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“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Daisy said with a broad smile as she hopped out of her truck. “Cake tasting or to eat scraps?”
“Is that why you’re here, for the scraps?”
Laughing, Daisy pulled Ginny in for a quick hug and shrugged. “I swing by every now and then in the hopes that she’ll take pity on me and let me lick a spatula or two.”
“You’ve been inside herkitchen?!” Ginny gasped, hand over her chest as the two of them walked back into the bakery. Clem saw them and rolled her eyes, making both of them laugh.
“Vultures,” she mumbled and then waved them over to the table as plates of cake were set out.
“I need to know how often this happens so I canaccidentallyshow up in the future,” Ginny told Clem, shooting Daisy a grin as the two of them got comfortable.
“You make it sound like I don’t feed you cake every time you’re here.”
“I only come for the scraps,” Daisy reminded them, making Clem roll her eyes.
Someone brought over a tray with cups and a coffee pot as well, making Ginny sigh. “This is such a treat. We should do this once a week.”
“No,” Clem said with a heavy sigh. “I can maybe agree to once a month.”
Ginny and Daisy glanced at each other with victorious grins, then exchanged a high five. Clementine chuckled and sat down with them, pouring out the coffee while Ginny and Daisy split up the cake.
For a long time, making friends with women had been difficult. They either didn’t trust her or didn’t like her, so Ginny had settled into making friends with men. It was sometimes easier to connect with the opposite sex once you said that sex was never going to be involved. Every time Ginny thought she could be friends with the women her male friends dated, one of them would tell her that their girlfriends weren’t comfortable with them hanging out with her. And Ginny would lose respect for women all over again. The fact that they thought men and women couldn’t be friends without sex and feelings getting involved was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.
Between Frankie, Clementine and Daisy; Ginny was bursting at the seams with female friendship. And she was so very grateful for it. There was something special about hanging out with women who would understand some of what you were going through on any given day.
CHAPTER7
FEBRUARY
“Miss Thomas?”
Snapping out of her thoughts, Ginny looked across the table to focus on the couple. “Sorry, just thinking about all of the incredible things we can do for your big day!”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.Because the only thing Ginny was thinking about Gavin Rhodes. It had been two weeks since their almost kiss in his office and a week since the encounter at The Sidecar. He’d been absent from her mind for a few days. Until she woke up in the middle of the night horny and aching because of a dirty dream she had about him. It had caught her completely by surprise and she’d laid in bed, huffing in frustration over the visuals filling her head. When that didn’t do the trick, she’d pulled out one of her toys and let that scratch the itch. Which was how she usually staved off more horniness. Except, the toy had just made her want more and Ginny found herself cursing Gavin for hours until she got another hour or so of sleep.
So not only was she frustrated with Gavin for reappearing in her head, she was sleep deprived. And the combination was proving to be lethal. However, she could not drift off right then. This was an incredibly important meeting for so many reasons. Mainly because it would be her first ever Indian wedding.
“I have lots of ideas, and I was told that coming here would bring it all to life. But something tells me you’ll have even more amazing ideas.” The bride beamed, practically bouncing in her seat and Ginny felt that excitement.
“Well, I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to plan an Indian wedding, so we’re definitely going to work some magic.”
After seven years of working in the wedding planning business, Ginny was pretty stoked to be planning an entirely Indian wedding. Sure, it had all the elements of North Indian weddings—which was very different from the South Indian wedding culture she’d grown up in—but it was still going to be an Indian couple, dressing up in their most expensive jewelry, lehengas and sarees. And Ginny couldn’t wait.
When she was maybe around ten, Ginny asked her mother if she could wear a saree to an aunt’s wedding. Her paternal grandmother—who was quite literally the judgiest and most racist human on the planet—had refused. Something about sarees being for older girls and that Ginny needed to wear a paavada and blouse—which was essentially a skirt and blouse that had no elaborate design and was what ‘little girls’ wore to special functions.
At eighteen, Ginny slipped into her first saree and all that anticipation and waiting was totally worth it. The pink and yellow Kanjeevaram silk saree transformed her life. While it wasn’t always the easiest thing to get in and out of, and she didn’t have a lot of occasions to wear it for; Ginny had an entire section of her walk-in closet dedicated to the sarees she’d collected over the years.
Planning this wedding meant that shewouldfind a way to drape one of those sarees as she ran around getting shit done on the big day.
Walking into her office after the meeting with the couple ended, Ginny had every intention of entering all her notes and ideas into Party Central, but her head had other plans. The way Dream Gavin had fucked her played on loop in her head. He’d been formidable when they were teenagers, taking his time to learn and understand her body to give her what she wanted. Ginny assumed that he’d gotten better in the years apart. At least her mind had decided that he was. Because the orgasm that she gave herself—a combination of memories of Gavin and her toy pressed between her legs—had been so intense, her back had bowed off the bed.
Stop it right now. I’ve got more important things to do.
Berating her thoughts only got her so far, she needed to shake Gavin out of her system somehow. Whining at the way her thoughts kept diverting, Ginny got to her feet and pressed the button under her desk to raise it. If she was standing and working, she wouldn’t be thinking about how good it would feel to have his mouth between her thighs, that beard rubbing up against her skin.
Good lord, Virginia.Get your shit together.
Rolling her shoulders back, Ginny opened up Party Central and plugged in all the information. She even left a note about how she was excited to be planning her first Indian wedding, sure that Frankie would see it later. While Revati and Dhruv weren’t getting married until the following year, Ginny needed to start contacting venues and vendors to lock everything down. Like most of the weddings she worked, this one would require lots of planning and following up over the next few months. At least to lock stuff down and book dates. Everything else could fall into place later.
