Tuesday morning Charlotte parallel-parked alongside the downtown square and walked across the small section of park green to the Stag. It was a beautiful early-May morning, warm enough to finally show some skin so she’d taken advantage, choosing her favorite chambray shirt-dress and yellow crocheted ballet flats. She’d decided to wear her hair down after it occurred to her this morning that Dean had probably never seen it that way. For weddings she preferred it off her face so she usually styled it in a ponytail or bun.
It was still bizarre to think about what she was doing coming here so early. She was going to plan a wedding with Dean Troyer.
The past three days she’d worked the idea over and over in her head and it surprised her—the hater of weddings—how much she’d enjoyed coming up with ideas, imagining color palettes and reception décor. It was probably because she’d seen so many weddings, and it was nice to put those ideas into practice. She was a creative and motivated person, so it made sense that the idea of implementing her skills was what had her excited.
She waved to an oncoming car that gave her the right-of-way and crossed the street. As she made her way up to the Stag building, she glanced up to the symbol etched in stone above her head. The Freemason emblem. It always seemed rather fitting that a former Masonic lodge building was now occupied by three strapping men.
Charlotte stepped inside and was instantly greeted by the scent of baking bread. She knew that meant it must be vodka day, which was made out of 100 percent wheat at the Stag.
Surprised to find the front desk empty on a weekday morning, Charlotte walked over anyway to wait for a moment. She quickly spotted a note on the counter with her name.
Charlotte—Text me when you get here. Dean
His phone number followed so Charlotte did as he instructed and pulled out her phone to shoot off a message stating that she was waiting in the lobby.
She lifted her heavy bag onto a small sofa and stared out the window while she waited for him. Looking around, she considered that she’d never been to the building this early. The sunlight filtered into the windows so beautifully. It would be a wonderful place to shoot an engagement session this time of day.
The thought made her think of her upcoming shoot with Dean. She was so looking forward to it and couldn’t decide which concept she should use him for. So many great choices came to mind. Football player? Firemen? Fighter? Good Lord, the thought of any one of those scenarios sounded insanely hot, and she didn’t want to waste this opportunity.
“Hey you,” a sexy familiar voice said behind her a moment later.
Charlotte turned, unable to conceal the easy smile that spread across her face. Goodness, he was a handsome man. Today he was in jeans, this time with a gray polo-style shirt.
“Sorry, I was in the back building. You look amazing today,” he said quietly. It was obvious he hadn’t wanted anyone to hear, although as far as Charlotte could tell they were alone.
“Thank you.” Charlotte tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You’re just used to seeing me on wedding days when I look ragged.”
“Maybe, but you always manage to make ragged look beautiful.”
“Well, thank you.”
He gave her a wink. “Follow me.”
She leaned down to grab the strap of her bag just as a large hand slid against hers. “Let me get this. Looks heavy.” He lifted with a mock grunt. “It is heavy. What the hell do you have in here?”
She followed him through the first floor to the offices on the left side of the building. “I went ahead and picked us up some bridal magazines. I also had a couple of books and some pamphlets that were lying around my office.”
Dean led them into a small conference-style room. A table for eight people sat in the middle. The room was flooded with warm light from the windows that ran along the top of the left wall.
“Does Tara have the day off?” Charlotte inquired. She enjoyed working with Tara although it was usually over the phone, but she’d been one of Charlotte’s brides many years ago, and she was very excited—if not a wee bit envious—of her pregnancy.
Dean set her bag down with a heavy sigh. “I wish. Apparently, she’s developed pre … uh…”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Preeclampsia?” Dean nodded and she gasped. It broke her heart every time she heard of any woman having complications with her pregnancy. Hit way too close to home. “Oh no, that’s so awful. So she had to take some time off early, I assume.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid she won’t be back until after her maternity leave this fall. Part of the reason why I bartered for your services.”
“We were supposed to do her maternity shoot before too long. I should call and check on her. That is nothing to play around with. A friend of mine ended up in the hospital for the last two months of her pregnancy.”
Dean’s eyes widened at that. Charlotte knew the guys had a great relationship with Tara and were probably worried.
