Free Sydney (Book One) (That Wedding Girl 1) by Maggie Way

changed since then.”
    He glances over my black dress, his eyes lingering a bit longer where my décolletage sits. He’s doing it again, looking at me like that. Is it just my imagination or is he checking me out? Surely not. “I suppose you have,” he mumbles to himself.
    “I was always a girly girl, what are you talking about? And I was so not a nerd.”
    “Keep telling yourself that. Your nose was always stuck in a book or a jigsaw puzzle,” he recites it so quickly, like he knows it like the back of his hand.
    “Not to mention a scrapbook, a journal, romance novels…,” ticking the list off my fingers, enjoying the banter. Hmm maybe he’s right. Is it possible to be both?
    He sneers, mocking contempt, “Sorry I asked.”
    “Anyway, do you want my answer or not? I’ll give you the short version, it’s rather girly. ”
    His lips hint at a smile. “No, long version this time.”
    I reach forward and grab the mug of coffee, still too hot to drink. “It all started at Uni. Once upon a time, I worked at the frozen yoghurt shop down on Kent Street. I got along really well with this other girl that worked there, Amelia.”
    “You and this girl eh…” he raises his eyebrows in full interest as he takes a big sip of his coffee.
    “Not like that!” I slap his foot gently. “Anyway, so one day she tells me her sister is getting married and they wanted extra caterers. So, she asked me. Cash strapped, I said yes, naturally.” I pause to peek up at him, sure that he wasn’t really engaged in the story. “Are you sure you want me to keep going?”
    “Please,” his voice cuts in with amused impatience. Adam always hated it when I talked about work, and always nodded quietly when I know he was really more interested in what was on television. It’s a refreshing change, having a straight male give me his undivided attention.
    “The wedding was beautiful; overlooking Rose Bay, about 60 guests. Anyway, I started talking to the wedding planner when she kept coming back for the salmon and mascarpone blini’s. One thing led to another and before I know it she asked me to come to her office the next week.”
    A mischievous smirk appears on his face. “ Ooh I like where this is going.”
    My belly flutters suddenly. Why am I feeling a secret thrill that he is imagining me in these situations? “She asked me to come in for an interview, you sicko!” I blow on the piping hot coffee, desperate to avoid his glance. Somehow he manages to make me feel right at home, and then hot and bothered the next. How is that possible?
    “Anyway, so it started all from there. I just took the job because it was better work experience than scooping low fat dairy and sprinkling toppings, but I didn't expect to love planning weddings as much as I did. The run sheets, the in-laws, the chaos, even the bridezillas. And I've dealt with them all, believe me . I decided to start my own practice after a year - with her full blessing, of course. And the rest is history, as they say.” I smile at him.  “It’s sort of ironic, really.”
    “What is?”
    “I never got the hype around big, fancy weddings. My parents got married on the beach with five of their closest friends and they are still as happy as ever. I used to think that big weddings were bogus. But then, I got to see it first hand for myself and how magical it all is. It really makes a difference in their lives, and suddenly I didn’t feel right to judge them. Whatever they wanted wasn’t ridiculous or silly because it was the way they wanted to celebrate their love. Every couple is different. They all have their own love story. My job is to just help them tell it, and…” I pause trying to find the right word, “it’s quite a privilege. I’m really lucky to do what I do.”
    He looks impressed as he strokes his lips. Either that or he’s trying to process the long winded speech I just gave him.
    “I’m sorry, that wasn’t too corny, was it?” I squish my nose,