by Isla Drake
Chapter Nine
Finn
After a restless night filled with vivid dreams, I wake up well before my alarm. I decide to go into work early so there’s less chance of running into Hannah in the parking lot. I’m not avoiding her, exactly. I’m just getting a head start on work. Tonight is the rehearsal dinner for the Harmon wedding and there are a ton of things to do to prepare. I’m sure Hannah has everything well in hand, but I’ll help where I can. Maybe there’s something I can do out on the grounds. Far away from Hannah. Though I can’t think of anything right now.
Despite the two cups of coffee I drank before leaving my house, I’m still in a sleep-deprived fog when I walk into the Jester. I grab another cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin from the dining room before closing myself up in my office again. I pull up my daily calendar and attempt to focus, but I don’t manage much work before there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
The door opens and Hannah peeks in. “You busy?”
I smile, determined to act like nothing has changed between us. “Not really.”
“Good,” she says, walking into the room. “Because I need you.”
I freeze at her words. It’s just for an instant, but Hannah notices.
“I mean, I need your help.” A faint blush stains her cheeks and she can’t quite meet my gaze.
I stand. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Oh. Um, right. I talked to Van and he’s planning to send over some staff for the dinner tonight, so that’s covered. He said to tell you that you owe him one.”
I smile. “I’m pretty sure we’re even at this point, but okay. You said you needed help?”
“I’ve been waiting for the flower arrangements to be delivered, but they were late. The bride ordered from some fancy place in the city. Anyway, it turns out the idiots delivered them to Mack’s instead of here.”
I roll my eyes. “Just picked the first King they could find, I guess?”
“Guess so. Anyway, I need to take the van and go pick them up. And since you used it last…” She holds out a hand and smiles. “Keys, please.”
I open my desk drawer and pull out the keys but I don’t hand them over right away. My eyes narrow. “How many flowers are we talking?”
She sighs. “I’ll probably need to make two trips. And I need to go asap because I have a million other things I should be doing.”
I tip my head toward the door. “So, go do them. Let me handle the flowers.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I make a shooing motion with one hand. “This, I can do. I make an excellent gopher. Whatever other magical spells you’re weaving are all you.”
She gives me one of those wide, true smiles that threatens to steal my breath. I look away before I do something stupid like offer to kiss her senseless.
“Thank you, Finn. You’re the best.”
“No problem.”
I spend the rest of the morning driving back and forth between my brothers’ restaurant and the Jester, loading and unloading elaborate flower arrangements. Hannah had been wrong. It had taken three trips with the van to bring all the flowers over from Mack’s. Just how many flowers did one bride need for a rehearsal dinner? I’ve never personally planned a wedding, but I’ve witnessed several over the years and this seems to be a ridiculous amount of greenery. When I get back with the last load, the main house is bustling with activity. Staff members are busy giving the main dining room a makeover. The kitchen is completely off-limits. I’m not even sure how many people are currently in there or what they’re doing, but I have no doubt it will be amazing.
I find Hannah in the dining room. She’s surveying the space with a critical eye. I stand back and watch her for work. She points at a table, indicating that it needs to be shifted more toward the center of the room. Two young men rush to comply. She stops someone carrying a decorative silver bowl, gesturing toward the corner, near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The girl immediately turns in that direction. The room is chaotic, crowded and loud, but Hannah is a sea of calm in the middle of it. She’s a beautiful, benevolent dictator in heels. Not for the first time, I wonder how she manages to keep everything so organized. It’s as though she has an internal layout in her mind of exactly where everything belongs. I know I could never do it. The Jester is lucky to have her. She should be coordinating events full-time rather than managing this place. The idea is one I don’t like to consider. Hannah leaving The Jester? Unthinkable.
Just then, she looks over and catches my eye. She smiles eagerly and strides toward me.
“Oh, good. You’re back. Take me to the flowers.”
She’s a bundle of energy and I let her sweep me along in her wake. When we get to the east parlor, Hannah stops in her tracks, eyes wide.
“Shit.”
My gaze shoots to her face. She so rarely swears that hearing the profanity from her mouth is a shock.
“Hannah? What’s wrong?”
I look from her to the flowers and back. “These are the right flowers, aren’t they? Don’t tell me they sent the wrong flowers?”
Hannah shakes her head and begins to walk slowly through the room. “The flowers for the ceremony and the reception aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. They sent everything. All the flowers are here early.”
“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word. I fail to see how this is a bad thing. “Better early than late, right?”
She shakes her head. “We don’t have a cooler to store them in. They’ll wilt.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
We both stare at the room filled with flowers for several seconds, neither speaking. Eventually, I have an idea. “Okay. Here’s the plan.”
Hannah looks at me with hope filled eyes.
“I’m going to call around and find chilled storage for tomorrow’s arrangements. There’s got to be some place in town that can hold them. In the meantime, you keep doing what you’re doing. Let’s move the rehearsal flowers over to the dining room so I can see what’s left.”
Hannah sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. She nods as though coming to a decision. “Okay.”
