“No!” she and I say together, presumably with the same vision of Amber’s technicolour stomach soup being dog-projected over the bridesmaid dresses and pristine white wedding dress hanging on the back of the door.
Alpi clearly understands the word “no” as a snub of his dog-activities, and proceeds to trot out of the room.
“I’ll go,” I say in a strangled voice. This is totally my fault. I should have been holding on more carefully to the bag. I should have put it down. I should have known Alpi might take it, given how dogs are, and Francesca warned us he was a thief. In short,I need to rectify this situation. “You continue getting ready and look after Amber. Don’t worry!”
I dash after the dog, and find him at the top of the stairs. There are fancy paintings on the walls, and I blanch at the thought of what could happen.
“Hey,” I croon. “Come on Alpi, share the disgusting spoils with me.” I get down into a squat and shuffle slowly towards him. “It’s okay. I’m your friend.”
This elicits more tail wagging, and he gives the bag a precarious shake.
“Just give it to me, and nobody has to…” Die? “Surely there are more fun things to play with?”
Alpi evidently disagrees, because instead of approaching me, he rushes off into another bedroom.
Groaning, I rise.
“Alpi!” Francesca calls, and with a more securely tied robe now, follows Alpi with what I assume is a dog toy.
I’m about to do the same, but an idea strikes. I run downstairs, open doors until I find the kitchen, and make for the fridge. It’s one of those huge, fancy stainless-steel ones with an icemaker. I inwardly plead for good luck.
There’re bottles of expensive-looking water, champagne, some yoghurt, and yes! Bingo. A pack of cheese. I rip it open and break off a load of little chunks.
I’m betting that Alpi will do a swap.
I race out of the kitchen as fast as I can, and collide with a wall.
I yelp, and let go of the cheese to catch myself. But instead of falling, I’m held by a pair of strong hands on my upper arms.
“Easy,” a deep voice says.
I look up, and up, past a perfectly fitted dinner jacket, tattoos that curl up onto his neck, and black stubble, into the man’s face.He’s gorgeous. He has sparkly forest-green eyes and I’m lost in them.
My tummy swoops. I’ve never had a physical response like this to a man.
If he’s the groom, shoot me now. Handsome, yes, but there’s something else about him. He’s tall and commanding and calm.
His grip tightens for a second.
“The cheese,” I gasp out, like it’s the key to the meaning of life.
I’m the biggest idiot in the world.
The man blinks at me as though I’m insane. He releases me, putting me away from him deliberately.
I flush, and fall to my knees, scrabbling to pick up the small pieces of cheese I dropped when I threw myself at this man. Accidentally, though seeing him now, I can’t promise for sure that I wouldn’t do it again to have him touch me.
“Ah, cheese.” He makes a low noise in his throat, and kneels next to me. He reaches for the cheese, and his hands are big, and tattooed. Black lines curl over the backs of his hands and my brain stutters. He’s hot and dangerous. A warm shiver goes down my back.
“Sorry, it’s for Alpi,” I mutter. “You don’t need to…”
The man ignores me, and continues plucking cheese from the tiled floor.
“Alpi’s the dog, and he stole…” A bag of puke? Am I really saying that? “Something we have to get back.”
“An essential part of the wedding decoration?” he asks.
The Exorcist confetti? Or the dog, unmurdered?
