The Bouquet List (7 page)

He shrugged. “It’s just what friends do. I owe your family, Yasmin. When I was a kid, Nick and your family were the only people I could count on in my life.” Even though he tried to cover it, there was hurt in his voice. “Part of me used to feel as though everything in the world revolved around the Palace and the Katsalos family. Like your family was the sun and everything else was only worthy of orbiting it.”

An overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him overtook her, but she fought it and put her palm flat on the table. He wouldn’t want her sympathy. “I’d have thought my family was a lot less like the sun, and more like a pile of space junk hurtling haphazardly through its own universe into a yawning black hole.”

He gave her the briefest of smiles, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It was a good, solid piece of space junk.”

“Were you here for all the raised voices and the threats to disown one another?” she asked, throwing her hands around the way her family did when conversations got heated.

He shrugged, but not with his usual casual confidence; there was something deeper going on behind his eyes. “I came to understand that the raised voices were about passion, and the threats to disown one another were just another way to say you couldn’t live without one another.”

The tight tone to his voice betrayed an old pain, and more than anything, she wanted to take it away for him. Giving in to the need for connection that her body demanded, she reached out a hand and touched the crisp cotton of his shirtsleeve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of what you went through with your own family. I know I take for granted what I had. I think that’s part of the reason Mom went back to Greece. We’d all been taking one another for granted for far too long.”

He looked down at her hand and then up into her eyes, and her pulse began to quicken. Now it made sense. Why he’d rejected her last night. He didn’t want to mess up his friendship with Nick, didn’t want to run the risk of losing touch with her family if something went wrong between the two of them. Suddenly she felt like the most selfish person in the world for even suggesting a fling with him. She gently removed her hand and laid it in her lap.

“That’s the whole crazy thing.” He rubbed a hand down his face and let out a breath. “I didn’t go through anything particularly bad with my family. I just didn’t have much of one. Neither of my parents was in a relationship again after they split when I was young, so I remained the focus for both of them, and a lot of that focus was about who was doing the best parenting, whose place did I want to spend the most time at? My whole childhood was about scoring points and one-upmanship. It was a relief to come to the Palace where people talked about other things, played practical jokes, and stuck up for one another.” He smiled at her again, and this time it was genuine. “That’s the sort of family I want to have one day.”

She didn’t want to dig too deep and ask him to lay more of his pain bare, but she was fascinated about one thing. “Do you think it’s affected the way you’ll want to be as a parent?”

He carefully laid his fork on one of the empty plates. “Absolutely. No child of mine will be moved around all the time. I want a stable place for them to live, predictable and constant parents. I want to work hard to give them a comfortable life, and live near family so we can create bonds and lasting memories, not to feel isolated and alone.” He rubbed two fingers over the frown lines that had appeared on his forehead. “I intend to give my kids everything I didn’t have.”

Yasmin thought about her own future. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted children, but if she eventually did decide to have them, she’d want them to travel the world with her. Even when she was studying full time, she’d always imagined breaking free one day, living life on her own terms, and she wanted that for any family she might have.

She took another piece of bread, marveling at the fact that something they’d shared—the experience of life with the Katsalos family—had impacted them so differently. She couldn’t help but be disappointed they were people who dreamed of such dissimilar futures.

…

“I can’t believe he turned you down!” Genie said as the hair stylist twisted her hair up into an elaborate do the following day. “Is he nuts? Look at you with your gorgeous, fresh style and your new confidence. What other man would pass up the opportunity of a relationship with this?” She waved her finger in the air in front of Yasmin.

“I think the fact that it’s me is scaring him off,” Yasmin said as she played with one of the stylist’s haircombs. “That if things ended badly between us it could damage his friendship with Nick, and my whole family for that matter. If I was anyone but a Katsalos, he might be tempted.”

“But you weren’t exactly asking him to walk down the aisle with you, you… Ow!”

“Sorry,” the hairdresser said, flinching. “Those combs have quite sharp ends.”

