Page 81 of Reckless Kiss

“All right, Stan. Why don’t you come up to the house tomorrow? I’ll have all the details you need. Do you have a list I can look through?”

“Sure, I’ll email it over to you. Here,” Stan said. He pulled out an envelope from his tackle box and pulled out the contents, shoving the pieces of paper into his pocket along with his hat.

“Write your email on here,” he said, handing over a stubby pencil and the envelope.

Archer printed the email address clearly and his mobile number.

“Thanks, Stan. What time tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there from seven. You’ll find me in the basement of Edward Hall, where all the wedding stuff is stored. Come and find me when you’re ready.”

“I’ve never been married before, so please take this comment as I mean it. Why are you freaking out?”

“Cynthia Turner’s nephew is getting married in three weeks. Trust me. She will want perfection.”

“And what about my bride and me?”

“Doesn’t even factor,” Stan said, waving his hand in the air. “But if you can fill the list in and bring it with you tomorrow morning, we can get to work.”

“Okay,” Archer said, feeling the panic shift from Stan to his bones.

He didn’t know what Erica wanted for a wedding, and she wasn’t speaking to him. Filling in the form would be a challenge.

“We’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be here too, Stan. So that’s three pairs of hands to pull off a Turner wedding.”

Daisy’s words seemed to bounce off Stan. He looked to the sky, muttered some words, and then picked up his rod and tackle box.

“See you in the morning,” Stan said and stalked off the causeway.

“How many weddings have you attended?” Archer asked Daisy.

“None. What about you?”

“None. We’re fucked.”

“Daisy burst out laughing. Come on, let’s go and get a pint. We can have our very ownDon’t tell the bride.”

Chapter 38

Erica

After ten days of living back in London, Erica still missed the island and the handsome man she left behind. He’d peppered her with random questions about the wedding she didn’t care about. She’d talked Yanny’s ear off every evening about what she should do. As each day passed by, she realised marrying Archer would be a mistake for both of them. Finally, on the penultimate day, Erica went to pick up her wedding dress. She was still intent on talking to Archer when she returned to the island to tell him it was a bad idea.

Settling at a table outside a restaurant on the patio area, Erica took out her paperback and waited for her lunch to arrive. Her dress was hanging up somewhere inside. The hostess took it from her like it was fine china and promised to take good care of it. The patio area had five feet high shrubs giving a subtle note to passers-by that attention was not welcome.

“Is this seat taken?” A man’s voice said, interrupting her reading.

Erica looked up at the good-looking man standing on the opposite side of the small square table she was sitting at. His short spikey blond hair reminded her of a surfer with its natural bleach blond tips and his tanned face.

“I’m engaged,” Erica replied, holding up her hand with the antique pearl ring on her third finger.

“I know. To my brother. Is this seat available?” he asked again.

“Yes,” Erica said, carefully tracking his movements as he gracefully sat, unbuttoning his suit jacket and smoothing his tie down his broad chest.

“I’m guessing you’re Jason.”

“Why?”

---