Free 7 Brides for 7 Bodies by Stephanie Bond

two things the South does to wonderful excess,” Carlotta offered. “Funerals...and weddings.” Even though the fashion show was more than an hour away, the audience seats had already begun to fill.
    “I confess I had my doubts about coming,” Jarold said. “But now, I’m quite looking forward to the week’s events.”
    Behind them, Jack coughed. “You’re going to be here all week?”
    “Yes.” Then Jarold looked concerned. “And I hope you aren’t getting a cold.”
    Jack wiped his hand over his mouth as if to erase what he wanted to say.
    Carlotta fought a smile and withdrew her autograph book. “Mr. Jett, if it isn’t a terrible imposition, may I have your autograph?”
    “Absolutely.” His mouth quirked. “A paper autograph book? You don’t see these anymore. Now everyone wants a selfie.”
    “It’s old school,” she conceded.
    He shuddered. “Lately I’ve been signing tablets and smartphone screens with those nasty little stylus pens or, worse, my finger.”
    She nodded with understanding. “I assume you have your own pen?”
    “Of course,” he chirped, removing a slim black pen from his inside jacket pocket. “Waterman—also old school.”
    He inscribed a message and his name with a flourish, then drew a wedding dress doodle to fill the page.
    Carlotta turned it around to read. To Carlotta, May you have your own happily ever after with your perfect man. Wondrous wedding wishes, Jarold Jett.
    “Thank you.” She gave in to a little thrill at the thought of having a personal memento to take home, something she would relish again and again. “I will cherish it.”
    She escorted Jarold to the secured area behind the runway where makeshift changing tents had been erected. The space was a whirlwind of commotion, with coordinators and helpers running around, pushing racks of gowns and tuxedos under plastic and pallets of shoes and accessories.
    Carlotta made sure Jarold was delivered to the tent that contained his trunks of merchandise. An assistant was already steaming the luxurious creations. Carlotta handed him off and said goodbye, assuring Jarold she would be watching the show.
    Jack set the man’s suitcase where he was directed, averted his gaze from the half-dressed models donning wedding gowns, then cleared his throat. “Where should I wait for you, sir?”
    “Take this.” Jarold Jett handed him a clear plastic bag containing a flat black disc the size of a coaster.
    “What is it?” Jack asked.
    “I’ll buzz you after the fashion show. It also lights up.”
    Jack scowled down at the large beeper. “I’m not TGI Friday’s.”
    “Tomorrow when my assistant arrives, she’ll provide you with an app so you can track my whereabouts via my mobile phone. This will do until then.”
    Carlotta waited for Jack to throw the buzzer back at the man, but to her amazement, Jack simply looked away, seemed to resign himself, then looked back. “How am I supposed to know where you are when this thing goes off?”
    The designer gave him a haughty smile. “Look for the crowd of people gathered around me.”
    Jack’s mouth tightened and he nodded, then left the tent.
    Carlotta followed, surprised he had given in to the man’s demands with such little resistance. Outside she caught up with him.
    “Hey...what was that?”
    His eyebrows climbed. “What was what?”
    She gave him a light punch in the arm. “You, rolling over like a puppy.”
    “Just trying to get through this assignment.” He looked away. “The extra cash will come in handy.”
    Carlotta frowned. That was the second time today Jack had insinuated he didn’t make enough money. Was he having financial problems?
    “You must have a big mortgage,” she said in a teasing voice. She’d never seen where Jack lived, and he’d never talked about it.
    “Nope. But I haven’t exactly been saving for a rainy day, either.”
    “Are you expecting one?”
    He blinked. “Expecting what?”
    “A rainy day.”
    “Oh. Who knows what