Page 2 of Deep Tide

“I’d go get it, but we’re shorthanded and I’m still finishing the canapé trays. If you want, I can—”

“No, finish the canapés. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Leyla slid behind the wheel of her SUV and glanced at the little white chapel. Any moment the doors would open, and the happy couple would emerge, and Leyla didn’t want them to see her speeding out of the parking lot.

Shorthanded was an understatement. If Wade and Rachel were out sick, that meant only four servers for a reception of an estimated ninety people. But it was going to be more than that. Leyla had counted every last body in that chapel, twice, and she’d come up with a firm one hundred. Why didn’t people RSVP anymore? It was so infuriating.

Four servers wasn’t going to cut it, not by a long shot. Siena would have to help replenish food at the buffet table, and Leyla would have to cut the cake.

Leyla raced down the highway toward her beachfront business. The Island Beanery was known far and wide for scenic views, creative beverages, and mouthwatering pastries that had been written up in magazine features. Leyla had recently expanded into catering. Her brother’s wedding was only her fourth gig, and that was if you counted the bridal shower she had thrown for Miranda. But Leyla didn’t count that because the menu had consisted of finger sandwiches and petits fours—yawn—and anyway, the whole thing had been a gift.

Leyla eyed the clock on her dashboard as she neared the coffee shop. She had probably fifteen minutes to get her cake to the reception venue, unbox it, and decorate the table with rose petals, all before the newlyweds arrived for their big entrance. The endless task of posing for wedding photos had taken place already. As a photographer herself, Miranda had insisted on having the pictures completed beforehand, so the wedding party wouldn’t be held hostage by a fussy photographer when everyone was ready to hit the bar. Once the ceremony was over, it was time to celebrate!

Leyla had wholeheartedly agreed with this approach, but now she wished she had more time to get her act together.

She whipped into the Beanery parking lot and used the key fob to pop open her SUV’s cargo space. Lifting the skirt of her long dress, she dashed up the sidewalk, taking care not to trip. Her sky-blue satin dress and strappy sandals were perfect for a springtime wedding at the beach, but not so perfect for cake deliveries.

A lone pelican perched on the deck rail, looking on as Leyla unlocked the door and let herself in. The café closed at six, and the interior was dim and quiet now, with dust motes floating in the air. Propping the door open with a rubber wedge, she glanced behind the counter to the refrigerated display case and immediately spied the wedding cake with its cascade of sugar-icing roses. Everything looked intact.

“Thank God,” she murmured.

Pride surged through her, quickly followed by panic.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and looked around, wishing she had someone here to help her move the damn thing. The cake was surrounded by a custom-made box with a sturdy base and cellophane sides. Leyla opened the refrigerator, and chilled air wafted over her. She stuffed her key chain into her strapless bra, slid her hands beneath the box, and eased the cake from the fridge. It was heavy. Peering around the box, she maneuvered around the counter and crossed the dining area to the front door. Scooting sideways through the opening, she gripped the corners of the box as a breeze gusted over the sand dunes.

She prayed that she wasn’t about to trip on her hem as she crossed the parking lot to her SUV. Sliding the box into the cargo space, she released a breath of relief. But her relief was short-lived as she rushed to lock the shop, then jumped behind the wheel and checked the clock. Speeding toward the reception venue, her mind toggled between the twin horrors of slamming on the brakes and making the cake topple over and—literally—bumping into the bride and groom with their wedding cake at the moment they made their grand entrance.

Leyla turned onto the palm-lined drive of The Breakers and sucked in a breath. Guests were arriving, and the first few rows of cars had already filled in. She pulled right up to the front and parked, leaving just enough room for Joel and Miranda’s limo, in case they showed up before she had a chance to move. Springing from her SUV, she glanced around for someone to help her.

A man in a black tuxedo leaned against the building, scrolling through his cell phone. He was one of the groomsmen, someone who had been through the police academy with Joel. Leyla had met him at the rehearsal dinner last night, but damned if she could remember his name. Was it Eric? Ethan?

“Evan, hey!”

He looked up, startled, and Leyla flashed him a smile.

“I need some help.”

“Me?”

“Yes! Can you give me a hand with this?” She looked around and spied a tall, dark-haired man sauntering down the sidewalk. Leyla had no idea who he was, but he wore a suit and was obviously a wedding guest. “And you!” She waved him over. “I need your help!”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Yes, you. Can you give me a hand here, please?”

The groomsman was standing beside her car now, eyeing the giant cake box with a look of abject terror.

“You want me to carry that?”

“No. I’ll carry it,” she told him. “I need you to open the doors.”

“I’ll carry it.”

She glanced up to see the man in the suit gazing down at her with the most amazing ocean green eyes she’d ever seen.

“It’s heavy.”

He raised a brow.

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