Page 94 of Full Mountie

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Beth

One of Sasha’smany wedding gifts to Ellie was arranging for a team of beauty professionals to pamper us on the morning of the wedding.

They show up at quarter to six carrying trays of Starbucks coffee, so I love them.

“We were waiting when the baristas opened the door,” the makeup girl says.

“You are goddesses,” I whisper as I curl my hands around a steaming latte and wonder if maybe I can just grab a few more minutes of sleep while I sit here and breath it in.

I think Hugh and Lachlan slipped out of my room sometime around three. Not nearly enough sleep, but totally worth it.

Hair is the first order of business. It’s a treat to have someone else straighten my hair, and once my bob is sleek as can be, the stylist twists in some delicate rhinestone details that catch the light when I turn.

Breakfast arrives at seven, and in the middle of the room service carts is an ice bucket with two bottles of champagne that look like they cost an obscene amount of money.

“Sasha, this is incredible,” Ellie says as she pops a strawberry in her mouth.

The maid of honour shakes her head. “Wasn’t me. Must have been your husband-to-be.”

Violet—who got out of the five-thirty wake-up call on account of growing a human being, and having a protective doctor for a husband, so she’s just joined us—picks up a bottle of bubbly fruit juice. “And he thought of me, too.”

Gavin’s mother—an insanely elegant woman who intimidates everyone, including the prime minister—stands up and peers at the tray, then snaps up a small white card folded in the corner. Eagle eyes, that woman. But she probably got a full night’s sleep last night. “Game day. Fuel up!” She reads from the card, then glances up and frowns at Ellie. “Who is Tate Nilsson?”

“A friend of Gavin’s. A hockey player,” Ellie adds, surprise all over her face. “That was really nice of him. He’s coming today, so we’ll need to remember to thank him.” She waves her fingers at Sasha. “Maybe you can say something in your speech?”

“Uh…” Sasha wrinkles her nose. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Be nice.”

“He’s a—” She cuts herself off and glances toward Gavin’s mother, and Ellie’s mother, and then presses her lips together and nods. “Fine.”

I’m not sure how exactly Tate’s rubbed Sasha the wrong way. He’s a total playboy, which may have been what she was going to say, butjerkorpompous assholecould have been just as likely. He’s the captain of the Ottawa Senators and a friend of Lachlan and Gavin’s. He even plays hockey with them in the off-season for fun.

And he was at the holiday play party I went to at Max’s—with Sasha.

But I don’t think they had any run-ins that night.

It’s curious, but I don’t care right now. He bought us fancy champagne, and I want some.

Breakfast of wedding champions.

The next hour spins by in a whirlwind of make-up instructions. At one point I head down the hallway to get more ice and find Hugh guarding the elevator entrance to our floor. He’s got an ear piece in, and while I’ve seen them wear those before, of course, there’s something about bubbly first thing in the morning that makes it seem extra-hot.

He takes one look at my probably-really-pink face and laughs. “Having a good time?”

“I. Love. Weddings.”

“Yeah? I couldn’t tell.”

I twirl in my pretty dress. “We’ll dance later, right? This dress was made for dancing.”

“It sure was.” His voice slides lower. “Can’t wait to peel you out of it, too.”

“Mmm, naughty man.” I stop and tap my finger against my lip. “I was on a mission here.”

He points to the bucket in my other hand. “Ice?”

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