Then she springs into action, pointing out arrangements for me to carry and hefting giant vases. I enlist the help of one of the guys who’d been moving tables earlier. Somehow Hannah knows exactly which arrangements are for tonight and which are for the wedding tomorrow. I’m not sure how much of her brain is devoted to floral arrangements, but I’m happy she seems to have it memorized. When we finish, Hannah goes to work in the dining room, and I start making phone calls. I convince one of the local florists to store the remaining arrangements in their cooler overnight. The owner is an old high school friend and the Jester has done business with them for past events. By the time I load the van again, drive back to town and unload all the flowers a second time, I hope I never see another sprig of baby’s breath again.
I return to the Jester without much time to spare before the rehearsal dinner. I’d planned to stay for the event in case there are any last-minute issues I may be able to help with. I head to my office and change into my emergency shirt and tie so I’ll look presentable for the evening. When I emerge from my office, I’m feeling much less disheveled than before. I make my way to the ballroom where the rehearsal has probably already started.
As I round the corner, my eyes are immediately drawn to the woman before me. Hannah. She’s standing framed in the open archway of one of the ballroom’s side doors. She’s wearing a deep purple dress that I know I’ve never seen on her. It falls to just above her knees and is modest by any standard. Something about the way it clings to her curves has my imagination running wild though. She’s watching the ceremony and doesn’t notice me until I’m standing only a few feet away. I work to school my features into something a little less worshipful, but I’m not sure I succeed because she looks at me with the strangest expression.
“Hey,” she whispers. “You clean up well.” She sm
iles.
I speak before I have time to consider my words. “And you look beautiful.” My voice comes out slightly strained. I smile and clear my throat.
“Thank you.” Hannah drops her gaze, but not before I see a faint blush stain her cheeks.
We both turn our attention back to the events inside the ballroom. I’m acutely aware of Hannah next to me. All I want is to pull her back into the hallway where we won’t be seen from the ballroom, press her against the wall and show her all the ways we could be amazing together. Her subtle fragrance surrounds me, tempting me to give in to my desires. I need to get away from her before I do something monumentally stupid. The small crowd inside the ballroom erupts into cheers and applause, snapping me out of my fantasy. The bride and groom share a brief kiss before turning back to face the room.
I glance over at Hannah who gives me a small, strained smile before striding into the room and speaking to the others. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she’s smiling and gesturing to different people in the room who nod in response. I watch her for a few more minutes until she makes an announcement that dinner will be served in the main dining room. The guests begin to file through the door toward the food. When the ballroom is empty, I stroll inside, taking note of the flowers and lighting. Hannah made this happen, I know. She somehow manages to make every occasion original and perfect for the guest of honor. I don’t know how she does it, but it never fails to amaze me. I take a few minutes alone in the ballroom, trying in vain to expel the image of Hannah in that dress from my mind. I still need to go into the dining room and smile, nod, shake hands and sip champagne. All while knowing Hannah is somewhere in the room. In that dress.
Chapter Ten
Hannah
I stand near the corner of the room, surveying the crowd as the servers bring out the dessert course. The bride and groom sit together surrounded by friends and family. Whitney leans her head on Brad’s shoulder, and he kisses the top of her head. They’re so clearly in love. I can't help but smile at their obvious bliss. There's such a feeling of hopefulness and optimism surrounding them. That's one of the reasons I love weddings so much. Despite all the planning and stress that goes into making it look effortless and perfect, none of that really matters in the end. Ultimately, it all comes down to the love between the two people getting married. I turn away from the happy couple and my eyes scan the crowd before me, making sure nothing is out of place.
I haven’t seen Finn since earlier, outside the ballroom. I tell myself I’m not looking for him, but I know it’s a lie. My heart speeds up when I remember the way he’d looked at me as we stood in the doorway. I didn’t imagine the fire in his blue eyes this time. Not that it matters. He might find me attractive, but that’s not enough for him to break one of his rules. His honor is worth more to him than whatever he might think of me in a clingy dress.
"Careful," a man's voice says softly. "If you keep looking like that Whitney won't let you into the ceremony." I turn to see Luke standing next to me. He'd approached me so silently, I hadn't noticed. I managed to hide my surprise at his sudden presence. He holds out a champagne flute. I take it with a smile.
"Oh?" I say, brows raised in question. "Why is that?"
He leans closer, conspiratorially. "Can't have the wedding coordinator looking more beautiful than the bride," he whispers. "It's bad form."
I laugh. I can't help it. He's a shameless flirt. Besides, I've seen Whitney in her dress and there's no way I'm going to outshine her. Especially not when she gets a look at her groom at the end of the aisle. Happiness is beautiful, after all.
"You," I say, tipping my champagne flute in his direction. "Are full of it."
But I'm smiling. Luke is harmless, mostly. I get the feeling that he'd be more than that if I gave him any indication that I’m interested. I'm not. But it's fun to flirt a little. It's been so long since I've done it, I feel out of practice. Since he's leaving in a few days, I don't see the harm in a little casual flirtation, even after yesterday’s incident with Finn.
