When she gives me a wink before going back to folding ivory tablecloths, I feel like the world’s biggest dickhead.
“I’ll be honest,” I say, helping her fold another tablecloth. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“It shows,” she replies with a smile.
“My sister gave me this bloody list of things to do, and I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to do all of this in five days. Arrange the flowers. Finalize the menu. Pick the cake. Press the linens. This is ridiculous. All for a fucking wedding.”
Blaire laughs to herself, and I glance over, momentarily admiring her sweet smile. I never should have skipped out on her after that night we hooked up. But I was drunk and an idiot.
And what am I even saying? What would be the point of prolonging things? The sex was good. We had fun. What else is there to do? No one wants me for a boyfriend.
Although if she’d like to rendezvous again…
“Can I be honest?” she says, turning toward me with the white fabric draped over her arms.
“Of course,” I reply, expecting her to finally give me hell for the way I treated her.
“I hate weddings.”
A laugh slips through my lips as I’m flooded with relief. “Trust me, I agree. They’re the worst.”
“Right?” she says. “So much work and hassle and this need for everything to be perfect.”
Suddenly, my attraction to this woman just multiplied.
“I’m forced to live here because this is my family, but why on earth do you work here if you hate weddings so much?” I ask.
She walks the tablecloths over to a table and drops them with the rest. “I need this job,” she says, “and I love working with Anna, but I could never tell her how awful this is for me. She and I have gotten close, and I consider her a good friend. And shelovesthis stuff.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against a table, appreciating Blaire for the first time. “I thought you were going to tell me what a royal arsehole I was for skipping out on you that night.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Are ye kidding? I wasn’t mad at all. I just didn’t want your sister to find out.”
“Oh God, me neither,” I reply with a sigh of relief.
“Listen, I’m no romantic. That night was fun, but I probably should be more careful not to shag the boss’s brother in the future.” She keeps her voice low and makes an adorable face that makes me smile.
“I think I love you,” I say with sarcasm in my tone that has her chuckling and smacking me playfully on the arm. “No, seriously, I think you are the female version of me.”
This has us both laughing when I feel a pair of eyes on me from the doorway. Blaire notices them first, cutting her laughter short as her eyes dash over to the man watching us.
Turning, I find Colin standing there with a serious expression on his face. I give Blaire a nod before spinning to face him.
“Mr. Shelby, can I help you with something?”
Last night’s argument is still fresh in my mind. I slept with the image of his vicious expression right at the forefront all night. The black paint smeared across his skin. The fiery red blush of anger on his cheeks.
Today, he appears calmer but no less hateful.
“Pierce has put me in charge of picking the cake flavor,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Well, aren’t you so obedient,” I reply with a coy smirk.
His jaw clenches shut as he rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he mutters as he turns away. “I’ll find someone else.”
I let out a huff. “Follow me, Shakespeare,” I say with an authoritative tone as I lead the way to the kitchen. According to the binder, the cake samples were dropped off this morning and are ready for tasting.
I don’t need to turn around to know Colin is following behind me. He’s never been able to resist following my orders.
