FLOWERS AND FINANCIERS

This romantic comedy delivers everything you need with its delightful storyline, likable characters, plenty of zing and its impossible to resist, laugh-out-loud humor. –Aunt G, Amazon

Loved the ending and especially Sebastian and Amy. Cannot wait to read another book by this author! –Judy, Goodreads

The characters are hilarious together and the story line is entertaining. –BP34, Amazon

This one jumped right into the funnies and brought LOL moments and left a big smile on my face. –ShannaD, Amazon

This love story is full of humor, misunderstandings, frustration and sparks. –Samantha, Goodreads

Chapter 1

Amy

Muscular flesh rippling, the two huge males crashed into each other, screaming. I shivered. I just wanted to run my hands all over the beasts and feel the power vibrating though all that muscle and sinew…

One of the horses lunged at the other, snapping his teeth. His rider jerked him back.

I swooned.

“Take more pictures!” I demanded, batting at Grace. “I need a close-up of his face!”

“Nothing like being at a polo match with a horse girl,” my friend Ivy remarked, pouring the last of the champagne into my glass.

My friends and I were in the VIP section at the annual Hamptons charity polo tournament. Our private booth contained buckets of expensive champagne, comfy lounge chairs, and beautifully prepared hors d'oeuvres, including smoked salmon crudité and caviar.

“Ah! This is the good life!” I announced, toasting my friends.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Elsie said dryly. “Come Monday, we have to start on the Petrov wedding with the world’s worst bridezilla.”

“Too bad all our brides can’t be awesome and gift us tickets to her personal VIP box!” I said, wishing I had more of those amazing lobster croquettes I had been eating.

“Not that I care all that much for horses,” Sophie said, “but I’ll take free food and alcohol any day!”

“And dishy waiters,” Brea added with a snicker.

A server dressed up in riding boots and a polo shirt came into our box with another tray of food and fancy pressed juice.

“Enjoying the show, ladies?” he asked with a wink and set out the snacks.

“I am now that you’re here!” Sophie replied with a giggle.

He laughed and struck a pose. “It looks like you girls need more champagne. I’ll have someone bring more up shortly.”

I settled back in my seat and admired the polo players out on the field. Seeing them in their tight pants, above-the-knee leather boots, and partially unbuttoned shirts made it my kind of sports match.

“I could totally quit my job and be a polo groupie,” I said with a sigh. “I’d just fly around to exotic locations, stay in fancy hotels, and spend all day brushing the horses and braiding flowers into their hair.”

“And banging hot guys!” Grace interjected with a cackle.

“Hey, horse guys are my kind of guys!”

“And you like the horse guys because they have money for such an expensive hobby!”

“No,” I said primly, “I want them because we share a common interest.”

I reached down to pat Baxter on the head. He was a miniature pony someone had abandoned at my grandfather’s farm. He chewed on one of the flowers hanging off the straw hat I had placed on his head.

“I just can’t follow this game,” Brea said, sipping the last of her champagne. “And please don’t try to explain it to me again,” she warned us, “because if I didn’t understand it the first five times you tried to explain it to me, I’m not going to get it now!”

“Especially not after drinking a whole bottle of champagne,” Ivy said, fanning herself.

“It’s hot out here!” Brea complained.

“It still probably says something about us,” Elsie commented, “that we went through five bottles of champagne in an hour.”

“They were small bottles!” Sophie protested.

“Super small.”

“And there are six of us,” I reminded them. “Plus, you have to wash the snacks down with something! It’s a polo tournament. You’re supposed to go high end.”

“Speaking of, I need some more champagne,” Ivy said, looking around.

I blinked behind my dark sunglasses. No, they weren’t designer. I had bought them at a gas station, but they had rhinestones on them and were bright yellow, and one socialite had even given me a compliment on them, so there.

I peered at the entrance to the VIP suite, willing the waiter to appear.

“I might have to start drinking juice.”

“Heaven forbid!” Elsie said.

I dragged myself up to pour some water out for Baxter when the door to the suite opened, and a tall man walked in. He was wearing knee-high leather boots, white pants that looked like he had been poured into them, and a shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and muscular chest.

“There you are!” I said loudly. “We’re practically dying of thirst!”

The handsome man scowled and paused in the entryway.

“Where’s the champagne?” I exclaimed. “Our waiter promised you all were bringing up some more.”

He grunted.

I handed him the last empty bottle. “Can you take that back and go pick up more champagne, pretty please?” I grinned at him.

“I am not taking your trash,” he snarled, voice startlingly deep.

“Oh, er…” Drunk Me was having trouble processing the fact that no champagne was incoming forthwith. “But can you get champagne?”

The man took a step toward me. “Do you even know who I am?”

Though Drunk Me was a bit slow on the uptake, she was starting to get with the program and realize the handsome stranger was probably not a waiter.

