Authors: Bella Cruise
“Sorry.” Pixie blinks up at me. “I wanted to stay
in the AC as long as possible. It gets so hot down here.”
“That’s Florida,” I agree, helping her out of the
car. I take her hand and steer her towards the shop. “Are you
ready to taste your perfect wedding cake?”
“I guess?” Pixie sounds upbeat.
“You’ll just love it. Imagine, you and Clyde at your
wedding reception, cutting into a three-foot cake with a tiny Pixie
figurine on top! We could even have her make a special doggie cake
for Buster.”
“Really? That would be so cool!”
I nudge Pixie inside. Theo catches up. “Everything good, boss?”
he asks. I study his face, looking for any traces of guilt.
Nothing. Hmmm.
“For now,” I tell him. “But stick close, I’ll
need you with me today.”
Inside, they get the couple dressed and made up, and down to
business. I have to hand it to Marcie, it’s the set up for a
really cute episode. First, Jules has them taste a bunch of different
wedding cake options – and say, loudly, how amazing they all
are – then they pick one, and she teaches them how to bake it.
Pixie makes some noises about healthy eating to start, but the minute
Jules hands her a slice of double-chocolate bourbon, it’s game
over. I swear, Pixie’s eyes roll right back in her head, and
she moans loud enough to make every man in the room adjust their
pants.
“Theo?” I whisper, beckoning him over. There’s no
way I want him getting ideas from this display. “Can you go
grab me a soda from down the block?”
“There are sodas here,” he whispers, staring at Pixie
with stars in his eyes.
“Yes, but I want a different one. And I’m signing your
paychecks. So…”
He finally drags his eyes away. “Fine, I’ll be right
back.”
“Great!”
Back in front of the cameras, Pixie and Clyde are gamely up to their
ears in flour and butter, as Jules takes them through the process.
“First, you need to cream the butter,” she tells them,
turning on her cherry red KitchenAid mixer. “Just get it like
and fluffy, really whipped.”
“Whip it good,” Clyde quips, thrusting his hips in time
to the machine noise.
“That’s right!” Jules cheers. “And Pixie, do
you want to add the flour? No, not—”
Pixie dumps the whole bowl in. It flies back up in a cloud of
powdered white, covering the both of them.
“In one go.” Jules finishes.
“And cut!”
Pixie lets out a wail, and hair and makeup rush in to clean them up,
but Marcie is grinning ear to ear. “That’s a trailer
moment, right there.” She whirls around and spies one of her
assistants with their cell phone out. “Did you get a picture?”
she demands. “Post it to Pixie’s Instagram. Hashtag,
wedding fun.”
“Hashtag, rocknroll cakes,” Jules pipes up. “And
tag me too, thanks!”
Theo arrives back with my soda. “What happened?”
“Just a little spill. Nothing to worry about.”
“Is Pixie OK?”
“Fine.” I try to turn him around. “We should go
talk about centerpieces—”
But before I can stop him, he rushes over to check on Pixie.
“My hair is ruined!” she wails. “I look like I’m
going gray. And that’s so not my best color.”
“You look great,” Theo soothes her. “Look, it comes
right out. Just shake your head like Buster coming in from the
ocean.” He shows her, shaking his head back and forth.
She blinks back the tears. “You look silly.”
“Well, so do you.”
Pixie grins and shakes her head. Flour flies off in all directions.
She starts laughing.
“There you go!” Theo cheers. “A little brush down,
and you’re good to go.”
Marcie pauses beside me. “That assistant of yours is a
godsend.”
I keep a careful watch, not happy about how friendly they’re
looking. “I know he’s spending a lot of time with Pixie…”
“Better him than me! Last time something got in her hair she
had a full on meltdown. We had to call her stylist in from the city.
It cost us the whole day filming. I’ve half a mind to steal him
away from you full time for the series.” Marcie gives a laugh,
but I know she’s not kidding.
“Hands off,” I warn her. “He’s mine.”
“We’ll see,” is her cryptic response. She heads off
to solve another emergency, but I watch Theo on set for a moment
more. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own drama that I haven’t
been paying attention to the goings on with the show, but now I see
there’s some serious warning signs up ahead. Theo is clearly
smitten, and Pixie genuinely seems relaxed and happy around him.
