“What was that?” Trish demanded to know, in a hushed tone.
Sidney tried to play innocent. “What was what?”
“That look between you and Vaughn,” Trish said. “I can’t decide if you two should box a few rounds or go screw each other brainless in the pantry.”
“My god, Trish—his mother is standing right over there.”
“In that case, I’d strongly suggest locking the pantry door should you choose option B.”
Very funny. Then Sidney spotted Amanda, Isabelle’s other single bridesmaid, noticeably eying Vaughn.
Something about that compelled her to lean in toward Trish. “If I tell you something, you can’t tell Isabelle or anyone else.”
Trish’s voice was hushed. “Ooh, I like this lead-in.”
“I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” Sidney said.
“Obviously.”
“It meant nothing.”
“Of course it didn’t.”
Sidney lowered her voice more. “That weekend I went to Wisconsin with Isabelle, I kissed Vaughn.”
“Shut up. Why are you just telling me this now?” Trish whispered demandingly.
“Because it shouldn’t have happened.”
Trish cocked her head. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t even like him. He’s . . . irritating. And smug. He’s too confident, too in-shape, too good-looking—and far too aware of all those things.”
“No one’s telling you to marry the guy,” Trish said. “You’ve got your plan. Rock on. But why should you feel guilty about having a little fun with Mr. Right Now until Mr. Right comes along?”
Sidney opened her mouth, then paused, not having an immediate answer to that. “What am I going to do with a Mr. Right Now?” she asked skeptically.
“Anything you want.” Trish grinned slyly. “You want my advice?”
Sidney thought about that. “I don’t think so.”
Trish marched ahead anyway. “Forget about whether he’s irritating, Sid. Embrace the fact that he’s too in-shape and too good-looking. I know you’d envisioned yourself being on a different track at thirty-three, but there is one really awesome thing about being single.” She pointed across the room. “You can have meaningless, mind-blowing sex with a guy like that.”
Sidney stole a peek over her shoulder and saw Vaughn teasingly aw-ing as Simon pulled a dainty floral teacup out of one of the opened gift boxes.
Definitely not a Mr. Right.
With an easy grin, he folded his arms across his chest, which pulled his shirt up just enough to reveal the FBI badge and the gun holster at his right hip.
“Any ideas coming to you yet, about what you might do with a Mr. Right Now?” Trish asked teasingly.
Sidney stared at those broad shoulders and at the chest that had felt incredibly solid in those moments they’d been pressed together in the clearing.
It had been a while since she’d seen any action . . .
But then reality set in. This was Vaughn they were talking about. Even if she could get past the irritation and the smugness—and that was a big if—he was still her sister’s future brother-in-law. She turned to Trish, to explain. “It’s just not a good—”
Trish grabbed her arm, cutting her off. “Wow, he totally checked out your ass as soon as you turned around.” She pulled back to get a better look. “Mmm-hmm, I bet he’s a dirty talker. I bet he knows tricks. Seriously, Sid, you so need to get on this.”
A woman’s voice interrupted them. “What are you two gossiping about so intently over here?”
Sidney spun around, and smiled at the short, dark-haired woman walking over. “Kathleen—hello,” she said, with a nervous laugh as Vaughn’s mother approached. She scrambled to think of something to cover. Gossip? Nah, just having a few impure thoughts about your oldest son. “Trish and I were just saying how much we liked the china pattern Isabelle and Simon picked out.”
“Oh. From the looks on your faces, I thought it was something juicier than that,” Kathleen said, with a wink.
Awkward.
“Did you enjoy the lunch? Is there anything I can get you?” Sidney said, eager to move off that topic.
“That’s sweet of you to ask. But I’m good, thank you. Everything was delicious.”
They chatted amiably for a few minutes before Kathleen said she needed to get on the road for the drive back to Wisconsin. “But before I go, I have something for you.” She pulled something out of her purse, an ivory note card with a blue and orange floral border, and handed it to Sidney.
At the top, it said, “From the kitchen of Kathleen Roberts.” Sidney smiled, reading the line below it. “It’s your shepherd’s pie recipe.” It was such a simple thing, but she found herself quite touched by the gesture.
“You seemed to really enjoy it,” Kathleen said. “I figured maybe you’d want to make it yourself someday.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that.” Impulsively, Sidney hugged her before saying good-bye.
Trish raised an eyebrow after Kathleen had left. “When did you become a hugger?”
Good question. Sidney shrugged this off. “She’s sweet. Isabelle struck mother-in-law gold with that one.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Isabelle turned to Sidney. “Should we sneak another glass of champagne from the cute bartender?”