Page 53 of Savannah Sweethearts

“That bridesmaid for hire is that way. Not on the island, but over that direction. Maybe you can take me for some shrimp and grits when we’re done.” I did a little shoulder dance in my excitement. I loved shrimp and grits.

I stopped when I noticed the look on Alonso’s face as he watched me. His eyebrows were raised and he folded his arms. “You’re a little over-excited about some tiny dead invertebrates.”

I gave him a deadpan glare and blinked several times. “They’re delicious dead invertebrates.”

The laughter that erupted from him was so loud, several people stopped and turned to us. Alonso doubled over as his eyes began to water and I started to giggle as I watched him. Within a few seconds, I was full-on belly laughing as well, having to grip the desk to hold myself up.

Once we had calmed and the rest of the office had dismissed our juvenile laughter, I walked with Alonso to grab the equipment. We still wore huge smiles on our faces.

“You really do have a great sense of humor, Piper. That’s the reaction I wanted from you back in school. That’s what I always loved about you - your laugh. Definitely your best feature.” He bent down and hefted the camera bag onto his shoulder before grabbing a fresh battery pack from the charging station.

Alonso chuckled again and walked off, leaving me standing in his wake.

I was stuck right where I stood. That’s what he’s always loved about me? He’s always what?

Maybe it was just an expression, but anyone who has studied communications knows that only ten percent of it is what is said. The other ninety percent is non-verbal - how it’s said, the facial expression, the setting. And Alonso saying that’s what he’s always loved about me, the heaviness of his voice, the look in his eyes, said way more than he could have had intended.

And me? I was stunned. Over the past few months, my hatred for all things Alonso Ortiz had certainly shifted to comfort and liking. He was a great co-worker. He was a fabulous brother to Maggie. And yes, he was becoming a pretty good friend. But more than that?

I was brought back to the night before when he said he would date someone from work if it was the right person. I had taken it as innocuous flirtation. But maybe it was more. Maybe the longing to feel his lips on mine - a longing I had shoved down - wasn’t as flippant as I had been thinking. He had stared into my eyes when he said it. Had he meant me?

Inter-office dating was frowned upon, I reminded myself. He was my partner and producer. If things didn’t work out, then what? It’s not like our jobs were a dime a dozen. We would still have to work together. Best to continue squelching the desire to feel his lips and his hands on me. Best to keep things strictly above board.

My head was decided, but my heart burned as if I had thrown it into a volcano. I had gotten over Henry, I could get over this heady crush on a co-worker. Finding my feet working again, I turned slowly.

Alonso had backtracked for me. “If you want shrimp and grits, Campbell, we have to actually leave the building.”

In the car, we sat silently. Not that we jabbered every day on the way out to stories, but we talked often enough. Everything felt awkward, though perhaps that was just my perception. Alonso beat his hands on the steering wheel to the Lady Gaga song on the radio, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil going on in my own head.

At a red light, he turned to me. “So how long has this lady been in the business?”

“Huh?”

“This professional bridesmaid. How long has she been doing it?”

Oh. That. “I think she said about five years. She kind of fell into it and has been going strong since. She has a website, she’s in a professional bridesmaid’s network. And she sent me contact info for a few of her clients. She said she averages two weddings a month.”

“And these people pay her?”

My comfort level was returning to normal. I could talk about work, especially fascinating stories, all day long. “Yes. She also runs an online boutique, but she said being a bridesmaid is her primary income.”

Alonso laughed. “Man, how did I miss all these cushy jobs?”

“You’d make a fine professional bridesmaid. I can see you in a long, pink, ruffled dress. Mermaid cut.” I couldn’t help the jab. He made it so easy.

He fluffed his curls. “Pink? Honey, no, I do better in jewel tones.” His voice was high-pitched and he batted his eyelashes as he spoke.

I burst into laughter and he followed suit. I was glad we were at a long red light. Not many men were secure enough to make that kind of joke at their own expense. Henry certainly wouldn’t have allowed it. I had laughed more with Alonso in the past few months than I had in three years with Henry Peddler.

But, like Scarlett O’Hara, I couldn’t think about that now. Or ever. Alonso was just a friend. A co-worker. Forget that his smile made me want to melt on the spot. We had work to do.

The professional bridesmaid, Amaya Journet, was the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. She was petite and had olive skin and long, glossy, black hair. I immediately felt frumpy and gangly next to her. It didn’t help that Alonso practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Jealousy had never been a huge problem for me, but it was rearing its ugly head as Amaya showed us into her office and studio space. Her face could light up the Tybee Island Lighthouse on its own. And there was Alonso, camera in hand, following her like a puppy.

“I pulled out some of the bridesmaid dresses I’ve worn. Believe it or not, I’ve worn a few dresses twice.” Amaya showed us over twenty dresses on a clothing rack in hues of blue, pink, green, and even one in neon yellow. “The cost of the dress is built into my price package, so while it looks like I’m paying for the dress myself, the bride has already paid me for it.”

“Fascinating. I’ll set up the camera to use the dresses as a backdrop.” Alonso set to work setting up while I turned in a circle to see the rest of the room.

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