The Wedding Planners, page 12
“Jemma, hi, this is Juliet from Honey and Crumb, I’m returning your call.”
“Yes!” I squealed into the phone, my gaze shooting up to meet Nash’s, the smile I received melting my insides. “Yes, thank you so much for getting back to me. I am hoping that the fact you’re calling is a good sign…”
She hesitated, not such a good sign then. But I was not going to take no for an answer. Honey and Crumb was my first and only bakery preference. No one else in the city did a swisse meringue buttercream like they did. Just the thought of it was enough to get my mouth watering.
“I understand that you probably have a longer lead time for this kind of order but—”
“Claire mentioned that it’s a wedding cake you need—in three weeks.”
“That’s right.” I bit my lip. Please let her say yes. My eyes bounced up to Nash and then down to my beer. “I know it’s cutting it fine, but you are my first and only choice.”
“It’s your wedding?”
“No, not mine, I’m planning it for a client.”
A knock on the table drew my eyes up.
“Just tell them who it’s for,” Nash whispered. He was right. It was time to name drop. I blew out a breath, for some reason it felt like I was cheating on a test. But I wanted Honey and Crumb and if this was the way to get it, then so be it.
“You might know them, actually, Dallas Easton and Duke Prince…” Nash snorted before taking a sip. I really wish he’d stop watching me like that, like he was recalling the way I looked naked. Great, now I was thinking about him naked. He smirked, one eyebrow arching in an unashamedly sexy way. When did eyebrows become so sexy? I forced my eyes to my laptop screen.
There was only silence in my ear. This was not what I had been expecting. I opened my mouth to check if Juliet was still online when there was a rustle and what sounded like a muffled squeal. Name dropping for the win, it would seem.
“Juliet? Hello?”
“Yes! Sorry, yes, I’m here. I was just—ah—getting my colleague’s opinion and we think we’ll be able to squeeze you in. Will you be needing a tasting?” I could tell that she was hoping one, or both, of the happy couple would be attending.
“Absolutely.” There was no harm in making her think they might be there, right?
“How does…Tuesday at three sound?”
I pulled up my calendar, but who was I kidding? I would do whatever I needed to be there. “Tuesday at three is perfect. Thank you so much, Juliet.”
“It’s my pleasure! We’ll see you all then.” A twinge of guilt slapped me at the ‘you all’. I ignored it and hung up with a triumphant flourish.
“We have a cake! Or a baker for said cake.”
Nash held his hand up for a high five. “Good news, who is it?”
“Honey and Crumb. They’re only small, but completely brilliant. Everything I’ve had from them has been to die for. I’ve got a tasting on Tuesday.” I bounced in my seat and couldn’t stop the squeal of delight.
“And as your assistant, I am obviously invited to that, right?”
I tapped a finger against my lip as I deliberated.
“Are you really going to deny me a chance to eat amazing cake?” He asked, looking genuinely concerned about the fact I might not include him.
The very last thing I needed was to eat cake with this man. The potential for it to be a disaster was astronomically high. Already my traitorous mind was conjuring images of his broad, tattooed chest covered in swisse meringue buttercream. My mouth watered and Nash cleared his throat.
“Eyes are up here, Jemma.” His voice was so low and husky my thighs clenched involuntarily. I hadn’t even realized I’d been staring at his chest. Oh yes, those professional boundaries were going great. I shook myself out of the lusty daze.
“Of course you’ll be there. I am not about to deny anyone, least of all my assistant, the chance to taste the cake from Honey and Crumb. Tuesday at three.”
“I’ll be there.”
I nodded, needing to change the subject if I was going to keep my mind off Nash covered in frosting. He was still smirking at me. I looked away, holding eye contact with him was dangerous. In truth, everything about Nash felt kind of dangerous. Like no matter how much I fought it I was careening headlong toward a fiery end. I bet he had a motorcycle. And all the black leather gear to go along with it. He probably rode it upstate on the weekends looking hotter than anyone had any right to. How did I go from cake to Nash riding a motorcycle?
“Thank you, for today—”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to kick me out?” He asked, then took a long gulp of beer.
“Because I am.” There was no way I was going to be able to get anything even remotely productive done with him in my flat. It just wasn’t going to happen.
His smirk turned into a grin. “Well, I know when I’ve out-stayed my welcome.”
I hummed. “If that were true…”
“Ouch!” He laughed. “Message received, welcome officially overstayed.” If only that were actually true.
I led the way to the door, Nash following too closely behind. My heart rate spiked, and I forced myself to take a slow breath. I was not going to be a slave to my physical reaction. I was not an animal.
“Thanks again, for your help today,” I said.
“It was a pleasure.” The way the word pleasure rolled off that tongue of his should be illegal. “And you don’t need to thank me. If you need any help with the invitations let me know.”
I yanked the door open and stepped out of his tractor beam. “I’m confident that I’ve got it under control, but if for some reason I require your help, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I will see you on Tuesday.”
“It’s a date.” He said with a wink and left.
It’s a date.
