“Competition is ridiculous right now. People are planning their own events more and more. The accounts I’m able to land just aren’t spending what they used to on weddings.”
He squeezed her hand. “You shoulda said something.”
“I know.” A tear slid from the corner of her eye.
He was a sucker for tears. Especially from his kid sister.
Working with her brides might give him cold sweats, but for her, he’d do it. “Fine. Yes. I’ll help you out.”
“Thank God.” She relaxed into her nest of pillows. “I have a plan to turn things around.”
“What’s the plan? I’m good with plans.” He was shit with plans. He was more of a just-go-with-it kind of guy.
“The family of one of my brides has loads of connections. Her mother’s been chatting Montgomery Events up through their circle. Next season is booking like crazy from her referrals. That wedding is almost here. It has to be perfect.”
“Wedding. Perfect. Keep the mom happy.” He could probably handle that. “What else you got?”
“An opportunity came up this week.Rosetteis coming to do a spread on Claire and Dean’s wedding. They had an unexpected opening, and I pitched their ‘Purple Rain’ idea to the editor. She loved it. They’re featuring the whole thing on the blog and in the magazine…everywhere. The publicity could fix everything.”
“What’sRosette?” he asked.
“LikeRolling Stonebut for weddings.”
“So, it’s a big deal,” he said as a statement, not a question.
“It’s a huge deal. You sure you can stay in town that long without caving in to the desire to take off?”
“I’ll manage. Mom’ll be thrilled if I stick around. Your brides have fangs, but they don’t scare me.”
“Liar.” She closed her eyes briefly. “This’ll be worse than the time I made you play Fairy Princess Baseball Golf when we were kids.”
He chuckled. “I won’t wear fairy wings this time. It can’t be worse.”
“I’ll touch base with you. Make sure everything’s going okay.”
“That’s a negative.” Jacob slipped through the door, letting it latch quietly behind him. “No stress. That’s what the doctor said. No brides. No work. No stress.”
“Brek’s going to need to consult with me.” Aspen got all huffy like she did when she wasn’t getting her way. She’d had the same annoyed sigh since she was three. Hell, she’d probably stomp her foot if she wasn’t tied down to the bed with monitors.
“Nope. Everything he needs is on your laptop. Brek is a big boy. He can handle things.” Jacob usually gave his wife whatever she wanted, but he was clearly sticking to his guns. “Tell her, Brek.”
“I’m a big boy. I can handle things.” How hard could it be?
“See? He’s got it.” Jacob crossed his arms.
Brek kissed her forehead. “On that note, I’ll go get Ma.”
“Brek?” Aspen asked.
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t take off,” she whispered.
Her plea punched him straight in the gut. Shit, was that what his family thought of him? He would take off without warning? Yeah, so his history wasn’t exactly stellar in that department. He had given them plenty of reasons to believe he might leave. Rock shows, fireworks, and stadiums were in his blood. He wouldn’t change that for the world, but this time he would stay. Every single one of her brides would get the wedding of her goddamned dreams—even if it killed him. Which, given the nature of some of Aspen’s clients, was not out of the question.
“I’ll stick around. Promise.” He would do anything for his baby sister. Apparently, even plan some damned weddings.
Chapter Three
