Page 21 of Always a Bridesmaid

“In your dreams!”

“Maybe you were in my dreams. Care to know the details?”

“Hard pass.”

That earned her another laugh. “The big question is, was I in yours?” At that precise moment, the valet opened her door. “I guess that’s what you’d call saved by the bell.”

Ignoring him, Jane folded the blanket, leaving it and his coat on the seat, and grabbed her clutch. She reached in and riffled around for twenty pounds to pay the valet when an arm reached around her with a bill. A hundred-euro bill!

“Thank you,” Henry said to the valet, and they did a secret-handshake money exchange.

“My pleasure, Sir. Miss.” The valet smiled at Jane, and Jane smiled back.

Henry stuck out his arm and with great hesitation Jane took it, wrapping her hand around his elbow. “I could have paid him myself.”

“My mother would have popped out of the crowd somewhere and grabbed me by the ear for letting a lady pay.”

“I would have explained that this lady always pays her way.” Which was why she dug through her purse, found five twenties,and handed them to him. When he wouldn’t take it, she stuffed them into his jean pocket.

He looked down at her with the strangest look on his face, but then it disappeared in a blink only to be replaced by that smug playboy grin. “So, was a hundred quid worth the grope?”

“What?”

“If you wanted to get your hands in my pocket you could have just asked.”

She disengaged her arm, but he snatched it back. “I was kidding. Remember, you push my buttons, I push yours. It’s our thing.”

Jane felt her face flush at the idea of them having a thing. But Elle wouldn’t be fazed, so in a bored tone she said, “If you say so, Hank.”

Together they walked up the pathway to the deep steps. He braced her hand as she teetered on her toothpick heels while they ascended. Had she known she would be going to a winery today, she would have been more practical with her shoe choice. Then again, Elle was never practical.

They’d barely reached the top when Jane realized that every eye was still tracking their movements.

“Is my dress tucked into my underwear or something?” she asked.

“Want me to run my hand over your bum and check?” She sent him a hard glance. “I’ll take that as a no.” He led her to the side of the veranda to one of the few remaining spare tables and pulled out a chair for her, but he didn’t sit himself.

“I’m sorry, but this might take a minute.”

She was about to ask where he was going when the first person approached him. It was a portly man with a honeypot belly, mustache, and a big but nervous grin. “You’re Henry Norris!” The man sounded thunderstruck. “I’m here with mynephew from Birmingham; would you mind taking a picture with him?”

“Of course.” She watched as Henry turned to the kid and bent down to meet him at his level. “I’m Henry, what’s your name?”

“Colin,” he said shyly, and Jane found herself feeling a bit shy too. The way Henry handled the young fan with such kindness and grace was far from the flirty line-cutter she’d come to know. Now she wasn’t sure what to think of him.

“Nice to meet you.” He slung his arm over Colin’s shoulder and the uncle took a photo.

“Don’t just sit here looking like a starstruck puppy,” she mumbled to herself. Jane snapped into action. She closed the distance and when she reached them said, “Let me take one of the three of you.”

She took the phone from the man and angled it just right. “Smile.”

Click.

And that was what started the next twenty minutes of autographs and photos. Jane could tell Henry was anxious to get to the tasting, but he never showed an ounce of impatience, making every fan feel like they were seen and valued. This was their moment and he wanted to make it special.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Henry said when the last person walked off.

“I am a social media expert after all. Snapping pics is my jam.”

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