2020 Top Ten Gay Romance

Chapter 3

Chapter 3It was a bright, sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky and with a very subtle breeze that picked up every now and again. Warm, but not overly so. No one would sweat through their formal clothes, but anyone who chose to wear a dress would be comfortable as well.

All in all, it was a perfect day for a wedding.

The Deveraux Estate was about a mile outside of Landry’s Fall proper. By the time I rolled up at two in the afternoon, there were already a dozen cars in the lot. I followed the discrete drive along the side of the Victorian mansion so I could unload near the terrace. Since I was by myself, it would make things so much easier.

Normally, either Lenore or Zoe came with me, but it was a Friday—and I was still amazed by the amount of people who forwent the traditional Saturday for weddings these days—and the shop was busy. I’d left them both there, assuring them I could handle the small order on my own.

I’d just hopped down from the van and was circling around to the back to open the doors, when a bang made me jump. I turned to see the screen door swinging back from hitting the house and Elise Deveraux herself tearing down the steps.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” she all but yelled, then threw herself into my arms.

I hugged her tight and schooled my scowl before I pulled back. Perhaps it was because the conversation with Monroe was still fresh in my mind, but I really took offense at even the suggestion that I wouldn’t show up. But I apparently didn’t do as good a job as I wanted at hiding my expression, because when Elise saw my face, she frantically shook her head, setting her curls swinging.

“No, no. Not like that. Lincoln is all but having a breakdown.” Elise sucked in a huge breath and tried to get herself under control. “Maisy had a fire last night! Did you hear?”

I gasped. I hadn’t. I mean, I’d heard the firetruck sirens about three o’clock in the morning. The town wasn’t that big, and Maisy’s Catering was only three blocks from my house just off Main St. But the sirens hadn’t necessarily meant fire. They responded to a lot of different emergencies, and since tourist season was in full swing, their presence could have meant anything.

“Yes. Some sort of faulty wiring, they think. The damage wasn’t so bad, but of course, she couldn’t spend the day cooking and now she’s using the kitchen—” she gestured behind her at the house “—trying to get everything done. The kitchen here isn’t really equipped for it, you know. But she’ll get it done. And the DJ they hired cancelled last week with no explanation. We found a replacement…I had to pull some strings, but at least we got someone here. Lincoln is convinced something else will go wrong, and he’s sort of spiraling.”

“Oh, jeez,” I whispered, my heart squeezed. Poor Lincoln

“And he absolutely refused to see James before the wedding, even though James is the one who can calm him down the best.” Elise took another breath. “James has been standing at the door to their suite for the past two hours, trying to talk him down.”

“What can I do?”

A bright grin bloomed on Elise’s pixie-ish face. “Set up the flowers, of course! I’ll run up and tell Lincoln it’s all good.” She spun around, then paused, and turned just her head to look at me over her shoulder. “That man is a life-saver. He keeps me organized and this business running. I will do damn near anything to make sure his wedding is perfect.”

I had to laugh at the fierceness in her gaze. Anyone thinking they could cross Elise was in for a world of hurt. I loved it.

I shooed her on, then went back to my original task. I slid the cart out of the van, then carefully started loading it so I could get everything set up on the terrace and in the ballroom where the reception would be held.

It didn’t take long. After an hour and three trips, everything was placed exactly where it needed to be. All I had left was to find someone to deliver the corsages, boutonnieres, and bouquet.

“This looks amazing.”

I jumped. I might have squeaked. I definitely pressed a hand to my heart as the burst of adrenaline made it race, as I turned to find the speaker. I knew it would be Monroe. I’d know that deep voice anywhere.

“Don’t do that,” I hissed. “Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

He shrugged, unrepentant, and that grin I was coming to adore spread over his lips. God he looked stunning. He was already dressed in most of his tuxedo without the jacket, and the way the pants hugged his legs made me want to drool. He looked damn good in the red vest and black cravat, too. My gaze snapped back to his when he spoke. “Really, West. This is awesome. Lincoln is going to love it.”

I preened just a little because I loved hearing praise. But even while I was doing an internal happy dance, I tried to play it off. “That’s why your brother hired me. It’s what you paid me for.”

“True enough.” Monroe’s gaze slid down my body, blatantly checking me out. “You look great, too.”

I hadn’t been expecting that, so I just gave a demure “thank you” and gathered the cardboard flat that held the wearable and carriable flowers. I held it out as I walked to him. “Here. Last thing I need to do. And now that I’ve passed these off, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Monroe took the box, but his face fell. “You’re not staying?”

“Uh, no.” I shook my head. “Why would I?” I stepped back and turned, ready to leave. I wasn’t about to tell him that I sometimes hid and watched, just to enjoy the wedding. There was a particular alcove off the terrace that would have worked great for today, and I had been considering staying. But Monroe didn’t need to know that.

“Wait! Do you have extra flowers?”

I turned to face him again. I always have extras in case anything gets damaged in transit or something happens during set up. I know my confusion showed, because Monroe was quick to explain.

“For the cake.” Monroe gestured with his chin toward the three-tiered white, pink, and red confection sitting on the far table. It was understated but beautiful, and it was definitely lacking a topper.

I wrinkled my brow. “You’re not supposed to mess with people’s work. The baker probably just hasn’t put the topper on yet.”

