Jilted in January
By
Clarice Wynter
Published by: Clarice Wynter
copyright 2013, Clarice Wynter
Cover art by Niina Cord
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, brands, media and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Kindle Edition
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* * * *
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This series is for everyone who needs a little romance in their lives.
With special thanks to: JB Lynn, Jean Cooper and Niina Cord who helped me bring my very ambitious plan to life.
Chapter One
“I don’t think I can do this.” Harper Shaw rested her forehead on the chilly steering wheel of her car and let out a long, slow breath to calm her frazzled nerves.
In the passenger seat, her best friend Audrey unlatched her seat belt and shifted to look at Harper. “I’d go in alone, but I don’t think I can carry everything by myself. You’re doing great so far, though. Really. I’m proud of you.”
Harper lifted her head and focused on the condensation fog her warm breath had caused on the front windshield. She should have been in Tahiti right now, lounging on a white sand beach, wearing nothing but a tiny string bikini and her shiny gold wedding ring. Instead, she was spending what was supposed to be the first day of her honeymoon driving around the icy streets of Spring River Valley, New York, writing checks to pay for a wedding that had never happened.
Thank God for Audrey or she’d still be face down in her bed with the covers pulled over her head. “Thanks for coming with me. I don’t think I could have made it through this without you.”
Audrey patted Harper’s knee. “You’re stronger than you think. Most women I know would have killed the guy who bailed on the rehearsal dinner and rescheduled the honeymoon so he could go alone. Personally, me? I’d be on a plane to Tahiti with a machete, but look at you. You’re here, putting everything right, taking care of business.”
“After this, can we go buy a machete? Your idea sounds pretty good right about now.” Harper had returned her dress to the shop for a fifty percent refund, paid off the flowers, dropped off a check with the DJ and the photographer, and now she and Audrey sat in the parking lot of Taverna Fiora, the catering hall where her reception had been booked. Her last order of business was to pick up the centerpieces and favors she’d dropped off three days ago and hope the new manager would consider returning even a little bit of her deposit since at the moment, she was utterly broke.
Audrey cracked open her car door, letting in the bitter January wind. “No, after this I’m treating you to lunch, then some retail therapy. You need to cap this day off with something new.”
“A new machete?” Harper offered as she and Audrey got out of the car.
Her friend rolled her eyes. “Maybe later. Today is all about you. After we’re done here. We’re not going to talk about Bad Brad or what we’d like to do to him.”
Good, Harper thought. Because that could get ugly. She thought she’d cried out all the hurt to him over the phone when he’d called from the airport to tell her he thought he was having a nervous breakdown and needed to leave town to clear his head, but as it turned out, she still had a lot of pent-up animosity left. She’d begged and pleaded and then resorted to swearing and threats, and even those hadn’t worked to bring him back to reality, where they had a hundred guests ready to convene at Taverna Fiora for a four-hour reception the very next day. He’d said he was a broken man and he needed to heal. What had broken him and what he needed to heal from, she had no idea, but she’d vowed if she saw him again, he would indeed be very broken and in need of much healing when she was done with him.
She closed her car door and drew in a deep breath of winter air to clear her own head and buck up her resolve. Audrey smiled at her over the roof of the car. “Last stop. It won’t be so bad. I promise.”
“I hope you’re right.” Harper put one booted foot in front of the other and stalked across the parking lot to the front entrance of the catering hall, trying not to hum her own new version of the wedding march in her head. Here comes the jilted bride…
* * * *
Grant had never seen such a mess of paperwork in his life. The business office of Taverna Fiora looked like a cyclone had gone through it, and he was the one-man clean-up crew. There were invoices and contracts everywhere, nothing had been filed properly in months and the operating capital account appeared to be only a few hundred dollars in the black at the moment. Great way to start a new year and a new job.
After a fortifying sip of coffee, he picked a pile of bills and receipts to start sorting through, telling himself the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. He had six months to turn TF around before the holding company that now owned the catering hall pulled the plug and sold the building.
He’d gotten three receipts and one bill sorted when a crash from outside his office door had him on his feet. He yanked the door open to find Elaine, the receptionist, standing with her hands on her hips, facing the kitchen. “Elaine?”
“Sorry about that. Raoul is stacking the pans. He dropped some. I was just coming to get you. The bride is here.”
“The bride?” That description left a lot to be desired. From what he could tell, TF had sixteen wedding receptions scheduled between January fifth of the New Year and June thirtieth. Beyond that, he’d been advised not to accept bookings unless the place showed a profit before March. “Which bride?”
Elaine stared at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. “The bride. You know. From the cancelled wedding.”
“You say that like I’m supposed to know which…Ohhh…” There had been a wedding scheduled for January fifth, the last day of his predecessor’s dubious tenure at TF. A scribbled note he’d found on his desk blotter mentioned the affair had been cancelled on New Year’s Day. Fran Mayweather, the previous business manager, had quit in the middle of that fiasco, prompting the holding company to send in Grant. “That bride.”
