First Dance (Strip in the City, Book 3)

01 • Last Hoedown

Kennedy

I fish out a diamond-studded tank top that says, Last Hoedown, and a sparkly skirt from my luggage and toss it to Tanushree, the girl I chose to be my maid of honor.

Fifteen bridesmaids might be a little much for some, but I've always thought bigger is better.

The McDermott-Norwall wedding is set to be the event of the summer. Period. And when I stand beside Flynn at the altar next month, I'm finally going to prove all the gossiping Karen's and Sharon's who said I'd never drag a virile man down the aisle at the ancient age of twenty-nine wrong.

Sure, Flynn might not be the downhome boy my big southern family expects me to marry, but my heart has belonged to him for nearly twelve years.

"This is so over the top, and I love it!" Tan screeches, hugging me tight around the neck. Her long black hair presses against my cheek. "Last Hoedown is a fucking vibe. Such a good theme." She expels a long breath. "This is gonna be such a fun weekend."

Somehow, she always knows what to say to get me all emotional.

I squeeze Tan back, trying not to get teary-eyed before we head out. "Now, don't forget to wear two pairs of socks with your boots," I tell her. "They're brand new, and you'll get worse blisters than the first time you squeezed into pointe shoes."

We share a laugh before she releases me. "Thanks for the hot tip."

Tan and I have been roommates and ballet besties for over a decade since I first moved from North Carolina to New York City, and we've been through a lot together. Hell, I was there when her fiance, Dominick, proposed to her.

I don't care if my least favorite auntie thinks one of my loud-mouthed cousins deserves the role. They don't know me like Tan.

Tan holds my gaze, her brown eyes studying me like she's been doing since I showed her my engagement ring. While I was giddy, her brows had pulled together like the first time she tried pork cracklins and told me she couldn't decide if she loved them or hated them.

I'm no clairvoyant, but instinctively, I know what she wants to say. I've known Tanushree for too dang long not to be able to read her mind.

I slip my phone out of the handy side pocket of my matching tiered fringe skirt and wave it at her with a sheepish grin.

"I gotta call Mamaw and tell her everything is goin' just fine. Will you make sure the bridesmaids get something in their stomach before the pedal bar shows up?" I ask her. "I don't want anyone throwin' up on the street. It ain't a cute look."

Without another word, Tan puts on her black sparkly cowboy hat and tips the brim at me. Nodding once. "No problem, ma'am." Her voice is an octave lower than usual, and she can't keep from chuckling. "Just call me Deputy Tan. At your service."

Relieved that she isn't giving me that soul-searching look anymore, I watch her strut out of my bedroom like a wild west cowboy.

"Thanks, boo boo!" I call after her as she shuts the door, leaving me alone to make an important call.

Blowing out a long breath, I press Mamaw's name and wait for her to answer. Some small part of me hopes she's napping so I can get away with a voicemail. Hearing her usually booming voice sound so weak makes me equal parts angry and sad. But I'm not getting away with a message today.

"What on earth are you callin' an old lady like me for, Tiny?" she says, using an old nickname. "Aren't you supposed to be havin' a bachelorette party? I'm pretty sure I paid for a stripper."