“Ben will baby her, I’m sure. So will her mother. But in the meantime we are sort of fending for ourselves where the wedding side of our business is concerned. TJ has taken over most of her work, leaving me to deal with the distilling alone … and my sister’s wedding. As I explained Saturday night.”
Charlotte smiled. “I’ve already said yes, Dean. You don’t have to convince me I’m needed. I’m here.”
He sighed. “And I’m so grateful, I want you to know that. I still can’t believe I’m doing this.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the bridal magazines Charlotte pulled from her bag and arranged on the table.
“But it’s such a nice thing you’re doing. Obviously your sister trusts you. So many important and personal decisions to make. Every bride wants her day to be just right. Perfect.”
“You’re making me even more nervous, Charlotte.” His smile did little to hide the panic in his eyes. She needed to reassure him.
“I’m sorry, I mean, she’s trusted the right person. You, her brother. And now you’re trusting the right person. Me. This will be great.”
“Have you ever planned a wedding before?” Dean asked.
Oh shit. This question could be handled one of two ways. She could just be honest. Admit that, yes, she had in fact planned a wedding before. A beautiful affair to which she’d invited 150 people, paid many deposits, and ended up the fool of the century when her fiancé realized she wasn’t the one. Or she could just lie.
She met Dean’s eyes. His expression was wary and waiting, one eyebrow up, revealing that he wasn’t sure why this was a difficult answer for her.
“Um, yes. I have planned a wedding before.” She smiled and pulled out a chair. Maybe he’d leave it at that. Guys didn’t usually want meaningless conversation, so they rarely probed for more. Charlotte reached into her bag and pulled out the fresh notebook she’d bought yesterday. Every new project required one.
“Whose wedding did you plan?” Dean sat down right next to her, and she could sense his eyes on the side of her face. He’d opened up a bit about himself the other night. If she liked this man, she owed him the same.
She turned and looked him right in the eye. “Mine.”
His eyes widened, his gaze darting to her left hand. “You’re married?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. Definitely not, but I … almost was.” She pulled out the next magazine and slid it across the table in front of him as if to bring his attention back to the task at hand.
“Almost?” He scooted closer, obviously not ready to abandon the discussion. “So … what happened?”
“It’s kind of personal,” she said, trying for coy, but fearing it came out bitchier.
She was sure that indeed it had when his head jerked back a little in surprise. “You’re right, I apologize. I’m prying. Honestly, I just can’t imagine anyone having the chance to marry you and not taking it.”
Her cheeks flushed at that. She glanced over at him. “Thank you. But crazy things happen every day. It’s not really something I like to talk about.”
“I understand. I guess I should ’fess up, too. I was married. Divorced now.”
“You were?” That surprised her. “I had no idea. I can’t imagine anyone being married to you and letting you go.” She countered his previous comment with a little smile.
He chuckled. “Thank you for that, but like you said, crazy things happen. To all of us, apparently.”
Damn, now she was curious. When was he married? How long? What happened? But she couldn’t pry herself when she’d just made it clear that she didn’t welcome him doing the same.
“Well then, I guess I was right. We are the right people for the job, since between us we have a little experience with weddings. Surely the two of us losers can give someone else a happily-ever-after.”
Dean laughed. “I hope so, and seeing as this is the last one I’ll ever be planning, I want to get it right. Alexis deserves a beautiful wedding.”
Charlotte swallowed. So that’s where he stood on relationships. She couldn’t really judge him on the marriage part since she felt the same, but although Charlotte had no desire to have a wedding, she did want more than what she had now. Much more. Did he not want that?
She’d often heard other vendors joke that their name, the Stag, was a nod to their status as single men and the fact that they intended to keep it that way. Maybe there was truth to the rumors. It had seemed to make sense for playboy Jake, and even TJ. But Charlotte had always thought Dean was a little more … traditional. Maybe she was wrong. Or it was just wishful thinking.
Silly that it made her pause. It wasn’t like they were dating. They barely knew each other outside of flirting once or twice a month. But still, she’d liked him for years. How long had she daydreamed that maybe—eventually—he’d make a move and end up being the one?
