That one stings, but I bite back my retort. It is her day after all. Even if she did steal my vision, it’s still about her and I’m not about to take the spotlight off of her for fighting over something so stupid.
“Couldn’t you have at least used red roses or something? Gardenias? Anything?”
“Red is too hard against my complexion, and my dress would’ve blended in with a white flower. Duh.”
I draw in a breath, filling my lungs with air until they’re ready to burst just to stop myself from saying anything else. It’s just a flower. It’s not a big deal. I’m single anyways, like she always points out. It’s fine. I’m fine.
Totally fine.
And then I turn and see blue eyes studying my expression, a look of concern etched on his handsome face, and I realize I am absolutely not fine. Not fine with the fact that he notices every emotion on my face. Not fine with the fact that he just heard that entire encounter. But specifically not fine with the fact that I immediately relax seeing him there, or the fact that I very badly want to step into his arms and have him comfort me.
I’m in very dangerous territory with Reid right now, and I just can’t have that.
So instead of giving into the very confusing feelings, I step around my sister, stride past him, and walk out the door to get the rest of the desserts from the car.
Adjusting the straps on my incredibly uncomfortable pink midi dress again, I stare at the dessert table with pride. It looks great. The cookies, the cake, the cupcakes, the mini brownies. All spread out on different beautiful serving trays with fresh flowers and cute little signs around it.
It looks great, if I do say so myself. I’m totally winning this bet with Reid. His dinner was delicious, but there’s no food in the world he could make that would surpass a caramel turtle brownie and three-tier cake. Especially since I know they’re both my sister’s favorites. That has to give me an extra point regardless.
I can’t wait to see the look on his stupidly handsome face when he sees this. It’s all that’s keeping me going after the flower fiasco.
As if reading my mind, Reid appears beside me. I can feel his presence before he even speaks,like my body is fine-tuned to his after our almost-kiss yesterday. It’s like every neuron in my brain has been on the lookout for him since then, and now that he’s in my proximity, my body is on high alert.
“Well, Jane,” Reid says. I reach out and pretend to busy myself with readjusting the layout of the K+J heart-shaped cookies so that I don’t have to look at him. At least not in the eyes. I’m definitely looking at him in my peripheral vision. “Cute little display you have here.”
I huff, turning to face him and planting my hands on my hips. I immediately recognize my mistake, as the words leave my tongue the second I see he has since shedded his suit coat, rolled-up shirt sleeves, and undid the top two buttons of his white dress shirt.
Dammit.
He smirks. “It’s the forearms, isn’t it?”
“Shut up.”
“You can admit it, you know.”
“When pigs fly.” With one last glance at my dessert table to ensure perfection—successful, might I add—I stomp off. Reid, in an entirely predictable move, follows me.
I roll my eyes, pretending to walk faster. But if I’m honest, I’m enjoying his company and the easy banter we have going. Today is about Kate and Jason, and I’m sure the dessert table is just a little blip in their minds in the entirety of today, but I worked hard to make everything she wanted. Lola and I stayed up until three in the morning to put all the perfect finishing touches on, just because I know this is a big day for Kate and I want to make sure everything is exactly how she envisioned it. Or how I envisioned it for myself, apparently, but I digress.
And now the stress of all that work is starting to kick in. What if it’s not good enough? What if I overbaked everything? What if the flavors are off?
Butbickering with Reid takes my mind off of all of that, whether I like it or not. Who am I kidding? I like it. I like being around him and his easy personality and his annoyingly funny sense of humor and his stupidly handsome face.
“Wouldn’t it be absolutely mortifying for you if your food falls flat in comparison to mine? Considering you’re a chef and all.”
He huffs a laugh. “Jane, I have a culinary degree and ten years of experience. I’m a professional. Nothing is falling flat today. Except maybe your face when my food is better than yours.”
“I believe that gives you an unfair advantage then, don’t you think?”
“What, do you want me to go easy on you just because you’re a home baker?”
I turn on him. He stops abruptly, but he’s still within two inches of me. The proximity of his eyes starts to distract me, but I power through.
“Not at all. I stand by what I can create.”
“So do I.”
“Great.”
