To Have And To Hold: The Wedding Belles Book 1

by Lauren Layne

  Being a wedding planner wasn’t just a job goal for Heather. It was a life goal.

  Brooke wound her arm around Heather’s shoulder and squeezed. “So, I know you want to puke right now, but you’re going to have to trust me on this, Fowler. This looks amazing. And this couple is going to have the best day of their life because of you. Now will you please hand over some of those gorgeously wrapped truffles and let me help you?”

  Heather took a long breath before blowing it out. “There’s another box by the front door. There might even be an extra or two, because one of the guys who works at the chocolate place thinks I’m cute.”

  “Because you are cute,” Brooke said, heading toward the door to grab the box in question. “Is chocolate guy going to be a thing?”

  “Oh God no,” Heather said, resuming the process of placing the boxes alongside each plate. “I’m pretty sure he’s, like, twenty.”

  “Because you’re so old,” Brooke said sarcastically, hoisting the box onto her hip and heading back toward Heather to begin placing the favors on a nearby table.

  “Let’s just say that this kid squeezes in shifts between classes at NYU, and I—” Heather broke off, fiddling unnecessarily with a candle. “College feels like a long time ago for me.”

  “You went to college near home?” Brooke asked, shamelessly fishing but doing so in what she hoped was a casual tone. “In Michigan?”

  “Yup. Michigan State.”

  “Your family’s still there?”

  Heather nodded. “My mom.”

  Brooke waited for Heather to say more. The other woman wasn’t chatty. Not like Jessie. But neither was she usually so one-word answers. Maybe Alexis was rubbing off on her.

  The silence stretched on as the two of them silently resumed the process of placing gold boxes next to gorgeous little squares of ivory card stock embellished with a plain, typewriter-style font that perfectly offset the fussiness of the paper.

  They finally reached the end of the room, and both turned to survey the finished setup. Even without the music that would eventually fill the space, and before the hundreds of candles had been lit, it was spectacular.

  “You did good,” Brooke said.

  Heather gave a small nod, seeming to finally be satisfied with her work. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

  Brooke’s client roster was rapidly filling up, but she was still new enough to the New York wedding scene that she didn’t yet have any weddings of her own apart from Maya Tyler’s. As a result, a schedule that had once been nonstop from Friday morning through Sunday evening was a bit sparse.

  Giving her far too much time to think.

  About him.

  “I think you handled it sort of badly,” Heather said, out of nowhere.

  Brooke glanced at her. “What?”

  Heather gave her a half smile. “You asked me if I thought you handled the Seth thing badly. I was distracted and didn’t respond, but I’m responding now, and it sounds like maybe both of you said things you didn’t entirely mean.”

  Brooke sighed as she followed Heather toward the exit. “That’s an understatement.”

  Heather glanced at her watch. “The ceremony won’t start for another four hours. Want to grab a late lunch? I could use the opportunity to think about something other than all the things that could go wrong tonight.”

  “Absolutely,” Brooke replied.

  “Why does melty cheese always taste so good?” Brooke moaned around a bite of perfect sandwich. She and Heather were seated at a bustling little café right by the winery, nomming on delicious paninis stuffed with smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, and arugula.

  “Is that how Seth Tyler got into your pants?” Heather asked with an eyebrow wiggle as she twisted the cap off her sparkling water. “By offering up grilled cheese?”

  Brooke tapped a fist against her chest to help the bite of sandwich she’d started choking on go down a bit easier. “Going there, are we?”

  “I may have been distracted earlier, but I don’t think I missed the fact that you mentioned spending the night. Explain.”

  Brooke sighed and picked up the dill pickle that had come as a garnish on her plate, taking a bite even though she didn’t even really like pickles. Stress eating at its finest. “It was just supposed to be a one-night thing. To scratch the itch and all that, you know?”

  “And did he?” Heather asked. “Scratch your itch.”

  “Oh yes,” Brooke said.

  Heather cracked up. “Oh man. You are about two seconds away from purring.”

  Brooke felt her cheeks coloring and looked down at her plate. “It was, um . . . it was good.”

  “So why are you limiting it to one night?” Heather asked, taking a sip of her drink.

  “One night of casual naked time is one thing, but multiple nights of naked time . . . that gets dangerous, you know?”

  “Dangerous?”

  “You know, with the whole heart and head getting involved with what was supposed to be the body’s domain.”

  Heather bit her lip and leaned forward. “Okay, can I confess something?”

  “Always.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Brooke blinked. “How do you mean?”

  “I’ve never been in love,” Heather said with a touch of irritability about the whole thing that was downright adorable.

  “Never?”

  “Nope.” Heather took a moody bite of her sandwich. “I’ve had crushes. Even a couple of boyfriends who lasted a few months. But with every single one, I went into it eyes wide open, knowing that it would never turn into anything more than what it was. Sex. Companionship. Whatever.”

  “Trust me, love can be overrated,” Brooke grumbled.

  Heather tucked a curl behind her ear, but it popped right back out again. “You’re talking about Clay?”

  Brooke nodded. “They want my dad to testify at his trial.”

