She gave Law’s arm a pat, her eyes widening perceptively at the hard muscle underneath his tux coat. She turned to Jori and gave her a raised-eyebrow smile. “We have so much to catch up on later, don’t we?”
Jori smiled back. “Yes we do, Mom.” How could she have ever thought otherwise? “Where’s Dad?”
“Keeping Kieran company until it’s showtime. Which is in…” She twisted the diamond watch on her wrist around to see the dial. “Oh my. Ten minutes! There’s still so much to do. Kaitlyn wanted a small ceremony but Kieran wanted a party. So they compromised. The wedding is in the Conservatory. Only immediate families. The reception will be in the Crystal Ballroom with all three hundred guests. Go through there,” she pointed down a hallway to the right. “I left space on the second-row groom’s side for you. Just in case.”
*
“I like your mom.”
“Everyone does. Dad likes to say that God sprinkled a little bit more positive dust on Mom than he did the rest of us. She never sees a negative.”
Law grunted noncommittally. “I see where you get your legs from.” He pushed open the doors to the Conservatory.
The first things Jori saw past three short rows of chairs were her brother and her dad. They were standing next to the priest under an arbor of white poinsettias.
Kieran saw her first and came charging up the shallow aisle. “Pima!” He swept her off her feet and swung her around, knocking over a white folding chair in the process. Neither cared.
“Put me down, Kieran. You’re ruining my dress.” But Jori had wrapped her arms around her big brother’s neck and held on.
He deposited her on the floor but then threw a possessive arm around Jori’s shoulders as if he wasn’t ready to let go. For a second they just stood staring at each other with stupid grins on their faces.
“Pima?” Law’s voice broke the spell.
“Stands for pain in my ass,” Kieran answered easily, giving the stranger a quick up and down. “She wasn’t an easy child. I’m Kieran, the big brother.” He stuck out his hand.
Law took it. “Lauray Battise.”
Their grins were friendly but Jori saw the momentary struggle as those hands locked in contest. They were nearly the same height but Kieran was built leaner. Kieran shared Jori’s open face and easy smile yet his gaze was nearly an even match with Law’s in steely determination.
“Army?”
“Ranger.” Kieran jutted out his jaw. “Two tours.”
Law nodded. “Afghanistan. Three tours. I lost the last time.”
Kieran’s gaze dropped to the dog Law petted with his left hand, noted the canine’s vest, and moved on to Jori, who was blushing. “Not where it counts.”
“Jori?”
She turned toward that bewildered voice. “Daddy!”
“Hi, Kitten.” He pulled her close to him, mercilessly crushing his boutonniere. “Finally listened to your mother, huh?”
“Mostly.” She stared at her father, a slightly shorter, grayer version of her brother. “You look good, Dad.”
“You look better.” He palmed her head and kissed the crown of her hair and then held out a hand to Law. “Time for introductions later. Right now everybody grab a seat so we can get this party started.”
The ceremony was short and sweet. Kieran and Kaitlyn looked like everyone’s idea of the topper on a wedding cake. His grin revealed a man so proud and happy, he was about to bust his studs. And she, all blushing teary bride in a simple elegant gown, had eyes only for her new husband.
Jori kept her eyes on them, ignoring the shocked, round-eyed glances of the maid of honor. There’d be time to deal with Erin Tice later.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Law stood back from the other guests at the reception, observing. No one seemed to mind that, an hour after the nuptials, they were still waiting for the arrival of the bride and groom.
Samantha sat beside him, nudging her head under his hand from time to time as they waited for Jori. Law petted her, the rhythmic action soothing the tension of exposure. Jori had said she wanted to speak privately with her parents, but Law suspected she just needed to catch her breath. He couldn’t blame her.
Crowds made him edgy. The large Crystal Ballroom had too many exits and windows. The music was too loud. The laughter was too high-pitched. And the food. The mountains of what was probably delicious, expensively arranged gourmet fare—still untouched—reminded him of a Kandahar province food bazaar. The aromas made him slightly nauseated. He was way out of his comfort zone. If not for Jori, he would be long gone.