White Wedding: A Christmas Romantic Comedy (Blackwood Cellars Series Book 3)

by Carla Luna

  Their only job.

  For that, she got an eye roll. “My calligraphy is exceptional. As is Kaitlyn’s. We took a class together last year. She’s the one who helped me come up with this idea. But it won’t be much fun if she can’t join me.”

  The list continued. Tiny golden reindeer to serve as placeholders, each of which needed an individualized place card, also written in calligraphy. An elaborate seating chart done in an Olde English script. And two hundred sets of jingle bells, which needed to be tied with green ribbons, for the guests to ring when they wanted the couple to kiss. Instead of tapping on their wineglasses like every other wedding Victoria had attended.

  She could barely contain the horror coursing through her. Though she had a keen eye for design and color, she’d never thought of herself as crafty. Even if she was, there was no way one person could tackle all this.

  No wonder Kaitlyn had bailed.

  Missy blew out a huffy breath. “I’d prefer the personal touch, but if you have to outsource these projects, go ahead. I want them taken care of. Without these details, my wedding will be just some blah, generic Christmas wedding. I want it to be unique and memorable.” She gave Victoria a knowing smile. “As does Ben.”

  Which meant if Victoria didn’t concede, Missy would whine to Ben. Then Ben would complain to her father. And then Victoria would end up facing him again, like a kid called to the principal’s office. Her only recourse was to smile sweetly, haul the Rubbermaid bins out to her Audi, and load them in the trunk.

  Before she left Missy’s house, she texted the one coworker who might be able to help.

  SOS Christmas Emergency!! Any chance you could take a break & come to Blackwood Manor??? I’ll be out in the parking lot in 20 minutes.

  A minute after Victoria pulled into her spot outside Blackwood Manor, April Beckett appeared, carrying a small glass container. Clad in a crimson tunic embellished with tiny white snowflakes, she looked appropriately festive, which didn’t surprise Victoria, given that April was the type who embraced the holiday season with wholehearted enthusiasm.

  April wiped her forehead, pushing her wavy brown hair away from her face. “Give me a minute. I race-walked over here from marketing, and I need to catch my breath.”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have put the word ‘emergency’ in my text. It’s not a life-or-death situation.”

  “No problem. I needed a break. Besides, it’s absolutely gorgeous out.” April handed Victoria the glass container. “Here. Freshly baked gingerbread. Took it out of the oven this morning. I know you try not to eat sweets, but…”

  But few people at Blackwood Cellars could resist the lure of April’s baking. In fact, it was her baking skills that had first caught the eye of Victoria’s cousin, Brody Blackwood, who worked with April in marketing. They’d been dating for a little over a month.

  Victoria opened the container, broke off a piece of gingerbread, and popped it in her mouth. The flavors of cloves, ginger, and allspice flooded her tastebuds. She closed the lid quickly. “Delicious. But I’ll save it to have with my coffee. A treat this good should be paired with a strong French roast.”

  “You sound just like Brody. He already had two pieces this morning.” A little flush crossed April’s cheeks.

  Victoria envied her, still in the early stages of love, when everything was so blissful.

  “What’s the Christmas emergency?” April asked. “If you need cookies, I’m happy to oblige, but you’ll need to wait until next Monday. This weekend, I’m doing a giant cookie-baking session. Fifteen dozen cookies in two days.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good for cookies. My issue is with gingerbread houses.” Victoria popped the trunk of her Audi and extracted the bin with the box containing the largest of the Coriander+Clove houses. She set the bin on the ground, opened the lid, and passed April the instruction sheet.

  April’s eyes grew wide. “Wow. This is high-end stuff.”

  “Do you think you’d be up for it? I’d need it for the wedding on December 22. And I’d pay you for your time.”

  April set the instructions back in the bin. “As much as I love baking, I’m not crafty. Like, not at all. I don’t have that attention to detail. You’d probably be better at it than I would.”

  “But I don’t bake.”

  “Right, but this isn’t about baking. It’s about being patient and meticulous. And you’re really detail-oriented.” April gave her a hopeful look. “Right?”

