Page 43 of Hopeless Romantic
Beckett winked back. “He can’t pass up the chance to mansplain about his vast knowledge of wedding planning.”
“Last I heard, this was your first wedding,” he said.
“You two sure you’re not a couple?”
“Absolutely not,” Beckett said at the same time Levi said, “Working on it.”
“We are not,” she said to Cecilia. Then, to Levi, “We’re not.”
“Not a couple or not working on it?” Levi asked sweetly.
Beckett’s face immediately heated—damn her Irish heritage—and her stomach went into a spin cycle.
“Huh.” Cecilia was back at Wimbledon. “Well, like I said, one tasting per wedding, so if the real bride and groom come in asking for a tasting, they’re going to have to pay full price. They know that?”
“They know,” Beckett and Emmitt said in unison, which then had them laughing in unison.
Cecilia recited their order verbatim. On Levi’s approval, she licked the tip of her pencil and wrote down the order. Pencil back behind her ear, she asked, “I supposeshewants a refill as well.”
“Shedoes,” Beckett said, and as if the universe were proving a point, her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Levi watched Beckett watch her phone. Cecilia watched them suspiciously, as if they might be dine-and-dashers.
A part of her itched to answer. Another part, though—the part she rarely let out to play—told her Levi was right. There was nothing wrong about winding down with a friend after a particularly difficult week.
She ignored the call. “Make that a refill with a heavy shot of grappa.”
“I’ll have to bill you extra for that. And we’re not talking happy-hour prices, either.” Cecilia eyeballed the clock over the cookie display. “Unless you want to wait eleven minutes?”
“No need to wait,” Levi interrupted. “And make that two caffè correttos.”
“Big spender, this one,” Cecilia said, returning a few minutes later with the two adult coffees. “Cakes will be up in a minute.”
Beckett took a sip and groaned as the Italian brandy went to work on her knotted muscles, the mug warming her hands. Levi did a good job of warming the rest of her. She appreciated his laid-back approach, perfectly timed humor, and the way he pushed her out of her comfort zone while never making her feel cornered.
“You ready to look at cake designs?” he asked, then did something unexpected. He opened the binder, which Cecilia had placed on the table when Beckett had first been seated, and gave careful consideration to each photograph.
This left Beckett with two options: Let him get lost in the bible of cake designs, many of which went out of date when Reagan was in office, or flip to the three she’d marked earlier, which she was sure Annie would love. The first option would keep them occupied until they finished their coffees and go a long way toward proving just how boring wedding errands could be. The second would wrap up the business for the day, leaving room to get personal.
Beckett avoided personal. Professional was more her speed. Even when she dated. But this meeting had already turned more personal than any date she could remember.
“I found a few I knew Annie would love.” She flipped to the first one, an all-white cake with orchid blooms made from sugar and a floral cascade delicately iced on each individual tier.
“The first thing Emmitt would say is that orchids look like—”
“Moving on.” She flipped to the second one. “This is a naked three-layer cake—”
“You remember, this is Emmitt we’re talking about.” He turned the page and stopped. “How about this one? It’s simple and elegant. Annie will like the old-world romance of half-iced sides, and Emmitt won’t feel emasculated by flowers and frills.”
Beckett didn’t know how to respond. The rustic cake, topped with fresh berries and a wreath made of forest greenery, was the third option, and hands-down her favorite. For all the same reasons Levi had articulated.
“I think it’s perfect,” she said.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased. “I was raised by women, so I do have some taste. And as Michelle’s man of honor, I made it through my share of tastings and dress fittings.”
“Not so much surprised as impressed.” It was a side to Levi that she hadn’t expected. Yes, he was a flirt. And yes, he tended to focus on the humor in situations. But Beckett was so focused on that could-care-less, life’s-one-big-Jimmy-Buffett-song vibe he had going on, she’d completely missed the caring guy who put his family first and paid close attention to the small details in his loved ones’ lives.
She’d come here expecting to prove to him that she was more than the chaos that surrounded her; instead, he’d been the one to show her a new and endearing Levi who was hard to resist.
“Your mom would be proud,” she said. “She raised a good man.”
