“A client referral from one of their friends. A senator’s daughter.” I rolled the empty bottle between my palms. “They couldn’t ignore me after that. It was too embarrassing.”
“Politics. Figures.” Mari snorted. “You know, now that I think about it, my parents did invite me to Thanksgiving two years ago. My brother brought his fiancée, and they needed me to help plan the wedding. The irony was completely lost on them.”
“Did you do it?”
“Hell yes. I charged them triple our usual rate and created the most amazing wedding their stuffy social circle had ever seen.” Her grin was both triumphant and a little sad. “Still didn’t get a thank you.”
“That’s rough.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need one. We got twelve clients from their wedding from my brother and sister-in-law’s friends.” She reached for another beer. “Are your parents still holding out for you to come crawling back to Gable & Gable?”
“They were. Until the Modern Wedding thing.”
“Ah, yes. Because nothing says ‘I’m a legitimate business’ like a fancy magazine feature.”
The guilt hit me so hard I had to look away. “Right.”
“Hey,” she said, her voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s cool that you stuck to your guns. Started your own thing instead of following the path of least resistance.”
“Thanks.”
“But don’t let it go to your head.” She kicked my chair. “I still think you’re an uptight perfectionist with control issues.”
“And I still think you’re an agent of chaos sent purely to disrupt everything I work on.”
“But you like my tacos,” she pointed out.
“I do like your tacos,” I agreed.
“And I like your...” She scanned me as if searching for something to compliment. “Your freakishly neat handwriting. Seriously, your contracts look like they were typed.”
“Some of us paid attention in penmanship class.”
“You had a penmanship class? Lame. Some of us had better things to do. Like passing notes about cute boys.” She glanced at her watch and sighed. “I should probably go. Early client meeting tomorrow.”
“Don’t you hate those?”
“Mmm-hmm. Can’t seem to avoid them though.” She gathered her things. As she headed for the door, she paused, turning back. “For what it’s worth, this was... not terrible.”
“High praise indeed,” I echoed her earlier words, tilting my beer towards her.
She gave a small wave. “See you tomorrow, Gable. Try not to stay up all night staring at pictures of me or whatever it is you do for fun.”
“Get lost, Landry,” I said, but she was already gone, the door swinging shut behind her.
CHAPTER 7
Caveman Behavior
MARI
Champagne was a beautiful, beautiful thing. Especially the expensive kind that flowed freely at celebrity engagement parties where the hosts didn’t care how much anything cost as long as it was perfect.
And damn it, this party was perfect.
I took another sip from my flute, surveying the rooftop terrace of the Grand Palmer Hotel. Fairy lights twinkled overhead against the Chicago skyline, creating a glow that made everyone look airbrushed. The white peonies and hydrangeas in the centerpieces had been my idea.
“Ms. Landry,” a server approached with a fresh tray of champagne. “Would you like another?”
