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Authors: Dakota Cassidy
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past three seasons of “Whose Bride Is She Anyway? ” This was where the fun began and the gloves came off. Jury members would assemble to meet one another and eat a roast pig or something. Glancing at her watch, Tara realized she had plenty of time to primp and fuss and war with her guilt. After all, this was national television, a girl needed to look her best.
* * *
Jesus Christ in a mini skirt, this was some place to land in. Jet lag and the pukes were long forgotten as Tara sauntered into the ‘getting to know you’ soiree. Island music played on the gentle breeze from the band assembled along the pool. A long table with a feast fit for a small country lay on festively decorated platters. Floral arrangements flanked the arched entryway and along the gazebo at the other end of the patio. Twinkling white lights hung from the palm trees, draping along the gleaming, mahogany bar. Straightening her flowered sarong, Tara tucked the tie between her breasts and made her way over to the dining area.
Her stomach growled. The scent of roast pork and pineapple wafted under her nose.
Yum.
No pork. It was high in calories and had like a bazillion fat grams that her thighs just couldn’t accommodate if she wished to retain her size eight status.
She’d have to be very careful she didn’t eat her way through this damn show. It all looked good and it all looked like it could cost her extra sit-ups, giving Kelsey something else to quite possibly taunt her with.
Ick! Nothing like sit-ups to make her rethink that pork butt.
Or having a
porker’s butt
…
Grabbing a flower from one of the many arrangements, Tara tucked it behind her ear. Her long dark curls caressed her bare back, supple and sleek from working out. Tara felt good, yet her hands shook as she smoothed them over her hips.
Pre-show jitters, no doubt.
Andy waved her over from the far end of the long table. He was sipping from a coconut shell and bobbing his head up and down as the elderly woman from the jury chatted with him.
“Tara! Pull up a chair.” Andy slid down the bench and offered a seat to her between the two of them.
“Hey, Andy. ”
“How do you feel? ” Andy’s smile was sympathetic. “Better, I hope. You look great.”
Tara curtsied her ‘thank you’ to Andy. “And who’s this you’re over in the corner charming to pieces?”
“Tara Douglas, this is Mrs. Mary DeWitt.”
Tara offered her hand to the thin, grey haired woman.
“Aren’t you pretty? Do you feel better?” Mrs. DeWitt commented, smiling at Tara as she yanked a canvas bag from under the table and pulled out a pair of knitting needles with a long fray of blue yarn attached. A baby blanket, obviously.
“For my son and his wife. They’re having a baby. A boy, in case you couldn’t guess,” she snorted. “As if I wanted the surprise ruined for me. They had one of those ultra thingamajigs, you know. ”
“Ultrasound,” Andy filled in the blank for her.
“Right, ultrasound. Whatever the hell you want to call it, it ruined the surprise for me. In my day you took what you got and be damned if you didn’t like it. The picture they sent me didn’t even look like a baby, it looked like an alien, I tell you. ”
Tara giggled. “Well, at least it allowed you to choose the color in advance for the blanket.”
Andy snickered as he poured something from the pitcher into Tara’s coconut shell for her.
“It’s
not
a blanket. It’s a pair of booties,” Mrs. DeWitt corrected as her knitting needles clacked together.
Oops.
“So, what brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this? Somebody as sharp as you should have a man waiting at home for them. ”
Tara sighed. She’d gotten a lot of that sort of reaction since she’d lost all of the weight. Everyone assumed she should be married by now because she was thinner. Her own mother seemed to think Prince Charming was secretly supervising her weight loss by crystal ball and when the scale’s needle hit the
* * *
Jesus Christ in a mini skirt, this was some place to land in. Jet lag and the pukes were long forgotten as Tara sauntered into the ‘getting to know you’ soiree. Island music played on the gentle breeze from the band assembled along the pool. A long table with a feast fit for a small country lay on festively decorated platters. Floral arrangements flanked the arched entryway and along the gazebo at the other end of the patio. Twinkling white lights hung from the palm trees, draping along the gleaming, mahogany bar. Straightening her flowered sarong, Tara tucked the tie between her breasts and made her way over to the dining area.
Her stomach growled. The scent of roast pork and pineapple wafted under her nose.
Yum.
No pork. It was high in calories and had like a bazillion fat grams that her thighs just couldn’t accommodate if she wished to retain her size eight status.
She’d have to be very careful she didn’t eat her way through this damn show. It all looked good and it all looked like it could cost her extra sit-ups, giving Kelsey something else to quite possibly taunt her with.
Ick! Nothing like sit-ups to make her rethink that pork butt.
Or having a
porker’s butt
…
Grabbing a flower from one of the many arrangements, Tara tucked it behind her ear. Her long dark curls caressed her bare back, supple and sleek from working out. Tara felt good, yet her hands shook as she smoothed them over her hips.
Pre-show jitters, no doubt.
Andy waved her over from the far end of the long table. He was sipping from a coconut shell and bobbing his head up and down as the elderly woman from the jury chatted with him.
“Tara! Pull up a chair.” Andy slid down the bench and offered a seat to her between the two of them.
“Hey, Andy. ”
“How do you feel? ” Andy’s smile was sympathetic. “Better, I hope. You look great.”
Tara curtsied her ‘thank you’ to Andy. “And who’s this you’re over in the corner charming to pieces?”
“Tara Douglas, this is Mrs. Mary DeWitt.”
Tara offered her hand to the thin, grey haired woman.
“Aren’t you pretty? Do you feel better?” Mrs. DeWitt commented, smiling at Tara as she yanked a canvas bag from under the table and pulled out a pair of knitting needles with a long fray of blue yarn attached. A baby blanket, obviously.
“For my son and his wife. They’re having a baby. A boy, in case you couldn’t guess,” she snorted. “As if I wanted the surprise ruined for me. They had one of those ultra thingamajigs, you know. ”
“Ultrasound,” Andy filled in the blank for her.
“Right, ultrasound. Whatever the hell you want to call it, it ruined the surprise for me. In my day you took what you got and be damned if you didn’t like it. The picture they sent me didn’t even look like a baby, it looked like an alien, I tell you. ”
Tara giggled. “Well, at least it allowed you to choose the color in advance for the blanket.”
Andy snickered as he poured something from the pitcher into Tara’s coconut shell for her.
“It’s
not
a blanket. It’s a pair of booties,” Mrs. DeWitt corrected as her knitting needles clacked together.
Oops.
“So, what brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this? Somebody as sharp as you should have a man waiting at home for them. ”
Tara sighed. She’d gotten a lot of that sort of reaction since she’d lost all of the weight. Everyone assumed she should be married by now because she was thinner. Her own mother seemed to think Prince Charming was secretly supervising her weight loss by crystal ball and when the scale’s needle hit the
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