Page 11 of Wedding Crasher

Dan raised his glass and his eyebrows.

‘Don’t forget the dirty great fuck-off, noise-polluting bike.’

He smirked as he tossed a peanut in the air and caught it in his open mouth with a snap. Gabe grinned despite his frustration. Every morning over the last week he’d watched Marla strut past the funeral parlour window with too many folders in her arms, her wild curls blowing around her beautiful, determined face. And each time she passed, she’d thrown a customary look of disgust at his motorbike.

‘Have you met Marla, the girl from the wedding chapel?’

He balanced a beer mat on the rim of the table and flicked it upwards, then caught it mid-air in a show of nonchalance.

Dan wolf-whistled under his breath.

‘Redhead, great legs? Not to speak to, but I’ve seen her around all right. I take it you’ve already had the pleasure?’

Something about the appreciative gleam in Dan’s eyes rankled Gabe. His friend’s lothario ways usually amused him, but normal rules somehow didn’t apply when it came to Marla Jacobs.

‘Yeah, we met last week.’

‘And?’

‘Oh you know. The usual. She told me to leave the village and never darken her door again. That sort of thing.’

Dan laughed.

‘Doctor Death strikes again. You need a different job, mate.’

Gabe sighed. His difficulty lay in that, actually, hecouldkind of see Marla’s point. The fact was he hadn’t given any thought to the impact he might have on his new neighbours. Well, nothing beyond being mildly amused by the ironic symmetry, anyway.

Not that he’d ever expected anyone to put out the bunting and wave the welcome flags. He was more than used to the adverse reaction his profession drew from people. He’d learned many years ago that it was just about the biggest passion killer of them all to tell a girl you spend your days caretaking dead bodies.

But Marla was in a class of her own. She was being plain unreasonable.

Surely she hadn’t thought she could issue him with his marching orders and expect him to roll over and limp out of town with his tail between his legs?

The truth was, the chapel’s unique perspective aside, this community needed him. There wasn’t a funeral director for more than twenty-five miles, and that was plain unacceptable. The only surety in life was that one day everyone was going to die, and that alone meant that every family in this village would be better off for him being here.

Andplease. A Las Vegas-style wedding chapel in Shropshire? It was a novelty, certainly, but it was hardly a necessity, was it? Whoreallyused it anyway? From what he’d seen so far, he was pretty sure it wasn’t the locals.

‘Maybe she’d listen to your altogether-more-charming best friend instead. You know how persuasive I can be when I put my mind to it.’

Dan’s cocky grin and conspiratorial wink pushed all the wrong buttons. Unwanted memories strayed into Gabe’s head; countless girls wandering half-naked out of Dan’s bedroom on Sunday mornings when they’d shared a flat in London.

‘Stay away from her. I’ll sort this out myself, okay?’

Dan laughed, a knowing look in his eyes. He shrugged and opened a second bag of peanuts. ‘Suit yourself, sunshine.’

The silence between them lengthened.

‘So … watcha gonna do about it then?’

‘No clue.’

‘Want me to go and ask her out for you?’ Dan grinned. ‘My mate fancies you …’

Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘Fuck off.’

Dan laughed but didn’t push the point. He knew Gabe better than most people, and sensed something different about his friend’s demeanour. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on him where the redhead from the chapel was concerned.

Gabe shrugged and picked up their glasses. ‘Same again?’

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