by Layla Hagen
Wild With You
Graham & Lori ~ The Connor Family
Layla Hagen
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Wild With You
Copyright © 2018 Layla Hagen
Cover: Uplifting Designs
Cover Photography: Nicole Ashley Photographer
Wild With You
Copyright ©2018 Layla Hagen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Chapter One
Graham
"Graham, you’re sure?” Amber asked.
"Yes, I am." I motioned to Matt. "Can you remind your future wife that I never say yes to anything unless I’m sure?”
"He's right," Matt said.
“You’re my best friends. Of course I want to be your best man.” I grinned at Amber.
We were at a restaurant in West Hollywood. It was the opening night, and I'd invited Amber and Matt to try it out with me. The chef prided himself on having turned fried chicken into gourmet food. He'd kept his promise. The fried chicken was worth every penny, as were the fries and the coleslaw. Matt and Amber had broken the news that she was pregnant when we arrived. They'd also informed me that they wanted to get married as soon as possible.
“We’ll have to keep the costs low,” Amber continued. “I looked at prices for wedding venues and already have a headache. We’re thinking about renting an outdoor space and putting up a wedding tent.”
“You don’t have to rent anything. You can use my yard. It’s big enough, and you like it,” I offered.
Amber sighed. “I love it. But that’s a lot of headache for you.”
I motioned to Matt again. “Remind her that I don’t offer anything unless I mean it.”
“You two will forever be a pain in my ass. Thank you, Graham. We’ll take you up on the offer. And we’re buying you dinner tonight,” Amber declared.
“That sounds like a fair trade-off.” I winked, eating a fry. I planned to help out with some other wedding costs too, but I’d bring it up another time. It would be my wedding gift to my best friends.
"Yeah, so fair. Keep teasing me, and I'll find some best man duties to torment you with."
"Torment me? Here I am, being the best man anyone could wish for, and you want to torment me? I still have time to change my mind," I threatened. Amber cut her eyes to me. If looks could kill.
When they'd asked me, I'd barely stopped myself from suggesting they ask someone else. Best man duties went beyond organizing the bachelor party and giving a speech. He was supposed to be a voice of reason when the couple needed it, counsel them. My own marriage had failed. How could my advice be helpful? But the three of us had been friends since middle school. I couldn't say no. Besides, Matt and Amber had been together since our senior year of high school. They hadn't needed my wisdom for the past twelve years, so I was confident they wouldn't need it from now on either.
"You’re still teasing me. I can make you pay, you know. With or without my future husband's help."
Matt put up his hands in defense. "Hey, I didn't say anything."
"I could feel you siding with Graham."
"Man, you'd better not piss her off. She's even more frightening since she found out she's pregnant."
I laughed. "You know what? Since you're buying dinner, I'm going to order seconds."
Amber rubbed her belly as Matt flagged a waiter. "Make it a second round for us too. I have an excuse to eat for two now, right?"
The second round tasted even better than the first one. As more patrons filtered in, the place was getting too crowded for my taste. It was my own fault for requesting a reservation on opening night, but trying out new eateries was a hobby of mine. While we ate, Amber laid out her plans. "I want to have the wedding before I start showing, but don't have time to organize it. I need a planner." She was heading the PR and marketing department of my soccer club very efficiently, so I knew she'd find a planner in no time. "Why do you keep checking your watch?"
"I have a phone call about a potential player swap in one hour, and I want to be in my car when I take it."
"It's six o'clock," Amber remarked.
"It’s with Beijing. Different time zone. But I don't expect it to take long. We can move this party somewhere else after the call."
She scrunched her nose. "We can't, sorry. We have plans later. Still avoiding going home, huh? Do you even spend any time at that swanky villa of yours?"
"Of course. I sleep there." But I didn't do much else there. The house was too big, too empty. I'd bought it after the divorce, and it was halfway between Santa Monica and Malibu. We'd lived in a condo in the city previously, but I'd always wanted to be by the ocean, to hear waves lapping against the shore instead of traffic sounds when I opened my windows. I'd wanted some peace and quiet. Now, I had too much of both and it was unnerving. "It's too big for one person."
"You'll get used to it," Matt reassured me. "Unless you want to sell it and buy something smaller?"
"They don't build anything small in that neighborhood, and I like it."
We went back and forth over several ideas, and as soon as we finished the chicken, I bid Amber and Matt goodbye.
The phone call about the swap was a waste of time, so I scrolled through my e-mails during the conversation. One from Amber popped up in my inbox, titled Best Man's Duties.
The list was mercilessly long, but she'd inserted a wicked grin at the very end, along with the comment, Don't worry. I think you'll get away with doing just about half of those.
