Page 75 of Playing It Forward

“If I can’t have Sammy the seal, I want dolphins at the reception.”

I cough to hide my laugh. Brides get more ridiculous every year. I blame social media. You know those pictures are mostly fake. But future brides apparently don’t.

“This is not SeaWorld. We don’t have dolphins on retainer.”

“You’re supposed to be the miracle wedding planner who can make magic happen! Thus far, all you’ve done is told me no. At least tell me it’s possible to move the ceremony thirty minutes later so the sunset is pinker.”

I grab my agenda and open it. We don’t have any other events the day of her wedding. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Finally. Something you can do. I should complain to your boss about your inability to listen to me.”

“Do you need his number?” Hudson doesn’t handle demanding guests well. He’ll probably threaten to cancel the wedding. I’d love to see her reaction to a cancellation.

“Whatever. I need to re-do my Pinterest board considering your lack of cooperation.” She hangs up.

I sigh and drop my phone to my desk. I’ll make the arrangements for the time change and then I’m going home. My stomach rumbles with hunger. It’s definitely time to go home.

“Sprite.” Someone shakes my shoulder.

“Five more minutes.”

He chuckles. I force my eyes open and come face to face with Nolan. My brow wrinkles.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“You’re not in your bedroom. You’re at your desk at work.” He motions to the room.

“I must have…” I trail off to yawn.

“You need rest. Dr. Reynolds was clear about this.”

“I know I—” I squeal when he picks me up. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.”

I roll my eyes. “My legs work perfectly fine.”

His gaze drops to my legs. “Your legs are pretty perfect.”

I grunt. “I’m short. My legs are little stubs.”

“Wrong. Your legs feature in my dreams.”

I raise an eyebrow. “In your dreams?”

His eyes heat. “My dreams when I’m awake and in the shower with my—"

I slap a hand over his mouth before he can finish. “Behave.”

He shrugs. “I was just being honest.”

He presses the button for the elevator. “What are you doing? My car is in the parking lot, not on the second floor.”

The elevator opens and he steps inside. “You’re not driving. You’re tired. You need rest.”

I squirm for him to let me down but he tightens his hold. “I’m perfectly capable of driving. I’m an adult woman.”

“Trust me. I know.”