by Shyla Colt
“I’m here.”
“With minutes to spare.” It’s amazing how such a silken voice can make me want to scratch someone’s eyes out.
“Yes, the napkin rings were so close to being finished, I pushed it to the last minute.”
“I see. Well, that’s good news. I want to make sure you’re available to complete the work.”
“Oh, I will be,” I promise. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anything else.
“We’ll see.”
I grind my teeth. I liked him much better when we were out to breakfast. Maybe that’s it. He has a semi-permanent case of hangriness.The type of anger that comes from hunger. I want to take the bag of trail mix out of my bag and cram it down his throat.
“How about we head to my office? I pulled up a few of the flower schematics Rachel and I discussed based on what will be blooming during the time she gets married. We have her approval to work up a few concepts with them as the base.”
“Good. I drew a few basic sketches. She told me she wanted to get as far away from traditional bridesmaid flowers as possible. I did a bit of research, and I’ve come up with some really fun alternatives I think will go splendidly with her theme and their bridesmaid dresses.”
“Is she still set on those frilly monstrosities?” He shudders.
“No, she’s locked in on the pastel colored fitted dresses with the wispy bottoms.” I mime a flowing, fuller skirt with my hands.
He nods his head. “Much more appropriate. Pale blues, pinks, and peaches?”
“Yes, those are the colors.”
“Shall we?” Petunia asks drawing our attention back to her.
“Of course,” Luka says with a smile.
I want to kick him in his shin. Don’t play nice now. Show her your true colors, Captain Grumpypants. We follow her into the office, and I admire the new set up. The computer has two monitors where she can display her ideas with state of the art software on the large Maple wood desks. The black office chairs must’ve cost a pretty penny. Comfortable, and embroidered with the flower logo, they make the uncomfortable gray ones we had a burning party for a horrid distant memory.
We sit on either side of her as she pulls up the files she’s saved for Rachel. “She was torn, so I know your opinions will be really helpful. She’s got a lot of variety since she’s marrying in late June. I know she likes the teacup roses and peonies. Big full flowers in shades of white or pale pink are a common theme in all the arrangement choices, but some are more colorful than others.” She clicks through the first arrangement.
“This is classic.”
“And boring and safe, and not in theme with her wedding. Fairytales need color,” I say.
“I like the classic look, it’s polished and well put together,” Luka says.
“Exactly. You like it, which means it’s the opposite of what she really wants.”
“Why? Because you think she needs every color of the rainbow,” he asks, pointedly staring at my dress.
“No, because Rachel is a vibrant ray of sunshine, her wedding needs to reflect that.”
He opens his mouth and closes it.
“I do have the same concept with a bit…more pizazz,” Petunia says as she clicks the mouse. Bright purple and mock orange posies, light purple thistle, orange ranunculus, and tall purple blooms I don’t recognize.
“This is it,” I whisper imagining Rachel’s face when she sees the colorful blooms.
“It’s a lot.”
“It’s a pop of color. You can go with whites and pinks for everything else for the ceremony. This is the statement she wants to make. I think she should be allowed to do that. You only get married once. It’s the one day women can completely own. I know you want to make sure this thing doesn’t go off the rails, but you have to give too. For her.” The words are out before I can take them back. Crap.
His eye twitches and I wait for the explosion or the firing. He purses his lips. The air becomes charged. His quick nod of agreement stuns me.
“Alright, if we did this could we take the white and pink larger flowers and use them for everything else for the wedding?” he asks.
“We could. I’d put in some subtle green fillers and other smaller dusky rose colored flowers to break things up, but we’d keep it very simple,” she assures him.
“Then I think we can go with that for the floral. I know Rachel will be pleasantly surprised to see I’ve yielded to her wishes.” He crosses his arms, and I can’t help but notice how nice his crisp white button down fits. He’s thin, but muscular and always well-dressed. Suit porn is a real thing, and this man is no stranger to a tailor. His garments fit him like they were made to, because they were.
“And you.”
He turns to look at me, and I blink. “Hmm?”
“What do you have planned for them?” he says slowly.
“Oh.” I set my purse on the counter and pull out the sketches. “We can start with the smaller things first, actual flower rings, arm wraps, and then purses.”
“Flower purses?” he asks skeptically.
“Yes. With a moss base.”
“Oh, that would be stunning,” Petunia whispers.
“Right?”
“I think you’re speaking another language here. No to the arm wraps, the others I’m open too. Draw up something detailed, and we’ll meet again with Rachel to decide?”
“I can do that.”
“Excellent, now I hate to run, but I must get ready for a charity event I need to get to later this evening.” He stands, and we follow suit.
“Petunia, thank you for setting aside the time for the one on one. Ms. Bateman, I’ll be speaking with you.”
He’s nearly out of the office when she grabs my hand. “Girl, the fire between you was palatable. I thought my desk was going to burst into flames.”
“What are you talking about? The friction is sandpaper and wood. He rubs me raw.”
“But sandpaper and wood make beautiful smooth art together.” She wags her eyebrows.
“I’m not that hard up.” I shake her off.
“Girl, have you seen him?”
“Did you see our instant oil and water effect?”
