by Lizzie Shane
Parv opened the frosted glass door to Once Upon a Bride and ushered them in before a full mother-daughter war could be declared over engagement party invitations.
Tori immediately appeared from a back room and approached them, her professional smile glued in place. She was still as tall, graceful, and meticulously put together as ever, but somewhere in the last few months since she’d gotten back together with Lorelei’s father, something that had always seemed hard and guarded about her had softened into a subtle welcoming warmth.
She extended her hand to Angie first—accurately reading the power dynamics in the room. “Angie, it’s so good to see you again. And Kateri—best wishes on your upcoming wedding. I understand you had a few logistical questions. Why don’t we have a seat, take a look at some of our idea books and see what we can come up with for you?”
Parv trailed along uselessly and sat on an extra chair as Tori took control of the situation, easily diffusing any tension between Angie and Katie before it could pop up, even as she masterfully guided the pair toward a plan for the wedding that took into account Katie’s impatience and her mother’s grandiose ideas.
The one major battle was over the date. Tori agreed with Angie that planning a splashy wedding in two and a half months would be virtually impossible, but Katie insisted waiting until June would be torture. With a little gentle prodding from Tori, spring break emerged as the obvious compromise—especially as holding the wedding on the first weekend of the break would give them an entire week for their honeymoon before classes resumed.
No one else seemed to notice that they were planning a wedding for children, but Parv couldn’t seem to get past it. Yes, her parents and all of her sisters had married young, but times were different now. People were waiting longer. And yes, she had just complained to Max about not finding her own Mr. Right while she was in school—but where Katie was concerned logic didn’t apply.
“So. March twelfth,” Tori said with brisk efficiency, making a note in her tablet. “An afternoon wedding. At a vineyard. That’s all very do-able. Have you already started looking at dresses?”
“We have an appointment this afternoon in Santa Barbara,” Angie answered before Katie could. “In fact, we should probably get on the road if we’re going to make it in time.”
They all stood, shaking hands and thanking one another. Tori wouldn’t be officially planning the wedding, but Once Upon a Bride apparently now had a new Consultant service where they would be available as advisors throughout the process and Angie had signed up for that—so she could plan her dream wedding for her baby by herself, but have professionals on speed-dial.
They moved in a clump toward the front door, discussing colors, and Parv tuned out the discussion. She’d never been one of those girls who dreamed about her wedding, planning every detail before she even met Mr. Right. She just wanted to find her person. The rest of it was just window dressing.
The back door to the shop clanged open and Parv looked toward the sound in time to see Sidney emerge from the back hallway in a sundress and flip flops, shoving her sunglasses up to the top of her head as she moved. Her step hitched momentarily when she saw them, but she changed direction to move toward them, her own professional smile sliding into place. “Hello. What’s this?”
“Kateri’s getting married,” Tori explained to her partner. “I thought you weren’t getting back until tonight.”
“I caught an earlier flight. We’re shooting at some prospective venues up the coast tomorrow and Josh wanted to head up early and stay at some little B&B he knows about, but I left my tablet here at the office so I’ve just come to grab it. He’s waiting out back—probably with the engine running.” She grinned.
Katie bounced into the conversation, unable to contain herself any longer. “You’re the one from Marrying Mister Perfect.”
Sidney smiled, the smooth, practiced smile of a woman who got that reaction a lot. “I am.”
“Oh my gosh. I loved you on the show. You were so smart to ditch that Daniel. Are you really dating Josh Pendleton? I loved that wedding special you two did. Is it true that Caitlyn’s pregnant?”
“It is. That’s actually where I was this weekend. I just flew back from her baby shower.”
Katie squealed.
Angie touched her daughter’s arm. “Katie. Your appointment.”
The thought of wedding dresses brought Katie back from Reality-TV-ville and they began moving toward the door again, Sidney now trailing along as Tori explained that they’d be consulting on the wedding.
