My eyes slide to S’belle. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She looks around the crowded bar area and then at the empty bar stool. She slides into it and looks at me quizzically, scrunching her nose. “Why would you ask me that? It’s an open bar.”
Fuck, she’s adorable. She really is. “Let me rephrase. Would you like to have a drink with me?”
She bites her lips. “First, I don’t drink while I’m working and neither should you.”
“Right, Red, I’ll keep that in mind. And second?”
Her lips form a sexy pout again that I can’t resist. They’re so pink and full and my mind keeps wandering to. . . . “You said first, and that’s usually followed by a second.” I hold up my glass and drink the entire thing down. “There, now I won’t be drinking on the job.”
Her mouth forms a straight line that I think will be turning upside down at any second but she surprises me when instead she smiles at me. I think I might be in—she’s warming up to me, I can tell.
“Bell,” a stern voice calls from behind me.
In a huff she says, “I have to go.”
I turn to see the pinstriped asshole glaring at her as she hops off the stool. The hint of citrus she leaves in her wake tickles my nose as she spins around and walks away. I breathe it in before pulling out my notebook. Time to finish the checklist. Two things left.
Information needed to write the Rodale Wedding Piece
How did Tike propose to Sloan
Where are they going on their honeymoon
Details of the ceremony
Comments from the parents
Wedding venue details
I push through the crowd of people waiting to congratulate the new husband and wife and search for the second to last item on my list—comments from the parents of both the bride and groom. They’re easy to spot as they’re sitting together at a table in the center of the room. When I approach, cautiously, not sure how receptive they’ll be to being interviewed, they exuberantly plead with me to join them. They offer me a drink, not that I need any more right now, and eagerly discuss the marriage of their children.
While jotting down their thoughts and memories, I allow them to blab on and take the opportunity to glance over at S’belle. Again the guy in the suit is standing a little too close and when she shakes her head at him, he reaches around and pats her ass. She steps back but he corners her and puts his hands on her hips. I start to stand, ready to intervene, but they part ways before I can break away. Once my interview is complete, I politely excuse myself. All I have left is to find out the vendor details and then I’m out of there. In order to complete my checklist, I need the wedding coordinator to give me that information. I contemplate skipping out without it, but regardless of how much this work sucks, I would never half-ass a job. So I go in search of the spitfire, but she’s nowhere to be found.
The lights dim and the dance floor fills with people. The strains of a popular love song play as the couple takes their spot front and center. Maybe it’s too much booze, maybe it’s the thought of this make-believe marriage passing for something real, but I suddenly need some air.
On the terrace there’s an abundance of small tables with branches as centerpieces stretching as far as I can see, and a dessert bar that goes on for miles. I watch as people line up to fill their plates and then nibble on the small petite fours and mini cake slices on their plate, most of which will just get thrown away—too many calories.
I’m struggling to suck in a breath and push through all this shit. I turn a corner and head into the courtyard area that’s filled with trees and pathways in the shape of mazes. I take the first turn into the foliage. Glowing path lights guide my way and lead me to a wooden gazebo where I halt. There she sits, alone in the dark. The soft lighting from the ground gleams off her hair—she’s gorgeous. She’s still a hundred yards away, but my heart is already thumping out of my chest.
I decide to approach her cautiously, not sure if she’s not going to be happy to see me. Her head is bowed but she straightens up when I approach, peering at me cautiously.
I can see her sad green eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”
She clears her throat and brushes her long hair back over one shoulder. The same memory I’ve revisited a thousand times resurfaces. I can’t push it away . . .
I’m behind her and she swipes her hair to one side, tilting her head so I can kiss her neck. Burying my nose in the curve of her neck, I breathe her in, drawing my tongue down her skin—the smell of citrus and the taste of lemon was so enticing.
I shake it off the best I can as she answers. “Yes, I just needed some air.”
“Mind if I sit? I promise not to get in your way.”
She nods and actually lets out a small laugh.