Page 20 of A Foolish Work Flirtation

“I’m not worried.”

My gaze sweeps over him. I don’t want him to leave, but it would be annoying if I asked him to stay. I’m sure he has other commitments.

His green eyes darken. “Good luck.”

I smile and nod.I don’t need luck. I need good planning skills and even better communication. I’ll do my best with everything. But if something doesn’t work out, Kate will have to understand. I’m not a wedding planner.

I watch as he leaves the kitchen with barely a nod in my direction. While squeezing my hands into tight fists, I remind myself to let him go. He has his emotional work to contend with—bad memories and feelings of abandonment. And I need to pull together a wedding. Hopefully, the caterer and housekeeping service will be top-notch and help me figure out who is handling the music.

6

Acceptable Risks (Alex)

It’s early in the day. Standing outside the rented manor house, I remind myself to show up with patience and fortitude. I let the cold, crisp morning seep into my nervous system. A light frost is covering the grass and trees, but the sun will burn it off in the next hour.

It’s probably too much to hope my mother has reconsidered her choices and decided not to marry Graham. Watching her life unfold over the years, I know long-term relationships are difficult for her. I doubt they are even awake yet. Based on the texts I received last night, they are expected to arrive in the afternoon.

Smoke is coming out of the chimney so someone inside must have a fire going. I haven’t seen Imogen in twenty-four hours, but I can tell from the charges hitting my Amex card that she has been purchasing everything from linens to truffles.

After a few more seconds of enjoying the quiet morning, I turn the ornate handle on the large wooden door, and step inside. The front parlor has a roaring fire and an elaborately decorated Christmas tree. Several large vases with pine decorations are strategically placed, and a pink-and-gold ribbon adorns the staircase.

This isn’t how I grew up. But it’s probably close to Regina’s upbringing. From what I could tell of my grandparents’ lifestyle, she lived in expensive houses with plenty of staff and enjoyed cozy holiday celebrations. My father despised all of it. He didn’t believe in the decorations, the gatherings, or the need to put on a show.

Imogen comes into the foyer but stops when she catches sight of me. “Oh, hi, Alex. I didn’t know you were here.”

Her blonde hair is in a tight bun, her face is free of any makeup, and her ripped jeans cling seductively to her long legs. I have not seen her like this. Her sharp cheekbones, the smattering of freckles across her nose, and her wide smile combine in the most extraordinary way. She is stunning.

I stare into her bright, blue eyes, gleaming like the waters of the Azores, hinting at secrets hidden below the surface. “I just arrived. Is everything on schedule?”

She shrugs. “It’s a madhouse, but it will come together.”

I glance at the decorations. “The guests will start to arrive in a few hours.”

Imogen nods and uses her tongue to moisten her lips. “The rooms are ready. I’m trying to tackle what is needed for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding tomorrow.”

“Is there coffee made?”

She nods. “There should be. Let’s check the kitchen.”

I follow her past the ballroom and see several people constructing an arch. I hang back and watch as someone bends pine branches. The desire to avoid all of this manufactured bliss hits me at my core. It seems superficial and overly extravagant.

Imogen stands near the table in the kitchen with a mug of black coffee. She hands it to me and then looks at a timeline taped to the wall.

“This place is a wreck.” I gesture to the decorations strewn across the counter.

She lifts her chin. “What is the saying? You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs? All of the vendors are top-notch. So far, my role is to keep everything moving forward and solve small problems.”

I take a sip of coffee. The liquid scorches my throat. “That’s hot.” I place the mug on the table.

I’ve been up for hours and have already had two cups of coffee. After the wedding, I’m heading to Antigua. I can’t wait to escape the obligations and the polite inquiries.

Tilting her head, she asks, “Do you have any concerns about the event?”

My chest tightens, and I decide at that moment that I want Imogen to accompany me to Antigua. I’ve been figuring out how she could cover Kate and have been shuffling guides around to create a supportive role for her. But I could take her under my wing and keep her close. The idea appeals to me. Probably too much.

“Is there something wrong?” Her soft gaze falls over me, and I want to drag her into my arms but resist. I can’t seek out her empathy or understanding. It would be a huge mistake.

I look out at the view of the fields, making an effort to calm my reaction. “Just that Regina and Graham are making a gigantic mistake. The marriage will probably last a year. And then, they will have to sort out the divorce and settle the financial ramifications.”

---