Page 93 of Paper Roses

“I haveneverfound you more attractive,” Mal says seriously.

Cadan laughs, his whole face lighting up.

“I can’t have cows at my fantasy farm wedding,” Claire continues. “It completely spoils the vibe I’m looking for.”

“Is that IKEA does farming?” Cadan mutters.

Mal stirs. “What would you like? Dragons? They’d be more problematic than cows with all that fire blowing, although you probably wouldn’t have needed the five thousand patio heaters.”

She looks over at Mal and straightens as if she’s been tasered. “Oh,” she says, patting her rollers. “Mal Booth.”

“That’s me. Famous and fabulous.”

She laughs a little too loudly. “Oh, I’d know youanywhere. My fiancé bought me a cardboard cut-out of your Calvin Klein advert. I keep it in my bathroom.”

Mal looks interested. “They have cardboard cut-outs of me?” He winks at Cadan. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Cadan’s mouth twitches. “Nothing surprises me about you anymore.”

“Maybe I should leave a cut-out behind to keep you company whenever I go away. You could have one in every room.”

“Yes, because that wouldn’t be creepy at all. If they follow in the footsteps of their human counterpart, they’ll probably set fire to something to cause maximum catastrophe.”

Claire smiles at Mal. “I booked my wedding here when I saw the spread on the farm inMarie Claire.”

Mal comes forward, a charming smile crossing his face. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you. You’re my first bride.”

“Maybe a little less Bluebeard,” Cadan mutters.

Claire ignores him, her smile glowing.

Francis the best man steps into the barn and approaches us. He’s very good-looking, but I think his arrogance spoils his looks. Claire greets him breathlessly. “Francis,” she says as if George Clooney has come down from on high to mingle with the livestock, and walks towards him to be swept into a hug that lasts a little too long.

Artie watches the two of them, his face creased with concern. He catches my eye and moves next to me.

“I want it on record that I expressed concern about this situation at least three weeks ago,” I whisper.

“I smell disaster.”

“In all honesty, that might be the cows.”

He chuckles, and I must agree with Mal about Artie’s prettiness. But Artie’s utterly real to me—not a model or a cut-out—and his smile makes my heart clench.

His smile fades as he watches Claire and Francis. He whispers, “Is it wrong to be concerned about getting her married and off our hands?”

I draw him close, my hand on his back. We’ll be going back to our hotel room to change into our suits later, but now he’s wearing an old grey jumper and jeans that are faded white in places and cling to his long legs and small, round arse.

“Not at all,” I say quietly. “Our job is the wedding. The cock-up of their lives is completely down to them.”

His smile is wide. “Oh, I do love—” Everything goes dark and silent in my head. I take a sharp breath and come back online just in time to hear him say, “—the way you make things so much better.” He frowns. “Are you okay? You’ve gone a bit pale.”

“Yes,” I say in a too-high voice. He didn’t say what I thought he was going to. Am I sad or happy about that? “Absolutelyfine.”

“Are you sure?”

His concern is a constant. He might be quiet and doesn’t push himself forward in company, but he’s incredibly fierce on behalf of those he cares for. He’s also gently intractable, which amuses me and turns me on. To see his square chin lift and a stubborn look come into his eyes is very invigorating, and I provoke it far more than I should just to see it.

I hear Mal clear his throat and glance over at him. “And this must be the groom,” he says to Francis. “Well, you look perfecttogether. I can always tell. Everyone says I’m very psychically gifted when it comes to relationships.”

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