“But I don’t want to be.” My voice sounded small, whiny.
He slipped into his office and headed toward his desk. “And I don’t want to be a devilishly handsome black man who’s freakishly good at wedding details and rocking the business world, while simultaneously canceling out any hopes of the female population thinking I’m straight.”
“Uh-huh. Sounds like we’re both hitting hard times.” I fumbled in my purse for my car keys. “So it appears you’ve got things under control here, and I’d just mess things up. I’m gonna be one of those bosses who lets her employees do what they do best. Nobody likes a micromanager.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Henry said. “I’m quite familiar with the terms of the will. You have to show up to work at least eight hours to get a paycheck while you’re here—plus, Lisa’s on maternity leave, so we’re shorthanded and could use you.”
“Is a newborn a good excuse to miss work? You should really be questioning Lisa’s loyalty.” I felt as if I’d requested a ride on a carousel, yet somehow wound up in the front cart of a roller coaster. This was so not going according to plan. On one hand, when I sold the business, it would clearly bring more money than I expected. But on the other hand, I was going to have to work in this frilly sponge cake of a store. “I have a lot to think about. Permission to take the rest of the day off?”
“Permission denied.”
“I’m the boss here!”
“With a house full of employees who need you.”
“They have you.”
“They . . .” Henry sat in the leather seat behind his desk. “They don’t really like me. They’ve been waiting for you like it’s Zelda’s second coming. Your great-aunt was the heart of this place, and I’m the brains.”
I was supposed to fill in for Zelda’s heart? Didn’t she know wedding plans made me break out in hives?
“Here’s the deal,” Henry said. “You need me as much as I need you.”
I lowered myself into the seat in front of Henry’s desk. I thought of the money required to get back to LA, to invest in my career comeback while not having to worry about rent and shutoff notices. “I’m listening.”
“You shadow me, and I show you the ropes. We’ll have you cross-train in every department. And you can be the bridge between the employees and myself. Maybe counsel me in areas of . . . sensitivity, humility.”
“And what makes you think I know something about that?”
“I’m guessing from your last job as a cruise ship singer you know a thing or two about humility.”
“I had unlimited access to the dessert bar on that boat.”
“Also our dress code here is a black or gray top, black pants or skirt.” With open distaste, he took in my pink stilettos, the turquoise skinny pants, my glittery off-the shoulder Rolling Stones T-shirt with authentic band autographs, and the multiple gold necklaces around my neck.
“I don’t wear head-to-toe black, but y’all go ahead.”
“It’s protocol.”
“We’ll discuss it later.” Like never. I had a closet full of designer and custom-made pieces from my rocker days, and it made this poor girl happy to incorporate my concert clothes into my poor girl daily wear.
“Your first assignment is to help a bride-to-be select her bridesmaids’ dresses,” Henry said.
I blinked in confusion.
“We’re now one-stop wedding planning here. We handle tuxedos, dress selections, music, flowers, venues, catering arrangements, wedding cakes. We work with all the best vendors. Should I go on?”
“Please don’t.” I felt as queasy as the first few days on that blasted cruise ship. “I know nothing about wedding planning.”
“That’s not true. Sylvie said you organized your big nuptials all by yourself.”
“Let me rephrase that: I have no interest in planning weddings.”
“If you don’t work the business, you don’t get to own the business.”
“What difference does it make to you?”
“I know you want to sell when your time is up. And when you do, I want to be first in line. I have big plans for this place, so I’m going to make sure you don’t run it into the ground. Here’s my proposition for you—I make sure Enchanted Events stays afloat, and you let me buy the business from you for a fair market price.”
Not even noon, and I was already wanting to clock out.
“Without me,” he said, “this place sinks within a month.”
“Okay, fine. Deal. The place is yours when I leave.” The sting of someone expecting me to fail was a refrain that never got easier to hear. It would always be a pointed arrow to the heart, even if I didn’t want this stupid business.
“You won’t regret that.” He smiled unevenly, as if out of practice. “We’ve done a few parties and gatherings. It’s time to go beyond weddings and offer large-scale event planning. I’ll spare you all those proposals, but for now—we do weddings. And you’re going to learn every nuance of what we do. I coach you on the business, and you rein me in when I’m a bit—”
“Of a jerk?”
“When I’m a bit insensitive. Ready to get started?”
“Do I have any other choice?”
“No.” Henry was not in the mood to be my crying shoulder. “This morning you’ll start by walking yourself down the street to Sugar Creek Formals. It opened about a year ago and is already quite renowned in the South for its bridal wear. Our client, Sasha Chandler, is selecting bridesmaid dresses today, and I want you there to advise.” He handed me an iPad. “Here’s a file with her wedding details. Read it before you go and be fully knowledgeable on the event.”
Great. I already had homework.
“Oh, and beware,” Henry said. “This bride has claws.”
“Bad manicure?”
“What I mean is she’s a holy tyrant.”
“I have absolutely no idea how to run a wedding business.” I surged to my feet, suddenly craving another cup of coffee. “But I was in the hottest girl band of this decade, and I’ve met divas that would make you cry.” I gave a confident smile. “Compared to pop stars, this bride will be an angel.”
* * *
Buy Engaged in Trouble HERE.
Other Sugar Creek Novels
A Sugar Creek Christmas
Wild Heart Summer
Engaged in Trouble
Royally in Trouble
Special Thanks
* * *
A big thank you to my generous-with-info military advisor, the uber smart Brian Easley. The opening scene is not quite accurate to a hostage recovery, but the errors are intentional and all mine. Brian, thank you for your service to our country, and for helping out a writer who takes your fascinating information and gives it a little twist. With my apologies to our valiant men and women in uniform who don’t live the pretty version.
With my appreciation to Erin Valentine, good friend, fellow book nerd, educator in the trenches, queen of all things grammar. Your help and encouragement is a gift, and this book wouldn’t be possible without you. Thanks for making it better with your keen eye and editing prowess.
Muchas gracias to Christa Allan, my writing soul sister and cheap counselor. I so appreciate your time and expertise in shaping Will’s story to be even better with your gracious red pen. Thank God we met at that conference so many years ago. May we always be bonded with an eye roll.
For my readers, who still contact me about Save the Date, and for those who, like me, weren’t ready to see the last of the Sinclairs. You’re “like a gold card, Lord.”
About the Author
Award-winning author Jenny B. Jones writes romance with sass and Southern charm. Woefully indecisive, she writes YA, cozies, and women’s romance. Since she has very little free time, Jenny believes in spending her spare hours in meaningful, intellectual pursuits, such as watching bad TV, Instagramming deep thoughts to the world, and writing her name in the dust on her furniture.
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