"I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking," he says over the rim of his own glass. He winks as he takes a sip. I just shake my head and sip from my own glass. The champagne is delicious. The light bubbles race across my tongue and I smile again thinking back to my own “wedding”. Well, it hadn’t been an actual wedding. Paul and I had stood before a judge and recited our vows. Afterward, he’d bought a bottle of cheap champagne and brought it back to his crappy off-campus apartment.
"What's that?" Luke asks softly.
"Hm?" I say, distracted.
"That secret little smile," he says. "What was that about?"
My smile grows wider and I shake my head. "I was just thinking about the first time I drank champagne."
"Ah," Luke says in a knowing way. "A good memory?"
"Yes, actually," I say, surprising myself. Despite how things had ended up between Paul and me, we’d had some good times too. "But it's a long story."
"I like stories," Luke says, grinning. "Especially when a beautiful woman is telling them."
"There you go again." I smile. "You're completely shameless."
Luke shrugs. "No shame in telling the truth."
I take another sip of champagne then set the half-empty glass on a passing waiter's tray. I need to stay focused. For a moment I'd let myself imagine what it might be like to sit down with Luke and see where things might go. We could drink more of the expensive champagne while we laugh and flirt the night away. What would it be like to be that carefree again? To not worry about tomorrow or next week? Consequences be damned. The idea comes and goes in a flash. That isn't who I am anymore. I'm no longer that spontaneous girl who ran off with her college boyfriend to elope after knowing him for six months. I haven't been her for a very long time and I'm glad for it. I prefer the woman I've become in the years since.
"Thank you for the champagne," I say, turning to face Luke fully. He studies me for a long moment before seeming to come to a decision. His expression shifts slightly, but he's still smiling when he takes my hand.
"Miss Travis," he says, lifting my hand to his lips. "If you change your mind, you know where I'm staying." He winks as he plants a soft kiss on the back of my hand.
I can't help but to utter a soft laugh. "Shameless."
He grins as he turns to go.
As easy as it would be for me to take Luke up on his offer, I know I never would. I think about his hand on mine, his lips on my skin. As flattering as his attention had been, I hadn't felt anything. No real excitement, no spark, no achy butterflies dancing in my stomach at the prospect of taking things further. Just a vague sense of flattery that a handsome man was flirting with me. I sigh. Is something wrong with me? Why does it have to be Finn who causes all those fluttery feelings inside me? Why can’t it be someone I can have?
The rest of the dinner proceeds without any issues. Even the mother of the bride hasn’t complained once. The bridal party left in a party bus headed for the beach a half hour ago. The groom and his group are having drinks on the porch while they wait for their limousine to arrive to take them out for whatever debauchery they have planned. I can hear male laughter from outside as I supervise the cleanup in the dining room. My feet are killing me and I’m ready to get out of these heels. I check my watch. I have plenty of time left before I need to get home and relieve the babysitter who’s watching Liam. I spoke to him a half hour ago before he went to bed for the night.
I move around the dining room, stacking plates, moving chairs, anything to feel like I’m helping. In reality, I know the staff doesn’t need my help. They’ve done this dozens of times and have it down to a science. But I’m restless and I can’t leave until the job is done. I gather a stack of dirty plates and turn toward the kitchen. Luke is suddenly standing in front of me, a charming smile on his face.
“I’ll take those,” he says and takes the dishes from my hands before I can think to object. He turns in the direction of the kitchen. Confused, I follow hi
m. Is he still trying to flirt with me? He has to know by now that it won’t work.
“Don’t you have a bachelor party to attend?” I call to Luke’s back as I follow him.
“They won’t leave without me. I’m the best man.”
I roll my eyes even though I know he can’t see it. “You’re a guest. Guests don’t help clear the dining room.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “Rather elitist of you.”
I sigh. “You know what I mean.”
Luke enters the kitchen, looks around until he spots the sink and strides over to it. If the staff find it odd that a guest is in the kitchen, they don’t show it. Luke sets the stack of plates down on the counter next to a similar stack of dirty dishes and turns to face me.
“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk to you again,” he murmurs. “See if I could get you to change your mind about me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, studying him for a moment. “I don’t think that’s it.”
Now it’s his turn to study me. “No? Then what do you think?”
I cross my arms. “I think,” I begin, “that maybe you’re lonely. That you like the chase more than the catch. That you’re not that excited about going out with the guys tonight, even though you clearly want to be there for your best friend.”
Luke stares at me, curious. There’s something in his eyes that says that maybe I’m right. Maybe this game he’s playing just got more serious than he’d planned. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, I hear Finn’s voice coming from behind me.
“Is there some kind of problem?”
Luke doesn’t look away from me when he speaks, his voice low and unconcerned. “No problem at all.”
In contrast, Finn’s voice is hard, angry. “The kitchen is off-limits to guests. And I think your ride is here.” It’s clear that he’s all but telling Luke to leave, but Luke seems unfazed.
