by Fifi Flowers
“We want you to be happy.”
“You will find love again.”
I hated all of those pitiful words in the beginning of “the end” but I listened to them and smiled the best I could. Eventually, I had to speak up, beg them to stop and assured them that I was fine. Given what had happened to me, set-ups were out of the question. They couldn’t fix me or my attitude, I would move on in my own time. And if the right someone came along, I would give love...or whatever a chance.
I was pretty sure I could handle my situation with the beautiful wedding planner on my own and, hopefully, she didn’t have someone waiting at home for her. There was only one way to find out if I could just get her alone again. Seeing her eyes cast upon me, I moved in her direction in an attempt to speak to her. However, my luck with her was being foiled, once again, by more hotel staff. Someone wanted to talk to her about the amazing array of seafood—shellfish, raw fish, ceviche, sushi rolls—and I wondered if someone was wanting something other than the ocean’s bounty.
“Damn it! Just eat and drink what is available,” I wanted to tell them.
Leave her alone.
Leave her to cater to me.
Let me appreciate her.
My internal thoughts and pleas didn’t seem to work at all. Whatever it was they requested of her, she was on the move and then when she returned I heard her mention the rehearsal...then she was gone again.
Regret fell over me. I had declined being in the wedding party because at one point it was possible that my past would be part of the festivities. After seeing who was in charge, I almost wished that I had said yes just so I could be present wherever she was. Instead, I remained with other guests and plied myself with plenty of seafood and alcohol.
After the rehearsal dinner—which I wasn’t privy to—it was time for the boys to get together for a mini-bachelor gathering. Meeting in the red bar—as I called it with its prominently red decor and red lighting—we continued with some toxic drinking. Not the groom though as he had promised to keep it mellow and not leave the hotel grounds. In other words, no trips to strip clubs. With the desire to add cigar smoking to our boys’ night and a few surprise naughty dancers, we headed to a bungalow suite that a few guys in the wedding party were sharing. Blowing smoke rings into the air and drinking far too much, we sat out on a private patio area complete with a small pool and fire pit.
It was good to see guys I hadn’t seen in a long time since we were all spread out all over the country. Most had gotten married or were on the verge of taking the plunge and a few had started families, but there were still a few of us that were bachelors. I was the only one that had made it down the aisle and then divorced a little over a year later. Not something that anyone wanted to bring up during a wedding weekend—that worked out just fine for me. Nothing but good times.
“Dude, take her back to your room.”
“Fuck yeah!”
“She’s totally into you.”
One of the strippers had been obvious from the moment the girls cued a wireless system and started their dance routines—in my face, giving me the eye, shaking her bits. She was pretty, but I preferred the chase...the mystery of the wedding planner woman. I hadn’t even heard her name yet and I knew she was the right one for me. I was sure that I would tie her down—maybe not literally—and she’d be mine by the end of the wedding night. I had no wish to pay for sex to scratch the itch I was feeling. I’d much rather knock on a certain hotel room...if I knew what the number was.
Knowing my limit or when I was about to hit the wall, I was happy to stumble back to my own room where I was sure to snore and would not be elbowed to shut the fuck up. Nor did I want to be disturbed by anyone else roaring and snorting.
Well, I may have welcomed a gorgeous wedding planning brunette into my bed.
Chapter Five
Saffron
Up as soon as the light cracked through the open doors of my room, I rolled over and dialed room service. Such a perfect start to my morning—coffee on the balcony wearing nothing but a white luxurious robe and listening to the waves gently crashing on the sand. I had an outside area at my condo where I loved to sit, weather permitting, but my view was nothing compared to the ocean and lush jungle.
Speaking of views, I sure enjoyed a few glimpses of Mr. Fantasy and was looking forward to getting to see him at the wedding festivities... Wedding responsibilities were what I needed to focus on, not the beautiful man who could certainly throw me off my game if I wasn’t careful.
Shaking my head and bringing my tablet to life, I reprimanded myself, “Saffron, focus today! Now, let’s go over the plan.”
Top of my list:
Smooth Wedding!!!
Make sure the bride is calm.
Make sure the groom is coherent (mini-bachelor party).
Wedding party ready to roll.
Flowers, music, wedding officiant.
Set tables, flowers, bars stocked, cake, chef...
I had pulled off the most awesome feat of all getting a celebrity chef to cater the event. And not just any chef...I secured a very popular LA cooking show chef Owen Walker. He was no longer taping his show in Los Angeles and had opened his own restaurant called Saphyre in Atlanta, Georgia. But the extremely handsome, sandy brown haired chef was still a hot commodity and occasionally made appearances. When I came up with the idea since the bride and groom happened to be chefs themselves, I wasn’t sure if the resort allowed guest chefs to take over. However, when they heard the guest chef was Owen Walker, they bent over backwards at the chance to have him in their kitchen. The press alone wasn’t a bad thing and, thankfully, Owen was okay with them mentioning him and he even posed for photos with the kitchen staff.
Ringing up Owen was something I would never forget. When I got his contact info and called him he thought I was pulling a prank on him.