Parv found herself next to Angie in the little pack as Katie begged Tori and Sidney for dress shopping tips.
“Mom told me you’re closing your little shop.”
Sidney swung around. “You’re what?”
Parv cringed. Not exactly how she’d envisioned telling Sidney. “I’m closing Common Grounds. In a month or two.”
“Mom didn’t tell me what you were doing next,” Angie asked, with her characteristic irritation over not knowing everything before anyone else.
“It’s a work in progress,” Parv admitted.
Angie’s brows pinched. “You can tell me.”
Of course Angie thought she was hiding something. Because in Angie’s world the only reason a person closed a business was because you already had a bigger, better offer lined up. “You’ll be the first to know,” Parv promised—and Angie’s look said both of them knew she was full of shit with that one.
“You should open a coffee shop near USC,” Katie urged. “There are, like, two dozen of them, but none of them are as good as yours.”
Parv didn’t bother mentioning that the thought of opening another shop gave her hives; Katie was already off on another tangent—complaining about the lack of bridal boutiques within easy walking distance of the USC campus.
Parv walked them back to Angie’s Mercedes and wished them good shopping karma—surprised when Sidney made the walk with them rather than rushing back to Josh and their romantic getaway.
She learned why as soon as Angie pulled away.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were closing Common Grounds?” Irritation was vivid in the words. “I can’t believe you told Angie before me. She drives you nuts.”
“Technically I told my mother and my mother told Angie.”
“Are you trying to get back at me for not telling you about moving in with Josh? Because that’s just childish.”
The unfairness of the accusation dug under her skin like nettles and she retorted, “Believe it or not, I didn’t want to bare my soul to your voicemail and you and I haven’t actually talked in weeks. When was I supposed to tell you?”
Sidney had the grace to flush. “I’ve been busy.”
“I know. And I understand. I do. But you don’t get to fuss at me about not knowing what’s going on in my life when you never take five seconds to ask.”
“You’re right,” Sidney admitted, though her expression remained tensely defensive. “We haven’t talked in too long. Let’s do Girls’ Night this Tuesday. I’ll check with Tori to see if she’s free.”
Parv was tempted to grumble that maybe she wasn’t free, that just because she wasn’t in a relationship didn’t mean she had no life—and in fact, she had her first internet date on Tuesday evening, but that would be childish. And it was just a coffee date and would be over before Girls’ Night—and it might actually be good to have an excuse to leave the date if it got awkward. So she accepted Sidney’s olive branch with as much grace as her current temper tantrum could muster. “Tuesday sounds great.”
“Good.” Sidney nodded—and then ruined it by looking over her shoulder back at Once Upon a Bride.
“Go. I know Josh is waiting.”
Sidney was moving before Parv finished talking. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Can’t wait.” She wanted the words to be true, but she’d gotten so annoyed with Sidney putting her last lately that it was hard for her to feel suitably grateful for the Girls’ Night co
ncession.
She pulled out her phone, calling Max as she walked back to Common Grounds. He answered on the second ring.
“Elite Protection.” Strong. Firm. All business.
“Tell me to stop being a baby and holding a grudge.”
“Who am I telling you to forgive?” Everything about his tone softened and warmed, triggering an answering softening in her.
“Irrelevant,” Parv insisted, not wanting to drag sibling dynamics into things. “I’m being childish and I need someone to tell me to snap out of it.”
“Snap out of it. But if this is one of those internet date snap judgment things, I am fully in favor of holding grudges—and restraining orders, if necessary.”
She snorted, opening the door to Common Grounds and nodding to Anna where she manned the counter. “I haven’t even had my first date yet. That’s Tuesday. Coffee—at Starbucks, if I can cross the threshold without bursting into tears. His name is Tyler. If anything happens to me, I am entrusting it to you to track him down and avenge me.”
“You want me to run a background check?”
“I don’t know his last name yet.” She waved to one of the regulars and ducked into the kitchen.