I had a feeling this wedding was going to bring me trouble.
Chapter Two
Lori
On most days, I loved my job. Today, I had a case of triple zillas on my hands: the bridezilla, her mother, and mother-in-law. The three women had been in my office for more than an hour, shouting, crying, and shouting some more.
"Ladies, why don't we take a small break? I can make us some coffee, and I have an excellent cheesecake in the fridge."
"I'd love some coffee and cake," the bride said. I dashed out of the meeting room as soon as the other women nodded in agreement. I hoped the sweet treat would soften my zillas, or this wedding would end up with t
hree color schemes. By the time I returned with the coffees and the cake, they’d calmed down somewhat.
There was still tension in the air, and the break went by in a loaded silence, but after the plates and cups were emptied, the conversation was more civil. I was pretty sure cheesecake could bring about world peace. Still, half an hour later, it became clear we wouldn't decide on the color scheme today.
"I made notes of all the wishes expressed today. I will e-mail the three of you a list of suggestions taking everything into account, and we can go from there."
In my experience, seeing their options laid out for them helped people decide quicker. Plus, if the three zillas didn't leave soon, I'd be late for my next appointment. My brother Jace had asked me to squeeze in a meeting with his boss and two friends of his who were about to get married, and I didn't want to make Jace look bad by showing up late.
"That sounds like a plan," the bride said. The two other women rose from their seats first, thanking me for the cake and coffee, then making a beeline for the door.
"Thank you for being on my side," she said once we were alone. "I know they want the best for me, but they're driving me nuts."
"It will all work out," I promised.
After they left, I drafted the e-mail, summarizing our discussion and making suggestions. Even though I was cutting it close for the next meeting, I wanted to write this while everything was still fresh in my mind.
Before leaving, I checked my appearance. My shoulder-length blonde hair was as unruly as ever, despite the product I'd smeared in it this morning. I tried to tame it some more, but neither my fingers nor the comb did much. With a sigh, I quickly maneuvered it into a thick braid. It was the only style that kept it under control. My outfit was as professional as could be: knee-length dark blue dress with a conservative, round neckline. I'd paired it with nude pumps.
Our meeting point was a coffee shop near Griffith Park. Despite having an office, most clients preferred to meet on location or in coffee shops close to their workplace. My office served more as storage for the wedding and party supplies. Even I got together with my three assistants mostly somewhere in the city.
Luckily, traffic was on my side, so I had time to stop by one of my favorite food trucks, which was three blocks away from the park. Despite the cheesecake, I was starving. I hadn't eaten anything else today, and I wanted some sustenance before the meeting. As a rule, I never ate when I met with clients, even if they did. Since it was early afternoon, there was no line.
"Hi! I'll have a hummus sandwich with falafel, please."
The vendor, Declan had only started working here last week, as a stand-in for the owner, who was on vacation.
"Hey, I remember you. You were here last week too."
"It's one of my favorite food trucks. I stop by any time I'm in the neighborhood."
He prepared my order in no time, and when he handed it to me, he said, "I hope this isn't too forward, but I'd love to take you out."
Okay. I hadn't been expecting that.
"Wow, Declan. I'm flattered... but I can’t."
He nodded curtly. "Right, of course. Had to try though. Hope it won't stop you from returning."
"Are you kidding? These sandwiches are to die for."
I was so hungry I finished my sandwich within minutes. Declan had seemed like a nice guy, and he was attractive enough, but I already had someone I liked to call the most important man in my life: my seven-year-old boy.
I looked Matt and Amber up on Facebook on my way to the coffee shop, so I could put faces to the names. Then I ignored some friend requests from random men. I had no idea if it was a single woman issue, or a single mom issue, but they were getting out of control. I hadn’t even posted my relationship status.
When I stepped inside the coffee shop, I swept my gaze across the room. It was full of customers, some with laptops propped open on the table, typing away, some just chatting over a drink. My party hadn't arrived yet. I located a single empty table in a corner. The guy who'd entered after me was also eying it. Forget it, buddy. That table is mine.
I dashed through the room, muttering excuses when I bumped a few chairs, until I reached the table. I set my tote on it and sat down, mentally reviewing the topics that usually came up during the first meeting.
I kept my attention trained on the door, and when my couple came in, I waved at them. Amber waved right back. Her fiery red bob bounced with every step. As she and her fiancé made their way toward me, I took in the third person. He looked vaguely familiar. It took a few seconds for the connections to click in my brain. With a jolt, I realized he was the owner of Jace's team, the LA Lords. I tried to remember if Jace told me anything about Graham Frazier, but other that he was thirty-two and a great leader, nothing came to mind.