Baxter didn’t know who the strange man was, but he knew he didn’t like him. The miniature pony took off as fast as his short legs could carry him and slammed into the man.

He snarled out a curse and looked down.

“You brought your dog here?”

“He’s a horse,” I cried, petting Baxter, who had a mouthful of the hot guy’s pants in his teeth.

“That is not a horse. I have horses,” the man snarled as I tried to pry Baxter off him.

Now that I was closer to him, I could tell the man was definitely not a waiter. He smelled expensive, like old wood, saddle oil, and leather. The insignia on his shirt was also for the polo team that was favored to win the tournament.

Crap.

Rip!

“Baxter!”

The pony pranced happily around the VIP booth with a piece of the white pants in his teeth.

“Your stupid horse ruined my pants.”

Urgh. Those riding pants had to be expensive, and my credit card did not have room to buy him replacements.

“Sorry?” I gave the handsome polo player what I hoped was a sexy smile.

“You’re not sorry,” he sneered at me. “You horse girls are all the same: you come out here to gawk but have absolutely no idea how much work goes into training horses. You think they’re just a big, expensive toy that your dad or whatever sucker you find for a husband is going to pay for.”

“Now look here, mister!” I scolded, hands on my hips. “I actually have a horse—”

“That’s not a horse.”

Baxter snapped at him, and he cursed.

“He is,” I insisted.

“He’s wearing tennis shoes,” the hot guy said, “and a hat and a shirt. He’s a walking stuffed animal.”

“You’re going to hurt his feelings!” I screeched. “Baxter volunteers at the children’s hospital and at the courthouse as an emotional support pony for foster kids in the system.”

Hot polo guy’s lip curled back. “Cute, but I donated ten million dollars to the children’s hospital last year, and my company is working on several lifesaving biotechnology products specifically for children. But sure, you and your little stuffed toy are totally making a difference.” He turned on the heel of his boot to leave.

“Don’t come back here unless you’re bringing champagne,” I shout after him.

He swung around and took two steps to stand inches from me.

I gulped and craned my head to look up at him.

“I can’t tell if you’re stupid or naïve to try to order me around,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to go with naïve, though. You’re like those girls who dream of having their own horse, then once their daddy buys them an expensive Morgan, they immediately get thrown face first in the ring on their first ride.”

He lowered his head so that his face was a breath away from mine. “Don’t even think you can control me, because I’ll have you on your back in the dirt faster than you can scream, Horse Girl.”

I should probably have just kept my mouth shut—I always had a problem with keeping my thoughts to myself—but he was just so damn arrogant.

“I can’t tell if I’m threatened or turned on by your little speech,” I said.

His eyes widened slightly then narrowed. “You should feel threatened.”

“Mmm… nope,” I said, thinking a moment. “Definitely turned on. You know, maybe it’s the boots and the tight pants.”

He scowled. “You’re despicable.”

Chapter 2

Sebastian

“Why did I let her get under my skin?”

“Is that why you rode so poorly?” Hunter Svensson asked me as we stripped off our sweaty polo jerseys in the locker room at the clubhouse.

“I rode poorly because your horses are half-feral,” I complained, “and I was concerned the entire time they were going to trample people.”

“I bought these horses for two hundred fifty dollars each from the Federal Bureau of Land Management,” he bragged as we headed to the showers.

“They are barely trained.”

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk, “but it feels better to win when my horse costs less than a bicycle and other people are paying millions of dollars for an inbred animal.”

Fucking Svenssons. Insufferable lot. Still, Hunter was one of my only friends in Harrogate. Between my business and my little brother, I didn’t go out much. I had been looking forward to this tournament for months, but then that horse girl had ruined my entire weekend.

“Cheer up,” Hunter said over the roar of the showers. “We still won.”

But I felt like I had lost something—probably just my self-respect. Honestly, what had I been thinking, arguing with that girl? She was short, chunky, and had a mess of crazy hair. Between those gigantic yellow sunglasses and that thing I hesitated to call a horse, it was clear she was insane. I should have just walked away.

“Did you ever find your friend you were looking for?” Hunter asked as I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist.

“She wasn’t in her booth. She finally texted me and wanted to see me at the mixer tonight,” I said.

“They’re having barbeque, right? They’d better not start serving food at eight. I’m starving! Text your friend and tell her we want food ready when we arrive.”

“I’m not going!” I said, horrified at the idea. “I’m going home. I need to pick up my brother.”

“Relax!” Hunter said as he buttoned up his shirt. “My brother Remy is babysitting.”

“That doesn’t fill me with warm feelings of comfort,” I said with a frown as I dressed. “It’s like Lord of the Flies at your house.”

Though I had always believed my home life was crap, the Svenssons’ childhood really took the cake. There were about a hundred of them, products of a polygamist father and his many wives. Hunter was one of the oldest and had come of age in a doomsday cult in the desert. The only good thing that had come out of the tragic situation was that he knew how to ride horses and was a fantastic polo player.