At the same time, if it was going to happen, wouldn’t he have made that move by now?
“Okay then, we should get to it.” Charlotte opened her notebook up to the list she’d made the night before, carefully avoiding his gaze. “I went ahead and started making some notes on the basic things we need to accomplish.”
Dean was silent, and she finally glanced up at him. He appeared panicked, staring down at her list. Charlotte gave it a second glance. It did fill the entire page from top to bottom. Two columns’ worth. She watched as he blew out a breath. There was no way to make this easier on him.
“Now, I’m going to be honest with you. Two and a half months to plan a wedding is kind of insane.”
“TJ said the same thing.” Dean lifted an eyebrow and gave her a look somewhere between worry and amusement. “Regretting this already?”
“No! Not at all, I’ll hang out with you any chance I can get.” Charlotte gave him a playful wink, loving the way he smiled and shook his head in response.
“I just want you to be realistic about our options. Our resources will be limited at this point. We won’t get top pick … or maybe any pick on vendors. We’ll probably just have to take what we can get and expect to do some of the work ourselves. But I’m hoping that since both of us have connections, we can use that to our advantage.”
“I understand. We’ll do the best we can.”
Charlotte needed to ask him a few questions. “What’s the budget?”
She wrote down his answer but couldn’t help grow a little concerned. It was very tight. She hoped Alexis wasn’t hoping for a fantasy wedding.
“I know it’s not a lot, but I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen. Alex understands this, she’s not expecting extravagance and it helps that she gets this building for free.”
“You’re right, that does help a lot. Do you know how many people she’s inviting?”
“Less than a hundred. She’s sent me her list and Nate’s mom is emailing hers this week. Nate’s mom is also going to choose the tuxedo and will deal with the rehearsal dinner, which I told her we could have upstairs. It’s hard for her to do more because she’s out of state, and I think their funds to help are also limited.”
“Understandable.” Charlotte made a few notes. “Attendants?” Dean looked confused so she clarified. “Bridesmaids, groomsmen?”
“Oh … I’m not sure. Probably one each if any.”
“What’s Alex’s favorite color?”
“Green.” He didn’t hesitate.
“What kind of girl is she? Glamorous? Frilly? Tomboy?”
“God … I don’t know. I don’t think she’d be considered glamorous or frilly. She’s … feminine, but she’s got a tomboy side. She liked makeup and buying clothes when she was a teenager but she also played basketball. I mean she is in the army, so whatever that tells you.”
“I understand. I’m just sort of trying to get an idea of what kind of a woman she is.”
Dean pulled out his phone and showed Charlotte a couple of photos of his sister. One of her standing outside the Stag, and another of her and her fiancé, Nate, in front of a Christmas tree. She was very pretty and somewhat petite, with a wide engaging smile.
“They’re a very attractive couple.”
Dean nodded. “They are. Nate’s good to her, also. And Alexis is just a really great person. She’s had to deal with a lot in her life, which is why I really want this day to be the best it can be.”
“Of course you do, and I want to help you give them that. Which was why I brought up the time line earlier.”
Charlotte realized she had slid into using her “sales voice,” the one she implemented with brides when she was trying to talk them into doing things her way. Always for their own good, of course.
“Have you checked the Stag’s bookings for the two weeks they’ll be in town?”
He looked panicked. “God, no. Guess I should have thought of that.”
“There’s a good chance you guys are booked solid, July is busy. So my initial thought is that we should have it on a Friday evening. They’re getting more popular, but they’re still way less so than the traditional Saturday wedding. Might also save a little money with other vendors.”
Obviously taking in everything she’d just said, Dean stared down at her to-do list with a glazed expression. His head slowly began to nod. Then he finally met her eyes. “Okay, let’s do that. I trust you. I’m sure one of them is open. I can only recall a handful of Friday weddings happening here.”
Charlotte smiled. “Perfect. See, you keep agreeing with me and we’ll be golden.”
Dean laughed, and she could see some of the tension leave his shoulders. She liked that, knowing she could help him feel better.