While they’re flirting up a storm, Clyde is totally oblivious,
off signing autographs for some middle-aged guys out front. In fact,
now I think about it, I’ve hardly seen him and Pixie together
much since they arrived in town. Aside from the staged scenes for the
cameras, our happy couple seems happier to hang out with everyone
except each other.
“Theo?” I call, beckoning him. “Can I have a word?”
Theo bounds over, his expression helpful and eager. “What do
you need?”
I look around. It’s too busy in here, so I lead him through the
kitchen to the alleyway outside. “Is there something I need to
know?” I ask carefully. This has never been a problem before.
Sure, he’ll charm the brides to keep them relaxed and happy,
but I’ve never had to think twice about things crossing the
line.
“What do you mean?” Theo seems blank.
“About you and Pixie.” I give him a look. “You guys
are getting awfully friendly.”
“She’s a friendly girl.” Theo looks confused.
“Yes, but you’re spending a lot of time together. I just
need you to remember your professional boundaries, that’s all.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “Come on. You asked me to keep her calm,
remember? She’s getting really stressed, all the wedding plans
and the filming and stuff. I’m just trying to help out.”
“Well… OK.” I don’t really have anything to
go on except my suspicious feeling, so I can’t really hold him
up. “Just be careful, OK? You know how brides get before the
big day. Their emotions are all over the place, and she might get
confused about what that means.”
“Pixie knows her own mind.” Theo grins. “She’s
really very smart, once you get to know her,” he adds. “And
funny, too. Did you see those videos she made of Buster—”
“Just as long as we’re on the same page here.” I
cut him off. “We weren’t hired to babysit Pixie. We’re
here to make sure the wedding goes off without a hitch.”
“Yes,” Theo says carefully. “
Pixie’s
wedding. This isn’t just about Marcie and the show, you know.
Her feelings count.”
“I know.” I frown. “I’m just saying, be
careful.”
“Whatever you say,
boss
.” This time, his voice
turns exasperated. Theo turns on his heel and heads back inside
before I can stop him, leaving me alone by the trash bins with a
worrying feeling in my gut. I just have to hope I’m
overreacting here, because otherwise I spy storm clouds on the
horizon for this perfect day.
My phone buzzes with a text.
‘Still on for tonight?’
It’s Luke. Right away, Pixie and Theo and the whole wedding
issues disappear from my mind, pushed aside by the more pressing
issue of our big date tonight.
Or non-date. Whatever it really is going to turn out to be.
‘Yes,’ I text back, trying not to let my excitement show
too much. ‘Where should I meet you?’
‘I’ll pick you up. 8pm. See you then.’
I hug my phone to my chest. Four hours should be enough time to pick
out the perfect ‘platonic dinner with my ex who I maybe have
feelings for’ outfit, right?
Even with all day to think about it, I’m still running late as
I scramble to get dressed and ready for my date. We had to do a
billion takes at the cake shop before getting the final ‘happy
couple food fight’ shot, and then Marcie wouldn’t let me
leave without going over every minute of our scheduled trip to Miami
tomorrow for Pixie’s wedding dress fitting. By the time I make
it back to the ranch, there’s barely time to jump in the shower
and grab a blue summer dress from my suitcase, praying to God that
the place Luke’s picked for dinner isn’t totally dressy.
Or maybe he’ll go with something super-casual, and I’ll
be looking over-the-top…
I’m glad my aunts are out at karaoke and aren’t around to
see me all in a fluster. I pull the dress off, reaching for a pair of
white shorts and a cute white eyelet top instead.
Or not.
I freeze in front of the mirror, totally undecided. This is just a
dinner between old friends, I tell myself. There’s no need to
go into total meltdown picking between outfits here! Luke probably
won’t even notice what I’m wearing. He won’t be
looking at me like
that
, will he?
The seconds tick by.
Pick something, dummy. Unless you want to
open the door to Luke in your underwear!
I swallow. That’s a whole other story. With five minutes to
spare, I finally make a decision and pull the dress back on. It’s
cute and breezy, I justify to myself as I let my hair down from its
messy daytime bun and finger comb it over my shoulders. I put on some
mascara and a dap of cherry lip balm, do my best to cover the pale
blue shadows under my eyes, and pick out the delicate filigree
earrings my aunts gave me for my last birthday.