Oh no, it bloody well was not. I should have corrected him, rather than just standing there mute fighting the overwhelming urge to pull his mouth down on mine. But yelling after him that it was absolutely not a date probably would have made it worse. Like he’d somehow think I wanted it to be a date. Which I did not, obviously. I was losing my mind.
A knock had my attention snapping back to the door and in my head, I saw a scene unfold.
I open the door to find Nash in the hall and without pausing for breath he takes my face in his hands and kisses the absolute hell out of me. We stumble back into my flat, he pins me to the wall, his tongue exploring my mouth in a slow lick that sets a fire in my veins.
Another knock rattled me out of the fantasy, and I let out a low whimper. None of that was actually happening because I was not kissing him again.
I marched back to the door. “What happened to—”
“Expecting someone else, were we?” Mrs. Snyder asked with a wicked glint in her steely eyes. I ignored the stab of disappointment at seeing her.
“No—I—” I blew out a breath. “What can I do for you, Mrs. S?”
“I wanted to check that you were alright…” she said, following me inside. I heard the door close and went to grab another beer.
“Everything’s fine, why wouldn’t it be?” I offered one to her but was waved off.
“Because you walked in here twenty-seven minutes ago with someone else, and now you’re alone…”
I raised a brow. “What were you expecting? Another show like you got the first time?”
“That is precisely what I was hoping for, yes, set myself up right underneath your bedroom and all.” She wasn’t lying. The old woman was a total perv. “So, imagine my disappointment when less than thirty minutes after he arrived I hear him on the stairs. I had to run to the front of the house to get a good look at him before he left.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why did you need a good look at him? I thought you got that when you invited him into your home the other day...”
She grinned. “And why would I not want to see all of that again? You think I’d miss that kind of an opportunity?” She shook her head, and her shoulders gave a little shiver. Total perv. She took up Nash’s seat. “Why are you offering me beer and not naked with that god-like specimen right now?”
I laughed and dropped back down into my chair. “Because that’s not happening again, Snyder.” I stopped short of saying it probably shouldn’t have happened the first time. Her laugh was low and husky.
“Why deny yourself the pleasure, girl?”
I took another sip and shook my head. “He’s a chef.” The statement was out before I realized I was going to say it, before I realized I was thinking it.
“Mmm… I know. Means the two of you have something in common besides sexual chemistry.”
I choked on my mouthful. “Can we please not talk about sexual chemistry.” I did not need the reminder. Also Mrs. Snyder was not bringing me onto her perv level.
“At least you’re not denying it’s there.”
I shook my head. “Not denying. But not succumbing either.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Marion…”
Her hand reached across the small table and landed on mine. “Honey, you can’t tar him with the same brush because he happens to be a chef. That boy is nothing like the other one.” We never said his name, well not out loud anyway. I thought it plenty, when it was quiet and dark, and I wondered if maybe he was right about me all along. I shut the train of thought down before it could sink its claws too deep.
“How do you know? You never met him.”
She snorted. “You trying to tell me that Nash is anything like him?”
I let out a sigh. “He’s not.”
“Didn’t think so. And you’re not the same anymore either, Jemma.”
“I know, you’re right. I just—I told myself that I wouldn’t do that again. I won’t, ever, do that again.” The memory of how broken I was sent a fresh crack through my chest. And after today, it was more raw than it had been in a while.
“I know. But this isn’t that.” She paused, her lips flattening. “He’s not married, is he?”
“Actually yes.” At her look of mottled disappointment and confusion I added, “Recently separated, as far as I can tell. But still, another reason to not make things any more complicated than they already are.” I needed the reminder. I didn’t even know how long ago he and Nadia had broken up. And they were separated, not divorced—for all I knew they could see each other at Dallas’ wedding and decide to give it another shot. I wasn’t so naive to think that her name not being on the guest list meant she wouldn’t be there. The thought sent a wave of nausea rolling through me.
The point was, I just didn’t know him, not really. And, in the interests of protecting myself, it needed to stay that way. Even if I was in the market for something more, which I was not, I wouldn’t be pursuing it with someone fresh out of a relationship. It was a recipe for heartbreak.
“I know you might not want to hear it, Jemma, but you can’t hold onto this forever. You need to give yourself a chance to heal. I think that’s why he’s been put right under your nose.” She squeezed my hand. Healing sounded nice and all, but I wasn’t sure that was what the universe had in mind. Maybe it was a test. A test I didn’t plan on failing.
“I’m not saying that you need to meet the parents or pick out your kid’s names. I’m saying that you can enjoy yourself with him.” It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but as soon as it did, I usually managed to shut it down.
“Even if I did consider it, we’re working together, so doing any of that again would be highly inappropriate and disrespectful to Dallas.”
“You want to be taken seriously professionally.”
“I do.” I needed to get my career back on track and this wedding was going to make that happen, or it was the start of it anyway. I wasn’t going to let that be threatened by a sexy and highly inconvenient distraction.
“That makes perfect sense, but the wedding is, what, three weeks away? And then you won’t be working together anymore…” She slid a glance at me, eyes dancing. “Allow me to play devil's advocate.”
“Like I could stop you.”
