The Wrong Bridesmaid Read Online Lauren Landish

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
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“Bill’s oldest. That’s what I heard.” Etta nods emphatically as her lips turn down. “You’d best watch out for that boy. He’s got that Ford blood, and he’s a runner. Double whammy.”

I don’t understand why, but my gut reaction is to defend Wyatt. I know next to nothing about him. Name? Definitely in the negative column. Stepping in between Roddy and me? Annoying and unneeded, but maybe a bit sweet. All the banter? As much as I hate to admit it, I enjoyed it. I don’t often meet people who can go toe to toe with me. My rough edges are a little too abrasive for most folks.

“Oh no. He’s already seduced you, hasn’t he?” Aunt Etta scoffs, her eyes not missing a moment of whatever expressions crossed my face. “Figures.”

“No. He has not,” I argue petulantly. But a second later, I quietly ask, “Do you know anything about him specifically, though? Or just the Fords in general.”

“Knew it.” She shakes her head but sighs as her attention returns to Nala. “Not a lot. He left town a while back and doesn’t visit, but nobody knows what that’s all about. Could be that Daddy told him no about a flashy car or could be because he thinks his dad’s a horse’s behind. No telling. But he’s fruit of the poisonous tree, so he can’t be all that great.”

She’s got a point, but . . . “Winston’s great. He interrupted my game with Wyatt because he wanted to drop off dinner for Avery and Grandpa Joe.”

Etta snorts again. “Winston wasn’t always great. The love of a good woman can help a man see a different path. If his eyes are open and his heart’s willing.” She sounds like a wise old hippie more than the country woman she is. “I think we’d both agree that Avery’s about the best woman any of us know.”

The implication that I’m not isn’t some big shocker of a revelation. Avery is truly one of a kind, and we definitely follow the friendship rule—one is nice and boring; one is crude and crazy. She says I keep her life interesting, and she makes me think before reacting.

Sometimes.

“Avery had her work cut out with Winston. I think it was worth it, though. The wedding is going to be beautiful.”

“As long as the marriage is too,” Aunt Etta adds thoughtfully. “Too many people thinking all about one day, when you’ve got to think about thousands of others.”

Relationships are a touchy subject for her. She was once a soon-to-be bride, innocently thinking her fiancé was as impatient and excited for their wedding and marriage as she was. She was floating on cloud nine.

But walking in on him balls deep in her best friend was the shock of her lifetime and altered the trajectory of everything she thought her future would be. It doesn’t help Aunt Etta’s opinion of Winston and Wyatt that her fiancé was the one and only Jed Ford.

“You think it won’t be?” I question, concerned that she sees an issue with Avery and Winston that I don’t.

She jolts as if coming out of a trance and pats my hand reassuringly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, just fine. You’re right, Avery has changed that man.”

I wish she sounded as sure as those words would make it seem. Then again, Aunt Etta lets Winston into her bar, so she’s got to have some confidence in him. Though that was a process in itself, requiring Winston to prove himself through a labyrinth of hazing and insults before being officially welcomed at Puss N Boots.

Lester flies into Nala’s stall, landing high on one of the wooden walls dividing it from the next. “Bawk! Lester good bird. Want cookie.”

Aunt Etta points a finger at the bird. “You’ve been in the tack room eating cookies this whole time and we both know it. Greedy bird, you’re going to be so fat, you won’t be able to fly.”

I hiss, “Don’t tell him that! You’ll give him a complex.” I hold out my hand and Lester hops down to me, settling in my lap. I pet his feathers gently. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Lester know. Perfect bird.” Apparently, he doesn’t have a complex, unless it’s a superiority one.

I let out a dramatic sigh and look over to Aunt Etta, who looks back at me with approximately zero sympathy. She’s not always Lester’s biggest fan, often calling him “the devil bird from the deepest pits of hell.” But that’s a leftover from the time Lester pooped in her freshly done hair. It was an accident—he’s fully paper trained—but Etta doesn’t forgive or forget easily. She does sneak him cookies, though, so I know she’s not too hate-filled.

“I think I know a bird who needs to go to bed,” I tell him. I get up from the hay, dusting off my butt. “You need anything else?” I ask Aunt Etta, knowing she’ll be out here all night, probably sleeping here so she can keep an eye on Nala.


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