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I roll my eyes. “You made all that up just now, didn’t you?”
He smiles proudly. “On the spot.”
“Don’t quit your day job.” I shake my head. “No offense, Tel, but you’re not the best dating coach in the world.”
“Dating?” He laughs. “You think a guy like that is interested in dating? I know guys like that, Carrie, and they want one thing and one thing only.”
His gaze drops to the front of my dress. “For the record, I’m looking at what they want.”
I slap his shoulder. “Gross, Telford.”
He reaches for his still-full glass of champagne but stops before his fingers curl around it. “Do you think Cameron will marry me?”
The sudden shift from talking vaguely about my sex life to his direct question about his potential life partner sends my hand toward his glass. I take a big swallow of his champagne while he watches.
“You’re not making me feel great, Carrie.” There’s a noticeable tremor in his voice. “Don’t you think he loves me?”
I’ve known Cameron Gleason for as long as I’ve known Telford. Until two months ago, Cam worked in the perfume lab next to us. He snagged the lead position in the lipstick lab, so he works a hop, skip, and a jump from us down the corridor in a bigger, brighter lab.
He still wanders to our lab whenever he gets a chance to steal a kiss from Telford or reassure us that we’re doing a great job.
“Cam is wild about you.” I pat Telford’s hand. “I’m talking head over heels wild over you. He’s going to say yes, Tel.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m not sure. I’m scared he’ll shut me down if I don’t propose the right way.”
“He won’t,” I reassure him. “I told you to speak from the heart.”
“I know you did,” he says, his exasperation evident in his tone and expression. “I don’t know how to do that, Carrie.”
“I couldn’t help but overhear.”
The sound of that deep voice sends my pulse racing at warp speed. I know who is standing behind me before I even glance over my shoulder.
If I weren’t sitting next to this table, my knees would be giving out.
Wait. Did Rook just say he overheard us?
Please don’t let it be the part where Telford was clumsily talking about sex.
Telford’s gaze drifts over my shoulder. “I’m Telford Harpin, and you are?”
Mortified, but I know that question wasn’t directed at me.
Rook’s hand appears next to me en route toward Tel. “Rook Thorsen. Close friend of the groom. Friend and boss of the bride.”
Tel’s eyes widen as he reaches for Rook’s hand. “You have big hands.”
Way to play it cool, Telford.
The men shake, and I keep my gaze pinned on my friend because I still don’t know what exactly Rook overhead.
Tel jumps in to ask for clarification. “What did you overhear?”
“Your struggle to find exactly the right words for a marriage proposal,” Rook says. “I think I can help.”
“You?” Telford does nothing to mask the surprise in his tone. “Wait a darn minute. I know you.”
Before I can wrap my head around that statement, Telford is on his feet, rounding me to get to where Rook is.
