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‘Not long.’ He came around to open the passenger door for her.
She climbed in and waited until he’d settled in next to her. ‘Is it a nice town?’ she asked, noticing his large frame was too big even for an SUV.
‘Idyllic,’ he said, starting the engine and pulling onto the main road. ‘You were right, it’s the perfect setting for a wedding.’
Finally, she’d got something right. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘This morning. I was on a late shift last night, so rather than waste the day, I came straight down. I got here mid-morning.’
‘You haven’t slept? Aren’t you tired?’
He gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘I had a nap at the hotel. I’m okay for the moment. It’ll hit me later. Hopefully, not during dinner,’ he said, with a grin. ‘Apologies in advance if I snore during dessert.’
He expected them to have dinner together? She wasn’t sure whether this was grossly presumptuous or just an innocent assumption. Why shouldn’t they dine together? It didn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t be at all romantic. Just two acquaintances enjoying a meal together.
‘I met with the officiant this afternoon,’ he said, driving away from the town with its grey buildings and narrow cobbled streets. ‘He seemed nice enough, reminded me of Rowan Atkinson.’
‘Let’s hope he’s not like his character inFour Weddings and a Funeral.’
Matt laughed. ‘That’s all I could think of while he was talking, especially when he got the names mixed up and kept referring to Zac as Matt.’
‘That could prove rather awkward. How do you feel about marrying my sister?’
He glanced over and grinned. ‘Not my type.’
What was his type, she wondered? And then immediately quashed the musing. It was none of her business. What did she care who Matt Hardy fancied?
‘I told him you might want to meet him. He’s available tomorrow, if you do.’
‘I’m happy if you are. It’s not like we’d find a replacement at this short notice.’
‘True.’ His arm brushed against hers as he reached for his phone. ‘I also visited the florist,’ he said, handing her the handset. ‘They’re not open tomorrow or Monday, as it’s a Bank Holiday, so I took photos. The passcode is—’
‘You can’t give me your passcode.’
He looked genuinely puzzled. ‘Why not?’
‘You hardly know me.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘What are you going to do, send nude photos to my contact list? Go ahead, it’ll make the lads at the station very happy.’
Her eyebrows raised. ‘You have nude photos of yourself on your phone?’
‘Of course not, I meant you.’
‘Well, I’m hardly going to send nude photos of myself, am I?’
‘I think we’re safe then.’ He grinned and gave her his passcode.
Beth wasn’t quite sure how she felt about scrolling through someone else’s phone; it seemed incredibly personal – especially when the screen flashed open with an unread message from HMP Wandsworth. Alarmed, she chose to ignore it. None of her business.
She clicked on the photos and flicked through the pictures. ‘These are lovely,’ she said, admiring the abundance of cream roses, orange ranunculuses and white gardenias surrounded by dark waxy green leaves.
‘I thought the colours would match the bridesmaid’s dress.’
‘You have good taste.’
‘I do?’