She winked. “You admit to having chemistry.” I nodded. “And you work well together?” I nodded again. Not bothering to voice the fact that both of those things were part of the problem.
“I don’t think you should be writing him off just yet— I don’t think you should write yourself off— that’s all. You’re young, Jemma, you have so much life ahead of you and it’s not just about working, you deserve to be loved, worshiped.” She paused, eyes moving over my face. “And thus concludes today’s unsolicited advice.”
“It may have been unsolicited, but it was still welcome.”
“I’ll remind you of that later.” She stood and went to the door, only stopping to blow me a kiss before she was gone.
I was left staring at my screen but seeing nothing. I understood what she was saying, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to accept it. Not yet anyway. All the same, the thought was like a worm, burrowing down and refusing to be ignored, no matter how much I tried.
Fourteen
Nash
“As you can see, the entire home has been recently renovated and all of the appliances are top of the range.” Skye, the real estate agent, swept an arm around the space like a game show host before continuing, “The open concept gives you a clean space and the oversized windows make the most of your natural light.” She gestured to said windows and threw me a look that I was pretty sure was supposed to be seductive but came off as something else entirely.
“And there’s a rooftop terrace?” Dallas asked. She'd had her business face on all day, and I had to run a hand over my beard to hide my smile.
“That’s right,” Skye replied, eyeing Dallas with curiosity. The two of them had been doing this weird dance for the last five hours.
Skye came to my side and ran a hand from my shoulder and down my bicep before it came to rest on my forearm. What exactly did she think was going to happen? That I’d fuck her against the top of the range refrigerator? Or on the new black granite countertops, while my sister checked out the master bedroom?
It was nothing against Skye, I just didn’t fuck people in the middle of the day, with my sister in the next room—it was this rule I had. I stepped out of her grip and put as much distance between us as I could. The woman was starting to freak me out. She shot a look at Dallas who was inspecting every cabinet in the kitchen.
After leaving Jemma yesterday, I made the decision that I needed to get out of my parent’s apartment and into my own place. It was time to start accepting that Nadia and I were over and move on.
So, I called a bunch of realtors and here I was. Here we were. It was three in the afternoon, and we’d been at it since ten. I felt a little bad for neglecting my wedding planning duties, but it was a necessary sacrifice. And, like I’d said to Jemma, I was pretty much on top of everything. I’d even managed to get a decent lead on photographers thanks to an early morning visit to NYU, my phone had been going off all day and I’d been shortlisting on the fly before sending things off to Jemma. Some of them were really incredible.
I dragged my attention back into the room. None of the other places we’d seen today had been bad, not by a long shot, but I hadn’t got the vibe I’d been looking for.
Until now.
I had a feeling Skye had been saving this current one for last and for good reason, it was fucking amazing. The minute we walked inside I already knew I was going to take it.
A renovated brownstone with far more space than I needed, but it was perfect. The ceilings were at least twelve feet and the oversized windows she’d mentioned looked out onto the street and also lined the back kitchen wall. The kitchen had white cabinets with pristine black countertops and stainless steel everything. There were built-in bookcases on either side of the large opening that led into the living area. The wide staircase took us up to the master suite and the first of the five other bedrooms, downstairs was something else that Skye called a ‘flex space’ whatever the fuck that was; it could also be a self-contained studio apartment.
It was impressive, and the thing that kept coming back to me was what Jemma would think. I shouldn't be thinking about Jemma’s opinion on it. I shouldn’t care. This was a house I was buying for myself, it wasn’t about Nadia, or Jemma, it was just about me. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder where Jemma would put a couch. I could almost see her pulling her favorite teapot from a shelf and making us a pot. I was officially losing my fucking mind. Why was I thinking about Jemma making tea? And where she would put the couch?
“Come on, we’ve gotta check out the bedroom,” Dallas said, dragging me up the stairs by the elbow. Skye shot us another one of those confused looks and I threw her what I hoped was an oblivious smile.
“Nash, this place is incredible.” The statement was muffled due to the fact that Dallas was standing in the walk-in wardrobe, which opened onto the ensuite bathroom. I knew I didn’t actually need her opinion, but it was a relief that she felt the good vibes. And I had to agree with her, but I was trying to keep a lid on it in case Skye was eavesdropping.
The room was perfect, large but not obscene, big enough for a king size bed and maybe an armchair. The lush carpet was a pale gray, a shade or two lighter than the drapes. Dallas returned from the walk-in and ensuite and abandoned me to the landing.
“Can we see the terrace?” I heard her ask.
“Of course, it’s just this way.” I met the two women as Skye led us up two more flights of stairs. It was overcast and felt like we were moments away from getting soaked but it was amazing. There were a few raised garden beds around the perimeter and some small trees providing some shelter from the elements. Dallas followed me to the edge and peered over.
“You need to get this place,” she whispered. “She’s asking way too much though, you’ve gotta screw her down.”
“There will be no screwing.”
She let out a snorting laugh and shot a look over her shoulder at Skye. “I can’t believe she’s been giving you the look this whole time when she clearly can’t work out if we’re together or not.”
