Page 57 of Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched

“Yes. Go ahead and mark Rarity as a vendor. She’ll need a seat for herself and two assistants.”

Great. More people.

Hale returned from upstairs, sans child, and a frazzled expression on his face. His cuffs were rolled to his elbows and he held the monitor in his hand as he went right to the wine fridge. Poor guy. Looked like the score was doody diaper-one and Dad-zero.

He lifted a bottle of chardonnay, gesturing to the label to silently ask if I wanted a glass. I nodded, because it was rude to let him drink alone.

“Phina, I’m going to let you go so we can work on that seating chart. Thanks for everything.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Kiss Elara for me.”

“I will.” I shut the laptop. “You look like you just got your ass kicked by a six-month-old.”

“I’m not sure if she’s teething or growing horns.” He handed me a glass. “Cheers.”

Little did he know, his adorable little demon spawn already had him wrapped around her tiny finger. He wasn’t going to win any battles where she was concerned. Deciding that there was no way to salvage his night, I said, “Sorry to break it to you, but we have homework.”

“What? No.”

“Your sister wants the seating chart by the weekend.”

“Fuck that chart.”

“Hale. We have to finish it. She’s doing so much already. This is the only thing she asked us to do.”

He growled and topped off his glass. “There are a million ways I’d rather spend my night off with you.”

“Hey, these are your people. My guests are organized neatly at tables three and four.”

He groaned. “Fine.”

I grabbed the stack of cards and headed to the living room. “Bring the wine.”

Hale reluctantly followed.

I pushed the coffee table out of the way and tossed Elara’s toys into the bin. “I think this will work best if we lay everything out. I printed the names and cut and pasted each one on the front of an index card with any notes about allergies or enemies on the back.”

“How very Ms. Meyers of you.” Hale teased, using the name my students used back when I was a teacher.

“I might have geeked out a little over this, but let’s not read too deeply into it. My affinity for childlike crafts doesn’t lend itself to bouquets and bridal belts. I’m still me.”

“What’s a bridal belt?”

“That torniquet thing brides wear around their thigh.”

He laughed. “A garter?”

“Whatever. Unless I need to carry a knife, I’m not wearing one.”

“I think it’s sexy.”

I paused from cleaning up the toys, second-guessing my decision. “You do?”

“Yeah. And I get to pull it off of you with my teeth.”

“Not in front of four hundred strangers.”

“We’re far from four hundred, and I’d rather save that part of the night for when we’re alone.”

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