He also had to take care of his multitude of younger brothers. While I only had the one I was responsible for, I did appreciate having a buddy in the trenches of sibling parenting.

“You can’t just sit at home or in your office all day,” Hunter insisted, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

I slipped on my sunglasses as we walked out of the locker room to squeals from all the horse-girl groupies.

“Where are your boots?” one woman hollered.

I peered into the crowd, half expecting to see the crazy girl with the yellow sunglasses.

She probably already left, or she’s passed out drunk somewhere.

“The mixer will be fun,” Hunter said, elbowing me. “You could meet someone.”

“I highly doubt I’m going to meet my soul mate among this lot,” I replied.

One of the staff offered to take our bags.

“I’m actually leaving,” I said.

“No.” Hunter grabbed my bag from me and handed it to the coat check. “He’s staying. You need food and socialization that doesn’t consist of your little brother, Alfie, or the small-town kooks in Harrogate.”

“To Harrogate’s credit,” I said, accepting a drink from one of the servers, “at the last town-hall meeting, I had a very enlightening conversation with a member of the feral-cat committee.”

Hunter grimaced. “Every day, I thank my lucky stars that I am not the mayor.”

“I bet you’re also thankful because if you had won, Meg would have drop-kicked you to the curb.”

And maybe she would have chosen me instead.

I shook off the thought. I hadn’t even dated Meg, the mayor of Harrogate. If Hunter weren’t two steps away from batshit insane, I might have, but it had been made very clear to me when I moved to the western New York town that Meg was Hunter’s, and god help anyone who got in the way of his flailing around, trying to convince her to take him back.

But he had eventually succeeded, and now they were getting married.

You always go after unattainable women, I reminded myself as Hunter dragged me to the serving line.

“Sebastian!” A pretty young woman wrapped her arms around my neck, her enormous wedding ring grazing my cheek. “Oops!”

Speaking of—Layla was another friend of mine who I had never even pretended to make a move on, though I had sometimes imagined what it would have been like to have her as a wife. Now she was married—and not to me. I was still alone

“I’m shocked you’re actually at the mixer,” she said happily.

“I made him,” Hunter said, handing me a plate of food.

Layla raised an eyebrow.

“Is that Hunter Svensson or one of his happier, younger, better looking younger brothers?” she teased and fist-bumped him. “Heard you finally got the girl after she wiped the floor with you in the election!”

“Worth it,” he declared.

Layla laughed. “We’ll see what you say after the bill for the enormous wedding you two are going to be throwing comes in.”

“I don’t care. I’ll spend whatever she wants,” Hunter said loftily.

“He’s like a completely different person,” I told Layla.

She snickered.

“Play the room, Sebastian. You could find your happily ever after tonight.”

“I’m just here for the food,” I deflected.

Layla and Hunter went to talk to Evan Harrington while I snuck outside to one of the empty tables. I had never particularly liked these types of events and avoided them whenever I could.

Another server handed me a drink.

I took a sip then almost dropped the glass when a woman drawled, “Ooh, too bad he’s not in those boots. But at least he has champagne this time.”

It was that girl. Those ridiculous sunglasses were perched on top of the mountain of curls on her head. She had a drink in one hand and was balancing a plate piled high with food in the other. Her fat little horse had had an outfit change, and he was wearing a little tuxedo vest.

 “Are you stalking me?” I demanded.

“I was invited,” she said, leaning over to nibble a bite of brisket off her overflowing plate. “Can’t you tell? I’m, like, totally high society!”

I glowered at her. This is the last time I allow Hunter to drag me to one of these miserable social events.

The girl slurped her drink, making me wince. “I’ll leave you alone to bask in your own sex appeal. But I just had to get something off my chest, and I’m really drunk and will probably regret this tomorrow, if I even remember it, but I just wanted to say…” She paused dramatically and then took another bite of the tower of food on her plate. “That I think it was sexist and very unfair for you to demean me as a horse girl when you parade around in those pants, which make your ass look incredibly amazing, by the way, and act all serious about your polo playing and your horses.”

“I’m into horses because it’s a sport,” I hissed at her. “There are rules and rankings. You’re into horses because it’s some sort of weird sexual fantasy.”

“I don’t want to sleep with a horse!” she yelled at me.

The few lone people outside looked in our direction.

“Keep it down,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I just want to sleep with you!” she said, blinking up at me in the dark. “Er… well, not, like, you in particular, but, like, someone like you in the outfit.”

There were titters from people walking toward the venue.

A redhead and a dark-haired woman ran up and grabbed the horse girl.

“We really should revert to male fashion in the regency period,” she insisted loudly as her friends tried to drag her off. “Those tight pants and the boots? Chef’s kiss.” Some of the champagne sloshed down her front, and a piece of brisket fell to the floor. The fat little horse gobbled it up.

“Oh my god,” I said.

