Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

Just the way I liked him.

I strode past him to the bathroom. “Go whack some balls around. I’ll see you later.” I slammed the door shut.

He knocked on the door.

I opened it a crack. “Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

Grant didn’t wait for me to respond to his demand. He pressed his lips to mine in the narrow space between the door and frame.

“I love you,” he murmured.

All my irritation with him evaporated. How could I be upset when he was staring at me like that and telling me that he loved me?

I couldn’t. “I love you, too.”

I did. My heart felt ten times larger than normal.

“Leave,” I said softly. “Before I kidnap you and keep you forever.”

For a second he opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head with a smile. “See you later.”

Unlike Tiffany, I needed to eat, so after showering, I went in search of food. The house was a flurry of activity with the kitchen filled with catering staff. A glance out of the massive glass windows showed tents going up in the yard. There was a rental company unloading tables and chairs. Definitely a spare-no-expense party.

“Good morning,” I said to a couple of the women opening large containers and arranging food onto trays. “I’m sorry to be in the way. I just need some kind of quick breakfast.”

A woman in her forties with funky glasses smiled at me. “Not a problem. Can I fix something for you? I’m Chef Tamara Walker. I’d shake your hand but I’m wrist-deep in ahi tuna.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Leah, Grant’s fiancée.” That just rolled right off the tongue. I should probably question why but not now. I needed coffee. “I’m fine, thanks, I’ll just grab something out of the fridge.”

I opened the professional subzero refrigerator and was confronted with container after container of food for the party. “Huh.” I pried the lid off of one and found a fruit and mint salad. Bingo.

I found a fork and a bowl and dished up a serving. I felt like I was winning until I turned and assessed the coffee machine. “Does anyone know how to use this? I feel like I’m looking at the panel on an airplane.”

Gigi wandered into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t drink coffee, it’ll kill you.”

Interesting. She had an unlit cigarette in her hand.

“We have to die from something,” I told her.

“That is true.” She turned to one of the caterers. “Can you figure this thing out? My future granddaughter needs coffee.” She gave me a smile. “What are your plans today?”

“Staying out of the way,” I said, truthfully. “There is a lot going on here. I may go for a swim.”

Gigi was wearing wide-leg pants and a massive cowl-neck sweater that swallowed her. “We should have flown to Paris last night like I wanted to. We could be shopping right now and still make it back for the party.”

I was one hundred percent sure she was serious. I was also one hundred percent sure, if I was one of the caterers, I’d be eavesdropping like nobody’s business.

“Paris would have been nice,” I said.

“Maybe we can go next weekend.”

Sure, right after I got back from Key West. Not going to happen. I had a job and zero flexibility. “I have to work.” Even if I didn’t, I couldn’t exactly picture myself jetting off to Paris with Gigi. I’d prefer my first time there to be, you know, romantic.

“You should quit that waitress job.”

“I can’t.” I didn’t want to talk about this. I scooped fruit into my mouth and chewed fast, wanting to escape the kitchen.