by Olivia Devon
“Wow.” Jack blinked at the iPad. “I see where Aiko gets it from. Wow.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” Mr. Yoshida smiled and reached over to tap the screen again. “These six groups are our final results, but I think if you look at the graph, you’ll see there’s really one clear choice.”
“Absolutely.” Jack smirked and tilted the iPad. He had no idea what the man was talking about. All he saw were several colorful lines that may have well been hieroglyphics for as much as he understood their meaning.
Malcolm cleared his throat. “Sir,” he said. “When Mr. Yoshida showed me his findings, I took the liberty of acting upon your behalf. The small orchestra that ranked first in his findings will be here early Saturday morning. I hope that was alright?”
Jack nodded, flashed his assistant a grateful smile. “Thank you Malcolm that was smart thinking.”
“Certainly Sir.” Malcolm bowed slightly at the waist and then gestured to Jinx’s father. “But the credit lies entirely with Mr. Yoshida. He has saved the day.”
Mr. Yoshida blushed and took his iPad back from Jack. “Oh I don’t know about that,” he said, thrusting on hand into his trouser pockets. “Just wanted to feel useful.”
The Food
“Oy! Who the fuck does a man gotta blow to get a little help around here?” Leo Wallace, six foot three inches of red-faced, black-haired, kilt-wearing, Scottish Highlander turned Celebrity Chef stood at Bryce’s front door with an army of sous chefs behind him.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Bryce muttered under his breath and pulled his bath towel a little tighter around his hips. “It’s 5:30 in the morning, Leo!” Bryce bellowed back at his friend. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m the food, aren’t I, mate? Jack called, said there was a culinary emergency. Told me our girl Jinx was in need of help, and so here I am. What are you griping about? You’re up, showered, and ready for the day from the looks of it. Although you should probably put on something other than a towel man. You’ll get the ladies all riled up.” Leo glanced over his shoulder at his crew. “And a few of the men, too.” Leo turned back to Bryce and grinned.
Bryce wanted to hit him.
“I’m up,” he said. “But not for the day. I was writing all night actually, and just took a shower and was getting ready to sleep when you started banging on the door like a madman.”
“Then go to sleep, will ya? We’ll take care of ourselves. Pretty sure I know what a kitchen looks like. I’ll find it.”
Bryce waved a hand at Leo and his crew and stood aside as they filed in with trays of supplies and boxes of equipment. When it looked like they had it all in hand, he turned towards his bedroom, and ran smack into Tessa Faire. She was in a bathrobe and looked very tired, very embarrassed, and very adorable.
“Oh my god. Mr. Harrington I’m so sorry. I’m just….” She gaped, her gaze scanning over his naked chest with either horror or interest— he was too tired to decide which. “Looking for some…” Her fingers flew to her forehead, rubbed her temples, and Bryce realized he was being an ass. Poor woman wasn’t horny, she had a migraine.
“Ibuprofen?” Bryce asked. “Kitchen cabinet to the right of the sink.”
“How’d you guess?” Tessa asked, with a grateful smile.
“Because I’ve been there. You’re overworked. Let’s just help everyone get through this and promise to get drunk when it’s over, okay?”
“Okay,” she said smiling. “Sounds like a plan.” Tessa headed for the kitchen and Bryce moved to do the same, thought better of it, and called to her just as she was leaving the hallway.
“Hey!” he said. “There’s a Scotsman in the kitchen. So….be careful.”
Tessa turned. “A…Scotsman?” she began, but it was too late. Bryce heard Leo’s voice across the house “Hey Ginger Spice! Come wish me luck baby, you’re just the kind of inspiration a bloke needs to get things fired up!”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”
The Flowers
“Dee-yam that is a mighty fine view.” Aiko whistled and pressed her nose up against the glass of the window in Jinx’s fitting room.
“It is.” Tessa nodded and beckoned Jinx to turn. “I’ve really enjoyed staying here. The sound of the waves are so relaxing. I’ve been sleeping with my window open.”
“Yeah, I’m not talking about the ocean views,” Aiko said, laughter in her voice. “I’m mostly referring to the man-titty.”