“No kidding…” Genie gave her a dark look and then turned her attention back to Yasmin. “I mean, you weren’t asking for anything long term. And why would your family have to know? Maybe you just need to say to him that it would be short and sweet and no one else would find out. Alternatively,” she said with a cheeky grin, “you could ask him to take you to the nude rodeo and see how things develop from there. Have you told him he has a duty to help you fulfill one particular item on your list?”

“Yes, I have.” Yasmin bit down on her lip as she remembered their conversation. “I felt a bit silly at first, but he seemed interested that I’d have that as a priority.”

“Of course he did. It’s super sexy to have someone tell you that you fit all their criteria for a fling. Imagine if a guy said that to you.” She put on a low and sultry voice. “My whole life I’ve wanted to spend one night with a woman with purple streaks in her hair and a kick-ass attitude. Take me now or my life will be incomplete.”

Yasmin chuckled. “I just don’t think I’d ever fit on any list of Lane’s. Unless it was for a career-focused woman with good table manners, or as a member of his favorite family. He’s so serious and stable, and he has such firm views on everything. He’s all or nothing. You’ve got to admit that I’m hardly like that anymore.”

She thought about the connection she could feel growing between her and Lane though, the teasing, the laughing, the working on something so important together. Maybe there
was
too much to lose. “I don’t know, maybe it was a silly thing to do—put seducing a tall, dark man on my list.”

“It wasn’t silly at all. You’ve always had the hots for him, and if I’m not mistaken, that feeling has only increased since you met up again. I think you should give it another shot. Let him know that you’re only after a little fun and I bet he’ll change his mind.”

“Close your eyes.” The hair stylist held up a can of hair spray and sprayed a cloud around Genie’s head. “Hang on and I’ll get a mirror to show you the back.”

When she’d gone, Genie leaned closer. “I look ridiculous, don’t I? My hair looks like one of those boy wigs from the seventeenth century. The ones that had all the maggots wriggling underneath because people would never wash them.” She pulled a disgusted face and then scratched her head vigorously. “This hairdresser is a friend of Carmel’s mother so I can’t say anything, but sheesh, it looks bad.”

Yasmin grinned at her friend. “It’s not your usual wild style, but I’m sure it’ll look beautiful with your bridesmaid’s dress.”

Genie suddenly grabbed Yasmin’s arm. “Don’t tell me Lane’s not coming to the wedding now that he’s said no. We have to have you with a date, or my cousin Bernie will be after you like he was at my twentieth birthday party.”

“No, he’s still coming.” She lowered her voice. “We’re going to use it as a bit of an undercover sting to find out what the O’Malleys are doing so right with their place. We might get a few ideas for decorating the restaurant and improving our service from it.”

“Oh, great idea. I heard that their daughter Erin, you know that really classy girl from school, has taken over running the place.”

The hairstylist came back and held up the mirror, and Genie touched the back of her head. “Yeah, it’ll do. After I get my hands on the groomsman it’ll be all messed up anyway.”

The hairdresser gave a disapproving look, then removed the towel and cape around Genie’s shoulders, and as she stood, she shook all over like a horse having its saddle removed. “My only piece of advice about next weekend is to wear the sexiest dress you have. What man doesn’t get swept away by the romance and open bar of a wedding that’s not his own?”

Yasmin did a mental inventory of her closet. “I don’t know if I’ve got anything suitable. Want to come shopping?”

“Of course. How about after this?”

“Sorry, I can’t. Lane’s picking me up from here in a minute. We’re going to look at fabric for the new restaurant drapes and chair coverings.”

Genie lifted an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I didn’t have Lane pegged as an expert in soft furnishings, not with his suits and that briefcase you say he keeps carrying around.”

Yasmin laughed. “He’s not. I think the only reason he’s taking me is to stop me from going with Paulo.”

“Paulo? Who? What the—!?”

The door to the salon opened and Lane stepped in. “Hi.” He pulled sunglasses from his face and as usual, Yasmin’s heart beat,
tippity-tap,
against her rib cage. She hadn’t seen him since their discussion about why he was doing all this for her father, and somehow, knowing how strongly loyal he was to her brother and her family made her want him all the more.

“Genie, you remember Lane,” Yasmin said.

