Page 278 of Cowboys & Navy SEALs

“A friend of the bride.”

Before the woman could protest, Gracie pushed her way into the room and over to Brooke, who was slouched in one of the chairs. She was singing to herself, her head lolling like a rag doll.

“Hello!” she beamed when she saw Gracie. “I’m getting married to …” she scrunched her nose, trying to remember “ … to a cowboy.” She laughed and caught hold of Gracie’s sleeve. “My mother will be so pleased. She wants me to marry a bull rider.” She exploded in laughter. “And so I will!”

Gracie pulled a chair beside Brooke. “You’re making a big mistake. You don’t want to do this.” Brooke hesitated like she might be listening, giving Gracie the courage to continue. “Iknow things haven’t worked out like you wanted with Nash and Dawson, but this isn’t the answer.”

Her face fell. “Dawson and Nash are history! Jerks!” Brooke rolled her head and attempted to focus on Gracie. “I think I know you.” She got up in Gracie’s face. “Who are you?”

The stench of booze nearly bowled Gracie over. She leaned back in an attempt to avert her nose. “I’m a friend. Now if you’ll just listen?—”

Confusion clouded Brooke’s features, and then all reason flew out the window. “Shut up!” she yelled, jumping to her feet. “Just shut up!” Anger smeared over her face.

Gracie stood. “If you’ll just listen!”

Brooke pushed her backwards. “I’m tired of listening! I came here to get married, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” She spun around, eyes blazing. “And no one! Not you nor my mother is going to stop me!” She turned to the showgirl. “I gave you my license and credit card. And I have this tacky-looking wedding veil on my head. What else do you need to get this show on the road?”

“I have everything I need,” the showgirl said quickly, avoiding eye contact with Gracie. “Here!” She thrust an artificial bouquet at Brooke.

“Can’t you see she’s drunk out of her mind?” Gracie said. “She’s in no shape to get married.”

The showgirl squared her jaw, causing the wrinkles around her neck to draw together, creating a deep crevice down the center that would’ve made The Grand Canyon look small. “Her business is none of my concern. She came here to get married, and that’s what we do. We don’t ask any questions.”

“Of course you don’t, Methuselah,” Gracie muttered under her breath, “you might lose a buck.”

“That’s right! No questions!” Brooke stumbled and then caught herself before falling. “So, step aside, frizz head, and let me get down to business.”

“My hair is curly, not frizzy,” Gracie countered, touching her hair. Even though she knew Brooke was drunk, the comment stung.

“Whatever!” Brooke pushed past her.

When Brooke stepped from the room into the chapel, the Wedding March began to play. Gracie shot Gertrude a panicked look. “Sorry,” she mouthed, “there was nothing I could do.”

Elvis and Cody assumed their positions. Brooke lifted her chin in the air like she was the Queen of Sheba and tromped towards the altar.

Gracie made her way over to Gertrude. “Can’t you do something? Rewind time?”

Gertrude shrugged. “I would, if I thought it would do any good. Brooke would only repeat the same actions all over again, and here we’d be.”

“All right. Then do the wave thing, and make something happen to prevent it.”

Gertrude looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could.” She paused. “But I’m getting the feeling that we should let things play out.”

“I don’t understand. A few minutes ago, you told me to talk some sense into Brooke, to try and stop this! Now you’re saying we should let it play out?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I have some new information.”

“What information?”Gertrude was making absolutely no sense!

“Dearly beloved,” the preacher began in a deep, swaggering voice that gave the impression he might break into song. “We are gathered here to join this couple in holy matrimony.”

“Better get on with it, Elvis,” Cody piped, “the little darlin’ is gettin’ green around the gills.”

That was an understatement. Brooke’s face had turned the color of seaweed, and she looked like she might blow chunks any minute.

“Don’t panic. Help is on the way,” Gertrude whispered into Gracie’s ear. As if on cue, a muscular man with tattoos covering his arms strode into the chapel.

“I’m afraid these two won’t be getting married tonight.”

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