Velma giggled. “You’re serious?”
“Not something I’d lie about,” he said, deadpan.
She picked up the other spoon and scooped a small amount onto it, licking off the hazelnutty chocolate.
His gaze fell to her lips.
“What?” she asked around the bite.
“I don’t get it,” he announced.
“Get what?”
“Why you don’t have a guy.” His eyes didn’t move from her mouth.
“I’m not exactly tons of fun, Brek.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It’s official. I’m gonna teach you the hokeypokey.” The light in his eyes twinkled dangerously.
“Is that a kinky handcuff game?” Knowing him, that was exactly what it’d be.
“Nah. I’m just gonna help you turn yourself around. Your life, anyway.”
She caught his gaze. He was serious. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine.”
“Nah. But you will be. Especially once you help me with all these damn brides.” He rubbed a hand down his face.
“What are you talking about?”
“I need help. I’m glad to tell you, you’re gonna be that helper.” He was totally serious.
“Are you insane?” She knew next to nothing about planning weddings.
“Possibly. But I still need help, and I’m hoping since you like me, and I like you, you might take pity. Don’t you plan things all day, Ms. Financial Planner Lady?”
“I move stocks and set up individual retirement accounts. That’s not the same thing.” Not even close.
“Maybe you could make me a spreadsheet? Run interference with Bride Number One?”
The whole room held his scent—the one that made her mouth go dry.
Funny, when she was around Brek, she didn’t think about her quest to find a man like Dean. And when she was around Brek, even things that had never made sense before started to make sense. Like Nutella in bed. Who would’ve thought?
“How about I teach you how to make your own spreadsheet?” she asked.
They could start with that.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Hang tight. It’s Aspen. She’s been harassing me all day.” He held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Aspen. You’re not supposed to call me. Jacob said—” He leaned away from Velma and squinted. “Whoa. Calm down… I didn’t know they had special stamps for that. Does it matter?”
Uh-oh. Those stamps were a horrible idea. Everybody knew to use the special wedding stamps when sending wedding invitations. You didn’t shove them in the envelopes and affix the ribbon with an abundance of gold stickers. Some of the ones he’d put together had so much gold foil stuck to them, they looked like they should be dancing over at Pistol Polly’s strip club. She’d confiscated those.
Brek flinched at something his sister said. “Tell her to chill, it’s not like—”
Velma could hear Aspen all the way on her side of the bed. And Aspen did not sound happy about those invitations. Velma’s phone beeped with a new text. She glanced at it. Claire. Velma’s heart dropped. Oh no. Brek had found the invitations Velma pulled—and he’d sent them.
“They weren’t all like that. Velma tied some… The stickers held the bows on… I improvised… I know this is a big deal… I’ll apologize… I won’t fuck it up… Right.”
Aspen apparently hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand. “I’m fucked.”
