“The estate can be intimidating to first-timers.” Dusting her palms off, she came my way, then she kept going. “Come on, I’ll show you out. Name’s Matilda, by the by.”
I lingered, watching the horse as long as I could. Finally, I chased after Matilda. She was shorter than me, though not by much. Her hair made up a lot of her height. Even among the rosebushes she took us near, she still smelled like hay. I loved it.
We wove through a short maze of hedges. “Here you go,” she said, gesturing as we broke out onto the hard tiles of the driveway.
I was about to thank her. I didn’t get that far, the two of us stopping in our tracks as we saw what was going on. A red car was parked near mine, an older woman shouting furiously at a man in a gray shirt and purple tie. Throwing her arms up, she said, “You’re done! Get out of here!”
“Mama, you tell him!” I hadn’t noticed Francesca. She bounced nearby, her arms wrapped around a fluffy white thing—some kind of dog? “Get the fuck outta here, you scam artist!”
The man scowled, but there was fear in his narrowed eyes. “I’m not a scam artist, Miss Badd. I told you weeks ago, you can’t keep changing the plans. I said I’d arrange things for noon, you were the one who changed the rehearsal lunch to a rehearsal dinner last night.”
Francesca opened her mouth, but the larger woman—who had to be her mom—stomped forward. The man ducked, nearly feeling the wrath of her ring-encrusted fist.
Holy shit! Was this about to get ugly? Mama Badd screamed, “Go! Get your scammy ass off my property! We’ll do the party without you!”
He didn’t need more convincing. Ducking into his car, he started to reverse. Francesca ran forward, kicking her sparkling gold heel into the side of his front bumper. Squealing tires broke through the clean air—he drove away in a flurry of dust.
Breathing heavily, Francesca spun on her mom. “What do we do now, Ma? Who’s going to organize the party tonight?”
“Oh, honey, we’ll figure it out. I can call another planner. Anyone would feel honored to help throw a party for us!”
Next to me, Matilda made a small snort. There was no way Francesca heard her, but still, her dark eyes flew my way. I stood taller, unsure if I should smile or run into the rosebushes.
“Sammy!” she shouted, drawing her mom’s attention to me. She waved, nearly dropping the fluffy dog thing. “You’re still here! Thank fucking gawd!”
My face scrunched. “I was actually about to go.” Could I make it to my car if I moved quickly enough?
Hugging her dog, she moaned. “You can’t! I need you to save the day, please! I don’t have time to find another planner.”
Chewing my lip, I glanced at Matilda. She was hovering, picking at her nails and looking at her feet. She acted like she wanted to turn invisible.
I said, “Party planning isn’t my expertise.” Mama Badd swished my way. Literally swished, because her long dress was dangling with threads of crystal that brushed her calves loudly. “Hon, you’re the one who made Fran’s dress, right? You’ve seen your share of wedding parties. We just need someone to help us set up, keep it all together.”
“Ah . . . well . . .”
My hesitation was obvious. She sniffed, eyeing my dented car and smiling knowingly. “We’ll pay you, of course.”
Jeez, this family and their money. They threw it around like it was candy on Halloween.
Matilda whispered, “You should do it. It’s better to help them than to run.”
Run? It wasn’t running.
What else do you call escaping because you’re scared of bumping into Kain again? That sounds like running to me. I cursed my blunt inner thoughts.
With everyone watching me expectantly—even the dog—I smiled weakly. “All right. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
- CHAPTER THREE -
SAMMY
Have you ever planned a party in just three hours?
Me either.
Until now.
Luckily, I wasn’t alone. I had a range of helpers, from cooks to servants to bussers. I’d never had to lead so many people. In my drained state, the hours melted into a weird swirl of white noise and murky colors.
I was surprised they needed me, honestly. I was sure that anyone else could have directed the waiters to bring out drinks and appetizers, and certainly any old person could have told them to choose cloths for the garden tables that complemented the bride-to-be’s bright orange dress.
White and green, thank you.
Exhausted, I wiped my forehead and leaned against the kitchen wall. I did have a better idea of the estate’s layout now, that was a plus. You won’t be spending time here, why does it matter if you know where things are?
Again, my sharp inner voice was right.
Sipping a big glass of water, I rubbed my hands on my dress. Francesca had insisted I change into something more presentable. Finding an outfit in her closet that wasn’t covered in faux fur, animal spots, or giant rhinestones was a challenge.
I’d settled on a green satin dress, the bottom pleats glinting with gold. It was still flashy, but it would work.
“Ma’am?” a young waiter asked. He was wearing the same starched, black suit as all the others, though the way he shifted around, he seemed uncomfortable in it. “Miss Badd says you can go if you like. They’re done eating and are enjoying after-dinner drinks now.”
I flashed an appreciative smile. “Thanks—ah, what’s your name?”
“Jameson.”
“Thanks, Jameson. I’ll head out in a minute.”
He nodded, his slicked-back hair moving as much as a helmet would. I had the distinct sensation that he was lingering, watching me with interest. Before I could ask him if something was wrong, he hurried off.
Pushing my hair behind my ears, I closed my eyes and pointed my nose to the ceiling.
What a day.
“Did you move in or something?”
Blinking, I stared at Kain. He’d snuck up on me, his arms folded over his gray jacket. He looked oddly clean and crisp in such fancy clothes. In one hand, he held two champagne flutes.
We were alone in the kitchen. That fact sat heavy in my belly.
Gripping the counter behind me, I said, “Your sister needed the help.”
“Careful.” He stepped closer, his eyes never straying from my face. “Once you start with her, she’ll never stop asking you to do things.”
Helplessly, I measured the distance between us. I was trapped in my corner; he’d corralled me so easily. “I like helping people.”
“I have something you could help with. Something pretty big.”
Flushing, I bounced my attention down to his zipper. I didn’t mean to, it was as if his gritty voice had taken hold of my neck and guided me down.
And his smile said he’d seen me do it.
I cleared my throat. “You’re a big boy, you can help yourself.”
“Oh, I do. And I will.” His foot came down, the shiny shoe transfixing me the closer he got. “I’ll jerk this cock off to thoughts of you, sweetheart. Especially to the memory of how you felt in my arms earlier.”