“Great to see you again, Lane.” Genie beamed. “I don’t normally look like a trussed-up turkey, but lucky you, you get to see me like this again at the wedding!”

Lane grinned. “Great hair, and I’m looking forward to your brother’s wedding.”

She gave an exaggerated whisper. “It’s so cool, you guys going on an undercover recon mission. Just let me know if you need me to distract anyone. Unless of course I’m too busy with my own grab-the-groomsman mission.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Lane said, chuckling, then turned to Yasmin. “Are you ready? The car’s outside.”

Yasmin nodded, then gave Genie a hug, and her best friend whispered in her ear, “Short, sweet, and no strings, remember. Go on, give it another try.”

Fifteen minutes later they were standing in the Bella Casa fabric warehouse. Rows and rows of colorful bolts of fabric stretched out in the building as big as two football fields and suddenly Yasmin felt out of her depth. Maybe she should have talked to her mom about this? Maybe she should have taken advice from a real interior designer rather than trusting her own taste and the practical know-how of a man like Lane.

“You really didn’t need to come with me, you know,” she said. “I can’t imagine you’ve had much to do with fabric before.” She stroked the enormous roll next to her. It was a light, gauzy material that felt rough under her fingers.

He nodded. “True, but I know what will work well in the restaurant in terms of creating the right atmosphere.”

“How was your date last night?” Yasmin said, pretending to be fascinated by a packet of curtain rings, while she held her breath for his reply.

“I thought I told you it wasn’t a date. Lisa and I were meeting about the charity food organization we run.”

Genie’s speech about giving it another try with Lane echoed in Yasmin’s ears. If last night hadn’t been a date, and if she could suggest something short, sweet and discreet, maybe his response this time would be different.

“May I help you?” A middle-aged woman in a well-cut suit and fine gold glasses appeared from behind one of the rolls.
Marilyn. How can I be of service?
was stamped on a large name tag on her chest.

“We’re looking for curtain fabric for a wedding hall,” Lane explained. “Neutral, serviceable, and a color that will go with white walls. Probably a navy blue or dark brown.”

“Navy? Brown?” Yasmin said, turning to face him. “It’s a wedding hall, not a funeral hall. We’ll be wanting to see soft colors,” she said to Marilyn. “A girl wants to feel she’s in a fairy tale when she’s at her wedding, and that’s all about having everything look shimmery and ethereal.”

The woman looked from Yasmin back to Lane. “Which one of you is in charge of the money?”

“I am,” they both said, turning to glare at each other.

“Who’s done this before, then?” The woman looked as though she was fed up with arguing couples.

Yasmin looked at Lane, but he was already focused on Marilyn. “I have. Many times.”

“In that case we’ll go to the darker colors.” She led the way and Lane followed her.

“We can’t have something boring, Lane. It should look regal,” Yasmin said as they made their way through the linen section, and then past stripes.

“You’ll have to trust me on this,” he said and carried on following Marilyn.

“We’ll have the white walls and the lightness of the polished floors. That’ll all get swamped by dark-colored linen on the windows and chairs.”

They stopped in front of a tower of fabric bolts in beiges, browns, and taupes.

Yasmin picked up the corner of a piece of rich, heavy fabric and rubbed it between her fingers. “But it’s so neutral, so predictable. What about something to match the bride and the whiteness of the walls. What about a textured white? That would be amazing with rugs and new artwork. What do you think?”

The woman had her lips pressed together as if she’d dealt with silly women with nose studs every day, but would always get the better of them.

“How about this?” Yasmin ran over to a cylinder of steely blue silk, the color of the sea on an autumn day. She draped the end length across herself and then pulled a piece of gauzy tulle from the roll above over her head. “Doesn’t this make everything look ethereal and dreamy? Can’t you imagine how beautiful that would be with all the other changes we’re making?”

“Do the weddings you go to invite children?” Lane asked. He and the woman were staring at her as if she’d completely lost her mind.

Yasmin eyed him suspiciously. “Of course.”

“And have you seen the way kids seem to get their hands into every potted plant, every buffet table? Can you imagine what your floaty dream fabric would look like with a few dozen ketchup mouths and dirty noses wiped on it?”