Free The Bridesmaid by Hailey Abbott Page A

chairs. Carol had a fat, spiral-bound book titled The Ultimate Wedding Planner on her lap. It was already jam-packed with budget lists, graphs and tear sheets from magazines.
    “You guys don’t want to do that yourselves?” Abby asked. “It’s your wedding.”
    “Yeah, but beyond Sarah McLachlan and the Beatles, I’m musically challenged,” Carol said.
    “What about you?” Abby asked Tucker.
    “I’m all about Tim McGraw,” he said, arms crooked behind his head.
    “Okay, I’m on the music!” Abby announced, widening her eyes. She uncapped the pen and got to work. “No ‘Celebration,’ no ‘Hot, Hot, Hot.’ No . . .”
    “Put down songs they can play,” Carol said with a laugh.
    “Oh. Right,” Abby said.
    She glanced over at Noah’s van, which was sitting in the delivery parking lot. He had gone inside fifteen minutes ago to collect the cake plates from that day’s wedding and had yet to return. Her heart had been pounding ever since he’d shown up.
    “I’m going to go make a phone call, sweetie,” Tucker said, getting up and pulling out his cell phone.
    “Who ya callin’?” Carol asked.
    “Oh, just my dad. He left me a message earlier. Something about the tuxes,” he said. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
    As Tucker walked in through the back door, Noah came out. Abby suddenly felt like she was on the verge of collapse. Good thing she was already sitting.
    “Hey,” he said.
    “Hey,” she replied.
    “Can I talk to you?” He tilted his head toward the van.
    “Sure.” Abby somehow squeezed the word through her windpipe.
    This was her chance. She was going to study Noah for any and all signs of crushing.
    Just keep it cool, she told herself, wiping her palm on her jeans. Act normal.
    “So you decided to give this whole wedding thing a shot,” Noah said as they walked. “I just wanted to say I think that’s really cool.”
    “Thanks.” Abby studied his eyes, looking for some sign of the feelings Christopher had mentioned.
    Nothing.
    “What’s that?” Noah asked, glancing at the pad she still clutched in her hands.
    “Oh, song list,” Abby said. “I’m working on what not to play. I have many ideas on the subject.”
    Noah smiled. “Need any input?”
    He didn’t touch her or move closer to her or execute any of the acknowledged flirting techniques. He just stood there and looked at her. Abby tried not to drown in disappointment.
    “Please. She’s already sucked me into this nightmare,” she said, finding her voice. “You should save yourself.”
    “And you should accept help when it’s offered,” Noah replied. “It’s only gonna get crazier.”
    “Good point,” Abby said, noting that his hair was mussed and his shirt was stained from the bakery. If a guy liked a girl, wouldn’t he clean himself up before coming to her house? “Okay. You want to come up with the songs they’re allowed to play? I can’t seem to think of anything.”
    “Done,” Noah said.
    “Thanks. I’m feeling totally clueless,” Abby said.
    “Well, that’s nothing new,” Noah joked.
    “Ha ha,” Abby said, her face burning. Christopher was so off. These were not the words of a person in love. Or even in like.
    “I’ll e-mail you or something,” Noah said, getting in the van.
    “Cool,” Abby said.
    “Anything for you, Ab.”
    Abby sighed as Noah backed up and headed down the driveway. Maybe Christopher is right. A breeze lifted her hair off her neck and she shivered.
    “Carol! I’m gonna go get a sweater!” she called out, glad for an excuse to be alone for a few seconds and refocus her brain.
    “Okay!” Carol replied.
    Abby jogged inside, down the hall to the residence and up the stairs. She was positively giddy.
    Okay, calm down. Noah gives you one nonsarcastic remark and suddenly he’s in love with you? Not likely, she told herself. You’re basing most of this on an observation by Christopher Marshall. This is the same person who thought Frankenstein was a true