His genuine smile loosens some of the bricks in my facade. Because in his story, I hear echoes of mine, reminders of Claire. If she had held up her end of the bargain, where would I even be right now? With her? Without her? Back in London, trying to cobble together a living as . . . what? A meat-pie baking apprentice? A business reporter? I shudder at the thought of either. And honestly, I don’t know that I’d be doing the Modern Gentleman work in the UK. The cachet of not being from here seems to elevate my station when it comes to landing work in New York—speaking gigs and radio bits.
And I like my other job at the moment too. This one.
For the first time in a long time, I’m really enjoying this after-hours gig, and I suspect that’s not only because of the companion next to me. But because Chip’s a decent guy.
I clap his shoulder. “It’s her loss, isn’t it, mate?”
“Abso-flipping-lutely,” he says, the picture of happiness. “Speaking of, I just got word from Ashley that everyone’s here. We’re good to go.” He glances at the sun, slipping toward the horizon. His photographer is taking photos before the ceremony, so the light is ideal. “We can get the bridesmaid and maid of honor.”
“Right. Bring out the ladies.” When he darts off, I bring my face closer to Truly’s and whisper, “Remember, I’m too hot to be single. So feel free to put your hands all over me.”
“I feel like you can fend off any advances without me mauling you.”
“No, I can’t. I really can’t. You’re going to have to manhandle me. Just pat me down like you’re a TSA agent.” I widen my stance, raising my arms in the air. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”
“You’re ready? Is that so?”
“Completely. One hundred percent.”
She lifts her hands, draws a breath, then darts out her fingers and tickles me.
I muffle a shout, barely, squirming away from her on the lawn. “You’re vicious. Totally vicious.” But it comes out in a peal of laughter.
She grabs me, looping an arm around my shoulder. “Want me to put you in a back mount?” But the flirting stops when seconds later, a wrinkly, panting pug rushes across the lawn.
“Pugalove!” a young voice calls out, and I follow the sound, finding the bridesmaid shouting to her dog. “Pugalove! You come right back to me, you rapscallion.”
The rapscallion in question seems well-trained, since she spins around and rushes back to the bridesmaid, who bends and scratches the dog’s chin. “You are such a good girl. So good. But you’re supposed to have your maid-of-honor dress on, you nutty pug.”
I jerk my gaze toward her.
Maid of honor?
The young woman scoops up the dog. “Let’s get you dolled up, my lovebug.” The bridesmaid stands and brushes a hand down her dress, switching from dog baby-talk to something a little more seductive. “Oh, hi, Jay.”
“Hi, Amelia.”
She nibbles on the corner of her lip. “Pugalove was going to . . . well, I think she wanted to come over and meet you.” Her words come out all breathy.
Truly drapes an arm possessively around me. “Who doesn’t want to meet Jay? Get in line, Pugalove.”
The bridesmaid laughs. “I know. I’ll take tickets for that line.”
“You’re telling me,” Truly adds, squeezing my shoulder and snuggling a little closer. Well, there. Maybe I can get Amelia to hang around a little longer.
“Ah, you ladies are too kind,” I say.
Amelia slides me a dreamy look. “I promise, it’s not kindness that makes Pugalove and me want to wait in line.”
Truly chuckles. “Soul sisters. Am I right?” Then she brushes a quick kiss to my cheek, marking her territory.
Amelia sighs dreamily. “You’re so lucky.”
“I know,” Truly says.
“I want to be like you someday.” On that note, Amelia smiles sadly, spins around, and disappears back into the inn.
“Seems she brings out the jealous side of you.”
“You think so?”
“You were pretty handsy, Julie.”
“Just doing my job, Jay.” But the way she touches my arm—sensuously, seductively—doesn’t feel like she’s thinking about work at all.
Seconds later, the bride strides over to me, extending a hand. “I’m Ashley. So great to meet you . . . Jay.” In her soft North Carolina twang, she overemphasizes my name because, of course, she knows Chip hired me. Ashley turns to Truly. “You must be Julie. So glad you could come too. And I saw you met my little bestie. Isn’t she a doll? Pugalove’s the reason I’m here today.”
“Is Pugalove a matchmaker?” Truly asks with a smile.
“You bet she is.” With a knowing grin, Ashley stage-whispers, “She served as my guy magnet. Helped locate the right man for me.”
“She has some top-notch man radar, then?” Truly looks just shy of smiling at the bride’s candid good humor.
“She absolutely does. And boy, was it tough out there before then. Finding a good man is harder than finding a bra that fits you just right.”
“Well, that’s a level-five challenge right there.”
“I know. I spent years looking for just the right fit. But dating these days? That’s a level ten.”
