Page 18 of The Best Man Problem
But he doesn’t do relationships.
Yes, she had to keep reminding herself of that very important fact.
Maybe I could just have a fling with him. A sexy, naked fling. I didn’t fall after one night. What’s the harm in a few more?
No she couldn’t! Could she? No. Absolutely not.
“You… I…just… Ugh!” She was so frustrated she couldn’t even think of a good comeback. Why was this man constantly throwing her off her game? She had to get out of here. Grabbing her coffee, she turned and headed toward the door.
“You forgot your cream and sugar,” Lincoln called after her, laughter in his voice.
Resisting the urge to flip him off—he was still a member of her current wedding party—she waved a hand in the air, speaking around clenched teeth. “I’ve got some in the office. Thanks.”
His deep, infectious laughter followed her out the door and into the midday air, which had gotten even chillier in the ten minutes she’d been in the coffee shop. Even his laugh was sexy. Perfect. Now how was she supposed to resist him?
At least she still had the wedding. She could cling to that for the next few weeks. Who knows, maybe she’d discover he had a balloon fetish or liked banana cream pie. Banana wasn’t a dessert, it was a fruit. She couldn’t be with a man who considered fruit a dessert. Oh please, please let Lincoln consider fruit a dessert.
But a tiny part of her worried that nothing she could list or point to would make any difference. She’d had Lincoln once, and, though her mind knew it was a bad idea, her body craved another go-round.
She sighed. “I am so screwed.”
Chapter Six
Two days later, Lilly and Mo stepped into The Gentleman’s Finery, a suit and tuxedo shop on the edge of the Cherry Creek shopping area. The locally owned store was small but had excellent service and quality, and, keeping with her clients’ wish to work with as many small business owners as possible, it fit the bill perfectly.
“Ms. Walsh, Ms. Rossi, how nice to see you again,” Mr. Tanaka, the shop owner, called out.
The older gentleman made his way to her side. He reached out his wrinkled, talented tailor hands to grasp first hers and then her roommate’s. The large, thick glasses magnified smiling eyes that never missed a single stitch despite the man’s advanced age and worsening astigmatism. She knew from many years of conversations with the man at various client fittings that he took over the shop from his father, who took over from his father, who started the business after he immigrated to America from Japan in the early 1920s.
“Mr. Tanaka.” Lilly smiled. “Always a pleasure.”
“With you two beautiful and talented ladies in my shop, the pleasure is always mine.”
Old flirt. If he weren’t thirty years older than her and madly in love with his wife of forty years, she’d snatch him right up. They fit perfectly on paper. Similar work fields, but not so similar as to cause marital issues; they both enjoyed the opera—she knew because he and his wife had given her their box tickets one night when they couldn’t attend, best work perk ever—and they always had stimulating conversations. If only the Tanakas had a son. The couple did have two daughters. One who helped run the shop and the other who was away obtaining her PhD.
“I presume you’re both here to oversee the Buller fitting?”
She nodded. “Yes. The gentlemen should be arriving any minute. Do you need us to help set anything up, or would we just be in your way?”
“You two could never be in my way.” He motioned to the small collection of chairs and couches in the back of the shop. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve got everything prepared. Why don’t you both go sit and wait while I gather the gentlemen’s tuxes?”
With that, the man hurried into the private back section of the store. Lilly followed Mo to the sitting area.
“When will the guys be here?”
She glanced at the time on her phone before answering her business partner. “Any minute now.”
Mo sat in a plushy brown chair, her tiny frame sinking into the softness of the old, comfortable furniture. Lilly chose to seat herself on a firm, wooden high-back chair. Opening her planning binder, she flipped to today’s section.
“We should have six men total. The father of the bride, father of the groom, ring bearer, the two groomsmen, and the groom.”
“How old is the ring bearer?” Mo had her own binder sitting at her feet with all the answers she needed, but the woman’s eyes were closed in bliss as she sank deeper into the chair.
What was that thing made of? Cotton candy?
Lilly scanned her notes. “He’s six.”
“Yes.” Mo’s pale brown eyes shot open. “Perfect age. Old enough to get the job done without crying down the aisle or throwing the ring pillow at the bride.” Both of which they’d witnessed before. “But young enough not to be a punk ass.”
