"Friday through Sunday. You'll need formal wear for the rehearsal dinner and wedding. Black-tie affair, very traditional."
"I don't have anything appropriate," she admitted, her brow furrowing.
"No problem. We'll handle that today if you've got time."
"Today?"
"Rehearsal dinner's tomorrow night, wedding's Saturday. Not a lot of time."
She bit her lip. "Hunter, I can't afford—-"
"I'll cover it. That's part of the deal."
She didn't seem convinced.
"What about sleeping arrangements?" she asked.
"Separate rooms." Quick answer. "Unless that's too obvious. Might have to share a suite to make it believable, but I'll take the couch. Or request a two-bedroom."
She set down her cup. "Your family's going to grill me, aren't they?"
"Probably. Just keep it vague if they ask. They don't need your life story."
"What if they don't like me?"
"They'll like you," I said. "You're real, you call things like you see them. That's more than most people who orbit my family."
She studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"One more thing," I added. "The wedding's going to be over the top. My brother's fiancée Kendall's from old Charleston money. This is her dream wedding. Hearts, roses, Valentine's everything. And my mother will absolutely ask invasive questions about our future."
"For five thousand dollars? I’ll do my best to handle your mother."
"So we have a deal?" I asked.
Her eyes met mine. Held them as though searching for something.
Finally, she stuck out her hand. "Okay. I’m in."
I shook her hand. "Deal. We should head out now if you've got time. Give us a chance to find what you need."
"My shift starts at four."
"Then we'll be fast." I stood. "Fair warning—Kendall's got eight bridesmaids, flower girls, ring bearers, the whole nine yards. At least Hudson and Kendall are on track to deliver the required 2.5 grandchildren to my parents before they hit thirty." I grinned. "Thank God someone's fulfilling the family plan, because that whole thing makes me break out in hives."
Her expression went cold. Just like that.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." But her voice had ice in it. She grabbed her purse. "You know what? This was a mistake."
"Wait, what?" I nearly knocked over my chair. "What just happened?"
"I changed my mind." She was already backing toward the door. "This was a stupid idea. I'm sorry I wasted your time."
"Dixie, hold on—-"
"My mother runs a daycare," she snapped. "Della's Daycare. Those kids you're so worried about avoiding? That's her livelihood. That's children who need care while their parents work. So excuse me if I'm not interested in spending a weekend with someone who treats having a family like it's some kind of disease."
