Eve Devon - The Wedding Planner

‘Well, don’t worry. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of her. The cynic, that is. Not the bridesmaid.’

‘What do you mean not the bridesmaid?’ He’d been thinking the wedding was going to be much easier to handle if he got to tease her about having to be a bridesmaid.

‘I’m about to be fired from the role.’

‘Emma isn’t going to fire you from being her bridesmaid.’

‘She most definitely is.’

He watched her carefully. ‘You look a little sad about that.’

‘It’s for the best,’ she replied, nibbling at the apple.

Deliberately he plucked the fruit from her hand so she had nothing to hide behind when he asked, ‘Are you sure about that?’

Gloria’s eyelids slid swiftly down to cover her eyes and when they lifted again her expression was emphatic. ‘Who wants a bridesmaid with the ability to go rogue at the drop of a wedding hat? Have you ever in the history of bridesmaid tales heard the one about the bridesmaid arbitrarily picking out a wedding date for the engaged couple, and then telling everyone else about it before them?’She looked thoroughly unimpressed with herself. ‘I proper stuffed up, Seth.’

‘Emma is not going to sack you, okay? Have faith.’

She shrugged and lifted her determined gaze to his. ‘At least now I won’t have to be all high-school cheerleader “Oh, my God, this is, like, SO exciting” about every little wedding detail, when what I’d really be fighting to stop myself saying, is “I lost interest in this conversation the moment you lead with, “Off-white or Ivory: discuss.”’

‘You wouldn’t do that.’

‘I would. You know absolutely that I would. No. It’s for the best.’

‘What if you could let the wedding cynic come out when Emma and Jake aren’t around?’

‘And who would I unleash it on?’

He pointed to himself.

‘You?’

‘Not exactly a subscriber to the Joy of Matrimony here, either, remember?’

‘The Joy of Sex however?’ Gloria snorted and added, ‘Sweet Beth my arse.’

He didn’t dare tell her that he’d turned down Sweet Beth’s offer for fear of being ripped to shreds in two or three easy sentences from the woman he was sitting next to. She’d been telling him to get back out there for months. Apparently Daniel Westlake’s and Emma Danes’ arrival in Whispers Wood was a fluke. Appropriately-aged human beings of good character and relatively normal baggage didn’t flock to quaint villages in West Sussex. If he was determined to make his home here, he needed to be ready so that on the off-chance someone decent came to town he wouldn’t still be divorce-damaged and miss out on the opportunity.

‘So when do you think this firing is going to take place?’ Maybe he could get to Emma first and prepare her that Gloria was feeling … feeling … well, actually feeling and Emma could reassure her.

‘Tomorrow. I’ve been summoned to the Hall for dinner.’ She said it like it was going to be her last supper and then said to herself, ‘Stupid spirit animal let me down in the worst way.’

‘Spirit animal?’

Gloria started muttering under her breath as she got her book back out and shoved it at him. ‘Here. You might as well take it and read it. It’s no use to me.’

Seth read the cover, commanding his eyes to remain in his sockets, and his voice to remain within his normal octave register because, WTF? ‘Invoke Your Spirit Animal to Make Better Life Decisions.’

‘If you laugh I’m going to have to kill you and bury you right here under this tree. Fairy rings will probably appear over your—’

‘Seriously, though, Glor. What the double actual?’

‘You said you wouldn’t laugh,’ she pouted.

‘This isn’t amusement. It’s bemusement . So come on then, you might as well tell me, what’s your spirit animal?’

Gloria looked at him like it should be obvious and when he just gazed back at her waiting she rolled her eyes and said, ‘Red panda.’

‘A red panda?’ Now his laugh escaped like a pack of hyenas had slipped the lock on its cage and thrust the doors open wide to party with it. ‘But aren’t those cute and fluffy and have those eyes that suck you in and—’

‘And what of it?’

‘Well I have to tell you that aside from the eyes, I’m pretty sure your spirit animal is more along the size and shape of—’

‘Of?’ she challenged.

‘A Tasmanian Devil.’

Fire shot through those gorgeous eyes but was accompanied by a tiny spark of something else. It couldn’t possibly be hurt but just in case it was he held his hands out placatingly and said, ‘Okay, okay, that was a little harsh. Let’s see,’ he snapped his fingers. ‘Got it.’

‘If you’re not about to say a butterfly …’

‘Butterfly? Sure. If for butterfly you mean armadillo.’

Her mouth dropped open and he felt that strange gravitational pull again. ‘Armadillo?’

He blinked. Stopped thinking about her mouth and concentrated on – he couldn’t believe it – spirit animals. ‘Yep. Armadillo. You know hard on the outside …’

‘Soft on the inside.’ Gloria nodded. ‘Makes sense, I suppose. Give me the book so I can look up armadillo.’

Seth grinned. ‘I was thinking more, hard on the outside … Kevlar on the inside.’

‘Go now,’ she said, her eyes flashing white-hot fire as she snatched the book out of his hands and held it threateningly. ‘Go before I Jason-Bourne-kill-you with this book.’

He laughed and got up.

Decided it wasn’t worth telling her he’d see her at dinner the following evening seeing as she was looking like the apple core she was holding would make an even better throwing star than the book.

Gloria

Gloria made her way slowly along the country lane towards Knightley Hall.

It was the perfect evening for walking, although admittedly that was mostly because who in their right mind wasted fuel driving to their own humiliation ceremony?

She frowned.

Any time she wanted to ditch the sulky attitude and come to terms with the fact that accepting defeat gracefully was the only appropriate response, was fine by her.

So what if her new moniker was about to be Whispers Wood’s Briefest Bridesmaid?

And so what if maybe the real reason she was upset was that deep, deep, deepest down inside herself she’d opened the door to being the type of person who could witness a friend getting married and think only good things about it all.

She was just going to have to deal because it was absolutely redonkulous to be this upset when she only had herself to blame.

Out of nowhere a tatty old punctured football landed at her feet with a soft thud.

Her gaze went from the football to the cow now standing in front of her.

Oh, for Friesian’s sake.

‘Gertrude, I don’t have time for this,’ she muttered.

Gertrude’s hoof kicked playfully at the ball again, missing it because, you know, cow , and Gloria responded by swiftly kicking the ball solidly into the hedgerow. ‘Not Messi,’ she said shaking her head and pointing at Gertrude. ‘Cow,’ she explained. ‘Your job is to stand in a field, eat grass and produce milk. What part of that don’t you get?’

Bypassing the bovine she carried on determinedly to the Hall, her feet crunching purposefully along the gravel driveway.

Wanting more than anything now to get her fate over and done with, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice behind her asked, ‘Why is Gertrude standing in the lane looking like a kicked puppy?’

She whirled around. ‘Seth? What are you doing here?’