It didn’t look like one of Missy’s creations, and I’d seen just about every version of wedding cakes the proprietor of Sweet Treats had concocted. It was possible Lincoln had brought one in from a neighboring town, or even from further, but somehow that didn’t seem like him.

My question was answered when Monroe let out a deep laugh, and his eyes alighted with mirth. “Well, it’s my work, so I figure I can mess with it however I like. Lincoln gave me free rein.”

Something inside me bubbled and burst, though I couldn’t put a name to it. Monroe had made the cake? He baked? I was a sucker for a man who was good in the kitchen, and even though I had no idea how that beautiful confection tasted, it looked stunning, and that won him a lot of points.

“Uh, yeah. Uh…” I shook my head and all but fled to the van. When I raced back inside, Monroe was just getting to the door.

“Wondered where you went,” he murmured, stepping close.

I had to curb my reaction, so I awkwardly thrust the box at him. “Extras!”

He muttered something that sounded like “you’re adorable,” but he took the box and I knew the way his fingers brushed mine was deliberate. His grin this time was definitely flirty. “Flowers aren’t my thing. Come help?”

I trailed behind him and if my gaze dropped to his ass in the tight-fitting tuxedo pants, no one could blame me. He was so damn good-looking. By the time we reached the table, I had my drooling under control and I also realized we had a problem. You couldn’t just smoosh real flowers into a cake without preparing them properly.

But Monroe was already a step ahead of me. He had a roll of floral tape and a bag of wide straws sitting next to the cake, and as he started to pick through the box, I just watched. He hummed as he worked, choosing calla lilies and some amaryllis, then a touch of greenery. He fussed a little, setting them on the table and making a mockup of what he wanted. I could see what he was going for, but not quite achieving.

“Here,” I murmured, stepping into his space. Instead of moving out of the way, I swear, he actually leaned closer. Ignoring his heat as best I could, I rearranged the flowers a little so that the amaryllis blossoms spread out a bit more and surrounded the two callas.

“Perfection.” Monroe’s breath gusted across my cheek. I didn’t turn to look at him, but I knew I was smiling.

Monroe produced a pair of scissors from his pocket and started snipping the straws down to size. I jumped in, too, wrapping the stems together with floral tape so no water leaked out to make the cake gross and inedible. It took only a few minutes, and then we had several bunches, like big boutonnieres, ready to be placed in the cake.

With each one Monroe picked up, he glanced at me for confirmation before sliding it into the top tier. A couple of times I adjusted his placement before he set it inside. I was maybe using the opportunity to feel the strength of his hands, to just touch his skin, but he didn’t call me out on it. Our fingers were practically entwined when he slid in the last calla.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, reluctantly pulling my fingers free of his. Our gazes caught. Held. My breath stuttered in my lungs. There was no mistaking the heat in his look. Another time, another place, I would have pounced on him.

I stepped back instead. “I should—”

“Will you do the flowers for my wedding?” Monroe asked.

Disappointment, so acute it hurt, flooded through me, and it took every ounce of my professionalism to keep it from showing on my face. “You bet. Call the shop to set up a consultation.”

Monroe’s lips quirked. “I don’t have a date yet.”

I turned away, no longer able to look at him. I should have known he was taken. That was the way my luck ran lately. Hell, the way it had been for years. Finding a man who was gorgeous, creative, and caring was hard enough. Of course he wasn’t available.

“Just let me know when you do. I’ll make sure I’m available.” I started walking fast, but not so fast that it looked like I was running. Even though I was. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“You’re not staying?” he called. “Don’t you want to see Lincoln’s face when he sees the flowers?”

I really did, because I knew how much the man needed the surprise of the callas after the day he’d had. It would make this thing his brother did for him all the more special. I smiled sadly over my shoulder.

“Florists aren’t invited to the weddings.” I lifted a hand in a wave.

“I’m inviting you.”

I laughed, because it was so Monroe. I shook my head. “It’s not your wedding, dude. You don’t get to invite people.”

Monroe strode across the distance separating us, and my breath caught again, because the picture he made was my fantasy come to life. His grin was dark, wicked, but also, somehow, tender.

“I can if I’m inviting you as my date.” Monroe cleared his throat, made a show of arranging his features into seriousness, then reached for my hand. He stopped short of taking it, and I appreciated the subtle request for consent. “Please, West Walker. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my brother’s wedding and reception?”

I squinted at him, blatantly ignoring his outstretched hand. “Won’t your fiancé be upset?”

Monroe’s façade cracked, that mischievous twinkle lighting his eyes. “Don’t have one of those. I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”

My snort was indignant. “But you just said!”

“Nope.” And he popped the “P.” “I asked you to do my wedding, sure. But I said I didn’t have a date yet. And that’s because I haven’t found the person I want to marry yet.”

It took a second for me to parse all that out, but when I did, I scowled. “You’re…ridiculous. Do you know that? What am I going to do with you?”

“Be my date to the wedding, I hope.” The playful grin that had been lurking on his lips stretched to its full capacity. “You know you wanna stay. See Lincoln when he views the flowers. Watch two men exchange their vows. Eat food and drink champagne and maybe dance with me. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

I sighed, exaggerating it, then rolled my eyes for show. But then I smiled, because I couldn’t not, and closed the inches between us to put my hand in his. “Sure.”

Monroe’s whoop of joy made my smile grow into a grin.