“What?” Heads whipped around. Jinx hopped off her stool and waddled over to the window with Tessa’s help. “Oh my God,” she said. “Who the hell is that?”
“His name is Parker Westbrooke,” Mama Mimi said, walking in the door with a tray of sandwiches and cookies.
Mrs. Yoshida was close behind her, carrying a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of paper cups. She glanced out the window as she set the pitcher down then turned to Mimi. “Ooh, is that him? The one you told me about?”
“One and the same,” said Mimi. Biting the corner off a sandwich, she headed to the window, gesturing for Mrs. Yoshida to follow. “Move over,” she said, pushing Aiko with her hip. “Louise and I can’t see.”
“Mimi,” Jinx stuttered. “I just–”
“Oh please, sweetheart, you’re getting married, not dying. I know you love my son. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little eye candy when it comes along.”
“Amen,” said Mrs. Yoshida.
Jinx laughed, put an arm around Mimi, kissed her soft cheek, and whispered. “Love you.”
“You too, dear.”
“More information is required Mimi,” Aiko said sternly. “Parker Westbrooke? Rather prim name for a guy with a body built for sin. And why’s he wrestling with those roses?”
The women watched as the shirtless man brushed his wavy brown hair out of his face, grabbed a fistful of long-stem roses and climbed a ladder that was leaning up against a giant arch that had been set up in Bryce’s back lawn.
“Yeah, that’s the best part,” said Mimi. “He’s the florist.”
“Oh, shit,” Aiko said, flopping away from the window to a chair. “All the hot guys are gay.”
“Because a man likes flowers he must be gay?” said Mimi. “That’s ridiculous, and wrong, since I heard him talking about his girlfriend with Jack.”
“Well, see!” Aiko frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Girlfriend. Still I’m totally cock-blocked.”
“He was mentioning that they just broke up.” Mama Mimi smirked at Aiko, kicked her shoe gently, and threw a look at Mrs. Yoshida.
“Well, well.” Mrs. Yoshida grinned. “Maybe you’ll have a wedding hookup after all.”
“Mom!” Aiko groaned and rolled her eyes.
“Ahem,” a voice sounded at the door and the women jerked to attention. “Mr. Calvert,” said Malcolm, his eyes flitting to Aiko for a split second, “would like to know if he is permitted to enter?”
“Jack?” Asked Tessa. “Sure he can come in–”
“No.” Malcolm held up a hand, “the other Mr. Calvert. Wyatt.”
“Eep!” Jinx shrieked and ran to the screen set up at the other side of the room, Tessa followed behind her, picking up her train as she fled. “Don’t let him in yet, Malc, just wait a second….okay…fine…He can come in.”
Wyatt walked in, and even though he was mostly hidden from view, Jinx could tell from his body language he was on a mission. Asshole was trying to get a look at her dress!
“Hey Aiko,” he said. “Your Mom’s looking for you. She’s helping that Parker guy with the flowers and said she needs another set of hands.”
“Really?” Mrs. Yoshida said with a smirk, and Wyatt’s eyes grew wide when he saw her. “And here I thought I was having lunch. How strange.”
“Oh, uh,” Wyatt stuttered. “Jack told me to come get her. I guess I misunderstood the message.”
“Yeah right!” Jinx came out from behind the screen wearing a bathrobe. “You were trying to get a peek at my dress!”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Wyatt grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “And actually, I was just trying to get a look at you. I haven’t seen you all day. I’m starting to wonder if I still have a fiancée.”
Jinx smiled, crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Of course cowboy.” Wyatt bent his head down for a kiss, and pulled her in tight, sighing as he nuzzled his face in her hair.
“So have you gone from unmad to happy, then?”
“Definitely.” Jinx nodded. “I expect to be reaching ecstatic by this time tomorrow.”
“Me too kitten, me too.”
“Barf!” Aiko groaned. “You two are dis-gust-ting. Somebody get me out of here.”
“Might I suggest the aforementioned floral assignment?” Malcolm said, his gaze directed pointedly at Aiko. “While Mr. Calvert’s message did seem to get garbled, the fact remains that Mr. Westbrooke could use assistance.