“So a Friday it is. You check the schedule and let me know which one is open and we’ll go from there.” Charlotte marked a big dark check next to DAY on her list. First decision was simple. Planning another wedding shouldn’t be too bad.
* * *
A week later, Dean pulled his 4Runner into a beat-up lot and parked in what he considered his best guess at a designated spot, since the stripes had all faded. Gary’s Catering was located on the east edge of town, on the back side of what used to be the DMV, and was now an empty building that had seen better days. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but decided to hold his final judgment until he’d at least met the man.
Charlotte had made this appointment and texted Dean to meet her here today, so he went ahead and waited in his car for her to arrive. Unfortunately, Mother Nature chose that exact moment to drop buckets from the sky.
A few moments later her car pulled up beside his, which made them the only two in the lot. Again, he was reserving judgment. Dean got out when she did and together they dashed for the overhang that ran the length of the building. Short of breath from jumping puddles in the crumbling parking lot, Charlotte grinned up at him.
“Well, that sucked,” she said on a laugh.
Dean had to force his gaze away from her breasts, which were so clearly defined by her damp top that he didn’t even need a good imagination to see how amazing she would look if he just stripped it off her. “It’s that time of year.”
“Yes, it is.” Charlotte twisted her lips a little, the movement drawing attention to how moist and full they were. She was wearing bright-red lipstick, and her eyelids were done up with shades of brown that highlighted the blue of her eyes. The best part was she had her hair down again. Many times he’d imagined what it must look like. She’d always looked cute with it up, but down, damn, she was a stunner.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” she said.
“Don’t thank me, you’re the one helping.”
“Well, I didn’t really give you the option of saying no, I realize.”
He smiled. “I would never say no to you.”
The grin on her face was wicked. “I bet someday I can find a way to make you regret saying that, Mr. Troyer.”
He had a feeling she might be right but brushed it off. “Should we go in?” Dean managed to say coherently as he soaked in how gorgeous she looked standing there wet and wide-eyed.
“Yes, let’s. This should be fun. Free food and spending someone else’s money. It’s the perfect outing.”
Dean laughed. Something he did with frequency when he was with Charlotte, more than with anyone else. It was partly because she was funny, but also because he just found himself feeling lighter in her presence. Something about the proximity of her took his mind away from all the stressors in his life. The woman clearly had superpowers, although he’d become very good at not allowing himself to even consider what all of them might be.
They stepped into Gary’s and right away were greeted by the decadent scent of garlic and lemon. A round, middle-aged fellow came through a door at the back of the small room that housed two little tables, a desk, and a soda machine.
“Charlotte, my dear, I’m so happy to see you.” The man walked right up to them with a huge grin.
“Thanks so much for seeing us on such short notice, Gary.”
She looked back in his direction. “This is my friend Dean. It’s his sister’s wedding we’re here in regard to.”
Gary stuck out a large hand and Dean shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean. You’re one of the owners of the Stag, yes? I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. Why don’t you two go ahead and come back to the kitchen. It will be easier that way. And we’re all friends here.”
They followed Gary through a swinging door, and based on the nondescript front room, Dean feared the worst. Thankfully he was instantly disappointed. Impressed even. The kitchen was large, stocked with modern, stainless-steel appliances, and best of all it was immaculately clean. From the ceiling tiles all the way to the linoleum floor. Although the building was decades old, Gary had made the most of the space. There were various stations that appeared to be prep space, two commercial ranges, and at least four ovens. A woman in an apron waved at them as she stirred something in a large pot, and for the first time this morning, Dean felt like they might actually get this food thing taken care of today. What a relief that would be.
“Okay, how about you two have a seat here, and we’ll just get right to it.”
Charlotte pulled out one of the stools Gary had indicated, laid her purse on the seat next to her, and sat up to the stainless worktable. Dean did the same, and before he could get comfortable, Gary was setting several laminated sheets of paper in front of them.
“So, Gary,” Charlotte began. She had already pulled out the same notebook she’d used the other day and flipped it open. “We have a modest but doable budget. I think our overall theme will stay casual, and the guest count is just under a hundred. All of that considered, I do think buffet-style will get us more for our money. What do you think, Dean?”
