Chapter 34
Caleb
If there’s anything sexier than Brooke Spencer running a wedding rehearsal, I’ve never seen it.
This woman. She manages to make the officiant feel like he’s in charge (he’s not), chats with the bridesmaids like they’re old friends, and keeps the groomsmen, who definitely hit a bar on their way here, in line.
All with a beautiful smile on her face and clipboard in hand.
One groomsman, I’m going to guess the one who suggested the bar by the glossy look in his eyes, is giving her a tough time.
He’s the kind of guy everyone pictures when you say you’re from here.
They give you that raised brow, and you have to say no, no, I’m not like that.
His story is exactly like the others, guys like Kent.
Grew up with lots of money, prep school, then an Ivy League he got into by the skin of his teeth.
All resulting in a job in finance and a superiority complex.
From where I stand, which is too damn far away, Brooke’s holding her own.
We’re trying to keep up the professional appearance.
I don’t need to assist setting up the bar on the far edge of the lawn, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.
I nearly lost a finger while cutting limes, so unfortunately, I do have to look away every so often.
A chorus of oohs and laughs forces me to stop slicing and look toward the rehearsal.
By the look of it, Brooke has put the troublesome groomsmen in his place, much to his chagrin, and he’s not hiding it well.
Brooke looks in my direction and I catch her proud smirk before she shifts her gaze behind me.
“Caleb,” Judy says. I roll my eyes in Brooke’s direction and then plaster on the fakest of smiles before turning around.
“Hello, Judy,” I say, thankful that the bar back is between us and I don’t have to engage in her ridiculous habit of air kisses.
“Shouldn’t someone a bit more junior be doing that?” She gestures to the cutting board and limes beside me. “Or is your staff not ready? This event is crucial to set the tone for the weekend. I wouldn’t want your lack of preparedness to make me look bad.”
How did my parents ever work with her? In the stories about the early days, she sounded like a completely different woman. Almost. Her true nature was always lurking beneath the surface. I gently place my knife down and clench my fists at my sides.
“We’ve got plenty of staff to handle everything tonight,” I say. “And tomorrow. And Sunday. I like to help out where I can. It shows the staff I’m not above any of the work we do.”
“Ah, I see.” She purses her lips and walks away to catch the end of the rehearsal. I don’t know what reason Judy has for thinking she’s above reproach, but she certainly thinks she is. It’s going to be a long weekend.
The weather is damn near perfect tonight, warm with a comfortable breeze.
I can’t say the same for tomorrow. The last Brooke updated me, tomorrow’s forecast calls for torrential rain in the morning.
There’s a possible break midday, but a threat of thunderstorms at the exact time of the ceremony.
She’s keeping her composure on the outside, but I know Brooke.
This, the one thing she cannot control, is killing her.
I head out of the carriage house where I changed from my prep clothes into my short-sleeve chef coat.
Taking an extra minute to roll the sleeves the way Brooke likes.
She mentioned it once, so I’ll be sure to wear it this way for the rest of my days.
The long-sleeve coat I brought will have to wait for cooler temps.
With the rehearsal over, more guests arrive for dinner. Plus-ones to the wedding party, extended family, and however else you get to a rehearsal dinner for this many people. It’s more people than I’d even want at my own wedding.
Brooke and half her team are managing the rehearsal dinner logistics while the other half continue reception setup.
The elevated family-style clam bake makes it fairly turnkey for my team, but Brooke’s managing multiple vendors including a band, watercolor portrait artist, and cigar bar, as well as the timeline for toasts.
Guests happily mingle and enjoy cocktail hour in the side yard. Judy’s among them, champagne glass in hand, with the woman I saw her with last week. It’s gnawing at me that I still can’t place her, but I don’t have time to figure it out now.
The veranda is covered with long tables draped in navy blue gingham tablecloths.
Each setting has a galvanized bucket with lobster-cracking tools, a custom embroidered lobster bib, and napkins.
My waitstaff is lighting the tea lights under the butter warmers.
I see Brooke check that task off her list as I approach her.
“How’s it going?” I ask, fighting the instinct to place my hand on the small of her back.
“Perfect,” she says, a little too brightly.
“Brooke.” I study her face. “How’s it really going?”
“It’s fine.” She sighs. “Except for Judy, but that’s nothing new.