“Fun fact!” the crazy girl said, fighting off another friend who was trying to cover her mouth.

“Stop talking, Amy,” her friend said, horrified.

“Fun fact, horses are opportunistic omnivores, and one at my granddad’s farm ate an entire baby chicken once.”

“Shh!”

“You shh,” Amy said, listing slightly and slipping out of her friend’s grasp then careening into me, spilling her food and drink all over my suit.

“Oops!” she slurred, pawing at my chest while I stood there, stunned. “I’ll totally lick all that barbeque sauce off you.”

Each of her friends took an arm then began to drag Amy off.

“But not in a sexual manner,” she called to me. “I just like barbeque.”

“And this is why I don’t go to parties,” I said, looking down at my ruined clothes. “At the very least, I’ll never have to see that horse girl again.”

Chapter 3

Amy

Morning. Bright sun. Regret.

Bad decisions were the story of my life, and just like I had all the other times I had drunk too much, I vowed to never do it again.

Something warm and wet dragged across my cheek, nibbled my hair, then yanked.

“Ow!” I yelled as I was unceremoniously wrenched out of my dream in which a hot polo player had whisked me off to his mansion in his private plane and we lived happily ever after with a bunch of kids and horses.

“Baxter!” I shrieked as the pony pulled me off the couch that served as my bed, table, desk, and living room. I tumbled to the floor.

“Oof.” I rubbed my head. “I drank too much.”

I reached out to the mini fridge and fumbled for a can of ginger ale, but the fridge was empty, just like my life. But not like my apartment.

That’s right, my apartment was so small that I could touch both walls at once. My fridge was the size of a small cooler. My floors were cruddy carpet that grew mushrooms when it rained.

Welcome to New York City real estate.

“Tea,” I croaked, dragging myself upright.

The reason I had rented this apartment—the courtyard. The tiny outdoor space was my oasis in the concrete and glass of Manhattan. I was a country girl at heart, happiest on a farm with my flowers and packs of animals and surrounded by nature.

The small courtyard was the closest I would get in the city, though. I had done my best. There was a small pond with fish and a fountain, terraces of plants that didn’t mind the shade, like ferns, and in the sunny little corner, I grew all sorts of flowers and herbs.

While waiting for water to boil, I snipped off some mint, fennel, and rosemary for my hangover while Baxter followed me around the courtyard as I checked on all my plants.

I was planning on having a nice relaxing cup of herbal tea in the garden while reading, until I looked at the time.

“Shit!”

***

I tumbled in to the Weddings in the City office fifteen minutes after the meeting was supposed to start.

“I’m shocked you made it here at all,” Elsie remarked.

“I think I drank too much.”

“No shit!” Sophie said with a laugh and took a sip of her mimosa.

“It was really amazing barbeque, though,” I said. “Wish I had some now.”

“Or do you want a different kind of meat?” Brea cackled. “You were dropping mad hints to that polo guy about wanting to sleep with him.”

“Ugh.” I slumped down in my seat. “With everyone here as my witness, I, Amy Reynolds, am going to be making better life decisions.”

Elsie handed me a plate with eggs Benedict and grilled asparagus.

“I need a mimosa with this.”

“What happened to better life decisions?”

“They will start after a mimosa.”

“Drink your water first,” Elsie ordered.

“Hopefully that guy is already married,” Ivy said, “because otherwise we could have lost a potential client.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Then it came back to me—the arguing, the gratuitous sexual comments, and the spilling of barbeque all over that delicious chest.

“I’ve been stressed lately,” I explained and took a big bite of the eggs Benedict. The creamy hollandaise sent warm, happy feelings through me. “There’s rumors that rent in my building is going up. My granddad keeps wanting me to spend more time in Harrogate, and I feel super guilty. Plus, we’re so busy with all our brides.”

Ivy had started Weddings in the City as a collaborative so that brides could have a one-stop shop for a beautiful, high-class wedding. She was the wedding planner. Sophie baked delicious wedding cakes decorated with her signature sculpted sugar flowers. Elsie cooked the tastiest catering ever. Brea designed and sewed one-of-a-kind, ethereal wedding dresses, and Grace was the wedding photographer extraordinaire. I created beautiful, locally grown flower arrangements.

“Speaking of,” Ivy said, pulling up a presentation. “This is a working brunch, ladies. We need to talk about what is probably going to be our biggest wedding this year, Hunter and Meg.” A photo of the tall, blond Svensson and Meg, the mayor of Harrogate, popped up on the presentation screen.

“Meg is a busy woman trying to run a small town. Hunter is a billionaire, and we all know how they are. They are used to paying for top-tier service and expect things to be perfect, on time, and stress-free for them. We need to deliver a classy event, and Hunter has in no uncertain terms said that Meg can have whatever she wants. We need to make this event special for them and their families.”

“Big family,” Sophie remarked.