I was certain I'd seen him in photos with the team before, but either all pictures had been black-and-white or I'd mentally blocked how striking his blue eyes were. In fact, he was a striking man all around. On a scale of one to ten, that face earned a twenty.
"Hi! I'm Lori Connor."
"Hi, Lori. I'm Amber. This is my fiancé, Matt, and this is Graham, our best man."
I shook hands with all three, and once we all sat down, I straightened my shoulders, lifting the corners of my lips in my go-getter smile.
"So, what can I do for you? I'm afraid my brother didn't know many details. The most important things to know are the date and the approximate number of guests. Let's start with the date."
"As soon as possible. I'm pregnant, and I'd like to wear my white gown before the bump shows. We thought a Valentine's Day wedding. Is that even possible?"
"Everything is possible. I can work with that; don't you worry. And congratulations."
Valentine's Day was in four weeks. It required even more hassle than usual, and some suppliers overcharged for speedy services. It wasn't much time, but I'd pulled it off before.
"Thank you. We're thinking about eighty guests."
I nodded. "I have a list of locations that can fit that number."
Amber turned to Graham. "Graham has agreed to host the wedding. He has a beautiful house outside Santa Monica, and the outdoor space is gorgeous. We could install a tent there."
"Perfect. If we've got the location, half the wedding is practically in the bag." I turned to Graham. "But I do have to warn you that hosting a wedding involves a lot of hassle. We'll have a crew milling around your property."
"I can handle it."
I bet he could. He seemed the kind of man who could handle anything. He smiled, and I returned it but then averted my gaze. I was trying really hard not to find him attractive, and I was failing. His face looked sculpted, and I briefly wondered if the rest of him did too. I couldn't tell because his blue shirt was tailored but not stretched. Still, I thought it hinted at steely, defined muscles. Or maybe that was just my overactive imagination.
"Since we're on a tight schedule, you might want to send a save-the-date e-mail to your guests. I have some beautifully formatted wedding templates to show you."
"But we'd be sending regular invitations too?" Amber asked.
"Some of our guests are more traditional," Matt added.
"Of course. But choosing invitations and having them printed and mailed can take up to a week, even if we hurry. The save-the-date e-mail is so people already know to keep that day free, make traveling plans if necessary."
"Great thinking. I like you, Lori," Amber said. "So what are the next steps?"
"Do you have any preferences regarding color scheme, or even a theme?"
"Not really," Amber said. Matt looked mildly panicked. Graham merely leaned back in his chair. This was business as usual. The bride getting all excited, the man—or in this case, men—checking out at the mention of color schemes.
"I have my laptop with me, and I'll be showing you a few things, so you can have an idea of what's possible."
I extricated my laptop from my tote and positioned it on the table so the four of us could see the
screen. Most of the time, the first meeting was about getting to know each other, seeing if we clicked, but Amber and Matt were on a tight deadline. I clicked open the folder titled Themes, and started the slideshow. I had a mix of everything, from classic elegance to shabby chic to more extravagant options.
"Tell me if you like anything. And if you don't, that's okay too. I promise we'll find exactly what you need for your special day."
I trained my gaze on the bride and groom, trying to read their expressions, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught Graham smirking when I said “special day.” Was he a marriage skeptic? I hoped not, because they ruined the buzz. I encountered one in the close circle of the couple every now and then. When said person happened to be the best man, it could become very unpleasant. I'd witnessed one too many awkward speeches.
Maybe Graham's smirk was simply a knee-jerk reaction to the overload of glitter on my screen. Over-the-top wedding arrangements brought out the cynic in everyone, occasionally even in brides. But I wanted to show them the possibilities.
I flipped the image on the screen to a wedding with a vintage theme, then to one with no theme at all, just classic, timeless elegance. I had a hunch Amber would go for that one. When she pointed at the screen, and exclaimed, "This. I want something like this!" I couldn't help the pride surging inside me. "What do you think?" she asked her fiancé.
"This looks about right."
"I thought you might go for classic elegance! Now, for catering, photographers, florists, and everything in between, I work with a network of professionals. It'll be fastest if you trust me to pick the right team to work for your wedding."
"It means less hassle for us, so I say go for it," Matt said. "We should also talk about your fee."
I'd hoped the question would come later, but I couldn't skirt around it. When I uttered my fee, Amber nodded.
“How much do you think the menus would be?” she asked.
Graham talked before I could answer. "Amber, leave that to me. I told you it’s my wedding gift to you."
I was surprised at that. So not only was he putting his property at their service, he was also paying for the wedding menus? That went above and beyond best man duty. He slid a business card over the table, and said, "Ms. Connor, send all invoices regarding the menus to me."