“Hate sex, even better.”
I shake my head. “Drop it and help me with these sketches. Tell me what you think we could do with this.” I slid the notebook over to her.
“You really think I’m going to let this go?’
“Yes. You know how I feel about assholes. I had enough of that with Mick to last me a lifetime.” I scowl as I remember the tumultuous relationship.
She sighs and glances down at the paper. “Alright. What were you thinking about the rings? Let’s start with those.”
Luka
I’ve grown used to sharing the spotlight with Rachel. From the minute she was born on my eleventh birthday, I’ve learned the true meaning of sharing. Now, is no different. My concept of a birthday well spent is a day at home with a nice vintage bottle of Scotch, so yielding to her whims is no big loss. I defer to her themes and locales. We both get our own cakes. Which is a relief. I’d never live down the shame of having a hot pink cake. Pink is not my color. That’s how she’s got me dressing up on Saturday.
I covet my days off. They’re few and far between, and I often spend them lazing about the house or doing something chill with the few friends I do have. I once had an incredible social life, but the death of my parents ended that. I couldn’t be worried about parties, and gossip when I had children who needed their homework done, stability in their life and a father-figure they could look up to. There were plenty of things I have up and never reclaimed. At forty, I feel too old for clubs, parties, and a weekly rotation of woman.
I’m no monk. But I make it clear we’re in it for pleasure and we part ways satisfied with no strings attached. It’s amazing how many women will target you once you’ve amassed a giant quantity of wealth. Those are the ones I try to avoid. I let a few get their hooks in me early on when I was vuln
erable and looking for support. The disastrous endings were enough to turn me off trying to have a relationship altogether. Instead, I focused on my siblings and the company. Both were a huge undertaking I was ill-equipped to handle.
The first year was rocky, but we made it, and each year that followed was easier as the joy returned to our lives along with a new sense of normalcy. We all dealt with the accident in different ways. Asher got more self-contained and almost cold in the way he chooses to keep his emotions close to his chest. Kane and Micah turned to partying and women. Though, they never let it interfere with their work. The playboy lifestyle offered them escape.
We’re a bit of the walking wounded, but I count the fact that we’re still on our feet as a victory. I finish tying my black bow tie and slip into my shiny black Salvatore Ferragamo shoes and slip in the diamond cufflinks that belonged to my father. I always try to honor their memory on holidays and birthdays. It makes me feel like they’re with us in spirit. I study my reflection and smooth a stray curl back into place. It should be a small intimate affair, which means family and close friends. I can handle that for tonight.
I shudder to think of the theme. Rachel’s always been into over the top. It’s a horrible habit she never outgrew. Henceforth her fairytale wedding. They’re literally getting married in front of a giant story book. If it makes her happy I’ll foot the bill, but I’d never do it myself. Not that I need to worry about marriage. I’ll probably go to my grave a bachelor simply because it’s easier. What my parents had was good. A strong, solid marriage full of love, laughter, and family. I don’t see too much of that happening these days, especially not in the circles we run in.
What’s the point of marrying if you’re going to be a chronic cheater? With the cufflinks in, I decide I’m ready and make my way out of the house. We decided to have this year’s bash at a bed and breakfast. The Weller Haus Bed and Breakfast has an old world charm I like and an elegance and quirk factor for Rachel. I’m not surprised she choose Olive to help with her wedding. In many ways, they speak the same language. Rachel has a hand in much of our product design. Always drawing and painting as a child, it was a natural progression for her to get into the world of marketing as an adult.
It’s fascinating watching creative types make things with their hands and plot out ideas. My brain isn’t wired that way, so to me, it’s nothing short of miraculous. I know I’ve been hard on Ms. Bateman, but it’s only because I want to give Rachel a final launch off into society. It’s the last gift I can give her before she begins her own family.
I arrive at The Weller Haus Bed and Breakfast and burst into laughter. On the lawn, in front of the multi-story beige brick home with an awning is an explosion of colors. A large poster with thick rainbow-colored lines and a golden unicorn reads Welcome to Rachel & Luka’s 29th and 40th Birthday party. Unicorns. The little imp is lucky I’m secure in my manhood. The gathering of balloons with the same color scheme tells me I’m in for a bright brunch indeed. I walk in, and I’m greeted by cheers from my family.
Everywhere I look there are vibrant colors. A two tiered unicorn cake sits on the table beside a plain white cake with light blue icing. Unicorn punch, I know has to be spiked is layered in a rainbow theme beside macaroons, a fruit tray with multi-colored dip, and a cheese plate with crackers. There’s too much to process at once. It’s like a Where’s Waldo book. I’ll be finding new things for the rest of the day. I walk over to Rachel and hug her. She fits right into the theme with her rose colored dress with a layer of embroidered flowers on top.
“Happy birthday, sister.”
“Happy birthday, brother.”
“Unicorns?”
“To symbolize we’ll be forever young.”
I chuckle. “If you say so.”
I turn to her future husband and hold out my hand. “Hey, Joseph, How’s it going?” We shake. He’s a nice man with a promising career, and he dotes on my sister. I couldn’t ask for more in a mate.