There.
I look at my reflection in the hall mirror. Totally casual and
platonic.
Is that why you shaved your legs and picked out matching lacy
underwear?
I hear an engine, and tires crunching on the gravel driveway. I peek
out the front window and see Luke’s truck approaching out
front. In a flash, I’m transported back to our very first date,
the summer I turned sixteen. He drove us up to Marathon to see a
movie and grab a burger – simple enough, but to my teenage self
it felt like the most exciting, glamorous night of my life. I was so
nervous and tongue-tied, I barely said a word the whole way there. As
for the movie, to this day I can’t tell you what it was, only
that I spent the full two hours sitting there in the dark, my heart
pounding, wondering if he was going to hold my hand. From the minute
the trailers ran to the moment the end credits rolled on screen, I
was in a state of blissful nervous anticipation. Months later, I told
Luke how nervous I was and he laughed about it. “You should
have said something,” he grinned. “I was sweating bricks
trying to work up the nerve to hold your hand.”
That was the beginning. But by the time we’d gone to get food,
and demolished a whole tray of burgers and fries, I was finally
relaxed enough to talk. We spent that whole evening in the back booth
of that diner, talking and laughing. I’d never felt so at ease
with a guy, never met anyone who seemed to understand me like that,
who didn’t tiptoe around my parents’ death, or flinch and
apologize when they talked about their own family. Luke got me, that
was the only way I could describe it, and by the time he drove me
home that night, I knew this was going to be more than just a teenage
crush. It was going to be real.
I didn’t understand just how real.
The doorbell rings, and my heart skips at the sound. I take a deep
breath, and smooth my hair down.
Relax, Ginny. You’ve got
this.
I open the door. “Hey!”
My voice comes out way to loud and false. I want to cringe, but Luke
just smiles.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. We were running behind at the
mansion.”
“No problem,” I babble. “I was late, too. We were
down in Key West filming with Jules today, and I couldn’t get
away. I thought I was going to get pulled over for speeding on the
way back, but I made it home and—”
breathe
! “Here
I am.” I finish, awkward.
“You look great,” Luke says. His blue eyes glance over
me, appreciative. He’s looking scrubbed up and good enough to
eat tonight: cleanly-shaven, wearing a casual blue button-down and
jeans that make his skin seem even more golden tanned.
I blush. “You too. I mean. I haven’t seen you all dressed
up. Because of the job, and, you know…”
Luke gives an easy chuckle. “Is that your way of telling me I
normally look like a mess?”
“No!” I protest. “I mean I get it. Your job gets
you all dirty…”
Crap. Does everything I say have to come out sounding like there’s
a double meaning?
“Usually, I keep things a little neater, meeting with clients
and developers,” Luke admits, rubbing his jaw. “I guess
I’ve let things go a little this summer, being on the site
more.” He holds the door open for me. “Ready to go?”
“Just let me grab my purse.”
I duck back inside, taking the chance to pull myself together as I go
find my bag. Barely five minutes out the gate, and I’m already
getting in a tangle. So what if he looks devastatingly handsome
tonight? I’m not sixteen anymore, blushing every time a cute
boy looks in my direction. I’m a grown adult woman, with poise,
confidence, and an excellent credit score. I’ve engineered life
changing proposals and impossible wedding ceremonies. I can manage a
simple dinner date!
Outside, Luke walks me to his truck, and then opens my door for me
like an old-fashioned gentleman. “This takes me back,” he
grins, helping me up inside.
I let out a breath of relief. At least I’m not the only one
getting serious deja-vu. “It’s weird, right?” I
agree, smiling. “Except this time around, I don’t have to
get back for curfew.”
“And your aunts aren’t waiting with a shotgun on the
porch.”
I laugh. “Aunt Bettina doesn’t have a shotgun! It was a
ceremonial African catapult.”
“Still scared me half to death,” Luke says. “I
thought if I got you back one minute after ten, she’d hunt me
through the woods like a wild hog!”
We drive out to the beach, to one of the Keys a few miles north.
“This place opened a couple of years ago,” Luke says
easily, pulling into a packed parking lot. “They have great
pasta and seafood. I figured it would be a good spot.”