“How many of them are going to be groomsmen?” I asked, the eggs Benedict throwing me into wedding-planning gear.

Ivy grimaced. “That is currently under negotiation. We have a meeting tomorrow afternoon in Harrogate to kick off the wedding. Everyone please come prepared and with ideas in your respective fields.”

Unlimited flower budget? Quaint, small-town country setting? I already had ideas spinning in my mind.

The elevator to the office pinged.

“Darlings!” our next bride said, sweeping out.

“You’re early,” Ivy said, professional smile firmly planted in place.

“I’m never early or late. I come when I please.”

Behold, the bridezilla—entitled, difficult, and demanding.

“Mimosa, Tatiana?” Elsie offered.

“I’m on a diet,” the bridezilla said with a sniff.

We hastily cleared the table, and she sat down.

“My wedding is in eighteen months. I feel like we are already behind schedule.”

“This is the first kickoff meeting,” Ivy explained, adopting her pleasant but professional customer service persona.

“I need everything to be perfect,” the bride insisted. “I was just at my parents’. My whole family is so jealous of me. They wish they were marrying someone as awesome as Daryl. You should have heard my sister, that fat cow. I don’t want her in my wedding party.”

Lord, help us.

Tatiana slammed her hand on the table. “Are you writing this down?” she shrieked.

Ivy dutifully began writing in her notebook.

“I need you all to draw up a contract for bridesmaids and manage the audition process. I don’t want anyone pregnant or gaining weight. Or losing weight. They can’t be thinner than me. And I don’t want anyone at the wedding making hateful comments about how the groom is my college professor. I didn’t break up his marriage. We are in love.”

Ah, nothing like a second marriage!

The bride tossed her hair.

“He said he never loved his last two wives the way he loves me. And you need to make sure none of the guests and none of the vendors call me a mistress or a homewrecker. He’s had a mistress before. She had a baby, and he didn’t marry her. But he’s marrying me. Because we’re in love.”

I stand corrected. Nothing like a third marriage!

“I will make sure that everyone is aware,” Ivy assured her.

“You’d better,” she scolded her. “I don’t want anything to spoil my perfect wedding.”

“He told me I didn’t even have to get a job after I graduated college. I could just be a homemaker. And he is going to hire servants to take care of me.”

“Don’t you want a fallback plan?” I asked delicately.

“A fallback plan?” Tatiana scoffed. “Didn’t you hear me say we’re in love? Gawd, you sound just like my mom. ‘Don’t rely on a man. He cheated on his wife with you, and he’ll probably cheat on you. He abandoned two other kids, and he’ll probably abandon yours.’ Except that he won’t!” she raged. “He loves me. Me! You need to be on my team.”

“We absolutely are,” Ivy assured her.

“And,” Tatiana said, pointing at me, “I want you to make sure my bouquet is bigger than Princess Diana’s. Speaking of, I want famous people at my wedding.”

“Usually you have to pay them, unless you’re friends,” Ivy said cautiously.

“So pay them,” she said. “And make them sign a contract stating that they have to pretend we’re old friends.”

“We’ll look into that.” Ivy nodded.

“Good.” The bridezilla stood up. “I expect to see progress by our next meeting.”

After she had swept out, Elsie silently poured another round of cocktails.

“At least Meg and Hunter’s wedding should be fun to plan,” I said after a moment. “Sure won’t be drinking as much after.”

Chapter 4

Sebastian

“But I’m not ready to go home!”

“You’ve been here all weekend,” I reminded my little brother. “You can’t just move in to the Svenssons’ home.”

Hunter shrugged. “We probably wouldn’t even notice, to be honest. But you can stay for dinner, Alfie. We’re making chili,” Hunter said to him. “Besides, Sebastian and I need to have a chat.”

“No, you have school in the morning,” I began.

“Lighten up,” Hunter said, grabbing my arm. “You two can stay for dinner.”

Hunter turned to one of his younger brothers. “Nate, tell Remy I want French onions included in the toppings selection, and tell him that gummy bears are not and have never been an acceptable chili topping and I’d better not see them there.”

His little brother saluted, and he and Alfie raced to the kitchen.

Hunter grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs.

The Svenssons lived at the old Harrogate estate. Built in the Victorian period by the industrial scions of old, the mansion and the hundreds of acres of grounds held Hunter and his multitude of brothers. On the second floor, they had their large home office and a wood-paneled clubroom, which was where Hunter took me. His brothers were all assembled inside.

“Is this some sort of an intervention?” I asked after a moment, taken aback a bit by all his tall, blond, gray-eyed look-alike brothers.

“We have a problem, Sebastian,” Mace said seriously.

Another brother, Weston, handed me a drink and shoved me into a seat. Hunter sat in a wingback leather chair and steepled his fingers

“A problem about what?” I asked warily.

Were they tired of babysitting Alfie? Was Hunter about to kill me for joking with Meg at a community meeting last week?