“She’s out in the lobby. Poor girl. They came to pick up the centerpieces. She made them herself, you know. Have you seen them? They’re stunning.”
“What? No. I haven’t.”
“Should I send her in?”
“To pick up the flowers? Sure. I don’t mind.” The main room needed to be cleaned out anyway since they had the Fireman’s Annual Dinner scheduled for tonight. That much he knew from the coffee-stained event calendar he’d found under a pile of newspapers in his office.
“What about her deposit?”
Now it was Grant’s turn to stare. “What about it?”
“Well, the poor girl. I heard the fiancé took another woman on their honeymoon. He walked out of the rehearsal dinner in front of all her family.”
Grant let out a slow breath. “Wow. That’s terrible
. But I can’t give her deposit back.”
“Why not?” Elaine seemed shocked. He could tell by the beady glint in her eye he’d just become the mean new boss.
“Well, Elaine, the concept of a deposit is that it’s insurance in case something just like this happens, so the caterers still get paid for their time and for the rental of the hall even if the event doesn’t occur.”
Elaine scowled at him. “I know that. But have a little compassion. The poor girl.”
“Poor us, Elaine. TF lost a lot of money on the event. It’s a tragedy, obviously, but so will this place going bankrupt be a tragedy. We can’t run things the way Fran did anymore.”
“Sure. I understand. I’ll tell her you can’t see her.”
“That’s fine. Please extend my condolences. I’m very sorry about what happened.”
Elaine gave him a wry look and walked off, leaving Grant to skulk back into his train wreck of an office, feeling like something that needed to be scraped off the bottom of a boot. He spent five minutes hating himself for being “that guy” and then dragged himself back out of his office and to the main ballroom.
The place looked magical. Ice-blue table cloths had been laid with dozens of sparking silver snowflakes, and in the center of each rose a pale blue candle set among a winter evergreen wreath sparkling with snowy white flowers and beaded crystal garlands. Elaine had been right. The arrangements were stunning.
At the far corner of the room, two women were loading the centerpieces onto a wheeled cart. Both bundled in parkas against the winter freeze, they looked sort of like penguins. The taller one stopped to pat the shorter one on the back, and he assumed that one had to be the bride. Poor girl.
A second later they turned in unison to face him, removing the possibility of him still being able to slip away unnoticed and avoid any emotional interactions. He had no idea what to say to a jilted bride, so he figured saying nothing at all would keep him out of trouble. Too late for that. He pasted on a business-like smile and crossed the room.
“Good morning, ladies. I’m Grant Addison, the business manager.”
The taller one nudged the shorter one. “That’s him. Ask him.”
“No. I can’t.” The shorter one pulled a fluffy glove off of one hand and thrust it out toward him. Blue eyes, the same color as the pillar candles in the centerpieces, met his, and despite her unfortunate circumstances, she smiled. “Hi, Mr. Addison. Nice to meet you. I’m Harper Shaw. I guess Elaine told you what happened.”
“Yes. I’m very sorry.”
She pulled the matching hat off her head, and shook a cascade of wavy dark blond hair lose in a staticky torrent. Grant stared, mesmerized for a moment. She was gorgeous. He couldn’t imagine any man walking out on a smile like hers.
She’d said something he missed, and he had to pull himself back to reality. “Excuse me?”
“I said, we won’t be long. We’re just going to take the centerpieces, and there were some chocolate party favors we had kept the refrigerator, then we’ll be out of your way.”
“Ask him,” the other woman said out of the corner of her mouth. The physical opposite of the blonde, with shorter, dark hair and hazel eyes, she was more sultry where Harper was cool winter sunshine.
“No,” Harper whispered back.
“Then I will. Hi, Mr. Addison, I’m Audrey Desmond. I’m the maid of honor, but that’s irrelevant. Ms. Mayweather mentioned getting some of Ms. Shaw’s deposit back. She said in light of the circumstances…”
Grant cringed. This was why he should have stayed in his office. He didn’t like being the bad guy, really, and after looking into Harper Shaw’s lovely eyes, he hated it even more. “Ms. Mayweather no longer works here. And part of the reason for that was because she was a bit lenient with our rules. I’m certain your contract states—”
Harper cut him off with a wave. “It’s fine. I understand. We couldn’t have been more last minute. I really just came to get the centerpieces and the favors.”
“You fired Fran?” Audrey asked. “She was so nice.”
“Too nice, and she quit.” Grant couldn’t help but let that comment slip out. Fran was nice, but she was gone, and he couldn’t afford to let her compassion sink the ship. “I am sorry.”
