Finding Cupid
Bridget E. Baker
For Pansy Richardson.
You are loved, you are missed, and you are not forgotten.
Contents
1. Geo
2. Trig
3. Geo
4. Trig
5. Geo
6. Trig
7. Geo
8. Trig
9. Geo
10. Trig
11. Geo
12. Trig
13. Geo
14. Trig
15. Geo
16. Trig
17. Geo
18. Trig
19. Geo
20. Trig
21. Geo
22. Trig
23. Bonus: First Chapter of Already Gone
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Bridget E. Baker
1
Geo
Paisley has been my best friend for eight years. I’d leap on top of a bomb for her, but sometimes I really wish she came with a mute button. I know that sounds terrible, but all she’s been talking about for the past two weeks is her friend Mary and the guy her friend’s marrying, Luke something or other.
I’m sick to death of hearing about how ridiculously, absurdly, disgustingly cute they are. Since I’m about to see Pais, I brace myself for another onslaught of the same.
I’ve met Paisley for breakfast at the Rise-n-Dine almost every Saturday morning for more than six years now, a sorority tradition that we maintained, even though our sorority sisters peeled off one by one. It’s a good thing the diner’s sweet potato pancakes are so good, or I’d have been sick of it years ago.
Or maybe I still insist on coming here because I value familiarity more than your average person.
“Geode!” Paisley’s smile almost cracks her face in half when she sees me.
I walk the last few steps and slide into our normal booth. The wood’s worn smooth and the tables are shiny. Blue glass bottles full of flowers decorate the shelf that wraps around the wall. Some people might argue it needs a refresh, but I think the décor gives it the same homey feel it had freshman year. I missed home then, and I still do today.
“I ordered your pancakes already,” Paisley says.
I lift one eyebrow, but I can’t summon any irritation. It’s not like I was planning to order anything else. I always order what I like, and Paisley knows me well enough to know what that is. “Thanks.”
Paisley on the other hand hasn’t ever ordered the same thing twice. If there’s a special, she’ll eat that. If there isn’t, she’ll ask them to mash something together for her. Cookie dough pancakes. Bubble gum milkshake. Lemonade French toast. If someone thinks of something wacky, Paisley’s sure to try it.
“I don’t usually beat you here.” Paisley wiggles her eyebrows. “Late night?”
I roll my eyes. “Not like you mean. Charity auction for a client.”
Paisley drums her shiny, magenta polished fingers on the table. “Please tell me you at least took a date.”
“You know my rules. But I knew you’d badger me for going alone, so I took a friend.”
“Rob doesn’t count.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Why doesn’t Rob count?”
Paisley ticks things off on her fingers. “He’s hot. He has a great job. He thinks you’re amazing. He comes whenever you crook your little finger.” She bobs her head. “Taking Robbie Graham should be a date. But you utterly lose any credit I’d give you because—“ she leans forward and drops her voice. “Does your heart rate spike when you think about kissing him? Do your toes curl at the idea? Does your breathing speed up, and do your hands get clammy?”
I grimace. “My hands never get clammy.”
She huffs.
I force myself to think about kissing Rob, and bile rises in my throat. “Uh, no. Not exactly.”
She leans back. “You should be dating. Your rules are stupid.”
“I’m happy, so you should be happy for me.” I didn’t expect to miss talking about that dumb wedding.
“How long has it been since someone made your heart race, Geo?”
I shake my head. She shouldn’t need to ask me this stuff.
She crosses her arms and leans back against the booth bench. “You can’t tell me you haven’t even been a teensy bit excited about anyone in more than three years. Clients, vendors, hotel or venue owners? You meet more people in one week than I do all year.” She lifts one eyebrow.
When I don’t offer anything, she doggedly continues.
“It’s almost four years now, girl. It’s time. Take the blinders off and look around. I ignored your insistence on those dumb rules because I thought they were like a cast for your heart. They kept you safe. But casts come off sometime, and in this case, I’m the doctor. It’s time to cut that stinky cast off.” She picks up her hands and mimes using a chainsaw.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It’s not a cast. My rules keep my life ordered and happy. I love my job, I like my friends well enough. Most of the time.”
She shakes her head. “Not good enough. You should want more.”
“Why?” I ask. “Because you do?”
She sighs. “No. Because you do too, and you just won’t admit it.”
I look pointedly around the diner and Paisley follows my gaze. A group of guys slump in the booths next to us, their hair a mix of tangled, curly mops hanging in their faces and man buns twisted into wads on the back of their heads. I turn toward another table, this one full of of preppy guys who look about fifteen years old. Everyone else in the room is female. “Uh, even if I take my blinders off, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s slim pickings out there. Maybe you’re seeing something different?”
She shrugs. “Not in here, goofball. This is a college hotspot. But the good guys are out there. My friend Mary—“
I groan. “If I have to hear about your boss Mary and her perfect fiancé one more time…”
Paisley throws her hands up in the air. “She’s amazing, okay, and she had given up too, just like you have.”
I lean toward her. “Do you really think it’s fair to say I gave up?”
