Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,46
welcome. And thank you for rolling with my plan, even though I didn’t share it with you in advance.”
I nod. As if I had a choice.
“So, what do we do now?” May asks.
“We go back and tell everybody what happened. Put it in a report like usual.”
May glances at me funny when we’re at the next stoplight. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
The way she asks it gets my back up. “Why wouldn’t I? I don’t hide things from the team.”
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t suggesting that you do . . . I was just thinking that maybe . . .”
“Listen, I’m not mad at you. And I can take my lumps. If I did something wrong, if I created a training opportunity for the team, that’s just the way it goes. I’m not perfect, and I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve got stuff to learn.”
“Even when it’s me? Even when I might be someone who could teach you something?”
I stare straight out the windshield because I don’t want her to see the expression on my face. Honestly, it is hard for me to take lessons from May. She’s green. She’s one of the rookies on our team, and I’ve been working the streets for years now. But the fact is, sometimes her harebrained schemes work out better than the ones that I consider to be more rational. I guess she has the element of surprise attack down better than I do. I’m more subtle, but apparently subtlety doesn’t always get the job done.
I sigh in defeat. “Yes. Even when it’s you. I’m cool.”
“Awesome. Because we have twenty minutes before we get back to the warehouse, and I really want to talk to you about something very important.”
I look over at her, literally fearing the enthusiasm in her voice. “Oh, yeah? What is it?” I pray she’s not going to tell me that she wants to hook me up with a one-on-one training session featuring her as my instructor. I’m afraid I won’t be able hold it together if I hear that. I’m only human, after all.
“I was going to take you out to lunch and ask you this, but maybe it’s more appropriate to do it in the van where we’ve had so much of our relationship develop and become special.”
Every word out of her mouth brings me closer to the edge of panic. I’m more afraid of what she’s going to say next than I was of Marc’s gun.
“Ozzie and I would like to know if you would do us the honor of being one of my bridesmaids.”
A groan escapes my lips as I imagine that actually happening. I attempt to cover it up with a different kind of verbal reaction. “Ohhhh. Boy. Wouldn’t that be special.” I wipe the sweat droplets off my upper lip with the back of my hand.
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re mocking me right now.” She glances sideways at me.
“Oh, I’m being serious. It would be very special.” I’m picturing myself in a dress that makes me look like some sort of rainbow-colored ice cream sundae explosion. It’s not pretty. In fact, it’s quite hideous. I stare out the side window, wishing the traffic lights would all turn green so we could get back to the port faster. Come on, come on . . .
“Excellent.” She’s smiling again; I can hear it in her voice. “I’m so excited. I already have the dresses picked out, and Jenny said yes too, of course, and since I would like to keep it kind of a small thing, it’s just going to be you two. But don’t worry . . . I’ll have two flower girls and two ring bearers, so it won’t exactly be a tiny wedding party.”
“Fantastic.” I’m not really listening anymore. She’s going on and on about colors and locations and cakes and flowers and God knows what else, but all I can think about is how miserable I’m going to be.
I knew this was coming, that Ozzie would make an honest woman of May and that she’d settle for nothing less than a ring and a church and the whole shooting match, but I’ve been hoping it would be a while before that happened. Their relationship and what it’s done to our team and to my friendship with Ozzie is still fresh. It’s still raw. I’m not angry about it, but I wouldn’t say I’m comfortable with it either.