“It’s good. It’s nice to see you not working.”
“I know, this new launch is going to rocket us or kill me. Maybe a bit of both.”
We chuckle.
“You didn’t bring me a present?” Rachel asks.
“Oh, but I did. You’ll have to wait and see.”
Her eyes sparkle, and I laugh.
“So will you.”
I shake my head. I’ve got her one-upped, but I’ll let her think this will be the year she outdoes me. I’ve arranged for a two week long honeymoon through Europe.
“I look forward to it. Who all did you invite to this shindig?” I ask curiously.
“I kept it small the way you like. Cousins and close friends only.”
“Thank God for small miracles.”
She huffs. “So antisocial.”
“Now, now. Don’t be cruel. I’m just a little people impaired. It happens when you’re traveling all over the blue blazes, hawking your wares, darling.”
“If you ever want to switch.”
“Hardly. I can create art, but I’m selfish. I do it solely for myself. You, however, understand appealing to a broad audience.”
She beams, and I wink as I move to speak with Asher, Micah and Kane who are already tapping the open bar. Smart men.
“What is this abomination?” I ask as the bartender places a healthy dollop of cotton candy into a Martini glass.
“It’s Rachel’s signature drink today. The Magic Martini,” Asher says dryly.
“It’s pretty good,” Kane says as he sips from his glass.
“Though you may end up with diabetes if you have too many,” Micah said dryly.
I shake my head. “Somehow I’m looking more and more forward to her wedding date.”
Kane, Micah, and Asher burst into laughter and I grin ruefully.
The music starts up, and we talk until guests begin to trickle in. Going into host mode, I weave my way through the crowd saying hellos and pausing to chat briefly. I make a beeline when I see, my closest friend, Preston.
“Pres, I’m glad you could make it.”
“I’d never miss one of your birthday parties. I don’t know how Rach manages to top herself every year. Just when I think she’s run out of ideas, she proves me wrong.”
“Yes. She’s quite good at that, isn’t she?”
Preston laughs. Friends since we were children, and roommates in college, he’s a trusted family friend.
“In a few more months, she’ll be married. What the hell are you going to do with yourself when you’re not micromanaging her?”
“Haha. You have a daughter and see how well you fare.”
“No, I’m good with my two boys, thanks.”
I chuckle. “Where is your better half?” I ask looking around for Elise.
“She took the boys to the restroom. I’m sure they’ll get lost coming back because there’s so much to see.”
Four and Seven, Hunter, and Richard were their father made over. Which was good in some ways, and exhausting in others. The tow-headed bundles of energy kept both their parents on their toes.
“How are you? We haven’t had you over for a month of Sundays.”
“I know, it’s this blasted expansion and new product launch on top of Rachel’s wedding. If I’m not traveling, I’m meeting with some wedding coordinator.”
“Isn’t that usually the bride’s job?”
“Yes along with her mother, so you see where it falls to me to make sure things stay on track, and she doesn’t go too far off the rails with her ideas.”
He winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”
‘It’s alright. No reason you should have to.”
“You’ll walk her down the aisle, I assume?”
“Yes, but we decided her brothers, and I do will be the phrase when we give her away.”
“I think that’s rather fitting,” Preston says. He lets out a low whistle. “I know just about everyone in our circles, and I know I’ve never seen her.”
I turn, and the world around me fades. All I can see is Olive Bateman in a pale pink lace dress that shows off the swell of her breasts, nips in at her slender waist and make her dark-brown skin downright luminous. Her hair tumbles around her slender face in curls, and her full lips make me want to fall to my knees and worship her for the goddess she is. The dress ends a few inches below her knee, and I can see her shapely calves in the peep toe white heels. There’s nothing overtly sexual about the dress, but my cock wants to break free from my pants. She looks around the room, and our gazes lock.
Her mouth forms an O, and I wonder what they’d taste like. I can sense the attention in the room shifting to the stranger.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go greet a guest,” I tell Preston, not bothering to wait for his response as I walk toward her. There’s always been a strain between us, but this is different. I step up beside her, and I’m engulfed by an earthy flowery scent.
“Rachel invited me,” she blurts.
“Oh, I’m sure she did. The two of you have become fast friends, I’ve noticed.” I want to touch her curls and explore the texture of her glossy black hair.
“She’s pretty incredible and lets me talk art, so yeah.” She shrugs and gives a sheepish grin I can’t help but be charmed by. “Two peas in a pod.”
My lips quirk upward. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Ms. Bateman.”
“Did you really have to?”
Her words make me frown. I open my mouth.
“You came.” Rachel’s squeal halts our conversation as she throws her arms around Ms. Bateman.
Her entire face lights up with joy as the two reunite like best friends who haven’t seen each other in years. She thinks I dislike her? The thought bothers me, and I can’t put my finger on why. It’s not like me to care much about the opinions of others. Asher, Micah, and Kane appear to greet her with gusto. I scowl. She’s more than a woman who’s working for us. She’s become a family friend. It makes her more important. Of course, I don’t want to be on the outs with her.
I fade back into the background as I go over our interactions. I demand perfection, but I also pay handsomely for it.
