wouldn’t get a picture stuck in his brain. It might be the coward’s way out, but he was comfortable with that.
Alan hadn’t been kidding about the Regency costume. He was wearing some kind of pants that ended just below his knee, along with long socks that looked suspiciously like stockings. He had on weird, fancy black shoes, a white fluffy shirt and an embroidered cropped coat. To be honest, the whole thing freaked him out.
He stepped into the hallway and headed downstairs. He found Pallas in the main ballroom, doing a last-minute check for the ceremony. Rows of chairs had been set up, with a long center aisle. There were flowers and candles. Sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows.
She smiled when she saw him. “Don’t you look handsome.”
“I look like the male version of an umbrella drink,” he grumbled. “You have to swear not to tell either of my brothers. Or take pictures. I’ll never live it down.”
Her hazel eyes danced with amusement. “Feeling a threat to our masculinity, are we?”
“You have no idea.” He took in her simple, dark blue dress. It followed the lines of her body, without being too tight. The floor-length fabric moved with her. The sleeves were long, the neckline scooped, but modest. “You look nice.” He nodded slowly. “Era appropriate without calling attention to yourself.”