“Your services are required,” Garrett, who had a bad attitude on a good day, said.

“For what?”

“You need to be Hunter’s best man.”

“At, like, a duel?” I was confused.

“He’s getting married!” Archer said in exasperation. “Where have you been?”

“Why can’t one of you do it?”

“I’m hurt and offended that you’re trying to pawn this off,” Hunter said lightly. “After all I’ve done for you.”

“I’m not. I just…” I ran my hand through my hair. “Isn’t the best man supposed to be your best friend or your brother?”

“Hunter doesn’t have any friends,” Archer said, making a sad face and reaching out to pet Hunter on the head. “He alienates people.”

“I have friends,” Hunter snapped. “And I have too many brothers, none of whom are good best-man material.”

“With the exception of me,” Garrett said, “but obviously I’m not going to do it.”

“Besides,” Mace added, “it looks pretty pathetic if Meg has a best friend to be her maid of honor and another best friend to be her matron of honor, then Hunter rolls up with a random brother as his best man. He has to represent.”

“You live in Harrogate, and we’re friends,” Hunter declared, “so you are going to be my best man by process of elimination.”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You’re organized and don’t have ulterior motives,” Hunter said. “You’re perfect.”

Garrett snorted.

“Besides,” Hunter added, “we’ve hired a wedding planning firm—the best in the tristate area. There will barely be any work on your part.”

“Weddings are a big deal,” I said. “There’s a lot that can go wrong. Tensions are high, they’re expensive…”

“I’m a billionaire. Money’s not an issue. You just have to show up at the events and pose for pictures. Besides, it’s perfect because you’ve been through the wedding rodeo before, right? And they weren’t weird polygamist weddings like what my brothers and I had to live through. Your dad had a huge wedding for each of your stepmoms.”

“Yes, and he hit on the wedding planner of the second marriage, she quit, and I had to plan the rest of it,” I added.

“That’s not going to happen here. Everyone is a professional,” Hunter assured me.

“Uh, okay, sure,” I said.

The Svensson brothers cheered and poured me another drink.

“You won’t regret this.”

“Sucker,” Parker said with a snort.

“Shut up, Parker,” Hunter shot back. He smiled at me. “Kickoff meeting is at seven in the morning.”

“Is there going to be food?” Weston asked.

Hunter and his brothers looked at me.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Food would be nice, Mr. Best Man.” Hunter clapped me on the shoulder then handed me a credit card. “That’s for the wedding expenses.”

“I have a terrible feeling this is all going to go south very quickly.”

“Which is why none of us volunteered,” Garrett said as several of the kids knocked on the door, yelling excitedly that the chili was done.

Chapter 5

Amy

I breathed in the fresh country air when I hopped out of my grandfather’s pickup truck. It smelled like Harrogate and home.

Several goats ran up to greet me. Baxter, shoeless because of all the natural ground cover, trotted off to greet the other horses.

“We have three new baby goats on the way,” Ernest, my grandfather, said happily. “Sure hope you can get over here for that.”

“I’ll try.”

“I know you’re busy,” he said, giving me a huge hug. “I just like seeing ya.”

“I know,” I said against his chest.

I loved my grandfather, and I knew he adored me. After my mom had peaced out and gone to South America to find herself, my granddad had raised me. I had spent my childhood gardening and riding horses. Now I grew all the flowers I used for the wedding bouquets, decorations, and table centerpieces at his farm in state-of-the-art greenhouses.

“And how are my babies doing?” I cooed as Ernest followed me into the closest greenhouse. I breathed in the humid air and inspected the orchids that hung from special trellises.

“Do we need to hire a few more people?” I asked my grandfather. “We have a lot of brides who want waterfalls. Orchids especially seem to be hot this year, and I know they’re a bit maintenance intensive.”

“Remy and the Rural Trust Foundation mentioned that they had a few people in the job-training program interested in this field,” he said. “The mayor has said she wants more jobs for people with a high school diploma available.”

“Are you talking about the wedding?” an older woman called from the door.

“Hi, Ida!”

“I heard you’re planning the wedding of the century for Harrogate’s very own royalty! Now,” she said before I could get a word in, “first of all, you look fantastic! Don’t you just have the best granddaughter?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ernest said. “I do.”

Ida grabbed me and dragged me outside. “All that humidity is going to make my uterus collapse,” she said.

Ernest turned red at the word and mumbled something about feeding the goats.

Ida, fists on hips, shook her head.

“Honestly, I don’t know how that man survives. You can’t just leave him here to wander around by himself,” she scolded me. “But let me tell you. I have a whole book of ideas for the wedding planning.” Ida pulled a scrapbook out of her enormous bag.

“We’re actually going to let the bride choose the wedding design,” I said faintly.

“I know. I know,” Ida said, “but get a load of this. Me and the Harrogate Girls Club put it together. Did you know that popular movies are hot wedding themes right now? Picture an Austin Powers 1970s themed wedding!” She flipped to another page in the scrapbook, which featured the head table on a dusty-orange shag carpet.