And the weather. What did I do to piss off Mother Nature so badly?
It’s going to be total shit. Now the forecast is calling for torrential rain all day.
So even if, by some miracle, it doesn’t storm during the ceremony, the ground is going to be a disaster. ”
“You know you can’t control the weather, and we’ve got a great rain plan in place. Baxter already said he has flooring ready for an aisle and a space for the bridal party to stand. He and Maddie have that covered when you make the call tomorrow morning.”
“I just want it to be perfect for them,” she says, looking across the yard where Hannah and Preston are standing together. “Look at how happy they are. They deserve a perfect day, like we planned.”
“And they’ll have it. Thanks to you. It might not all go to plan, but we’re going to make their day as perfect as it can be. I promise,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Looks like Judy’s enjoying herself. Have you talked to her?”
“Only when she brings another eligible bachelor my way. So far, I’ve met James, an investment banker from Greenwich; Jared, an investment banker from Manhattan; and Westley, a real estate mogul from town.
That was after that obnoxious groomsman, Gage, let me know he’s got a great hotel room if I need a place close by to crash tonight.
” She rolls her eyes and puffs out a forced laugh.
I see red. “What?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I get hit on at most weddings,” she says, like it’s not a big deal.
“You do?”
“Are you seriously shocked by that?”
“Yeah, I mean, not that someone finds you attractive…look at you. But you’re working and guys are hitting on you. What the fuck?”
“You sweet innocent man. All. The. Time. We all do.” She gestures to her staff. “We’re used to dealing with it. It’s usually an over-served groomsman shooting his shot, but sometimes a creepy uncle. We all watch out for each other.”
“That’s pretty fucked up, Brooke,” I say. I think back to all the women I’ve worked with and wonder if they’ve ever experienced this. Then I think about all the obnoxious men I’ve dealt with at weddings and I have my answer. Christ.
“It is,” she says, like it’s not a big deal, again. “C’mon, chef, time to transition to dinner.” She walks backwards toward the patio, smirking. “Coat looks good, by the way.”
Judy had better leave her alone for the rest of the night. And I’m going to keep an eye on that groomsman. I scan the crowd and find him at the bar. Of course.
It took much longer than I planned to clean up after the dinner and get the kitchen in shape for tomorrow.
I would have left it to Joey and the rest of the crew, but that’s not the kind of boss I want to be.
I made sure my staff all got to their cars safely, grabbing one of the golf carts Brooke rented for the weekend and dropping everyone right at their car door.
Brooke finished earlier after I insisted she get some rest. She had that slightly dazed look in her eyes that means a migraine attack is coming. She tried to fight me on it, but—in a rare showing of solidarity—Maddie was Team Caleb and walked her back to the carriage house.
I open the door quietly. Part of me hopes Brooke is fast asleep.
Tomorrow’s going to be one of the longest workdays either of us has ever had.
The other part of me hopes she’s awake, because watching her shine at what she does all day is the biggest turn-on.
It’s been foreplay all damn day and I need a release.
When I don’t hear Brooke’s voice greet me, I smile knowing she’s getting the rest she needs.
I head to the bathroom so I can handle my needs alone in the shower.
Light from the bedroom fills the hallway and I peek in, finding Brooke fast asleep on top of the bed sheets.
Curled on her side, hands tucked under her chin, her beautiful brown waves cascading around her.
Cascading over the familiar white coat she’s wearing.
One of my fucking chef coats. This shower cannot come fast enough.
I take a few steps into the room to get a closer look at this perfect woman.
I’m met with the sight of red lace underwear peeking from beneath the coat that barely covers the curve of her ass.
Well, fuck me, chef.
“Caleb,” Brooke says, her voice gravely with sleep. “You’re back.”
“Hey, babe.” I kneel next to the bed. “Whatcha got here?” I touch the collar of the coat. She smiles, eyes slowly blinking as they adjust to the light.
“Oh, this old thing.” She shrugs and sits up, feet dangling over the side of the bed, giving me a sleepy smile. Fuck, it’s not even buttoned. “Just threw it on.”
“Is that so?” I rest my hands on her bare thighs. I’m in the perfect position to simply devour her. She nods, biting her lower lip. “How’s your head?” I ask her.
“Fine, took my meds.” She cups her hand on my cheek. “Thank you for asking.”