“I prefer to keep my dick out of other people’s relationships.” That and Brek’s one job over the next couple of months was to ensure every one of Aspen’s brides made it down the aisle, happily ever after. If he nailed one, Aspen would murder him in his sleep. He enjoyed life, so he’d declined. “Did you find out about those lilies Bride Number One wanted?”
“The orchids?” Jase clicked on the coffee maker.
“Sure.”
“Still working on it. Her old man’s gonna keel at the price tag.” Jase sat against the card table he used as a kitchen table.
Bride Number One, Sophie, had what could only be described as an “episode” when she learned the flowers she wanted were out of season and, therefore, cost twice as much. Tears and a substantial amount of wailing quickly ensued. Her father finally pitched in the extra cash to have Jase bring in whatever she wanted. Turned out she could live without out-of-season dahlias if she could get exotic in-season orchids for the same price.
Brek ran a hand through his hair. “Make it happen. Whatever you’ve got to do.”
Jase opened the fridge, took a swig of milk from the container, and offered the jug to Brek.
Brek scowled. “Pour it in a glass. You’re not an animal.”
“The little piece you’re living with is rubbing off on you, isn’t she?” Jase grinned.
Last night, she had rubbed her tongue all over his. So, yeah, she’d rubbed off on him. “Don’t call her a ‘piece.’ Her name’s Velma.”
“Aw, you’ve got a case of feelings. Best cure for feelings is getting laid. Get on top of her to get over her, I always say.” Jase eyed the coffee as it dripped. “Bonus, you’ll have fun doing it.”
“Your advice is crap.” Brek grabbed his keys from the beer box Jase used as an end table.
“You’re welcome to the couch next time you and the missus have a falling out.” Jase moved closer to Brek, his arms wide. “You want to hug it out, Stud Muffin?”
“Asshole.” Brek frowned at his phone. Velma hadn’t texted or called. Not that he expected her to wonder where he went. Chelsea, however, had left five voice mails since she’d left him at the bar last night. Likely a variety of rants, chewing him out.
“Coffee before you face the morning after?” Jase held up a cup.
“Nope. I gotta run. I’m meeting a couple to discuss tablescapes and sample kah-naps.” Not his idea of a good time.
“Kah-naps?” The lines on Jase’s forehead squashed together.
Brek nodded. “Yeah.”
At least there would be food—even if they were presented in miniature. He’d tried a few the other day, and the ones with the apricot and cream cheese weren’t shit.
“What the fuck’s a kah-nap?”
That was exactly what Brek had said when he’d read Aspen’s e-mail with instructions for sampling them. “Small appetizers. They’re a thing.”
“Canapés?” Jase asked.
Brek tagged his wallet and tucked it into his back pocket. “Yeah. Whatever.”
Jase fell against the wall in a fit of laughter like they were in a comedy club. “You are so fucked.”
Yes, he was.
With traffic, he would barely make it on time to the party rental warehouse to meet with Bride Number One…and maybe Velma.
* * *
Brek was lateby the time he got to the event warehouse off Colfax. He hurried through the entrance and headed straight for the showroom. Velma stood with the bride and the groom. A weight of stress rolled off of him at the sight of her.
Bride Number One held what he could only imagine was a dog—one of those teeny-tiny teacup canine things. A tornado of fluff and yap.
They all focused intently on one of the place settings Aspen had requested for the big tablescape decision. Sophie, the soon-to-be Mrs. Murtz, was a young, pretty, rich girl used to getting her way. Her groom? An aspiring junior partner at daddy’s law firm who had no clue what he was getting himself into.
