The day after our meeting with Alice Buchanan, I sit at my desk in the corner of my apartment, take a deep breath, and dial Jesse’s number. He doesn’t pick up, which is kind of a relief. I’m trying to work with him like an adult, but the embarrassment runs deep. If we could handle the duration of this project through voicemails and not having to see each other face-to-face, that would be amazing.

After his greeting plays—god his voice is so sexy—I ask him to get back to me with a time we can get together to go over my short list of venues. It’s so important—to my business and to Mrs. Buchanan—that this party go as seamlessly as possible that I’m anxious to get everything nailed down, especially since we’re working on a rush. Plus, Mrs. Buchanan specifically told me she wanted Jesse’s approval on the venue before I booked, so I can’t move forward with anything until I know exactly where this party is going to be.

It takes him a day and a half and twelve unreturned messages to finally pick up his phone, and when he does, I’m livid. Somehow I manage to be incredibly polite to him, even though I want to rip his gorgeous head off.

We agree to meet at a coffee shop a block away from the venue that’s first on my list. I figure we’ll get a drink and take a walk to size up the places. I’ll be civil and he’ll be charming, and we’ll agree on a place that makes everyone happy.

That’s how it’s supposed to work, at least.

What really happens is that I spend the entire morning finishing up some table toppers for Hayley’s wedding, and by the time I show up at the cafe, I’m frantic, disheveled, and covered in glue. I manage to make it before Jesse does, though, so I consider that a win.

Because I look like I basically escaped from crafting hell, of course Jesse shows up wearing a button-down, a blazer, and jeans that look like they were custom made for him, wow. I shake my head, realizing that I need to stop noticing all of his…Jesse-ness because he’s made it quite clear that nothing’s ever gonna happen between us.

I smile at him, back straight in my seat as I carefully fan out the specs for each venue on the table in front of me.

“Hey,” he says breezily, looking around. Like he wants to look at anyone but me. Be anywhere but here.

The feeling is mutual, but at least I have the decency to hide it.

“You want some coffee?” he asks.

“No, thank you.” I really would like some coffee, but I’m not interested in anything that coffee would entail, like sitting here chatting and taking my time. I want to get this over with and get the hell out of here. I want to go back to my life and not think about him until I have to.

“I’m just gonna…” he says, pointing at the register. Great.

I nod and give him what I hope is a very polite smile. He walks over to the barista and looks at the menu while I look at his ass. He has such a nice ass. Why does he have to have such a nice ass? Ugh.

The barista hands him his coffee, and he makes his way back over to me.

“So,” he says, then takes a sip. “What did you want to talk about?”

I bite back a sigh of annoyance. He’s acting like we didn’t discuss this on the phone already. “The venues,” I reply, pushing the papers toward him.

“These them?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He gives each paper a once-over. “No,” he says to the first one, then flips it over. “There’s no way to secure the perimeter there.” He looks at the next one. “Same here.” The third, “This is no good, either.”

A painful knot rises in my throat, and I do my best to swallow my tears. These are the best places we could afford. Anything else is either out of my price range or too awful to consider. As-is, it’s gonna be tough to get one of these places on short notice.

“Don’t you have anything else?”

“No,” I say, my voice wavering. “These are the best that are in my price range. I can’t afford anything else because half my budget is being taken up by security.”

“That’s not my problem,” he replies. “Look, I’ve got a lot riding on this job. There can’t be any holes in security. It has to be perfect. For that I need the perfect building. These won’t cut it.”

“You think I don’t have a lot riding on this job?” I try and fail to control the rapidly growing hysteria that’s making my heart pummel against my ribs. “My business is still getting off the ground…everything depends on this. You have to work with me here.”

“I can’t work with this,” he says calmly, folding his arms across his chest. “Find something better.”

I don’t want to make a scene in this cafe because I’d really like to be able to show my face in here again. It takes everything in me not to yell, but I manage. “Is there a reason you’re being such an asshole?”

I had my qualms about working with him, but I’m an adult and a professional, and I figured that we could get this done with minimal awkwardness. But I wasn’t counting on him being a completely immovable force when it came to something so simple as booking a venue. I need this to work out, but in order for that to happen, he has to give a little.

“I’m not being an asshole,” he replies defensively. “I’m just looking out for the well-being of my client. Of our client.”

“There’s looking out for someone’s well-being, and then there’s being an asshole about it, Jesse. You didn’t offer to work with me on finding a suitable place or offer any compromises. You just…shut me down. I don’t know if you’re having a bad day or if this has something to do with me. I’ve done everything I can to make this as not awkward as possible, but you’re not making it very easy on me.”