  “I am, but this might be more than I can handle.” She put the bin back in her trunk. “Rafael said his family might be willing to help with the decorations. I can ask him.”

  “Rafael?” April gave her a sly smile. “Is this the guy—”

  “Brody told you, right?”

  April bit her lip. “Sorry. We try not to keep any secrets from each other. They have a way of turning ugly.”

  No kidding.

  “It’s fine that you know,” Victoria said. “As long as you don’t tell anyone else. But yeah, I had this scorching-hot affair with Rafael in Baja five years ago. And now I’m working with him. We’re trying to keep the Baja stuff a secret.”

  “And trying to resist falling for each other again?” April grinned. “This sounds like a great setup for a romance.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Speaking of which, you never got back to me about our next book club meet-up. Are we doing it this month or are you swamped? I read that thriller you suggested, and I have feelings about the ending.”

  One of Victoria’s few escapes was the impromptu book club she and April had started. They’d formed it last spring, after giving up on the company’s book club, which tended to favor dense and depressing literary fiction. Once a month, they met over drinks and swapped recommendations.

  “Sorry,” Victoria said. “This month is packed. Can we postpone until January?”

  “Sure. The holidays are always pretty intense. But if you need to vent about the wedding, hit me up and we can go out for margaritas.”

  “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”

  “In the meantime, you have an excuse to call that hot chef of yours and ask for his assistance. Maybe you two could schedule an intimate gingerbread-house-making session at his place.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing romantic about building a gingerbread house.”

  “Tell that to the makers of Hallmark movies. I’d say it’s up there, along with building a snowman, making a fire, and having a snowball fight.”

  Come to think of it, the Hallmark movie Victoria had started watching on Saturday had included a gingerbread-house-making scene, complete with longing looks, cute banter, and a frosting war.

  Nope. Not going to happen.

  Rather than put herself in that kind of scenario, she’d have to tackle the houses herself.

  Chapter 10

  After his meeting with Victoria, Rafael drove back to his apartment, changed into his running gear, and hit the road. Six hard miles of pounding the pavement. Usually, he listened to music when he ran. But today, he let his mind roam free.

  And he thought about Victoria.

  He hadn’t expected her to be so honest. But she’d willingly shared the story of her downfall, not hiding the humiliation she’d endured. Now that he understood what she’d been through, he couldn’t stay mad at her. Instead, he wanted to help her. To be her knight in shining armor like he’d been in Baja, when he’d saved her from those drunken college boys.

  Not that this situation was remotely similar. But if he helped her out, he could lighten her load and make the wedding ordeal a little more bearable.

  Who was he kidding? He didn’t just want to help Victoria. He wanted to pick up where they’d left off, kiss her until she was breathless, and release the woman he’d known in Baja.

  But anything beyond friendship was a terrible idea. If his brothers found out he’d slept with her, they wouldn’t trust him to do the job. A job he now wanted, despite his initial misgivings. He couldn’t blow his chan
ce to prove himself to his family.

  Back at the apartment, he showered, then sent a group text to his brothers and Araceli, attaching the photos he’d taken at Blackwood Manor. Five minutes later, his phone rang. Martin.

  Rafael couldn’t help but smirk as he answered it. His older brother was probably jealous as hell. “Yo, Martin. What’s up?”

  “I got the photos.”

  “That ballroom’s something, right? The pictures don’t do it justice.”

  “Can you come over tonight after dinner? I want to talk about the job.” His brother’s voice carried an edge.

  Rafael’s gut tightened. Had Martin learned about his connection with Victoria?

  Not possible. The only person he’d told was Araceli, and she’d promised to lock that shit in the vault.

  “Everything okay?” Though his meeting with Victoria had given him a boost of confidence, the familiar apprehension started creeping back.

  “It’s all good. I want to go over logistics. Staffing, scheduling, that sort of thing. Figured tonight might work, since we all have the night off.”