“You should have seen me in the seventies!” Ida crowed. “I was something. Isn’t that right?” she shouted to Ernest, who mumbled and moved farther away from us.

“We will definitely take your ideas into consideration,” I said, taking the scrapbook from her.

“Here’s another goodie for you,” she said, handing me a spiral-bound packet. “I know you’re getting up there in years, and Ernest may want to meet your children before he completely loses his marbles. Since you’re not around much, I have a list of all the eligible bachelors and their birthdays, hobbies, and where you can find them at any given time of the day.”

I flipped the packet open to a random page. Staring back at me was a picture of a surprised and angry half-naked man. I slammed the book shut.

“That was a good picture, wasn’t it? I got banned from Circus Gym for that one. Worth it! He’s a bit too wet behind the ears for me, but I’m helping out the young women of this town and doing my civic duty.”

Ah, small towns…

“I’ll see you at the town-hall meeting! I dropped off some pickled eggs for you,” she said with a wave.

“Nothing like coming home to your small town,” I said to Ernest as we went into the farm house.

It was getting dark, and the greenhouses glowed softly off in the distance from the window of the farmhouse kitchen.

I set about boiling water and chopping onions for the sausage and pierogi filled with potato, cheese, mushrooms, and sauerkraut I was making for dinner.

“I’m glad you all have a wedding here,” Ernest said, slicing butter and throwing it into the pan, where it sizzled. “It’ll be nice to see more of you.”

I patted his arm. “I’m just doing the flowers for the wedding, so I’m not sure I’ll be here all that much.”

He looked a little sad.

“But I’m definitely going to try to come to Harrogate more often. I want to do more horseback riding.”

“Just so you know,” he told me, “since everyone’s talking about the wedding between the mayor and her beau, I have some money saved up for you for your wedding.”

“Oh, Granddad!” I said. “Spend that on yourself! You said you wanted a new truck.”

“Truck runs just fine.”

“You have to use a screwdriver to open the door,” I reminded him.

“Still works,” he said stubbornly. “Besides, I want you to have a nice wedding, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m too busy to try to find a boyfriend, let alone someone marriageable,” I said lightly. I scraped the sausage into the skillet and put the pierogi in the water to simmer.

“There are some decent men in Harrogate.”

“Yes, but after this kickoff meeting, I’m not sure how much I can be here, and when I am, I want to spend all my free time with you!”

Chapter 6

Sebastian

“You’re covered in dirt,” I told my brother when we got home.

The Svensson brothers were half-feral. They had all grown up out in a compound in the desert, left by their parents to fend and fight for themselves. Whenever I saw my brother play roughly with them, I always had to bite my tongue and not beg him to be careful.

It had been years since Alfie recovered from childhood leukemia. He wanted to be a normal kid. I knew that, and I had moved us out to Harrogate so that he could have that classic childhood experience after years of hospitals, needles, and tubes. Still.

“Is that chili sauce or mud?” I scrubbed at his face.

“Probably both,” Alfie said happily. “We were playing nerf war!”

I shooed him into the bathroom and threw his clothes into the washer. Out of habit, while Alfie was upstairs, I started to clean.

When his immune system had been shot because of the chemo, everything had to be sanitary. My company had invented a new industrial-strength cleaner just so that I could feel better about Alfie’s environment. Even with all the best soap, the reality was that if you wanted something clean, you needed to douse it in alcohol and set it on fire.

“You don’t have to keep cleaning,” Alfie said, exasperated, as he came into the living room, where I was meticulously dusting the TV. He flopped down onto the couch. “You need to get out more. Find a girlfriend.”

“You’re only ten. What do you know about dating?”

“The Svenssons all have girlfriends. You’re a billionaire, too, and you’re a CEO,” my brother said, stretching out on the sofa. “You could totally get any girl you want.”

“I can’t just bring a random woman here to live.” I frowned, shooing him into the kitchen.

“You’re not finding a wife,” Alfie countered. “Just go on a date for fun.”

“I’m far too busy,” I said and handed him the snack I had made him, still amazed that he was here, alive, and healthy. “I’m Hunter’s best man.”

Alfie laughed. “I can’t believe they roped you into that.” He shook his head. “Those Svensson brothers.”

***

I wasn’t as put out by being involved in the wedding as the Svenssons must have thought I would have been. There was something nice about weddings. They were happy and beautiful, and there was something moving about the start of a new family.

Of course, that was assuming that the wedding consisted of two normal people from two normal families and not Hunter and his litters of brothers and Meg and her three sisters and of course half the town. I had to force my way through people who were crowded around the Gray Dove Bistro, where we were having the kickoff meeting.

Phone cameras were out, and the local news crew was breathlessly narrating the arrivals of the wedding-meeting attendees.