The appointment reminder beeps on my phone, and I pull it out of my purse. I forgot I was supposed to meet up with Hayley to do some more stuff for the wedding, and even though I need to get this venue booked yesterday, maybe taking a breather is for the best.

I gather up my papers and blink back the frustrated tears in my eyes. “Just…just forget it,” I say, shoving the spec sheets back into my bag. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Alexa,” he says quietly and actually manages to look sorry.

“I’ve got to go,” I tell him. Then I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk out the door.

“These are gorgeous,” Hayley says as she looks at the centerpieces I made for the wedding. “Just what I wanted.”

“Rustic chic,” I say with a hint of teasing, given the back and forth we’d had about theme when I first offered to design the wedding for her as a gift.

She gives me a wry smile. “You know, I think you might be successful at this party planning thing after all.”

“Thank you.” I’m not going to tell her this, but I’m pretty proud of myself. I haven’t really gotten a chance to get my hands dirty with actual design yet. Making centerpieces and accessories adds a nice personalization that I’d like to offer my clients, and I’m glad that I’m at least somewhat good at it.

It might come in handy with the Buchanan party, given the budget issues I’m having.

“So,” I begin. I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up my to-do app. “We have the string lights, I’ve got some guys distressing the tables. The centerpieces are done, I’ve got the barbecue place booked for catering, and we have the cake. Now all we need is the dress.”

Hayley absolutely beams at that. “I have the dress.”

I mock glare at her. “What? Aren’t we supposed to shop together, drink champagne, and argue over which neckline looks better?”

“Sorry,” she replies sheepishly. “I was shopping in Old Town this afternoon. I walked by a vintage store, and it was in their front window. The second I saw it, I just…knew.”

“That’s the way it should be. Do you have pictures?”

She nods happily and pulls out her phone. “I was going to bring it over so Hunter doesn’t find it, but I didn’t want to put it in a cab.”

She starts scrolling through the pictures, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. A flowing, bohemian-style dress that fits Hayley perfectly. With some loose braids pulled back into a casual bun at the nape of her neck, she’ll be stunning.

“The girl at the shop was more than happy to let me model it,” she says as she flips through the photos. “She made sure she got every angle.”

“It’s perfect,” I tell her with a smile. “You look amazing, and it’s definitely on theme.”

She steps forward and runs the back of her fingers along one of the willows I put in the centerpieces. “Definitely.”

It’s then that she notices the samples I’d laid out for the Buchanan party.

“What’s this?” she asks. “I love these fabrics.”

“Just some samples for the Buchanan party.”

“This is exactly the kind of thing a rich sixteen year-old would like.”

I laugh, sliding my fingers along the gauzy white cloth with shimmery gold stars printed on it. “You are correct. Riley went nuts when she saw it.”

“It’s fun without being childlike. Where are you having the party?”

I sigh. “That’s the million-dollar question. Literally. Since I’m gonna need a million dollars to book a place that Jesse finds acceptable.”

Hayley’s eyebrows scrunch together. “What?”

“Alice Buchanan told me that Jesse has to approve of the venue before I can book it. I showed him the 5 best places that were in my budget, and he said no to all of them. He was a real asshole about it too.”

“Do you want me to talk to Hunter about it?”

“No,” I reply with a smile. “I was complaining to you as a friend, not as the boss’s wife.”

“Future wife,” she corrects.

“Okay, fine. Future wife, who bought a gorgeous dress to get married in.”

Hayley absolutely beams. “Okay, I’ll take it. Anything I can do to help as a friend, and not the boss’s future wife?”

“Just listen,” I reply. “This isn’t the first challenge I’ve had in this business, and it’s definitely not gonna be the last. I need to learn to deal without any intervention.”

Hayley nods. “Hunter doesn’t talk business with me that often,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “But he has mentioned that Jesse’s been having a hard time lately. Hunter took him out of the field because of something that happened.”

I’m not completely devoid of sympathy for hard times, but… “That doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.”

With a soft smile, Hayley says, “I never said it did.”

I return that smile. Fair enough.

“The Jesse I know is the guy you said he was that weekend. He’s not the type to be an uncompromising dick, so…something must be going on there.”

“Yeah, well. There’s not much I can do about it if he doesn’t want to work with me here. I’ll figure something out.” I have to.

Hayley pats my arm reassuringly. “I know you will.”