  In the past, Rafael might have balked. A night off shouldn’t require any obligations. He’d been hoping to catch the new Fast and Furious flick with Ernesto. But he needed to show his brothers this job was his top priority. “Sure. I’ll bring the spec sheet with me.”

  Martin lived a few miles away, in a squat ranch house with a small, well-tended garden. Rafael moved a Cozy Coupe out of his path and rapped on the front door, before opening it and announcing himself. The place smelled of balsam fir, with garlands hung from every archway. A bare Christmas tree stood in one corner of the living room; beside it, five boxes of ornaments were stacked in a pile.

  Though Rafael wasn’t in any hurry to settle down, the sight of Martin’s living room filled him with an unexpected longing. Like it might be nice to eventually find the right person and make a life with her. To come home to a loving wife, a couple of kids, and a place he could truly call home. To create a family of his own that he could love and cherish.

  Or maybe the Christmas decor was getting to him. Up until his dad died, his family had always embraced the month leading up to the holiday. Baking, decorating, watching movies like Elf and A Christmas Story. But that first Christmas after his dad’s death had been brutal. Rafael had gotten wasted on Christmas Eve, committing the cardinal sin of skipping the Sanchez family dinner and Midnight Mass. Though he’d never been that thoughtless again, the memory still haunted him.

  Wiping his hands on a dish towel, Martin came in from the kitchen. “Have a seat. Ignore the mess. Luz started decorating this weekend, and she’s only halfway done.”

  Rafael pushed a couple of Hot Wheels cars off the couch and sat down. “You’re not helping her?”

  “You think I have a death wish? She’s got everything planned. I can’t hang up an ornament without her yelling at me. My one job is to set up the Christmas tree and make sure it’s not crooked.”

  Rafael squinted at the tree. “Hate to say it, but you screwed up.”

  “Shit. Really?” When Rafael laughed, his brother strode back to the kitchen. “For that, you’re not getting any Christmas cookies.”

  “Come on. It’s my day off.”

  After making him wait all of five minutes, Martin relented and brought in a plate heaped with cookies. He set them on the coffee table. “Luz baked twelve dozen this weekend. Her sister came over, and they went nuts.”

  “Is Luz here?” By now, Martin’s wife usually would have greeted them, as would his boys. Ages five and three, they were holy terrors, but Rafael loved joking around with them and playing the role of the cool uncle.

  “Nah. She and the boys went with her sister to the tree lighting downtown. Santa’s supposed to make an appearance.”

  Rafael took a cinnamon-sugar cookie from the top of the pile and ate it in a few bites. Delicious. As he was reaching for another, Tony came in through the front door. He grinned at the sight of the cookies. “Sweet. Luz must have been baking.”

  Once the brothers were seated, Rafael brought out the contract with the spec sheet, as well as the sketches Victoria had given him. He set them on the table. “Here’s the paperwork from the meeting. Do you want to review the photos again?”

  “I’ve got this.” Martin retrieved his laptop and pulled up the photos Rafael had sent. “I uploaded them so we can view them on a bigger screen.”

  “I still can’t get over that ballroom,” Tony said. “It reminds me of that version of The Great Gatsby with Leonardo DiCaprio. What’s the capacity?”

  “With the tables in place, up to three hundred. The wedding’s at two hundred guests right now, so there’ll be lots of room. But I’ll need a full crew. These people are expecting excellent service.” Rafael’s chest swelled with pride. It felt good to be running the show.

  “No kidding,” Tony said. “Ernesto told me the groom’s dad is Senator Macalister.”

  Rafael pointed to the design sheet with Missy’s sketches. “Check this out. The bride is ordering twenty fresh Christmas trees, and she wants them all decorated. I’m going to recruit Araceli and Nena to help out.”

  “Luz could help, too. She and her sister love that shit.” Martin reviewed the photos one by one. When he was done, he picked up the spec sheet from the table. After looking it over, he passed it to Tony. Neither of them spoke.

  Rafael waited, unnerved by the lengthy silence. He took another cookie but stopped mid-bite when he caught Martin giving Tony a sidelong look. “What’s wrong?”