  “Oh God.” Heather’s eyes widened sympathetically. “But they don’t want you to, right?”

  “Not yet,” Brooke said. “I’d probably be pretty useless. I was such an idiot, I didn’t see any of the warning signs. I knew nothing about all his illegal crap until that day when they arrested him.”

  “I hate that that happened to you, Brooke.”

  Brooke forced a smile. “Me too. I’ve been trying so hard to put it behind me, to stop myself from feeling like a victim, but it’s so much harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Because a person you cared about—the life you wanted—was ripped away. Getting past that is going to take time.”

  “I know.” Brooke scratched at her neck, feeling suddenly restless in her skin. “Exactly. Which is why . . .”

  “Which is why you’re so confused by how much you like Seth Tyler?” Heather finished for her gently.

  “Yes,” Brooke breathed out, pushing her plate away. “I thought sleeping with him would help, you know? But instead . . .”

  “Instead you want more.”

  “I don’t know.” Brooke put her elbows on the table, resting her fingertips to her temples. “Yes. Maybe. I said these horrible things to him, and I don’t even know why.”

  “Sure you do,” Heather said with a shrug. “You tried to build walls around yourself by swiping at him.”

  Brooke eyed the other woman suspiciously. “You’re pretty damn wise for someone who’s never been in love.”

  “I know, right?” Heather said, taking another bite of her sandwich. “But seriously, it’s okay to make mistakes here. I’m guessing he hasn’t been handling things very well himself.”

  “Definitely not,” Brooke grumbled.

  She hadn’t heard from him at all since she’d stormed out that morning. Not that she was surprised. And it was no less than she deserved—she’d been a fool to think she could get Seth Tyler out of her system with one night of passion, and clearly he was grappling with the same demon.

 
But he’d just been so damn inaccessible. And even that would have been fine if he’d just shown her to the door, but he’d ordered her breakfast. And yes, she’d freaked out. Stupidly, admittedly.

  But then he’d turned into such an ass that she couldn’t figure out what the hell he wanted. To have breakfast with her or push her away?

  Really, she could kill her boss for not explaining this uncomplicated-sex thing in more detail.

  And more important, what did Brooke want? Did she want more than just a one-night stand, even if it meant risking things ending badly and ruining her first big professional break? Was any man worth possibly sacrificing a career opportunity for—even one with a touch that set her skin on fire?

  “Any advice?” Brooke asked hopefully.

  “Well,” Heather said, licking a bit of grease off her thumb. “I’m no expert, obviously, but I’d say that this has less to do with romance nuance and everything to do with basic human interaction.”

  “Translate.”

  Heather gave her a sympathetic look. “I think you need to apologize. If for nothing else than for the sake of your conscience. And then you can either move on. Or move forward.”

  “But which one?” Brooke begged.

  “No idea.” Heather dabbed at her chin with the paper napkin. “But either way, might I suggest a sexy dress to help the apology go down easier?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I THOUGHT WE AGREED that you had free rein to make these decisions without me,” Seth said, tapping his fingers against his leg as the car made the slow trek through Manhattan traffic.

  “No, we agreed you’d back off your micromanagement, not that you’d completely check out of the wedding altogether,” Maya said. Her voice was gentle, but Seth felt the censure there, and it reminded him painfully of Brooke’s parting words a week earlier.

  You’re a lot like your hotels. Polished, attractive, efficient, and cold. Cold and soulless.

  He glanced across the car at his sister. “I’m sorry. I thought . . . I thought you wanted a bit more freedom without your brother breathing down your neck.”

  “Sure, when it comes to the embroidery pattern on my dress. Not when we’re talking about the reception site,” she said. “I just want you to see this place. It feels right, but I want your opinion.”

  Seth felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly at Maya’s words. He may not be up for Brother of the Year awards, but he couldn’t be screwing up that badly if his sister cared about what he thought.

  “What does Neil think?” he asked, glancing over at her.

  His eyes narrowed as she immediately turned her head to look out the window. “He’s been busy.”

  Seth’s eyes narrowed even further. “He hasn’t even seen the place?”

  “He said he’d meet us there. He trusts me to make the decision. He wants it to be my dream wedding.”

  “Sure, but you shouldn’t be having to do this all on your own,” he said quietly.

  Maya looked back, her smile genuine. “I’m not. Brooke has been . . . great.”

  “She’s paid to be great.”

  Maya rolled her eyes. “Such a cynic. I mean she’s been great as a friend. Neil’s been busy, and you’ve been . . . you. Brooke’s just been there.”

  Now it was Seth’s turn to look out the window, avoiding Maya’s prying gaze.

  “She told me that you haven’t responded to her emails,” she said.

  “Nothing to respond to,” he said. “I asked her to keep me informed, and she has. Until she asks me a direct question or says something I don’t like, I have no reason to respond.”

  “Sure you do. So you don’t come across as a jerk.”

  He flinched, and Maya sighed before punching his shoulder in that light, pesky way only a little sister could. “What is going on with you guys?”

  Nothing. Just that we fucked each other sideways, and then I found out the next morning that she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  He settled on something a little vaguer. “Nothing.”