Aiko’s gaze locked with Malcolm’s and she frowned. “What kind of a dumb florist doesn’t show up with helpers?”
“One that cut his vacation short to help us out,” Malcolm said airily. “One whose staff is currently minding his shop or on assignment elsewhere.”
“Alright Mr. Stuffy Pants fine. I’ll go help. But I won’t like it.”
“Really?” Malcolm asked as he followed her sulking form out of the door. “Even with that ‘mighty fine view’ to enjoy?”
Chapter Five
The Officiant
“Word-boy!” Aiko’s voice sounded from the hallway outside the library. “You in here?”
He was, in fact. Bryce had ducked behind a row of bookcases with his laptop a half hour earlier trying to find some time to work on his novel. Weddings are life-changing events, but so is missing a deadline when you left your readers hanging off a cliff in your last book. He had a deadline, and if he didn’t get this book to his editor by the end of the month, she was libel to throw him off that cliff after his characters.
“Bryce!” Aiko called again and he slammed the laptop shut and rose just as she was skidding across the hardwood floor in her stocking feet.
“Ha!” she laughed. “That is fun as shit! Hey, we should roller skate in here!”
“Not gonna happen,” Bryce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Spoilsport. Oh well, here.” Aiko slapped a piece of paper against his chest and slippy-slid back towards the door. Bryce lifted the paper and read the front out loud.
“Bryce Harrington - Ordained Minister - Church of the Everlasting Space Octopi - Roswell New Mexico.” Bryce frowned, reached out one hand, grabbed Aiko by the arm, and stopped her short. “Aiko,” he said, struggling to keep his tone even. “What fresh hell is this?”
“You, good sir,” Aiko said, punctuating her words with little taps on his chest. “Are now, officially, an ordained minister. You’re gonna marry the kids for us. Might want to whip up a nice speech, something mushy. They’ll like that.”
“I’m marrying them?” Bryce’s mouth gaped. “Me? Why on earth–”
“Hello!” Aiko knocked her fist lightly against Bryce’s forehead. “You write books. You can totally do this. Just make nice nice with pretty words. Speak pretty words to people at wedding. Capische?”
Bryce slapped his hand over Aiko’s fist and then flung it away.
“Whoops,” she said, grinning at him.
“Whoops is right.”
“Well it’s too late now, Mr. Bestseller. You’re all we got, and besides it’s official, so why not? It’ll be fun.”
“This is official?” Bryce squinted at the paper. “Is that my social security number?” He looked up, narrowed his eyes. “Aiko,” he huffed.
“Yes?” Her voice came out in a squeak.
“Run.”
She ran, but even in socks she was faster than him, slipping and sliding across the floor like it was an Olympic sport and she was vying for a medal.
He’d nearly caught up with her when she dodged to the right, hard, spun around an obstacle, and disappeared around a corner. The obstacle she’d tried to avoid turned out to be a woman. A blonde woman. A very pretty blonde woman, holding a very large tray of cupcakes. Bryce tried to change course, but it was no use, he collided with the woman full on, and at top speed. The tray tipped on end and cupcakes went flying, arcing into and over the woman and then splatting on the floor behind her like the pastel frosted bombs in an adorable air strike.
“Shit!” Bryce shouted, his hands fumbling for the woman’s arms, trying to keep her upright as she slipped on pink frosting. “Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
The Cake
Bryce let his gaze scan over his victim. He searched for injuries, any sign of abrasion or sprain. The woman in his hands began to shake. He looked up and saw her eyes were closed, her mouth open in a silent scream, and tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“Oh my god,” he said with horror. “What is it? What hurts? We can get a doctor here immediately–”
The woman gasped, inhaled with a wrenching cry and then exhaled with huge body-wracking…laughs. She was laughing. Bryce let go of her immediately, took a step back and watched her warily.
Was she insane?
The woman let the tray fall from her hands, and then she collapsed to the floor, blonde hair curling over her face as she positively vibrated with laughter.
