As Rowan descended the ladder, Connor jumped down the last two steps of his own and steadied her, one large hand resting on her waist as she stepped onto the floor. She moved away under the pretence of taking another drink of water.
“Damn. Your talents are wasted in your current job. You and Mal should think about setting up shop as event planners.”
“I’d hardly classify me as wasting away in a dead-end job, but I’ll pretend you meant that as a compliment.” She tipped up her chin, admiring their hard work. Over the past two hours, they’d hung multiple strings of fairy lights, yards of flowing tulle, and numerous decorative lanterns. Billowing ivory fabric and delicate fronds of greenery softened the solid lines of the room into what anyone but the harshest of critics would call elegant romance. “Just wait until we add the flowers, linens, china, and a few hundred guests.”
Connor blew out a breath and glanced at his watch. “Where is everyone? We’re running short on time to get this done and be dressed for dinner.”
“Good question.” Rowan hurried over to look at her phone, combing her fingers through her hair as she viewed the line of texts. “Crap. The guys got a flat, and the rental van doesn’t have a spare, so they’re waiting for a tow.” She tapped in a quick SOS text to Mallory. “Nothing to be done but to keep working and hope reinforcements arrive soon, but everyone had big assignments today. We might be on our own.”
“What next, then?” He rested a flattened palm on the table as he inspected her seating diagram. “Ahh, I see. How about I set up tables and chairs, you do the linens and … dress the chairs? Is that even a thing?” His chuckle made her smile.
“Absolutely. Can’t be dealing with naked chairs.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Connor winked. “Naked and natural can be a great thing.”
Rowan controlled a shudder as she opened the next box, peeking from the corner of her eye as Connor began the task of setting up tables. It was as if he’d read her earlier thoughts, the memory of his taught muscles glistening as he emerged from the moonlit water teasing her.
The man looked her way, and grinned, sending her another saucy wink before he locked the table legs into place.
Quickly, she looked away, not wanting a repeat of her earlier mini-meltdown. Yet, she couldn’t prevent the frequent looks in his direction, a tiny thrill rippling through her as their eyes met time and again. No, no, no. Flirting with Connor was definitely not a good thing. She forced herself to focus on Sadie and Tate, and their excitement when they entered the room on their wedding day.
Once they got into a rhythm, they both moved quickly. To her surprise, once Connor finished setting up the tables exactly as she’d laid out in her seating plan, he took over the job of adding table clothes while she worked on decorating the chairs.
“It looks amazing, Ro.”
“Thanks. I can’t believe we actually got it finished, though we’ll be cutting it close on the rehearsal. If I’m lucky, I might get a shower.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling more than a little tired and sweaty.
“We’ll get you back in time. You finish the last of those, and I’ll flatten the boxes and put them in the storage room for later,” Connor said. He grabbed the small utility knife and set to work tidying the room.
By the time Rowan straightened the last silk bow, all traces of packaging had disappeared. She cupped her hands over her face as she took a long look. Unbidden tears rushed to her eyes, visions of what she’d planned for her walk down the aisle with Matt sending a slice of pain through her heart. This should be me with Matt; us, a happy couple stepping into a new life together. Sadly, that would never happen. It wasn’t meant to be.
Rowan twirled the refilled water bottle endlessly, staring out the window as they drove toward their hotel. Fatigue weighted her down, dragging her along a bumpy road of despair.
“They’ll love it, you know,” Connor said after several silent minutes. “You’re an incredible friend, working so hard to make their wedding special.”
She offered him a faint smile. “I know.”
“Why do you look so sad? We got it done, it’s gorgeous, and we’ll even have enough time for showers.”
She shrugged, sniffling as he caught her hand and squeezed, keeping hold for several seconds.
“Tell me,” he said in a soft, low tone.
“No. The sad stuff is what I have my girls for. I’ll talk to Mal or Coco later.”
“I’m here, if you need to get something out before tonight. Might not be quite as good as the ladies, but I’m a great listener.”