His mouth dropped open a little. She wanted his opinion? He wasn’t sure why, because she seemed to be really good at this. “Uh, sure. Sounds good.”
He sat silently and listened as Charlotte and Gary discussed meal options, servers, and venue. Earlier that week he’d messaged Charlotte the final head count of ninety-two people. He was waiting on a friend of Alexis in Chicago to email him a list of the last few addresses so they could get invites out. Where did one get wedding invites, a party store? Target? He had no idea. There were just so many little things to remember and think about.
Thankfully it wasn’t long before Gary was setting in front of them a plate on which sat three smallish servings of chicken. One breaded, one in a mushroom sauce; the last appeared to be lemon with capers. Gary slid them each a fork while Charlotte snapped a photo of the dish with her phone. Apparently they were to share the plate. No big deal.
“You first.” Dean nodded to Charlotte.
“Don’t be silly, we can both try at the same time.” She cut off a little bite of the lemon-flavored chicken and lifted it to her mouth. Instead of getting his own bite, Dean just watched in fascination as her lips closed around the fork. She chewed slowly and then her eyes widened, a tiny moan coming from the back of her throat. When she finally swallowed she looked right at Gary.
“Oh my God, that is amazing, Gary.”
The big guy grinned. “Thanks, doll.”
“Eat.” Charlotte tapped the top of Dean’s fork with her own and then began to cut a bite of the mushroom chicken. He went for the breaded. It was good. Not amazing. He definitely didn’t have the urge to moan about it, although he wouldn’t mind if she did it again. Charlotte made her way to the breaded chicken as Dean tried the mushroom. He liked that one a lot.
They both finished chewing about the same time. “That’s really good.” Dean pointed to the mushroom chicken.
Charlotte nodded and cut another bite of the lemon. “It is, I agree. But this piccata is to die for. Here, taste it.” She lifted her fork to Dean’s mouth. He stared over the bite of chicken at her, hesitating. She was going to feed him, right here in front of Gary?
She grinned. “Seriously, try it.”
Her eyes widened just a fraction as if she’d just realized something and felt foolish. She began to lower the fork. “Oh, unless you don’t wan—”
Dean reached up and grabbed her hand that held the utensil, guiding it up to his lips before taking the bite of chicken into his mouth. Their eyes met, and the minute his tongue came in contact with the lemon caper sauce, he understood. It ranked high on the list of most delicious things he’d ever tasted. His thoughts must have shown on his face.
“Right? I told you,” Charlotte said, her blue eyes twinkling.
For a moment her smile made him question what she was really asking. You are right, Charlotte. You feeding me makes everything taste better, although I’d rather have my mouth on you.
She looked over at Gary. “Definitely the piccata.”
The next hour was spent trying vegetables, potatoes, and salads, and discussing their order. When they’d finally made all of their decisions and officially booked Gary for the job, Dean and Charlotte said their good-byes and headed to the front door. One major thing checked off the to-do list.
“Well, there goes fifteen hundred dollars of our budget,” Dean said as they stepped outside. The rain had cleared and the sun was trying to break through the clouds.
“I’d say feeding nearly a hundred people for that price is pretty darn good. Especially since he is providing servers, tablecloths, and cleanup.” Gary had thrown that in as a favor to both of them. Dean had also taken some of his menus to pass out to brides who consulted at the Stag.
“I’m sure you’re right. It just feels crazy to spend this kind of money on one day.”
They stepped off the curb and began to walk to their vehicles. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy and the ground saturated. “You’re not kidding. Weddings are insane. Good thing for us in the biz, right?”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. You must do pretty well shooting weddings.”
Charlotte shrugged and then opened the back door of her little hatchback to drop her bag into the backseat. “I can’t complain. My average bride spends about four or five thousand with me. Including products, so there is some cost. I also have to pay Lauren, and of course all of the overhead no one ever thinks about when I quote them a price.”
