Page 11 of Champagne Fizz

It’s written all over her face—the drink is amazing.

Of course, it is. I wouldn’t go into business with Arie, or put Connor behind the bar, if they weren’t culinary geniuses.

“Flambé might surprise you if you give it a chance,” I say, before turning to Olivia and Ned. “I’ll come back and check on you in a half hour. Sorry about—” I glance back to the kitchen. “Well, you both know how Arie can be.”

“Unfortunately,” Ned grumbles.

“Please,” I motion again to the hors d’oeuvres and give Kendall a nod, before heading after Connor and Arie. If I’m lucky, Arie won’t be throwing a pan at my head when I walk in.

But I’m not betting on it.

3

KENDALL

Two hours later, I’ve eaten too many of the evil-chef-from-Hell’s hors d’oeuvres, desserts, and drinks, and dangnabbit, as much as I want to curse her creations as cheap flaming balls of grossness, they’re actually amazing!

Yes, the evil-chef-from-Hell can actually cook.

Like really cook.

Which I guess is the whole point.

She might be a royal witch, but there’s a reason Olivia works here and wants Arie to cater her wedding. I suppose I can’t completely blame the world’s sexiest accountant for opening a restaurant with her, though I don’t know why he’d want to put up with the torture of dealing with Arie every day (even if he can reign her in and give me and my clients some space).

I totally owe Simon for that. In fact, I really need him in my corner if I’m going to survive this wedding, because Arie’s going to kick my butt.

The six of us all reconvene in the Flambé dining room, where I make a point of announcing the plan.

“Here’s how the big day is going to go down,” I announce, ignoring the way Arie folds her arms over her chest and leans against her boyfriend like this is going to be rich.

I avoid eye contact with Simon too. As much as I need to thank him—which I will—my body still seems to think that thank-yous should come in the form of me wrapped in a giant bow wearing nothing but ribbon.

“Olivia and Ned will each get their own suite here at the Atlantis,” I begin. “They’ll get ready in their respective suites the day of the wedding, that way it’s only a hop, skip, and a jump to the ceremony site, which will be on the beach—pending my conversation with the resort.”

“Feet in the sand, right?” Arie snips, throwing imaginary daggers at me. It earns her a painful squeeze from her boyfriend to which she winces and elbows him. “You do that again,” she warns “and I won’t suck your cock for a month.”

Frosting and twinkies, the mouth on that one!

“Just wait, Arie,” Olivia says, coming to my defense. “And yes, I do want a beachside wedding. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a little girl.”

“You’re going to get sand in your lingerie,” Arie warns. “You’ll regret it later when your wedding bed is covered in it.”

“Like damn glitter,” Ned grumbles, affirming my suspicions that rhinestones are out.

“You don’t hate all glitter,” Olivia challenges, and Ned whispers something in her ear that makes her blush the color of violet.

My eyes catch Simon’s, only to realize he’s the wrong person to look at in this moment. It’s obvious he knows exactly what my clients are whispering about and it’s made him a flush to match Olivia.

What is it about blushing men that gets my lower regions thumping?

I narrow my eyes at Simon in question, but he shrugs as if to saythat’s just another one of Flambé’s saucy storiesand I’ll have to say pretty please to hear it.

“I’m not going to ask,” I assert, lifting up my phone to look at my itinerary again.

“If you’re curious, it has to do with how Ned proposed,” Connor pipes up.

“Yes, but—” Simon cuts in, giving his head a curt shake. “There are some things you can’t forget once you’ve heard them.”

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