  Martin closed his laptop. “This is a huge job. Bigger than I realized. It might be better if Tony took over.”

  For a moment, Rafael couldn’t speak. A mixture of anger and hurt surged through him. After begging him to do the job, now they were second-guessing him?

  He turned on Tony. “You’d poach my gig? What about your wedding in San Ysidro?”

  Tony held up his hands. Of the three of them, he had the most chill. Whenever Martin and Rafael clashed, he could be counted on to serve as the peacemaker. “Relax. No one’s poaching anything. We’d just swap events. My wedding’s a lot smaller. Eighty people, tops. And we know the bride’s family, so there’s less pressure.”

  His rationale made sense, but Rafael was stung by Martin’s lack of faith in him. He scowled at his oldest brother. “You knew the guest list was two hundred people, right from the start. What happened to ‘I have total faith in you, little brother’?”

  “On Friday, you were begging me to take your place,” Martin said.

  True enough, but Rafael had risen to the challenge. Even if the bride-to-be had thrown up at the tasting, his food had still won her over. And Victoria had been thrilled when he offered to help tackle all of Missy’s demands.

  “You told me I was ready for more responsibility.” Rafael tried to think of an argument that would sway his brother. “Victoria seemed to think I could handle it.”

  As soon as he said it, he knew he’d made a mistake. He swallowed the rest of his cookie, but it didn’t help the churning sensation in his stomach.

  “By Victoria, I presume you mean Victoria Blackwood?” Martin said. “Is that what this is about? You want to get into her pants?”

  Rafael took a deep breath. If he got too defensive, his brothers would suspect the worst. “I felt sorry for her because she’s under a lot of pressure. I offered to help her any way I could.”

  Martin groaned and rubbed his forehead.

  “What?” Rafael said.

  “I see where this is going,” Martin said. “Next, you’re going to tell me there was an unbelievable spark between the two of you and that she’s into you. You can’t be pulling that lady-killer shit with Victoria Blackwood.”

  Even though there had been a spark—especially at the end of the tour—Rafael would hold his hand over a searing-hot range rather than admit it. “Why are you busting my balls? I’m not about that anymore.”

  Though he’d gone through a wild pha
se during his teens and gotten into a few dicey situations when he lived in San Diego, he’d changed his ways when he moved back home to Escondido and joined his brothers’ catering company.

  Except for the shit with Sandra.

  He should have known better, but his dick had gotten the best of him. He’d been bartending at a rehearsal dinner his brothers were catering. The clients were a family they’d known for years, active in the Latino community in Escondido. Every time the bride’s younger sister, Sandra, came up to the bar, she flirted with him shamelessly.

  After dinner ended, she sought him out alone. Though Martin had warned him not to mix business with pleasure, Rafael couldn’t resist. Sandra was sizzling hot, single, and clearly into him. She was so eager that they ended up having hot, furtive sex in the supply closet.

  But as they stumbled out of the closet, their hair and clothing still askew, they ran smack into Sandra’s parents. Not only were they furious at Rafael for taking advantage of their youngest daughter, but they also accused his brothers of running an unprofessional business. Martin soothed their anger by refunding them thirty percent of their bill, but he fumed about it for months.

  Since then, Rafael had behaved himself. No messing up on the job. If he hooked up with anyone, he kept it quiet. He made sure his sex life never interfered with his work life.

  He stewed in silence as his brothers exchanged glances. To be fair, Tony’s offer made sense. The wedding in San Ysidro was the same size as Araceli’s. Far less intimidating than a two-hundred-person extravaganza in the grand ballroom of an historic mansion.

  But he wanted to prove himself to his brothers. And—if he was being honest—he wanted to show Victoria what he was capable of.

  “It’s been two years since I messed up with Sandra,” he said. “Isn’t it about time you gave me another chance?”

  Martin let out his breath. “Fine. You can stay on as lead caterer, but I want Tony there on the night of the event. We’ll put Uncle D in charge of the San Ysidro wedding.”

  Though their uncle managed the day-to-day operations at the restaurant, he’d overseen a few off-site events when they were overbooked.