She bit her lip, wishing she had established a level of trust with the man. Even if he’d been an incredible asset today, offering his unwavering support on perfecting her vision of the reception, she wasn’t sure she could rely on him to say nothing about the selfish side the day had unleashed. Pining for her own day instead of being there for her friends wasn’t showing her best side, and she knew it. Even talking about it seemed like the wrong move, drawing the attention away from the happy couple and making it all about her.
“The offer stands, but I’ll say no more.” He allowed silence to descend over them, leaving to her musings.
One thing she’d always appreciate about this man was his ability to make the offer without adding all the nauseating platitudes. If he’d tried to coax her to smile even in the face of her sadness, she probably would have decked him.
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the rest of the bridal party was already gathered in the lobby. The moment they arrived, they were surrounded, receiving hugs and apologies.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry all the decorating got dumped on you.” Mallory wrapped her into a tight hug. “By the time the guys called about the flat, it was too late to send help.”
“It’s done.” She sent a grateful smile toward the Connor. “We made a good team.”
Mal’s brows rose. “Did we, now?”
“Oh, shush.” Rowan swatted her friend’s arm. “I’m desperate for a shower, so I’ll meet you there.”
“I can wait.”
“No, better you all go, and I’ll come when I’m not”—she fluttered her blouse—“all hot and sweaty.”
Connor broke away from his discussion with Tate and Grady. “I’m heading up to change, so if you’d like a ride, I can give you one. Meet you back here in fifteen?”
“Fifteen? Are you for real?” Rowan lifted her mass of tousled locks. “It’ll take me that long to sort out this mess. Just go, and I’ll grab a cab.”
“Or I can wait. Take as long as you need.” Connor headed toward the elevators.
“Guess that’s covered.” Mal’s lips twitched, her eyes dancing in merriment. “You’ve gone from barely tolerating one another to … rides? Sounds delightfully dirty.”
“Get out of here.” Rowan waved her friend toward the rest of the group, all of whom were wandering toward the doors. “Absolutely nothing happened.”
“Why the heck not? You had that empty hall all day, and you didn’t take full advantage?”
“Oh, you wish.”
“Actually, I do. You’ve been moping over the jackass for months. Time to let that one go.” She arched a perfect brow and jutted her chin toward Connor. “You could find a far worse rebound boy than him.”
Rowan waggled her phone at Mallory. “Look at the time. Hit the road, cause I’ve got to freshen up.”
“You sure do.” Her friend looked her up and down. “Cute, the sweaty, irritable look. Irresistible for certain men, I’m sure.”
“No. Just … no.” Rowan spun and stalked toward the elevator bank. She stabbed the button, tapping her foot as she waited, fuming over the thinly veiled suggestion. Even more irksome was the assumption she’d been spent the past months with her thighs welded shut. Sure, she was overdue for a new commitment-worthy man, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t rattled the headboard with anyone since Matt. That leap she’d taken months ago, preferring to get the all-important rebound dudes over and done with in quick succession. No point in prolonging the pain or saving herself in the hopes Matt would have some miraculous change of heart, especially when she was certain her side of the bed had barely grown cold before the ungrateful jerk warmed it with another woman.
The ire stayed with her as she hurried to her room. A glance in the mirror made her cringe at the flushed cheeks, fly-away hair, and crumpled short and blouse ensemble. At the start of the day, she’d felt crisp and pulled together, now she resembled a cyclone survivor. With a huff, she turned away and stripped off her clothes, letting them drop to the carpet in random piles along her path. She cranked the water on full, tipping her head back in the soothing spray. Even if she entertained the notion, in what world would Connor be remotely interested?
In Mallory’s colourful fantasy realm anything could happen, but nothing about the day suggested he’d want to mattress wrestle with me.
Best to keep her wits about her and senses attuned. It was uncertain when Mister Right would appear, but she was quite sure it wasn’t Connor Ashton.