Paisley sighs. “No, I’m sorry I said that. But Mary had given up, okay? And then BAM! Just like that, this guy shows up at a bar. She had borrowed a dress from me, so she dazzled a little more than usual. It was outside of her normal comfort zone, but thanks to that, he noticed. You have to be willing to try new things, and look in places you might otherwise ignore. If you do, well, it’s more likely you’ll spot him.”
“I’m happy for Mary, I really am,” I say. “I’d like to meet this Mr. Perfect one day, actually. Because he’s probably hiding a smoking habit, or he’s got a big old pot belly. In my experience, the good always exists right alongside the bad.”
Paisley beams at me. “I am so glad to hear you say you’d like to meet him. In fact.” She stands up and waves.
My stomach sinks, and I whisper-yell at her. “Who are you waving at?”
“Okay. Don’t get mad, okay? I know you never ever ever plan weddings. Believe me, I know. I told Mary like five times. But they are really not handling the planning very well on their own and I knew you needed the money right now, and they need someone super competent with just the right touch for people, and well, I might talk about you a lot. And I just sort of mentioned we came here on Saturdays.”
When I glare at her, she pokes my ribs and whispers. “I mentioned it by accident, I swear.“
Paisley’s a big mouthed liar.
I barely have time to struggle to my feet before perfect Mary and her flawless, and definitely no
t potbellied, fiancé are standing in front of me. I force a smile onto my face and glance down at my Emory sweatshirt, yoga pants and Ugg boots. Hardly an appropriate outfit for meeting a potential client. Not that I’d ever plan a wedding, no matter what ambushes Paisley orchestrates.
Never mind how badly I need the extra money. It’s not like one wedding would be enough anyway.
Mary’s wearing dark jeans and a beautifully cut and delicately painted leather jacket. Her hair’s shiny and perfectly highlighted. Her boots rise in a sleek line to her knee and when she smiles, perfectly pink lips part to display sparkling white teeth.
“You must be Geode.” Her voice sounds surprisingly normal, coming from such a polished exterior.
“Please, call me Geo. My parents couldn’t have come up with a more obscure name, but you’ll get used to it. They chose it to remind me it’s what’s on the inside of people that counts and I should worry about what really matters.”
The tall man next to Mary is wearing a battered leather jacket, his jeans aren’t dressy and his plain blue t-shirt dresses it down further. They almost look like a mismatch. He holds out his hand. “Your parents sound pretty intelligent to me. I named my kids plain old Amy and Chase. Now I’m thinking I should’ve given their names a little more thought. My name is just as boring. I’m Luke. Nice to meet you, shiny on the inside Geode.” He has a faint accent. I’d guess Australian, but he’s been here a while and has tried hard to blend in.
“Wonderful to finally meet you both,” I say. “Paisley talks about you all the time.”
Mary grins at Paisley. “I’m sensing a theme. She’s been telling me about her dear old roommate from Emory for years now. I can’t believe I only just found out you’re an event planner.”
My grin nearly slips from my face, but before I can explain that I never do weddings, Paisley pulls me around next to her and gestures at the bench my bum was formerly warming. “Please, sit. Their pancakes are legendary.”
“Or at least, they’re reliably good,” I say. “I prefer the sweet potato ones, unless you’re sick of yam affiliated food now that we’re post holidays.”
“I always enjoy yams,” Mary says. “I’m glad to be getting some recommendations from you already. As I’m sure Paisley has mentioned, Luke and I are getting married.”
I scrunch my nose. “I hate to be the one to mention this, but I really never—“
Mary closes her eyes. “Don’t say it. Pais told us you almost never do weddings. I get that, I really do, but she also told me you’re amazing at dealing with people and planning for every contingency. And I’m going to level with you. I need that, badly. See, I’m running an office now, and it’s new for me.” She looks down and taps the table nervously. “If I’m honest, I’m barely hanging on with just that. I recently brought in a monstrously large client.” She glances sideways at Luke, who meets her grin with one of his own in a disgustingly couple-y way. “I’m also creating the framework for a brand new charity, and if that’s not enough, I’m also learning to parent. It’s kind of a hands on crash course.” She shakes her head.
“I know a dozen wedding planners,” I say. “I’d be happy to recommend several of the best to you.”
The waitress shows up then, handing me my pancakes, and passing a plate of eggs and chive and onion biscuits covered with cheese to Paisley. She takes Mary and Luke’s order and leaves again.
“Oh, those pancakes look amazing.” Mary glances surreptitiously at Paisley’s plate but clearly can’t think of anything to say about her bizarre pile of food. I know the feeling. “It’s obvious to me already that Paisley was right, but I understand that you never do weddings. I really do.”
She says she understands, but she looks like she means the opposite. Her eyes are full of eager, irritating hope.
Luke clears his throat. “I’ll pay you whatever you want if you can pull this wedding off by Easter in a way that keeps Mary happy and calm.” He places his hand over Mary’s and squeezes, and my heart contracts. I may not date, but I miss that, the knowledge that someone cares. I long for the days when I had someone else to look after me, and pick up the things I dropped.