“Hello, Mr. Walker, this is Saffron Courbe—”
I was cut off by laughter roaring through the phone followed by the repeating of my name. “Yes, Saffron, what can I do for you? How is Truffle and Caviar? Spicy?”
“Yes, I have heard all of that and more over the years. But, seriously...I would like to speak to you about a guest spot at a wedding in Santa Barbara.”
“Oh fuck! I mean...excuse me... You’re not pulling my leg?”
“No. And I’m going to guess that your agent did not mention my name to you?”
“Oh shit! You’re the wedding planner? So sorry.”
I could understand my name being a strange one to be presented to a chef and quickly brushed it off as we went over the details and desires of my clients who had met each other in culinary school. I loved that he didn’t hesitate one bit and I especially loved my trip to his restaurant with my clients to sample his skillful dishes. I had not expected to be flown by a private jet for a tasting, but the bride and groom-to-be had insisted. It was quite a treat and we all instantly fell in love with Owen and his adorable wife Sienna. I have to say I was wowed by the two couples and was thrilled that I was fortunate enough to be part of the grand wedding.
I had just been wrapping up my wedding duties for an event at one of the hotels I usually worked at when a couple decided to confess to me. They had crashed the wedding but swore that they were not interested in partaking in the food or drinks or hooking up with guests. I was completely baffled by their quick words until they slowed down, started over and introduced themselves as an engaged couple that was scouting locations. Smiling, I pulled a beautifully printed business card out of a shiny case that easily fit into any pocket and often accompanied me everywhere. Always be prepared was my motto and it proved handy with Perry and Makayla.
A few hours after hanging out with them, they were interested in hiring me and loved every idea I spewed to them. They had been so easy to work with and I loved that they wanted something different. I was a little leery about many aspects we had in place with it being my first destination wedding, but step by step my list was checked off.
Not only was my planning perfect, but the actual implementation fell into place:
The wedding went off without a hitch—poor choice of words—including gorgeous weather. Not a cloud in the sky. The groom stood proudly in front of the stunning flower arch with his groomsmen upright next to him. The bridesmaids strolled down the aisle to take their places and the bride escorted by her brother glowed as she greeted her future husband.
The transition went smoothly as guests nibbled hand-passed appetizers and sipped libations while the wedding couple went off to take photos on the beach and around the lush grounds. And when they returned, their guests followed them to the outdoor reception area that turned out amazing.
It literally took my breath away to see my sketches come together and by the looks on everyone’s faces they were all enchanted by the garden setting too. It was a pretty space for the reception set up with green, turquoise and orange pinstriped tablecloths, complimentary florals, designer flatware, fancy silverware, and crystal stemware. However, I looked forward to the high-tea-like feel to slip into a nighttime event with twinkling lights everywhere. I was not disappointed one bit as the sun disappeared and the lighting magically changed from the playful look to a more elegant one.
With the wave of a pixie-dust filled wane—or flip of a few switches—the fairytale came to life. Everyone smiled, laughed, ate, drank, and clinked glasses with their silverware to coax the couple into kissing repeatedly, and then to other guests’ glasses to toast to the couple’s happiness.
My work was nearly done and I sighed happily off to the side.
“Looks like you have an admirer.” Sienna pointed ahead to the same guy I had first seen when I checked in and throughout the wedding when I was not knee deep in my wedding duties...Mr. Fantasy. He seemed to appear here and there when I had time to take a breath, or not. “Dark hair, light eyes, nice bod—”
“—are you checking out another man?” Owen’s voice boomed behind us.
Sienna, as cute as a button with her dainty features which included an adorable upturned nose, long dark hair and eyes with the longest lashes, giggled as her husband neared. I could see why Owen was head-over-heels-in-love with her.
“Never! You’re it for me!” she exclaimed as her husband snuggled up to her. “Saffron has a stalker. His eyes have been following her every move all day long.”
“I understand,” Owen said, like he knew from experience. “When you see something you want you lose all focus on everything around and zero in on the target.”
“He knows what he’s talking about, Saffron.”
“I speak from experience.” Sparks were flying between them.
“Yes. I went to his restaurant for one job that would work in with my school schedule and I walked out as his full-time assistant.” Sienna blushed and beamed up at her handsome husband as he turned her to face him.
“Assistant to wife.”
“His main goal.”
“Damn right!” Owen pulled Sienna in for a kiss that I swear I could feel.
“Okay! Okay! Enough!” I got the message. It was obvious that any protest would lead to more examples from the perfect couple who had experienced instant love and made it work.
Leaving them to their own canoodling, I strutted away and heard a couple pairs of clapping hands. I shook my head and moved toward a server carrying a tray of filled shot glasses. I needed a little liquid courage if I was going to approach that gorgeous man.
“Hey, those are—” the server began to say but stopped mid-reprimand as he recognized me. “Go ahead! Take two! I can get more. You’ve done an amazing job. Have some fun!”
Doing as he instructed, I took two and he hurried off. Downing one, I coughed and sputtered. It was not what I expected—straight alcohol burned my throat and ignited a fire in my chest. More hopeful, I washed it down with the next one—a more colorful, lime green shot. It was much better but still strong. “Wow!” I said, blowing out the heat within me.
