Amber Leigh Williams - Wooing The Wedding Planner

“Yes. It is.”

Ah, he thought, gauging the slight hint of her displeasure. A kindred spirit. “After I use the Xerox machine here, I might have time to stop by the market, pick some up for you. Or I could try another florist. As long as you don’t tell Adrian.”

“My assistant will be here in a half hour or so. I’ll have him stop by Flora and see if Penny can scrounge together some more petals.” She stopped when Byron nudged the door open and stepped back to let her pass. Blinking at him, she gave a surprised smile. “Oh. Thank you.”

Byron frowned as she brushed by him into the warmth of the hushed building. How little courtesy had she been shown through the last year that the simple opening of a door struck her off guard? Inhaling, he followed her subtle, sensory cloud of lilac that was florid and pristine.

Lilies. Larkspur. Lilacs. Could he be any lamer?

“Oh, my God!” Roxie exclaimed, bringing him to a halt behind her as she whirled around to face him in the lobby.

“Jesus,” he muttered, bobbling the boxes at the renewed pallor on her face. “What?”

“Your scarf! It’s—”

“Halfway to Canada?”

“It’s my fault,” she said ruefully. “We might still be able to find it—”

“Rox.” Byron leaned toward her, lowering his voice as he cocked a brow. “It’s a scarf.”

“Yes, but it’s yours,” she lamented. “I’ll get you a new one. I promise.”

Byron nodded briefly to the woman sitting behind the information desk before setting the packages on the ledge. He relieved Roxie of hers to give her arms a break. “I’ll do you one better. I’m picking up Olivia’s tavern shift tonight. You could come by, buy me a beer, brighten my day.”

“Oh.” She stared at him, stunned. “I’d love to.” She rubbed the cashmere gloves together. “But I actually have a date.”

Byron didn’t know why his spirits tanked at the news. Of course she had a date. It was frigging Valentine’s. And she was Roxie Honeycutt. “Yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Bertie Fledgewick,” she said. “My sister Julianna knows his family. She set me up. You know how it is.”

The only person either of his sisters had ever set him up with was Adrian. Adrian was now married to his friend James Bracken. “This isn’t your first date since...?”

She lowered her eyes to somewhere in the vicinity of his knees and cocked her hand on her hip. “The second. Bertie took me out for martinis two weeks ago. Tonight’s a little more formal. Dinner at Alabama Point.”

“Sounds classy. You’re still living in the apartment beside your shop, right? Above the tavern?”

“In Olivia’s old bachelorette digs—” she nodded “—for the time being.”

“Bring him by when he drops you off,” Byron invited. “Drinks are on me.”

She licked her lips to smooth a canny smile. “You want to buy our drinks or size him up?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m excellent at multitasking.”

She laughed. It was like tinny bells on Christmas. It brought mirth and a pleasant flush to her face—a face he thought still a touch too thin after last year. It couldn’t be her first good laugh since the divorce, could it?

She pressed her knuckle against the space beneath her nose as the laughter began to fizzle. She shook her head, eyes still sparkling. “I needed that.”

Bertie, you lucky bastard. He picked up the boxes again. “Anytime. Tell me where these are going.”

CHAPTER TWO

WOW. AND I THOUGHT chivalry was dead.

As Bertie helped her out of his car, Roxie pressed her lips together, remembering how Byron had opened the door to the library for her.

I guess, after everything, I might still be a sucker for a gentleman.

Bertie’s hand squeezed hers as she stood in the parking lot of Tavern of the Graces, her friend Olivia’s bouncing bayside bar. His hand lingered there, bringing her back again to the events of that morning when Byron had held it, too, tucking it against his middle as he comforted her.

She frowned. Looking up, she noted Bertie’s presence. They’d had a pleasant evening. There had been wine, conversation, candlelight. He’d ordered the smoked oysters. She’d wondered at the selection...just as she’d wondered over the hand he’d let stray to her knee under the table as the appetizers passed into entrées and finally dessert.

He’d blazed through a bolero album all the way home.

His palm was a bit damp against hers. She wished for her cashmere gloves, then dismissed the thought, pasting on her best smile. It had been so long since she’d dated. Had Richard’s hand sweated when they’d first gone out all those years ago? They’d been married only three months before she’d caught him and Cassandra practicing their best wrestling moves on her Aubusson, but he and Roxie had been engaged for four years after dating since graduate school. So it had been almost a decade since she’d dipped her toe in the dating pool. Perhaps she’d just forgotten what it was like...

The first time, she’d thought she’d sluiced through the dating pool skillfully, hooking Richard along until the end of the meet. In the long run, though, she’d sunk. She’d sunk hard, dragged out by the unseen undertow.

Still, no matter how much had happened in the intervening years—no matter how much the dating world had changed with its Tinder apps and its trending hookup culture—Roxie Honeycutt did not put out on the second date. It made no difference how many glowing reviews Julianna had given on Bertie’s behalf.

Bertie shut the car door. Roxie licked her lips when he stood close in the chilled night air. The wind shrieked off the bay, gaining strength. Bertie bounced at the knees, hissing through his teeth. “Let’s get you out of the cold, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. He couldn’t have known that was exactly what Richard had called her. Roxie’s heart pounded, calling up the same restless ache she’d had trouble quelling since the divorce papers had been hastily drawn last spring. She eyed the lights in the windows above the tavern. The place had been her sanctuary. The thought of bringing a man into it...

Roxie tried to keep the smile. “I can walk up on my own,” she told him. She saw the line dig in between his brows and misunderstanding glean. Poor fella. He wasn’t used to rejection. Trying to ease the sting, she added, “I had a good time tonight, Bertie. Thank you so much for dinner.”

He searched her briefly, before humor flashed across his face. “Is this you being a tease, Roxie?”

She felt his hand at the small of her back edging her toward him. Her hand flattened against him. Her smile fled. “I’m not a tease,” she stated plainly. “I’m just not ready for you to walk me up to my place.”

He bit off a sour laugh, clearly amused. “Julianna warned me about you.”

“Did she?”

“She said you’d try to keep me at arm’s length,” Bertie said, the hand on her back lowering an inch. It pressed her middle against his. “Said you’d need a little encouragement.”

Oh, double, double, toil and trouble. Why wasn’t anyone exiting the tavern? The parking lot was full up, yet not one patron had passed in or out of Olivia’s bar from the time she and Bertie had driven up. He’d knocked back two martinis at the restaurant while they waited for the entrées. With the wine on top of it... He’d driven just fine, but had he had too much? “I’m certain this isn’t what she meant.”

“Ah, come on,” he said, swaying against her, into her. The fingers of his other hand clamped on her forearm, as if he knew that her flight reflex was jumping into high gear. “You’ve strung me along too far.”

Her voice clipped. “We’ve only been out twice, Bertie. Two dates isn’t enough—”