Page 2 of Definitely (Maybe) Dating
The beautiful bride-to-be wasn’t only Piper’s new boss, but her fiancé was an agent to the stars. So the guest list read like a Who’s Who in Portland—the exact kind of people Piper usually went out of her way to avoid.
However, circumstances had changed, and Piper need to adapt, so she went back to work on the flat. Within minutes, stray strands of hair clung to her skin, and smudges of break-fluid covered the hem of her dress.
She was an utter mess. And no closer to changing her tire.
Refusing to give up, she removed her blazer and placed it gently inside the car, then propped her knee against the fender and shoved. Up and down and back and forth. She worked the tire iron as if more than just her pride depended on it. And she was making headway, creating a good rhythm for herself, when she heard a loud sound rip through the air.
“Shit!” She shot up, her hands going to cover her backside, her mouth gaping open.
She didn’t need to look to know that she had blown the back out of her fitted “wedding photographer approved” work dress. Praying the draft made it seem worse than it actually was, she glanced behind her.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
It was bad. Pink silk with black hearts bad. And the zipper looked like it had jumped the track and split from her lower back to right below the lace waistband of her panties.
She reached behind her to unzip the dress, hoping she could somehow fix the rip, but the zipper was stuck. She tugged. And when that didn’t work, she tugged while hopping around.
“I get it!” she yelled at the sky. “Message received. Now go away so I can make my own destiny.”
Destiny. She snorted. Yet another thing she didn’t believe in. Every decision she’d made up to that point had been hers and hers alone. Something she normally prided herself on. But today, it left her feeling vulnerable and alone. And as she took in the grease stains on her hands and bare feet, Piper knew she needed help.
Admission was the hardest part.
But with three months’ rent on the line, Piper was willing to do just about anything. Even if it meant phoning in a favor.
She dialed Jillian Conner, wedding cake designer extraordinaire, the person who helped Piper land this job, and the only soul she knew at the party besides the bride-to-be.
Jillian answered on the first ring.
“Piper, oh my God, where are you?” Jillian’s voice came through the phone in a hushed whisper. “The mother of the groom has been asking for you.”
“I’m almost there.” Piper peered over the hood of her car to the historic mansion perched on the hill in front of her.
Located in the prestigious West Hills, Belle Mont House was three stories of Portland royalty, with extensive grounds, five large entertaining rooms, including a grand salon and conservatory which captured some of the most captivating views of the city and Mount Hood. It was a premiere destination for weddings, cooperate parties and highbrow events.
No family was quite as highbrow as the Eastons, who Groom Gage, along with Bride to Be Darcy, were the couple of the night.
“Like at the door almost?”
Piper hadn’t known Jillian all that long, but she could tell the woman was beyond stressed. “Like my tire blew out at the bottom of Belle Mont Drive.”
“This is bad. So, so incredibly bad. Most of the family has already arrived, and Margo is demanding to know when pictures are going to begin.”
“The party doesn’t start for another hour,” Piper stated, but a bad feeling began to grow in the pit of her belly. She had met the matriarchal dictator of the Easton family once, at her initial interview. Getting struck by lightning would be less painful that going head-to-head with Margo Easton.
“The guests arrive in another hour, but most of the family is already here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Piper looked up at the sky and squinted at the tiny molecules of rain flittering down. A drop landed on the tip of her nose.
She gave Fate a little wave of the finger—her middle one.
“Not even one bit.” Jillian lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “Margo went over Darcy’s head and told the family to get here an hour early. Darcy wasn’t even dressed when Margo busted in with her closest friends in tow looking for tea. Now the woman is ranting about taking a picture of the entire family in the rose garden to use for this year’s Christmas card.”
Rain dotted the windshield and ground, and that bad feeling grew until Piper could feel it pressing against her ribs. “She does know that a storm is coming, right?”
Jillian laughed. “I don’t think Zeus himself could take on Margo when she’s like this. So please tell me you’re going to arrive before she begins aiming her death glare my direction,” Jillian begged. “With everything Darcy and Gage went through to get here, today has to be perfect. And that means keeping Margo appeased and away from Darcy. And since Darcy’s my bestie, that task apparently falls to me. When I volunteered to be Margo’s keeper, I had forgotten what nightmares are truly made of.”
Piper had firsthand experience with nightmares who walked in the daylight. She wasn’t scared of a five-foot-nothing sourpuss in pearls. “She isn’t that bad.”