I had originally relocated my company to Harrogate so that Alfie could be out in nature with greenery and fresh country air. I had thought the small town might be better for him after he had spent a year and a half of treatment cooped up in my steel concrete-and-glass penthouse in Manhattan and riding in cars through the cavernous city streets.

The town had seemed quaint, and the people friendly, when we had attended the festivals as visitors. Now that I was a full-time resident, the small-town quirks were much more apparent.

“We have the private dining room booked for the wedding meeting,” Hazel, the café owner, told me.

Ida and Dottie, two of the town senior citizens, were acting as bouncers at the stairs. Both were dressed in matching bright-pink tracksuits with big gold chains and sunglasses.

“ID?” Ida asked as Dottie crossed her arms.

“Seriously?”

“No ID? Then you’re not going up there.”

“He’s the best man!” Hazel shouted at Ida.

She took off her sunglasses and peered at me while Dottie flipped to a page on her clipboard.

“He checks out,” Dottie said, nodding.

Ida waved me up the narrow staircase.

“I can’t believe I’m missing work for this.” I sighed.

If they were paying a wedding-planning company—not just a planner but a whole company—why did I need to be at the kickoff meeting? Wasn’t that the bride’s and the bridesmaids’ jobs? I had thought I would be planning the bachelor party, organizing the rehearsal dinner, and helping Hunter select the wedding ring. Now I was at a kickoff meeting, like this was a major corporate merger or something.

“Hey, Sebastian!” Meg waved to me from across the room. She was standing next to several huge windows that looked over Main Street. “Thanks for organizing food!”

“That seemed to be the only way people were going to show up,” I said dryly.

“They were going to be here anyway.” Meg shook her head. “You’d think with festivals forty out of fifty-two weekends a month, people wouldn’t want yet another town gathering, but you would be wrong.”

We peered out of the windows.

“I think some of my employees are down there,” I said with a frown.

People cheered when they saw us at the window.

“Let’s get this meeting started,” I said, taking a seat.

A dark-haired woman who seemed oddly familiar stood up at the head of the table.

“Welcome to the start of wedding planning!” she said. “I’m Ivy, the lead planner at Weddings in the City, and these are my colleagues.”

The women all introduced themselves and explained their part in the wedding-planning process.

“And we have one final member,” Ivy said, looking at an empty seat.

A short, plump woman with a mess of curly hair popped up from under the table.

“Hi! Sorry, I was trying to get the projector to work.”

The screen at the front of the room brightened, and I blinked then looked at the girl.

“You!” I barked.

Amy blanched. “Oh… shit.”

She tangled her hand in her hair sheepishly. Twigs, leaves, and flower petals rained onto the table.

“Oops! Don’t mind me. I was doing a little gardening.” She was dusty, dirty, and covered in bits of mulch and grass trimmings.

“They can’t plan this wedding,” I said flatly, turning to the mayor.

“They’re the best in the business,” Meg said.

Hunter glared at me. “Weddings in the City is who Meg wants to plan the wedding, Sebastian.”

I pointed. “That girl, Amy, dumped barbecue on me.”

“Not on purpose, I’m sure,” Meg said with a laugh. “I know Amy. She and I both like our food. No way are we wasting it by dumping it on someone!”

Amy nodded. “Yeah, it was totally an accident. I had a leetle bit too much to drink.” She placed an enormous bag on the table. “It was a super-awesome event, though. Congrats on the win. Hunter, you killed it out there.”

“I’m surprised you remembered,” I grumbled.

She opened the bag. “Also, I brought you something, Meg, as a wedding-kickoff present.” Out of her bag, she pulled an enormous plant with wand-like stems and waxy, emerald-green leaves.

“What the hell?”

“It’s a Zanzibar gem. They are drought tolerant and great for offices.”

“It’s beautiful,” Meg said.

I looked around the room. “Is no one going to remark on how crazy that is? She just pulled a whole plant out of her purse.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Amy said with a laugh. “Once, I had a squirrel in my purse and didn’t realize it, and it hopped out of my bag in the middle of a town-hall meeting!”

Everyone in the room laughed, like that wasn’t the grossest thing in the world. Then a horse neighed.

“Shhh, Baxter,” Amy said under the table.

“You brought your horse here?” I asked in shock.

Amy glared at me. “On Saturday, you were going on and on about how he wasn’t a horse. He was a stuffed animal,” she shot back.

“You had him dressed in sneakers!” I railed.

“He’s so cute!” Meg cooed. “Baxter has to be in the wedding.”

“Speaking of,” Ivy said, writing in her notebook, “Hunter, which one of your brothers did you choose to be your best man? We will need to coordinate with him.”

Hunter leaned back in his chair. “None of my brothers who could be trusted with the task wanted to do it. And the ones who did want to do it, I wouldn’t trust with a pet rock, let alone a wedding. So Sebastian is going to be the best man.”

“Oh, hell no!”