A knot forms in my stomach. I cannot plan this wedding for this couple. I can’t meet with them and watch all this disgusting happiness every single day. It will kill me.
I glance at Luke’s work boots, calloused hands, and his tanned face and an idea occurs to me. I’ll price them out and then I don’t need to be the monster who won’t help them with their princess-flower-garden-unicorn wedding.
“What parameters are we talking about here? What events, size, and locations?” I ask.
“We’d want help planning the bachelor and bachelorette parties,” Mary says, “and we haven’t quite decided on the wedding location, but as a fall back, it could be in my brother-in-law’s back yard in Marietta.”
“That’s practically next door to you,” Paisley says, one eyebrow raised. “How convenient.”
I step on her sneaker under the table, but she doesn’t even squeak. I should’ve stomped harder.
“We’d love it if you could help her sister plan the bridal shower,” Luke says. “I’ll pay for all of it, I really don’t mind.”
I glance at Paisley. She’s going to get an earful later. “My friend Kevin is an amazing wedding planner. He is wonderful with people, and he pays attention to every detail.”
Mary nods. “Does that mean you won’t consider doing it yourself?”
“Honestly, I doubt you’d want to pay for me. I’ve been focusing exclusively on large corporate events for the past few years. I’m pretty expensive for a backyard wedding. Most people don’t realize how expensive a wedding can really be, and the idea of adding a full time employee on top of the ordinary expenses of food, invitations, photography, decor, drinks, venue, and favors, let alone the dress and cake, well, it adds up.”
Luke leans forward. “What would you charge?”
I tap my lip. “How many guests are you planning to invite?”
Mary grimaces. “That’s part of the issue. I’d love to keep it small, intimate. A hundred people or less.”
Luke shakes his head. “Most of my extended family has relocated to the States from Australia. I have work contacts I have to invite. I doubt we can get away with less than three hundred.” He grins at Mary and I sense an old argument. “Five hundred would be easier.”
“Wow,” I say, “with that many people, and a backyard venue, and a shower and two pre-parties…” I exhale slowly. What’s a ridiculous sum for something like this? What fee would scare them off? I think about exactly how much money I need. I cannot do a wedding. But if by some bizarre twist of fate, these people are hugely loaded, I can’t turn something like this away. Not if they’re willing to pay me what I need. “I completely understand this is probably far too much, but a hundred thousand would be my absolute minimum.”
I expect them to whistle. Maybe groan. Lean back on the bench. Look at one another awkwardly and ask for Kevin’s information. Kevin could do a wedding for three hundred guests for ten to fifteen grand for sure. Toss on another few grand for the smaller events, and a few vendor kickbacks, and that would be a tidy sum for something like this.
Mary’s eyebrows draw together and her lips compress. Luke kisses her forehead. “What if we pay you a hundred up front and twenty thousand on the back end, with a possibility of a thirty thousand dollar bonus if my Mary’s over the moon?”
I turn to Paisley. “Is he serious?”
She’s uncharacteristically quiet in her tiny corner of the booth. “I told you Mary’s my boss.”
“What do you do again?” I ask Mary. “I thought Paisley said you were an accountant.”
Mary frowns. “Luke gets carried away sometimes. That’s one of the reasons I need someone to help us. He overbids on things when he’s unfamiliar with them. I’m an accountant, yes, although technically, I’m the President of the Atlanta branch of a big accounting firm. Partners do pretty well.
But not that well.”
Paisley smirks. “Luke’s loaded. He invented the light bulb.”
My eyebrows rise.
Luke chuckles. “Not the light bulb, no.”
“Right,” I say. “Duh. That was Edison, right?”
Luke glances at the ceiling. “Swan, Volta, a lot of others contributed, but Edison developed the filament that made the first light bulb cost efficient. I’m sort of the Edison for LEDs. I developed some LED affiliated technology that took another great stride forward in cost effective light sources.”
I swear under my breath.
“I felt the same way,” Mary says. “But the thing is, he has like a list of a thousand people his brother thinks we need to invite. And I want things as small as possible. I’d rather not spend our wedding day greeting a bunch of people I don’t know. So we need to narrow the list, and I need you to be the bad guy with Paul.”
“Also, we can’t seem to pick a location,” Luke says. “Mary likes the idea of my brother’s back yard, but the only way to narrow the list may be a location wedding. I’m voting for Vail, personally. The glistening snow, the mountain peaks.” He turns toward Mary and kisses her softly. My heart wrenches.
The only thing worse than planning this nightmare would be knowing I could have earned the money for Mom, but I was too afraid to do it.
“Not that we’d expect you to pay for your expenses in checking these places out,” Mary says. “We’d obviously fly you to the locations we’re considering to scout them out and look into logistics.”
When I realize my mouth is hanging open, I snap it shut.
“So?” Paisley asks. “They’ve met your terms. Are you going to do it? Because I’m working like twenty hours a week of overtime right now, and things are still not getting done. I’ll throw my plea as your best friend in there too. Please, please take over for me?”
Finding Cupid (Almost a Billionaire Book 2) Page 1
