Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Elijah and I looked at each other.
“Self-serve cocktail hour?” he said.
“You read my mind, friend.”
We slipped out of the suite and made our way to the lobby to find the maître d’. “Hello. I’m Sloane Carrick, a writer for Bride magazine, and this is my associate, Elijah Kim. He’s a photographer. Has anyone let you know we’ll be covering today’s wedding for the magazine?”
The maître d’ stood taller and smiled. “Yes, we’re thrilled to have you here at the Chateau. I’m Leonard Frommer. What can I do to get you settled in?”
“We were hoping to shoot some photos of wherever the cocktail hour will take place, before anyone arrives.”
“Of course. Right this way.”
Leonard escorted us down a long hall that connected two buildings. As we crossed over from one to the next, a man stepped out of a hidden hallway, walking in the opposite direction. I stopped myself from crashing into him, but barely, and the abrupt halt on these tall heels caused me to wobble.
The man grabbed my shoulders, saving me from falling. “Whoa.”
“Shoot. Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
The man did a quick sweep over my face and smiled. “I definitely see you.”
Holy eyes. Are those things real? I blinked a few times. The color was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Azure, maybe? Like the color of the Caribbean Sea from a plane, but these babies were offset by the thickest black lashes. I was so distracted by their beauty, I didn’t even break my stare to see what the rest of him looked like.
“Sloane…” Elijah slowed and looked back at me. “You coming?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I gazed into those blue eyes once more. “Sorry again.”
In a complete daze, I walked around the man and continued behind Elijah. After a few steps, I couldn’t help myself, I looked back. The guy hadn’t moved. He just stood watching me with a crooked smile. Unfortunately, ten feet later we made a right turn, so the show ended. I caught up to Elijah. “Did you see that guy’s eyes?”
“No. Why?”
I shook my head. I’d sworn off men six months ago and wasn’t going to let a pretty set of peepers get me off track. “Forget it. Not important.”
At the end of the hall, a set of double doors opened to a beautiful solarium. Soaring glass ceilings and tropical plants made it feel like we were outside, yet we were in comfy air-conditioning. The maître d’ gave us a quick tour and left us to shoot some photos on our own. As soon as the door shut behind him, Elijah and I made a beeline to one of the bars set up all around the room.
Elijah stepped behind it and took out two glasses. “Ma’am? What can I get for you? Just so you know, we’ll be serving orange-stained bridesmaids for an appetizer and pickled bride for dinner. So you might want to order accordingly.”
I laughed. “I’ll take a shot of tequila.”
“Excellent choice. Coming right up.”
I glanced around the beautiful room. Cream linens and massive, deep-purple flower arrangements covered each table. Hydrangeas, like I’d chosen for my wedding, too.
Elijah poured a shot and slid it over to my side of the rolling bar. “Stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Thinking about your wedding.”
I sighed. “I wish it were that easy.”
“You’ll get your day. And it’ll be with someone who deserves you next time. Josh was too boring and ordinary anyway.”
I smiled sadly. “Thank you for saying that.”
“And he won’t have a needle dick. You deserve an ankle spanker.”
In the weeks after my wedding, I’d drowned my sorrows in tequila. Too much alcohol was like truth serum for me, and I now regretted a lot of things I’d told people—I’d shared some of the things Josh had said to me with my protective, police-officer oldest brother, Travis, for one. But I didn’t regret getting drunk with Elijah and telling him Josh had a skinny dick. Childish, I know. Yet it made me smile every time he brought it up.
Elijah knocked back two shots to my one. He was better at holding his liquor than me. After, he snapped some photos of the beautiful cocktail-hour room and we headed back to Bridezilla. She seemed even more frantic and hateful than when we’d stepped out fifteen minutes ago, except the alcohol made me care less. When she stopped berating whoever she was on the phone with, I figured I’d get the introductions out of the way.
“Hi. Excuse me. I’m Sloane Carrick from Bride magazine, and this is—”
She cut me off. “What size are you?”
“Umm … A six usually, I guess. Why?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, thank God! I need you to go get dressed.”
I looked down. “I … am dressed?”
“Not in that boring thing. In a bridesmaid’s dress.”
2
SLOANE
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Elijah snapped another pic of me. “I’m going to have blackmail ammunition for years to come.”