Page 7 of The Brit and the Bridesmaid
“Exactly. The owners insist that using the full two words sounds more sophisticated, though I fully intend to contract words as soon as we are out of earshot of the house.”
“You aren’t afraid you’ll get into trouble?” Abby asked.
He gave her a winning smile. “I think you can be trusted to keep my secret.”
He led her around a puddle with the slightest pressure of his hand on her back. Another gentlemanly gesture she thought only existed in movies.
“What other requirements do your bosses have for you?”
“I am to, and I quote, ‘milk my accent for all it’s worth.’” He shot her a look of amusement that brought a smile to her face. “If I ever lost my accent, I’d probably lose this job.”
“Are you in danger of losing your accent?” It seemed pretty firmly in place.
“Last time I visited London, my family all told me I sounded like an American.”
She actually laughed at that. “They don’t talk with many Americans, do they?”
“Clearly not.”
They turned up the cobblestone path that led to the spot where outdoor ceremonies were held. Matthew had told her and Caroline about the elegant canopy they set up when the weather was questionable. It wasn’t set up today.
“So your sister is very much a fan of traditional, old-fashioned things,” Matthew said. “That description doesn’t seem to fit you. What would you choose if this were your event?”
“Are you trying to convince me to buy a wedding package? That’ll be a tough sell; I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
“Really?”
She swore he actually took note of that. Was he flirting with her? If so, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Maybe Brits were terrible flirters.
“No sales pitch, I promise.” He tucked the hand not holding the umbrella into his coat pocket. “I’m just curious to know if my hunch is correct.”
“What hunch?”
“Sainsbury House is a good fit for your sister, but I have a feeling it would be torture for you.”
She felt her defenses going up. He really didn’t think she belonged in an upscale place.
“And what would be a good fit for me?” She could hear that her tone had turned cold but couldn’t help it.
He wasn’t fazed at all. “If you were the one planning a wedding, I’d guess you would choose something smaller andsimpler—a beach or a garden. And there’d only be a few people, those you care about most, not every person you’ve ever met.”
She had to admit, silently, that he was right about that. He was so right that she didn’t know if his insightfulness was impressive or a little spooky. “Okay, Nostradamus, what would my wedding colors be?”
He eyed her closely. His gaze narrowed. She almost laughed at the comical “thinking” face he made. Almost. “You wouldn’t have colors. You’d tell your bridesmaids to wear whatever they wanted. And you wouldn’t wear a traditional wedding dress, just whatever you felt like.”
She let her surprise show. “That’s creepy.”
He flashed her a flawless smile. “I came pretty close, then?”
They’d reached the spot where the bride and groom and minister would stand during a wedding. Abby eyed the trellis and nearby bushes. Did Caroline expect her to list every flower nearby, or only the closest ones?
“Daffodils,” Matthew said. “Tiger lily. And, I believe those are Dolly Madison lilies.”
Once again she was staring at him. “You know the names of these flowers?” He’d gotten every single one correct so far.
He shrugged a little. “My mum has an extensive flower garden. I probably know more about flowers than almost any person in Oregon.”
Probably not more than I do.She wrote down the flowers he’d mentioned. “Do you think I can get away with just putting ‘roses’ for the rest?”