Five grand, wow. He knew Charlotte was one of the most sought-after photographers in the area, and he’d seen how amazing her work was, but he never would have guessed she could pull that kind of price. He was impressed, yet at the same time frustrated. There went another huge chunk of the wedding budget. “Speaking of which, I should have said it right up front, but … are you willing to shoot this wedding? I was really hoping you would.”
Her throaty laugh sent shock waves through his body, and he was still thinking about how entertaining it had been to sit and eat with her for an hour. They’d ended up feeding each other several times, and by the end of the tasting it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to eat off each other’s fork. It had him seriously wishing they could just go out for real, enjoy each other without Gary looking on.
“Well, I was sort of planning on it, yeah. I mean since I am planning this thing with you.”
Dean stepped a little closer to her. “Good. I’m glad you’ll be there all day with me.”
Flirting with her like this, now that they were working together outside the Stag, seemed much more dangerous. Somehow this arrangement had taken their relationship to another level. As much as he knew it was a bad idea, he still couldn’t seem to help himself, and the fact that she seemed to have no problem teasing and flirting with him made it even harder.
“I’m glad, too. It will be nice to see all of our hard work come to fruition.” Her eyes searched his for a long moment.
It was going to be hard work, reminding him how much he was asking of her. His brow furrowed. “How much do I owe you, then? To be the photographer.”
“I’m not sure. You might be worthy of a discount.” She gave him a little wink. “Why don’t we not worry about that right now?”
“Well, I am paying you, just so we’re clear about that.”
“Remember, you’re doing me a favor, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s for this, the planning part.”
“True. But maybe we could work something else out.” She bit at her bottom lip and then grinned. “I’ll let you know what I come up with.”
Well, if that didn’t get his mind working overtime he wasn’t sure what would. He wouldn’t mind giving her a few suggestions of his own, which was a bad, bad, idea all around. “Okay. So are we still on for next Thursday?”
She’d mentioned doing his photoshoot the following week while they’d been in the tasting and he’d agreed quickly, not wanting her to elaborate in front of Gary. Dean figured he might as well get the damn thing over with.
“Yes, we are absolutely on, and I’m really excited.”
“Yeah, me too.” He wasn’t, really. Not because he didn’t want to spend more time with her—he definitely did—but he’d never tried to be sexy on purpose. Wasn’t sure if he could pull it off despite her belief in him.
“I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow and let you know the details. I actually had an author contact me a couple of days ago, and I think you’ll be perfect for what she needs.”
“So she specifically asked for a middle-aged guy, huh?” He knew his smile was forced but he couldn’t really help it. This whole thing had his anxiety on overdrive.
Charlotte sighed. Her eyes drilled right into his. “Dean, I’m not really sure how else to make this clear to you. You are insanely good looking. You have to know I think so by now. Besides, there is no way I would have asked you to do this shoot if I wasn’t entirely certain that you would nail it.”
Dean swallowed hard, staring right back at her. Yes, he made health and fitness a priority. But he knew plenty of fit, muscular guys who would still have no business slapping their mugs on a book cover. Not only that, but he didn’t want to let her down, as a professional … or as a woman. Her confidence in him helped, but his confidence in himself was seriously lacking in so many ways. “Okay, I’m going to trust you. But you should know, I lied. I’m not excited. I’m scared shitless.”
“What?” she cried. Smiling, she reached out and grabbed his hand. His heart nearly stopped. Had she even realized she’d done it? “Don’t forget, this is me, and I’ll be there to take care of you.”
Yeah, that’s one thing he was afraid of. Standing in front of her half naked, pretending to be some sort of hunky sex object. Would she touch him while they worked? Did she touch other guys? He forced the negative thoughts away, they didn’t do him any good, and as much as he hated the idea of those things it really was none of his business.
“I’m planning on it,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
She grinned in return, finally letting go of him. This was the “them” he liked the best. The teasing, flirting, and seemingly innocent innuendo. Was that a bad idea now that they were seeing each other more often? Probably. But he’d just have to force himself to keep things like they’d always been. Just fun. They’d done it for years; surely they could continue. He’d try to remind himself of that when he stripped off half his clothes in front of her.