“Not bad for a billionaire and a wedding planner,” Callan observed. “We make a good team.”
“We do,” I agreed before I could stop myself. “I mean, thank you for your help. You really didn’t have to do this.”
“I told you, I wanted to.” He shrugged, as if helping me set up a wedding expo booth was the most natural thing in the world for a CEO to be doing at 8 AM on a Saturday. “Besides, now I get to see you in action. Should be educational.”
I frowned. “You’re staying?”
“Of course I’m staying,” he replied, looking offended at the suggestion. “I didn’t haul all this stuff in just to abandon you. I’m here for the duration. Put me to work. I’m great at selling things. I once convinced my third-grade teacher that my dog ate my homework, despite not actually owning a dog.”
“This is a professional industry event,” I protested. “You don’t have to?—“
“Anica,” he interrupted gently. “Let me help. Please.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. This wasn’t Callan the cocky billionaire or Callan the ridiculously charming client. This was just... Callan.
“Okay,” I said finally. “But you have to follow my lead. No going rogue.”
“Scout’s honor,” he promised, raising three fingers.
“Were you even a Boy Scout?”
“For approximately three weeks,” he admitted. “Until the unfortunate incident with the campfire and a marshmallow catastrophe.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. There are still parts of New Jersey where I’m not welcome. The restraining order only expired last year.And marshmallows are still mentioned in hushed tones at scout meetings.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “Alright then. Let me give you a crash course in wedding planning 101...”
I had to admit, Callan was surprisingly good at all of it.
“So you’re saying you handle everything?” the bride-to-be asked, clearly impressed as Callan outlined our services.
“Everything,” he confirmed with a confident nod. “Anica and her team take care of every detail, from venue selection to the last dance. They’re wizards, really. I heard she salvaged a wedding where the best man showed up drunk, the flower girl had chicken pox, and the cake collapsed. By the time she was done, you’d never know anything had gone wrong. The only casualties were the best man’s dignity and the flower girl’s perfect skin dreams.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” Callan said. “She’s the best in the business. I wouldn’t trust my own wedding to anyone else.”
I nearly dropped the brochure I was holding. Was he implying what I thought he was implying?
“Your wedding?” the woman asked, glancing between us.
“Hypothetically speaking,” Callan clarified with a wink. “But if I were getting married, Knot Your Average Wedding would be my only call. In fact—” he leaned in conspiratorially, “—I’ve already reserved her services for my brother’s wedding next year.”
The man was oozing lies. I didn’t have the heart to point out he was an only child. And I would’ve pointed out that he was an enormous pants-on-fire liar, but I sort of enjoyed hearing all ofthe made up stories. Plus, I knew I was a good wedding planner, even if the stories were bullshit.
“Well, that’s quite an endorsement,” the woman said, clearly sold. “Do you have any availability for a June wedding next year?”
“Let me check,” I said, jumping in before Callan could invent any more fictional family members. I flipped through my planner. “We do.”
“Perfect!” The woman beamed. “Can I put down a deposit today?”
Twenty minutes later, we’d secured not only her booking but also two of her friends who’d stopped by to see what the excitement was about. Callan’s charm offensive was proving incredibly effective.
“Not bad for a rookie,” I murmured as the women walked away, clutching our promotional materials.
“I told you I’m good at selling things,” he replied with a grin. “It’s like riding a bicycle, except the bicycle is overpriced services and the road is paved with bridal dreams and parental bank accounts.”
