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“We can help. If you want.” Scarlett elbowed me in the side as I offered our services. “My plans for the night were canceled.”
My sister frowned before throwing me a questioning gaze.
“Would you help? Oh, you two are just darlings. I promise I’ll put you and the bakery in every single book I write from now on.”
Honestly, we owed a lot to Nora. She’d been instrumental in helping us get our start. When she’d come to Bainbridge to spend six months writing her latest book, she happened upon our little bakery truck, and the rest, as they say, is history. She fell in love with the area, and it became an inspiration for her new series.
Scarlett and I finished setting up as the guests began to arrive, the caterers scrambling in the back but thankful we had dessert service covered.
“I need you to explain to me why we’re here working when you were supposed to have a dinner date?” Scarlett asked as she placed a few plates on the table.
I shrugged, not wanting to admit I was disappointed. “He had to cancel. Something came up.”
“Sure.”
As the doors opened and the crowd filtered in, I took that opportunity to tear my attention from her and focus on the flowers adorning the table. They needed to be perfect. That was something I could control.
“Are you freaking kidding?” Scarlett muttered.
“What?”
“Something came up, I see.” I followed her gaze to the table at the edge of the dance floor. The one with a tall, tattooed Scot seated next to a pretty little slip of a woman.
“Someone.”
I dropped the cake knife with a loud clang, the sound drawing Taylor’s attention. All the color drained from his face.
“Can we go?” I murmured as he stood and began striding toward me.
“Uh...No? We are sort of working here.”
Taylor approached, his brows furrowed. “Hen, I know what this looks like—”
“You mean you choosing some supermodel at a high-profile wedding over me? Yeah. That’s exactly what this looks like.”
“It couldn’t be helped.”
I scoffed. “Oh yeah, I’m sure a hot date with her is such a hardship.”
“Give me a chance to explain.”
“You’ve had so many chances. This just isn’t going to work.”
He took my hand and pulled me around the table, then tugged me out of the room until we were in the quiet hall, away from the noise of the crowd and the music playing.
“Taylor, what are you doing?”
“I’m just talking to you, hen. I need you to understand what this is.”
“I know. It’s you on a date with another woman. Easy to parse out when it’s staring me right in the face.”
He shook his head. “No. That’s not what this is. I’m doing my mate a favor.”
This was such bullshit. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Taking a gorgeous woman on a date is a favor?”
“Hen—”
“Don’t call me that.”
