Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I mean… not that I cared overmuch. We weren’t dating or anything. I was simply an information gatherer by nature. Besides, Quinn obviously needed protection, and protection was my specialty.
Marissa’s father held out a hand to shake. “Tommy Drakes. This is my wife, Carlotta.” He nodded to the petite bottle-blonde at his side. “And you are?”
“Percy Champion. Nice to meet you.”
“Champion.” Mrs. Drakes’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not Bunny’s boy, are you? She and I play bridge together.”
“One and the same,” I admitted. “She’s a shark, isn’t she?”
Quinn put a hand on my shoulder and dug in with his finger claws. “Honeybear, you should—”
“Stay!” Carlotta cried happily.
“Sadly, he can’t.” Quinn’s words were hard. “You know how you get when we start talking about vows and commitments, My Little Teacake.” He locked eyes with Marissa, tilted his head in my direction, and mimed brushing away tears.
“Aww.” Marissa clasped her hands over her heart, and despite this whole fucked-up morning and the very real danger my company might be in, I felt the strangest urge to laugh.
Right before I strangled Quinn.
I said nothing and didn’t move, so he summoned a smile and turned back to his clients, dismissing me. He clapped his hands once.
“Okay, then. First things first. I took your preliminary information already, Marissa, but you mentioned some concerns that would impact everything from the venue to the menu—”
Mrs. Drakes rustled in her designer handbag and pulled out a turquoise leather portfolio with a fresh notepad inside. She slid the bejeweled pen from its clip and twisted the top before preparing to take notes. “Yes, indeed. There will be many VIPs on the guest list, and security will be a concern—”
Security? I sat forward, interested.
“Before we talk about that, let’s nail down the critical details,” Quinn interjected smoothly. “Date, location, and budget. Then we can talk about party size, venues, and things like security.”
The “critical details” turned out to be criminally boring. I tried to pay attention, but that lasted about half a minute. I began leafing through the stack of bridal magazines Quinn had left out on the table, but that was nearly as bad. I checked my phone for messages, but it remained stubbornly silent.
I had just finished stifling my third yawn and was ready to give in and invent an excuse to leave when a sharp object jabbed me in the thigh, making me fumble my phone and knock my knee on the underside of the table.
“Hey!”
“Right? Champ’s excited about the idea too!” Quinn told Marissa excitedly. “I’d love to come to Nashville and tour your club, and I can bring some color swatches if you’d like.”
“Come tomorrow!” Carlotta decreed. “Tommy, honey, you’ll be free, won’t you?”
Tommy-honey looked only slightly less bored than I was, but he clearly loved his family. “Sure.”
“And you, Trey?” Marissa demanded.
Trey shrugged. “I can try?”
“And… Champ?” Carlotta wondered. “You’re more than welcome.”
Oh, Lord. When I learned the woman knew my mother, I should have known she was a social climber. Fuck knew I’d met enough. I’d even dated a few.
“I… uh. I…” What was the most polite way to state that I’d rather light myself on fire than sit through another planning meeting?
Thankfully, Hercules chose that moment to stand up from his spot atop Quinn’s shoe and shake himself vigorously enough to catch Marissa’s attention.
“Oh my gosh, how adorable! What’s her name? Can I pet that wittle baby?”
“His name is Hercules,” I said quickly, pushing my chair back and standing up. “And he needs to go out. I’ll—we’ll be right back.”
Quinn waved his hand in the air without looking up from his notes. “He’s already been walked. You’re welcome.”
“Oh. You, um… you didn’t have to do that,” I muttered.
Except… he kind of had since I’d dropped the ball.
“No worries, baby. Always happy to help my Corn Niblet.” Quinn turned to Marissa and said confidingly, “You know, when we first met, I thought Champ was just a pretty face, and then I worried he’d be a giant blockhead who couldn’t make up his mind how he felt about me and would behave in the most bizarre hot-and-cold way. I didn’t think he was the kind of guy who’d want to bring me fresh Annie’s donuts in bed. Can you imagine?”
Marissa blinked up at me and smiled. “Really? Aw. He seems so devoted! Clearly the kind of guy who’s into relationships.”
“Right?” Quinn smiled wickedly. “You can just tell, can’t you?”
Alright, now the man was just being mean.
“This has been… truly informative.” I laid my hands on the back of Quinn’s chair. “But it’s so overwhelming for a newbie like me.”
Quinn glanced up at me. “No stamina. It happens to a lot of… grooms.” He turned to Carlotta. “They always say they can last for hours, but you get them past the bachelor party discussion and they fizzle out.” He lifted a hand and let it flop limply.