“Parv.” Disapproval radiated through the phone. “Get his last name. And let me sic Candy on him. You at least need to know if he has a criminal record. Restraining orders against him. Domestic abuse charges.”
“You’re an extremely depressing dating coach.”
“I’m not your dating coach. And Sidney would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”
“It’s coffee. In a public place. I’ll keep an eye on my cup so he can’t roofie me. That’s going to have to be enough for you.”
“Text me a picture when you meet him. And call me as soon as you leave.”
“You’re insane. You realize that, right?”
“I’m in personal security. This is my thing.”
“For celebrities. No one cares about coffee shop owners.”
“I care.”
Her resistance melted a little at the stark words. “I’ll call when the date is over, but I’m not forcing him to pose for a mug shot on sight. Deal?”
“Find out his last name.”
She rolled her eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “Goodbye, Max.”
“Bye, Parv.”
Chapter Thirteen
Parvati pulled into the Starbucks parking lot at five minutes to six on Tuesday evening, and cut the Jetta’s engine. Since she had a couple minutes, she checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, adjusted her silk scarf, and gave herself a brief pep talk.
Tyler had seemed extremely sane in their initial emails. His profile said he was thirty-two, worked in “business administration” of some kind, didn’t smoke, liked dogs and wanted kids. All marks in his favor. But Parv had been on this merry-go-round before. Her previous online dating experiences had taught her that she really knew nothing about a man until she met him face to face.
Still. He hadn’t tried to pimp her out to his dad. She was willing to take that as a win today.
Parv climbed out of her car, automatically smoothing her maxi dress, and walked toward the Big Green Mermaid of Doom.
She’d told Tyler that she owned a coffee shop, but had wanted to meet on neutral territory—so he’d chosen her competitor for their first date. She opened the door, pausing just inside and scanning the dining area for any man of approximately the right age who looked vaguely like the profile picture. The pictures, she’d learned, could be wildly unreliable.
There weren’t any thirty-somethings, so she decided to go ahead and get her coffee—if only to save them from the no-let-me-pay dance.
She hadn’t been inside a Starbucks in years, but she still remembered her favorite order and it rolled easily off her tongue. She paid, waited for her drink, picked it up when the barista butchered her name, and looked around for a place to sit—cozy enough to be date-ish, but no loveseats or couches or anything that invited too much touching right off the bat.
She’d just started to wonder if she’d been stood up—and felt a little frisson of guilt at the relief she’d felt at the idea that she wouldn’t have to go through all the first date stress—when her phone buzzed.
She fished it out, expecting to see a running-late text from Tyler, since she’d given him her number, but instead it was Max.
Proof of life.
She snorted and typed back. Alive and kicking. He hasn’t showed yet.
His reply was almost instantaneous. What kind of asshole is late for a first date?
The kind who underestimates California traffic during Tuesday night rush hour?
Cut him loose. He isn’t good enough for you.
Parv was smiling and trying to compose a suitably snarky comeback, when a hesitant voice said, “Parvati?”
He’d made the second a in her name long—the most common mispronunciation—but when she looked up, she found his profile pictures hadn’t lied and she smiled at his sweet, eager face as she gently corrected, “It’s Par-vuh-tee. Tyler?”
He grinned. “That’s me. I see you already have your coffee. Sorry I’m late. I never seem to allow enough time for traffic. I wanted to text you, but I can’t stand people who text and drive.”
She smiled, heartened. “Me neither. Why don’t you get your drink and I’ll find us someplace to sit?”
“Perfect.”
As soon as he turned to the cashier to order, she moved to the two arm chairs that had just opened up in one corner—and hurried to text Max before Tyler arrived.
He’s here. It was traffic. And he’s cute!
The reply was immediate. So was Ted Bundy. Don’t be drawn in.
