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“Tables are set up but not decked out,” he narrated. “The chairs, stacked against the walls.” He panned over to the chairs lining one wall and sent Rylee a glare communicating that she could have—shouldhave—asked for his help with the ladder. It looked heavy, and she was hardly dressed for manual labor.
“All of these boxes are filled with accessories, including this one...” He stopped where he’d set the box on the table and drummed his fingers on the top. Then he rested the tripod on the ground and angled the camera on his phone at Rylee who was currently climbing the ladder in front of him. Facing the camera, he mugged for his audience—1,890 watching, not bad—and then he said in a low voice, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to aid the wedding planner with this highly dangerous task she’s attempting to complete without my help.” He turned away before quickly turning back to say, “I know this is the age of equal rights and she is capable of doing anything she damn well pleases, but ladies, hear me.” He paused for effect before continuing, “Take advantage of the men who are struck stupid by your beauty.Use us.We’ll do whatever you want.”
With that, he turned and walked to the ladder, careful not to startle Rylee, who either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care what or whom he was filming. He reached out to steady the ladder at the same instant the heel of one of her shoes snapped clean off.
She let out a dainty “Ahh!” as she lost her balance. Then she practically sat on his chest. He held tight to the sides of the ladder as she jerked away from him. Wobbling slightly, her wide eyes snapped to his.
“You okay?”
“Of cour—ahh!” Another wobble set her off balance, and he reacted without thinking, letting go of the ladder to wrap his arms around her. They fell to the ground, him padding the blow and landing hard on his ass.
He let out an “oof”, but a low groan followed. That was because each and every one of Rylee’s soft, supple curves was pressed against him. She was splayed awkwardly over top of him, her hair coming loose from her updo, her blue eyes burning into his. When her mouth dropped open invitingly, he decided to RSVP with a kiss.
He lifted his head to bring his lips closer to hers, when he noticed her raised hand. A hand that was delicately gripping a...light bulb? Both their gazes rerouted to that single, unbroken bulb and then back to each other.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.
“Breaking your fall.”
“I could have brokenyou. I’m not a petite woman, you know.”
“You’re perfect.” His hands were resting innocuously on her waist, one of his legs nestled between hers. Every inch of her that was touching him was divine.
She appeared more inconvenienced than embarrassed as she rolled off him and straightened the skirt of her dress. She took off the shoe with the broken heel, and that’s when she noticed the camera. He watched as her expression slowly morphed from inconvenienced to pissed off.
He stood to explain, but she swiveled his body so that his head blocked the camera. Her whisper even sounded angry. “What the hell, Trick?”
“We’re live. Let’s play it up. For Ari and Ex’s sake.” He nodded subtly, not giving her a chance to react before he knelt and slipped her other shoe off. He felt her hand on his shoulder and then he stood to introduce her.
“Ladies and gentleman, the lovely Rylee making a grand entrance. She’s the wedding planner, and apparently is owed a new pair of—” he turned his head to the side to read the inner sole of the shoe in his hand “—Sergio Rossi pumps.”
Rylee futzed with her dress, clearly trying to rein in her temper. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl while she’s doing her own dirty work.”
“You should have asked for my help.”
“I don’t need your help.” Her cheeks grew pink.
“I didn’t say youneededit. I said you should have asked for it. Hasn’t it become apparent that I am willing to chase you around with Bellinis and brunch or charcuterie boards? I can change a light bulb.” He snatched the bulb from her hand and started for the ladder.
“It’s the last one!” she said when he set one foot on the bottom rung. “Be careful.”
He cradled the bulb in his hand, more carefully now that he knew it was a rare commodity. “Okay, okay.”
At the top of the ladder, that she was steadying, he noticed, he replaced the flickering bulb for the one in his hand. He came down without incident, but then he didn’t have spikes on the heels of his shoes.
Once he was safely on the ground, he waggled the dead bulb at the screen of his phone, coming close to sign off. Now there were—holy shit—4,732 viewers on the live video.
“How many wedding crashers does it take to screw in a light bulb?” he asked, but the comments moving up the screen didn’t attempt to answer his corny joke. Instead they were painting him as a hero, and Rylee as his “girlfriend.”
The last comment he read followed that word with several crying emoji faces. He tried not to laugh. Clearly, they were interested in what was happening between him and the wedding planner. Who was he to sign off when his fans were begging for more?
Seven
Rather than stop the video, Trick turned toward Rylee. With a wink and a smile to let her know he was going to be teasing her, he held up the bulb between the fingers of one hand. “Where did you get this? And the ladder?”
“The maintenance closet.” She shifted on her bare feet, never breaking eye contact with him. He wasn’t sure when, but he’d won her over to the idea of playing it up for the camera. She was willing, which made thisfun.
“The maintenance closet.” He set down the spent bulb and circled her like a detective on a TV show questioning a suspect. “And was there a maintenance person there when you were in this closet, Ms. Meadows?”
