It Happened One Wedding Page 59

They’d encountered one near obstacle: the bouncer in the lobby, who hadn’t been particularly enthused about admitting such a large party of guys all at one time. Fortunately, a quick flash of Vaughn’s FBI badge, accompanied by a generous tip, had taken care of that problem.

After the group got off at the twenty-seventh floor, Vaughn held back to wait for Cade and Huxley, who’d taken a separate elevator. He’d invited his friends, both of whom knew Simon fairly well, to tag along for the night.

The two men exited the elevator and checked out the place as they walked over to the railing, where Vaughn waited. It was a large bar, divided into multiple indoor/outdoor sections, with enough people to make the space feel crowded but not packed.

“If you like it, Morgan, we might want to book now for your bachelor party,” Vaughn said, only half-joking.

Cade casually tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “I don’t believe I’ve announced anything.”

“Yet,” Huxley said, as the three of them walked toward the bar on the patio. It wasn’t exactly a secret, they both knew Cade planned to propose to Brooke soon.

“Hmm,” was Cade’s only response.

Vaughn and Huxley exchanged looks, letting that non-answer sit for a moment. When they got to the bar, Vaughn ordered three glasses of Macallan 18.

Then he studied Cade. Now that he thought about it, his friend had been acting a little squirrelly all evening. “Something’s up.”

“What makes you think that?” Cade said.

“Instinct.” Vaughn glanced at his partner. “What do you think, Agent Huxley?”

Huxley sized Cade up. “He’s holding out on us.”

Cade threw his hands in the air in disbelief. “I swear, I don’t know how you two do it. From the moment I first got together with Brooke, you’ve had an eerie sixth sense about these things.”

“First of all, the reason Hux and I have a sixth sense about these things is because we’re bad-ass FBI agents who know everything.”

“Word,” Huxley nodded.

“But more important”—Vaughn grinned at his best friend—“Holy shit, Morgan. Did you ask Brooke to marry you?”

Cade smiled. “Yesterday.”

“And . . . what did she say?”

Cade laughed at that. “She said yes.”

Vaughn grabbed Cade’s shoulder. “Hell, yeah, she said yes.”

“Congratulations,” Huxley said, raising a glass. “Ah, it seems like just yesterday that you were threatening her with obstruction of justice charges and she told you to kiss her ass.”

They toasted, drank, and reminisced for a while, until Cade switched subjects. “So how long are you going to keep us in suspense here?” he asked Vaughn.

“Keep you in suspense about what?”

“Which one is Sidney?” Cade nodded in the direction of Isabelle’s bachelorette party, which Simon and the rest of the guys had quickly infiltrated.

Auburn hair at two o’clock, smoking-hot black dress, holding a half-finished pink martini in her right hand. “Sidney . . . who’s Sidney?”

Huxley snorted. “I’ll go out on a limb and guess that she’s the redhead by the railing who you can’t stop checking out.”

Realizing that the gig was up, Vaughn allowed himself a good, long look. With her hair falling past her shoulders in sleek waves, smoky eyes, red lipstick, and a black dress that dipped to a V in front, she looked every inch the vixen right then. She was talking to a blond woman—Trish, if memory served from the bridal shower—and they seemed to be . . .

His mind went blank when Sidney moved, giving him a glimpse of the slit in her dress that parted all the way up to her midthigh.

Sweet Jesus.

Vaughn cleared his throat and turned back to his friends. “Anyhow.”

Cade laughed. “Anyhow? Huxley and I just went and played two rounds of pool during the time you were ogling her.”

“So I checked her out.” Vaughn shrugged. “She’s an attractive woman.”

“Please. We’ve been here for twenty minutes, and you haven’t said one word about the brunette in the blue dress who’s been eye-fucking you this whole time,” Huxley said.

“What brun—” Looking across the bar, Vaughn spotted her now. Wow, Hux was right, she really was eye-fucking him. “Well, that’s not happening.”

“Because you’re smitten with the maid of honor. Just admit it,” Cade said.

“I don’t do smitten, my friend.”

“So if some guy walked up to Sidney right now and started hitting on her, you’d have no problem with that?” Cade asked.

Vaughn felt another one of those annoying twinges—which, like the other one, he promptly shoved aside. “If some guy walks up to her, I give it all of about five minutes before she sends him packing. Her checklist is like a fortress—nobody’s getting through.”

“Are you willing to bet on that? Because I think we have a situation here.” Huxley leaned in toward Vaughn, his eyes trained on something across the room. “Your ten o’clock. Light brown hair, black shirt, about six feet tall.”

Vaughn quickly identified the suspect. He watched as the other guy stared appreciatively at Sidney from across the room.

“Think he’s going to make a move?” Huxley asked.

Vaughn’s jaw tightened. “I’d say that’s very likely, Agent Huxley.”

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