She snorted, blushing when she realized Tyler had arrived with his drink in time to hear the sound. “A friend checking up on me,” she explained as she hurriedly stowed her phone. “So, Tyler, you’re in business administration?”
“I’m office manager for my family business. Roofing contractors. Nothing like your family.”
She blinked, thrown by the last addendum. Had one of her sisters somehow found her online profile and set this up? “You know my family?”
“Well, no, I don’t. Just what I read.”
“What you read?”
“I Googled you,” Tyler explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“But we didn’t exchange last names.”
“I know, but you said you owned a coffee shop in Eden and I thought, how many people named Parvati can there be in Eden who own coffee shops.”
He’d mispronounced her name again, but she barely noticed, unease slithering too loudly in her ears. “I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know anything about you.” And now she was beginning to seriously regret not having Max dig into his past.
“I’m nobody special. Did your mother really meet Oprah?”
* * * * *
“You know I hate you, right?”
Max grinned as soon as he heard Parvati’s voice, even if she sounded mildly pissed when she called thirty minutes after her last text. “I may have heard that somewhere before,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Why do you hate me now?”
“It’s so annoying when you’re right.”
“Your date started talking about his human thumb collection?”
“No. He wasn’t a serial killer, and I’m not locked in his trunk, so if you have someone tailing his car home you can call off the dogs. It was just lousy.”
He shouldn’t be relieved. He wasn’t going to be Parvati’s Mr. Forever—though he wouldn’t mind filling in as Mr. Right Now—so he shouldn’t be rooting against her dates. But he was. He definitely was. “Lousy how?”
A knock on his office door brought Max back to the present as Cross poked his head in. Max held up two fingers, nodding toward the phone, and Cross nodded and hitched his thumb over his shoulder. Max would find him as soon as he was done with Parv.
“He Googled me.
”
“He what?” Max asked, jerking his attention back to the conversation. “Is that a euphemism now?”
“No. He actually Googled me. He used my first name, occupation, and zip code to find out who I was and then did extensive research on my family.”
Warning bells rang in his head. “How sure are you he isn’t a stalker?”
“Very. He was just eager. He wanted to be prepared. He’d actually prepared talking points for our date—most having to do with my family history. I kept trying to convince him I was a nice normal girl on a nice normal first date really, really, really hoping to meet a nice normal guy, but once he found out my mom had been interviewed by Oprah, it was all over.”
“Your mom was interviewed by Oprah?”
“Focus, Max.”
“Sorry. But you have to admit that’s pretty cool.”
“I really hate you right now.”
He smiled at her cheerful tone. “No, you don’t. You love me. I’m irresistible.”
“You just keep telling yourself that, buddy.” He heard her car door bing over the speakerphone. “I’ve gotta go. I just got to Tori’s for Girls’ Night. See ya later, Max. And thanks for looking out for me.”
“Anytime. And get the last name next time. Candy loves to do background checks. She gets to hack into all kinds of systems she isn’t supposed to have access to.”
“Bye, Max.”
“G’night, Parv.”
Max rose from his desk, shoving his cell phone in his pocket, and went in search of Cross. The retired NFL defensive back wasn’t his newest employee, but he was the one with the least personal protection experience. A born perfectionist, Cross was constantly studying and training to be better, so Max wasn’t surprised to find him in the weight room downstairs.
Cross immediately lowered the free weights when Max walked in, straightening to face him.
“Everything go okay this afternoon?” Max asked. Cross had been working with a new client, an A-list actress who wanted him to guard her decoy so the paparazzi would buy the ruse and she’d have some privacy.
“Smooth and easy,” Cross replied. “She went shopping, and all I had to do was keep everyone from getting close enough to realize she’s not really Maggie Tate. But the lookalike is incredible. Mannerisms. Speech patterns. She has Maggie down. And they look so much alike I would have thought I was guarding Maggie myself if not for the fact that I saw them standing next to one another. Do you think Maggie Tate has a secret twin?”