“Oh good! Finally!” The bride was not who I wanted to catch me tipping back shots of flammable liquid. She never let me voice my apology as she pulled me along behind her squealing, “Right in time for the bouquet toss!”
Stopped next to a crowd of women grouped together, I attempted to protest.
“Hush! You’re single, right?” she asked with her finger to my lips and I nodded. Then removing her finger and beginning to move away, she put her hand up to me. “Stay!”
Doing as I was told, the bride continued up some elevated steps.
I was supposed to be organizing that part of the event not catching the flower bouquet. It came right to me after she turned around, lifted her arm and threw it over her right shoulder. Standing there, I had become the center of attention—not good. As a wedding planner my job was to remain in the background. Blend into the crowd as if invisible to make the wedding look completely magical.
Chapter Six
Laird
With a slight hangover the following morning, I grabbed the newspaper sitting on the floor outside my hotel room door and headed down to a patio where breakfast was being served. I saw the inside of enough hotels. When in a desirable locale with supreme weather, I wanted to be outdoors. If I could help it, I never ordered room service.
I’d never been happier to be sitting out there looking out to the ocean when I spotted the gorgeous wedding planner walking the grounds with her tablet in hand. If only she didn’t have duties to perform I would’ve liked to rethink eating in my room with her in my company. I would order away so we never had to leave the sheets for very long. That thought sounded perfect for breakfast, lunch and dinner the following day provided she was staying over for a few extra days—I could only hope to make her mine.
Absolutely gorgeous, the lush surroundings of the resort dulled in comparison to her. She stood out, capturing my attention from the moment I saw her at the check-in counter and I was quick to look to her ring finger which was empty. Another plus for me along with the fact she was minus a man at her side. Wait a minute! She was working a job...of course she would not have a man with her. I loved discovering that she was part of the wedding. I was glad she wasn’t in the wedding party itself and being touched by one of those single dudes. I didn’t want them touching her or dancing with her. Good that she was the wedding planner and solo.
While she took care of her plans, I had to figure out my own plan of attack. How to capture her attention. How to get her in my arms. How to whisk her away. Those were things I scribbled alongside the crossword puzzle that I liked for a daily challenge. However, another challenge was keeping me from thinking about anything else.
“What the fuck are you grinning about?” Tad, one of my surf buddies, asked pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. “You should’ve hit the bloody waves with us this morning, mate.” A year with a British girl changed his vocabulary from time to time—it seemed to pop up when he spoke about surfing.
“I’m surprised any of you made it out there,” I laughed, shaking my head.
“You know us better than that.” He motioned to a server and ordered. “We had a few extra boards. You shouldn’t have been such a wanker.”
We always had several boards when we went out. You never knew what the surf would call for—a long board or short trick board...or if it would claim your board by snapping it in half. He was right about drinking and surfing too. There had been several times that we partied all night and slipped into the surf as the sun peeked out to light the water. Not exactly smart to be playing with the mighty ocean current. A little bit buzzed wasn’t so bad but full out drunk was dumb as fuck and we had all done it one time or another. Definitely, we had all nursed a hangover squinting into the sun and paddling while our heads were on the verge of exploding.
“Did Perry get out there with you guys?”
“Are you kidding? He was the one yelling at all of us to get our bloody arses up in the dark. He had his wetsuit on and was throwing shit our way. ‘Last surf as a singl
e man,’ he said over and over as we hit Rincon just as the sun was coming up. We all teased the piss out of him saying he hasn’t been single in years.”
That was a true statement in many ways. Perry fell hard for Makayla and never let her get away or vice versa. They met in a six-week Mediterranean cooking course in Italy that was arranged through our college. It was surprising to them that they hadn’t had a class together and had to go on a trip to meet. When they returned they signed up for several courses together and she pretty much became a permanent fixture in the house. After graduation, they both applied for cooking jobs through an all-inclusive resort corporation and signed on to travel to worldwide locations where they were needed as a pair. It was only when they decided to start a family that they talked about getting married and, of course, they couldn’t do it in any old place with any old food.
Seeing the wedding planner standing off to the side, just out of sight—not out of my view because I looked for her—I was happy that they didn’t do what they called any old normal wedding plan. I was even thrilled to be seeing them exchanging their vows under a big mass of flowers and I wasn’t a fan of watching any fools jump into marriage. I avoided weddings whenever I could.
My buddies were surprised when they heard that I had said I was going to attend and even more shocked when they, actually, saw me show up. In all fairness, my own fucked up failure of a marriage was enough to turn me away from the institution that seemed to be attacking several of my friends and family. Perry and Makayla’s wedding was like a trial run for me. Maybe I would attend others that had unanswered invitations.
I was having a good time sitting at a bachelor table for dinner and continuing to celebrate hanging at one of the bars around the reception area with the same knuckleheads. I lost all focus of their conversation when I caught a glimpse of the wedding planner downing a couple of shots she plucked from a passing tray. Though I didn’t know her at all, I didn’t see her as a big drinker. And within moments, I saw a possible reason why she might have needed the liquor.