“Oh. My. God.” She spoke between heaves. “I’m so glad I made extra. I almost didn’t. I almost went to bed, but I just knew. Somehow, I just knew something would happen, so I said Lissa, I know you’re more tired than a one legged man at a butt-kicking contest, but better safe than sorry right?”
Bryce was speechless.
The blonde woman looked up, and he felt like he’d been hit in the gut. She was prettier than her confections. Pale blue eyes, a sprinkle of freckles over her nose, and deep dimples framing a rosebud mouth, currently covered in a thick layer of pink cupcake frosting.
“What?” the woman wiped a hand over her cheek, spreading more pink frosting on her face. “Do I have something?”
“Uh…” He realized it was his cue to respond, but he couldn’t think of anything to say…except. “You know the groom has one leg, right? Wyatt? He’s got a prosthetic–”
“Oh. My. God.” The woman clamped a hand over her mouth, looked like she was going to be sick. “I am so sorry. I’m so tired, and that’s just, that saying about the one legged man…Oh my god, I’m a monster! My Uncle used to say that, and honestly he was an ass, so I should never quote anything that man said. EVER.” She let her hands fall into her lap. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I’m hella tired.”
Bryce smiled, crouched down beside her, and offered her his hand. She took it, and shook.
“Lissa Sweet,” she said. “I’m here to do the cake.”
“Yeah I kind of figured that out,” said Bryce. “Bryce Harrington, nice to meet you, but….” he glanced down at their hands. “I was trying to help you up, not so much with the introductions–”
“Oh my god! Again with the stupid! I’m so sorry.” She clambered to her feet, lost her balance briefly, and clamped down on Bryce’s forearms with frosting covered hands. Their gazes met, and Bryce felt the simultaneous urges to look quickly away and stay locked in that position forever.
“You’re kind of covered in frosting,” he said finally, and raised a finger to wipe some of the pink buttercream off her face. But just as his finger touched her cheek, she turned her head and poked her tongue out, presumably to lick some of the confection off her lips–instead, in her enthusiasm, she managed to suck Bryce’s whole finger into her mouth for about three full seconds.
Which was about two and a half seconds longer than it took for his cock to decide that this curvy armful of frosting-covered, dimpled, blonde goddess with a tendency to make off color jokes, could suck on anything she wanted, whenever she wanted, Forever.
Lissa released his finger from her lips with a wet pop that sounded lewder than the d
irtiest sex scene he’d ever written.
He began wracking his brain for the perfect witty response. Too late though, she was already shrinking away from him, a look of renewed horror rippling across her features.
“I’ve clearly lost my mind, Mr. Harrington. Please excuse me. I’m going to clean this up now, and then go find myself a nice dark hole in which to die of mortification.”
“Oh there’s no need for that,” he began, but his voice came out scratchy, hoarse, absolutely dripping with arousal, and frankly, downright predatory. And then it was his turn to be mortified, and when he saw Malcolm appear around the corner with his eyebrows raised in query, Bryce decided the angels had sent him a savior, and he said, “Alright then, I’ll just leave you to your cakes.”
Smooth, word boy. Smooth.
The Venue
Jack Calvert stood on the deck of Bryce’s lavish Hamptons estate and surveyed the ceremony site below. They’d set up on the lawn, a gorgeous, elaborate wrought iron arch tangled with cascades of roses and other frilly flowers. The aisle was laid with temporary stone pavers framed in rough wood. The seating, rows of old church pews, had also been decorated by Parker Westbrooke and each section was end-capped by a drippy spray of flowers and lace. The entire site was circled with Roman columns, and from the top of each rose a wooden frame. Each of those met in the middle, high above the site below, and from their apex hung an ornate chandelier, its crystals embellished with more fresh flowers.
It was…
“Beautiful.” A soft voice spoke behind him and Jack whirled to face the sound.
Indeed, he thought when he saw her. The incomparable Tessa Faire. Beautiful doesn’t begin to–.
“You’ve all done a wonderful job,” she said, coming up to stand beside him, a mug of tea cradled in her hands. She coughed quietly, and Jack saw her shiver from the corner of his eye.
“You alright?” he asked. “Not getting sick I hope.”