“Not a problem.” Harper turned back toward the table setting she was dismantling. Audrey stared at him, her lips pursed in annoyance. He tried to ignore her and concentrate on Harper. She moved with decided grace for a woman wearing a parka. He couldn’t help but wonder about the body underneath the oversized coat.
That made him cringe again. Poor girl, Elaine’s disapproving voice rang in his head. She just got dumped by her fiancé, and you’re undressing her with your eyes? You suck.
He dragged his gaze away from Harper and looked around the room. The place was dazzling. According to the paperwork he’d found, the Fireman’s Dinner had minimal decorations. These were lovely, and not too wedding-like to be out of place.
“Hmm. Uh, Harper? Can I ask what you’re going to do with the centerpieces?”
“She made them herself, you know,” Audrey offered.
“Yes, Elaine mentioned that. You’re very talented. You seem to have an eye for design.”
She turned to eye him sidelong. “Thanks. We were going to bring them to the hospital. They always accept flowers for the lobby.”
“Ah. That’s…a great use for them, but…would you consider a deal?”
She raised a golden brow. “I guess?”
“How about we keep the centerpieces? We can use them this evening, and I’ll refund half your deposit. I know that’s probably not as much as the flowers cost, but it’s the best I can do, and it’s for the Firemen.”
The two women exchanged a glance. Audrey shrugged.
“That would be very considerate of you, Mr. Addison. Thank you.”
“Grant. Please. Thank you. These are really very nice. In fact, one of the ideas I had for the New Year was to offer more services to the guests, like decorating. This would be a great way to introduce that service. Do you have a business card? I’d be interested in seeing some of your other designs for our upcoming events.”
“Well, I don’t really—ugh.” Her reply cut off abruptly, seemingly by Audrey stepping on her foot. “I don’t seem to have any of my cards with me right now.”
“We’ll get you one. We’ll drop it off later this afternoon,” Audrey said. Harper nodded uncertainly.
“Great. I’m glad something positive could come from this. Come to my office and I’ll write you a check. We’ll call it payment for the centerpieces.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Audrey nudged Harper forward, and she followed him across the room, her booted footsteps falling into sync with his as they traversed the dance floor. Grant hoped he’d done the right thing. He really wasn’t looking to be the hero, just to avoid an already devastated bride crying her eyes out in his main ballroom. And if he was lucky, the centerpieces would draw some attention tonight. He couldn’t charge the Firemen for them, but with city officials on the guest list, there were bound to be people interested in catering other events. The better the place looked, the more chance they’d be able to make bookings and keep profits rolling in. Two birds, one stone, and he’d put a smile on a beautiful woman’s face. Not bad for a first day on the job.
Chapter Two
“My foot still hurts, you know.” Harper glared at Audrey over lunch at Colette’s Pub. She was lying, of course. In her well-padded snow boot, a truck could have run over her foot and she wouldn’t have felt it, but it was the principle of the thing.
“Oh, quit whining. I did what needed to be done.”
Harper suppressed a laugh and tried to feign indignation. “Quit whining? A few hours ago you felt sorry for me. Now I should quit whining?”
Audrey leaned over the small table, gesturing with a dill pickle spear. “Did you see him?”
“Who?”
Audrey sighed dramatically. “Grant Addison. Tell
me you didn’t notice he was drop dead gorgeous.”
She had. Oh, had she. The crisp blue business shirt and navy power tie hadn’t fooled her. The corporate uniform hadn’t done much to hide his broad shoulders and muscular arms. His eyes were a shade or two darker than her own, but deep and mesmerizing. His confident smile had put her at ease even though she’d sensed he was reluctant to return her deposit and she’d been mortified by Audrey’s brashness. “Yeah. So?”
Audrey pointed her pickle at Harper. “Don’t do this to me. Admit he was hot.”
“Okay. He’s hot. So?”
“Really? You didn’t see it.”
“See what?”
“The way his eyes lit up when he saw you. He couldn’t stop staring at your mouth while you were talking. He had that dazed expression guys get when they’re imagining a woman naked.”
Harper’s face heated, but she resisted the urge to plaster her iced tea glass to her burning cheek. This was January after all. “He was not picturing me naked. Get real, Audrey. I was wearing an igloo. He’d have to have Superman’s X-ray vision to picture me naked in that damn coat.”
“Please. Men don’t need super powers for that, and trust me, he was daydreaming.”
“So explain to me again why you threw me at him? And in case you haven’t met me, I’m not a…a centerpiece designer. I don’t have a business card because I don’t have a business. ”
“How often have you talked about wanting to quit the accounting firm and have a design business? You’re good at it, and you enjoy it, and here’s a chance to do that. He might hire you. How cool would that be?”
Harper leaned back in her chair. “Let’s see, me designing wedding centerpieces and party favors reminiscent of the ones I just almost threw out for my own wedding that never happened because my fiancé left me—”
Jilted in January Page 1
