Don't Tell the Wedding Planner. Aimee Carson
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“Matt,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m just trying to figure you out. And decide whether you’re gonna be the guy who makes my job easier or harder.”
Normally she meant the words in the sense of a client being difficult. Hard to please. And far too demanding in their wedding-day wishes. Or incapable of making up their mind.
With Matt she knew the decisions would come quickly and decisively. Yep, with Matt the easier or harder delineation was based on Callie’s ability, or inability, to stay focused with such a fine specimen of male anatomy on display.
“What have you decided?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” she said with a tiny grin. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
After a few beats filled with a scorching temperature courtesy of New Orleans’s latest heat wave and Matt’s assessing gaze, he gave a sharp nod and headed up the brick walkway.
Fortunately the path was lined with oaks providing shade from the relentless sun. The playground to their left hummed with the activity of a few families crazy enough to brave the temperatures. An ice-cream truck was parked along the curb. The beautifully maintained park was clearly well run, the amenities nice. Even the current weather had been addressed. Misting machines with large fans had been set up along the path in front, providing blessed relief from the heat.
A drop of sweat trickled between her breasts and she ignored the long, lean legs of Matt as he walked beside her. The view wasn’t helping her struggles with heat stroke.
“So there’s a large private area of the park that is available for rent on the dates we need,” she said. “This place is a little farther out of town than I wanted, but there’s ample parking.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her focus forward as she came to a stop at the field.
She pointed at the outdoor building sitting in the middle of the field. “The pavilion can be used as the main structure and where the food will be served. We’re going to want the restrooms close by, even if it does ruin the medieval feel.”
“Better to ruin the Middle Ages feel than contract cholera.”
Callie smiled but continued on, “There’s more than enough space to set up the tents and the sites for the various games.” She studied the grassy field, a natural border provided by oak trees. “We can set up the gaming tent over here.”
He shot her another appreciative glance, and this time she couldn’t resist.
“What?” she said.
“You’ve already given this a lot of thought.”
“We don’t have much time.”
Matt leaned back against the oak. “Why did you agree to arrange this event?”
“It’s my job. This is what I do.”
He hesitated and crossed his arms as if settling in to wait for a better reason. Callie longed for a cool breeze, or heck, just a breeze would do. Anything to lower the temperature brought about by the Southern climate and Matt’s disturbing eyes.
“Because I owe Colin,” she said. “Our breakup was...complicated.”
Translation: I screwed up big-time.
“But we’ve managed to remain friends,” she went on. “And he’s a regular contributor to my blog, The Ex Factor.”
At his look of confusion, a grin slid up her face. “It’s a he-said, she-said column where readers can pose questions and we offer opinions from our unique perspectives.”
“Is that the only reason you agreed to take this on? Because your ex helps you out?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
He squinted across the field. “I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time than arranging a weekend LARP event.”
Was he speaking for her or for himself?
Callie nibbled on her lower lip and looked across the field. How to explain? Because if her business became successful enough, everyone would forget about her mistake in college? Because maybe, just maybe, if she landed a big enough event with the proper publicity, her parents would stop waiting for her to muck up again?
She liked her life, damn it. And while she hadn’t left for college with the plan of losing her scholarship and getting kicked out, she was delighted with what she’d built. She was happy, proud of all she’d accomplished despite her initial flub.
Now if she could only convince her family to be proud, too....
She pushed the thought away and shrugged. “Every little bit of publicity is good for business.”
Matt studied her with those observant brown eyes that always set her on edge, mostly in a good way. Making her aware of what she wore. Making her aware of what she said. Normally she focused on business or was totally relaxed. Then again, her clients usually consisted of happy couples or middle-aged parents. Dreamy eligible men didn’t knock on her doors wanting her services. And it was a little disturbing to be second-guessing every little thing as she went.
And if he thought her answer to his question was bull, he didn’t say.
When she couldn’t take those eyes studying her anymore, she turned her attention back to the field before them. “It’s more than we need, but I think this works perfectly. You agree?”
“You’re the expert.”
“I’m sure I’ll have to remind you of that sometime in the future.” She lifted her hair from her neck, longing for a cool breeze. “Let’s head back before you’re treating me for heat stroke.”
The walk back toward the car was even more uncomfortable, the sun now higher in the sky. Matt’s silence and his occasional glances left her thinking he planned to quiz her further. And with the hot temperature, and the hotter gaze—not to mention the zillion questions she saw in his eyes—didn’t make for a comfortable walk. Perhaps she should do a little quizzing of her own.
“So, tell me why you got elected to travel to New Orleans to arrange a wedding,” she said.
His lips twisted wryly, but he didn’t answer right away, so she went on.
“Over the years, I’ve worked with mothers, fathers, sisters and friends of the bride,” she said. “But I’ve never worked with the brother of the groom before.”
An amused light appeared in his eyes. “It’s an honor to be your first.”
She kept her gaze on his profile as they headed up the walk, the sound of the misting fans droning ahead. “Which doesn’t answer my question.”
“I told you, Tommy and Penny are up in Michigan. They both have jobs they can’t afford to lose. And I happen to have the time.”
“Where are your parents?”
“Dead.”
A pang of sympathy hit, and she studied his expression, looking for clues to his thoughts. There weren’t any.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “How old were you?”
“Twenty-one. The year Tommy turned sixteen.”
Leaving you in charge, she didn’t say. Raising a teenager when Matt was barely past the stage himself had to have been a massive struggle.
Turning the news over in her head, Callie headed for one of the few massive fans that didn’t have kids hopping up and down in front of it. A large oak provided shade and when she stepped closer to the machine, the cool mist hit her skin, and Callie almost groaned in relief. A fine spray of water coated her face, her neck, and her T-shirt and shorts. But she didn’t care.
With the way Matt looked at her, a hosing off wouldn’t be out of order.
“Where