Page 74 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

I snort and type out my reply.

Roxy

Tempting.

Stick a pin in that one. We’ll circle back if we need to.

I’ve got a better idea.

Closing the text, I plaster on my best PR smile and turn back to the mother of the bride.

“Yes, Mrs. Carlisle, I promise the doves will not poop during the ceremony. I checked with the trainer personally.”

She beams. “You’re such a professional, Roxy.”

Damn right, I am.

My phone buzzes again.

Mari Lynn

Also… Danica’s trying to undercut us with the Martinson wedding.

Told them she can do it cheaper.

Sighing, I quickly respond.

Roxy

On it.

She’s about to learn why cheap isn’t chic.

By the time I get home, I’ve been on my feet for ten hours. I’ve fielded seventeen calls, had three vendors try to defect, and one bridesmaid cry on my shoulder and have her eyeliner stain my shirt.

Why? Because her dress is strapless and the other bridesmaids’ all have killer boobs while she’s sporting ant bites.

My inbox is a battlefield. My feet ache. My brain is fried. I’m ready to collapse. But when I open the door… I smell garlic, butter, and warm bread.

Chase is standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron that says, “Ask me about my meat.”

“Dinner’s ready, babe,” he says, voice low and eyes mischievous.

I blink. “You’re naked.”

“Technically, I’m wearing an apron and boxer briefs.” He grins.

“Is it tied in the back?” I ask, hoping the answer is no.

He spins slowly. It is tied… with a bow above his perfect ass barely concealed under grey boxer briefs.

Groaning, I start crossing the kitchen. “I love you so much.”

He grins and shakes his finger at me. “No touching. Sit. I made you garlic butter shrimp, lemon pasta, and chocolate mousse. Eat first.” His brow waggles. “Then, touch.”

Sighing, I flop into a chair. “Fine. Why are you perfect?”

“Because you’ve had a shit week.” He sets a glass of wine in front of me. “This dish calls for wine, but I also have a pitcher of margaritas in the fridge. And because I like feeding you.”

---