  “Right,” Maya said. “So you’re telling me it’s not going to be super awkward when we see her in ten minutes?”

  His head jerked back around. “You said she wasn’t going to be there.”

  Maya smiled serenely. “I lied, obviously.”

  His head dropped back against the headrest. He felt her studying his face. “Maya. Don’t.”

  “Come on, don’t be mad,” Maya said. “I know something is going on between you two, and I was worried you’d say no if you thought she’d be there, and I really need help making this decision.”

  Seth’s eyes closed and he tried to focus on something—anything—other than seeing Brooke in the immediate future. “Okay, tell me about the place.”

  Maya gave the dreamy sigh he now thought of as her “bridal” sigh. It happened whenever she talked about rose petals or ribbons or potential locations.

  “It’s in this old office building that they’re just now finishing renovating. The entire building’s been vacant for years, but they’re getting ready to reopen, and Brooke got the inside track, found out that the upper floors haven’t yet been outfitted as offices, so it’s just this big open space with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s prewar, and the crown molding is just . . . gah . . . you’re going to love it.”

  He gave her a look. “I’m going to love the crown molding?”

  “Yes. Yes you are. And the fireplaces, too. They’re not working, obviously, but Brooke has all these great ideas about how we can put up varying candle heights, create the illusion of a bursting flame—”

  “Sounds like a fire hazard,” he muttered.

  “Whatever, we’ll get flameless candles.” Maya pointed a finger at him. “Don’t try to take this away from me just because you have blue balls.”

  “I don’t have blue balls. Also, I’m pretty sure that phrase goes against every sibling conversational code.”

  She pursed her lips and sat up straighter, looking out the window. “We’re almost there. And Seth?” He looked at her, noticing the serious note in her voice. “You don’t have to love this just because I do. I want your honest opinion. But just . . . if you could try to be . . . just act, like . . .”

  “Like I have a soul.”

  Her nose scrunched. “I was going to say agreeable. Jesus, so morbid. Who gave you the idea you didn’t have a soul?”

  Your damned wedding planner, that’s who.

  Instead of answering, he jerked his chin the direction of her door. “Looks like we’re here.”

  She clapped her hands in happiness as the driver opened her side. Before she got out into the frigid air, she reached across the car, touched his hand. “Thanks for doing this,” she said.

  “Maya, you know I’d do anything for you,” he said quietly. “Seriously.”

  “I know. Likewise, and Seth . . . don’t hate me, okay?”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  Maya was already out of the car, the door slamming shut on his question.

  “Maya. What are you . . . damn it.” Seth snatched up his gray scarf, hurrying out into the February-evening chill as he wound it around his neck and scanned the area for his sister.

  Then he spotted her blond head immediately—getting into another car, which proceeded to speed away from the curb.

  “Maya!” he shouted, but it was useless. She was long gone. He threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell is this all about?” he fumed.

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. A text from his interfering little sister. Talk to her. You’re welcome! Love you.

  “Damn it, Maya,” he muttered again, this time with less heat.

  “I think,” said a soft voice from behind him, “that this might be sibling matchmaking at its very most devious.”

  Seth froze before he very slowly forced himself to turn around to look at the face that went along with that gorgeous voice.

  Brooke.

  Chapter Twent
y-Three

  JUST AN HOUR EARLIER, Brooke had been thinking that Maya Tyler might go down as her favorite client of all time.

  But with Seth Tyler bearing down on her, his expression torn between disbelief and rage, she was definitely rethinking her warm feelings toward Maya.

  The woman had thrown her to the wolves.

  No, wolf.

  And this wolf was pissed.

  Maybe he had a right to be. His sister had just dragged him downtown during rush hour under the apparently false pretense of needing his approval on a wedding space, only to disappear into the back of what must have been a preplanned escape car.

  And now he was stuck here with her, the woman who’d compared him to a building.

  No wonder he hadn’t responded to her emails. Not that her emails had been personal. Or even apologetic. They’d been entirely professional, more testing the waters to see if he even wanted to have contact with her.

  Survey said nope. Not a single response or acknowledgment. It had now been a week since The Sex, and they hadn’t exchanged a single word.

  Judging from the murderous expression on his face, tonight wasn’t going to change that.

  Brooke blew out a breath. “If you want to get right back into your car, I won’t take it personally.”

  Much.

  His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know about this?”

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “You mean did I bribe your sister into dragging you here so that I could trap you into talking to me? No. Like you, I thought Maya only wanted to see the venue once more before signing the contract.”

  His eyes flicked up to the building behind her. “So she really is considering doing it here?”

  Even in spite of all the crap going on with her and Seth and her irritation at Maya’s meddling, Brooke didn’t bother to hide her excitement about the space behind her. “I think so. I hope so. It’s not glamorous, by any means, but it’s just, it’s . . .”

  How did she describe perfection? Brooke had fallen in love with spaces before, but never before had she had her breath taken away by a building. But the Hamilton House, with its stately exterior and charming interior, had hit her at the gut level. She was a sucker for any space that managed to preserve its history while stepping into the modern times with delicate class, and the people behind the Hamilton’s restoration had gotten it exactly right.