Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
At the moment, only one couple on my once long list are giving me that vibe. It is for a wedding I’m meant to cater this weekend, the nuptials of Nikolai Popov and Justine Walsh.
Even arriving several hours late to our meeting this morning, and in a frazzled state, Justine assured me I have no true reason to cancel. She offered me the kitchen in the Popov mansion to prepare the feast for their guests and was happy to supply serving equipment.
If I accept her compromise, we will have to move the location of the wedding from the opulent gardens of the Popov mansion to the courtyard staff use for their lunch breaks and the occasional sneaky cigarette.
I don’t want to do that. The gardening crew has been working on the grounds for months to get it ready for Justine and Nikolai’s big day, and the hydrangeas were grown specifically to help conceal the large baby bump Justine doesn’t want her childhood church minister to see.
A push back in dates would greatly assist both Justine and me, but Nikolai is adamant that they are to wed this weekend. Their babies—yes, you heard me right, they’re having twins—aren’t due for a couple more weeks, but Nikolai’s intuition is warning him to wed now or watch his children enter the world as bastards.
I would have been appalled by his bigoted term if he had said it with any hint of harshness. I’ve never seen a groom-to-be more doting and obsessed with his wife-to-be as Nikolai is with Justine. He loves her wholeheartedly and wants to give her the world.
To him, that means Justine should share his last name when she births their children.
It’s old-fashioned, but after reading the many gossip stories printed about Nikolai since the death of his father, it is understandable. He never had a stable, safe childhood. He was born in the ashes of hell and only began crawling out of them once he met Justine.
It makes me hopeful Nero comes through with the pledge he made hours ago. I’m rooting for the fairy tale Nikolai is envisioning for his unborn children and hope they never have to face the nightmares a lot of children unfairly endure these days.
I tune back in to my conversation when my latest cancellation continues harping on about how if she could change the outcome of her husband-to-be’s decision, she would, but that it is out of her control.
“You know what the boys club is like, Myra.” I don’t get the chance to inform her of my real name. “Whether ten years since graduation or fifty, they always stand by each other’s side. Your impending divorce will make my big day look messy.”
I silently growl and bare teeth before I switch my voice from friendly to professional. “It is fine. Truly.” A snippet of snarkiness slips through the cracks of my understanding. “I just hope you find someone willing to work with your budget in enough time. Fifty dollars a head is well below industry standards.”
I only accepted Sawyer’s stingy budget because eight out of ten of her bridesmaids are single. Bridesmaids are prime catering game. We hunt them more than recently engaged brides-to-be because bridesmaids have faced the wrath of a Bridezilla and solemnly vow to never be like them.
Panic resonates more in Sawyer’s tone now than it did when she called me to cancel an event that is only three weeks away. “What rate should I expect? Bill would like to keep things intimate.”
By intimate, she means cheap.
“I’m not sure. I am only responsible for the quoting of events for my business.”
My heart beats double time when Tempy’s quick leap to her feet announces I have a visitor. She doesn’t bark. She just races for the door with her tail wagging excessively.
“But I wish you well.”
Before Sawyer can get in another word, I hit the end call button on my phone’s screen, then twist in the direction Tempy raced.
As expected by the excited patter of her paws, my guest is welcome in my home.
Very much so.
As Nero drags his dark and brooding eyes down my body, his teeth get friendly with his bottom lip. I’m wearing a skirt I made indecent by cutting off the overhang Roy is adamant all women should have once married and paired it with my first, but unlikely last, sleeveless blouse.
My outfit is flirty and makes me feel very much like a woman who should be desired as much as she is respected.
“Hey, butterfly. You look pretty.” Nero releases his lower lip with a moan as his lust-crammed eyes return to my face. “If I had known we were eating out, I would have dressed up.”
He speaks as if he isn’t wearing dressy slacks and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows to show off his array of tattoos. His boots could use a polish since there are a handful of red splotches over them, but his hair is combed, his beard is trimmed, and he smells divine.