Page 14 of Without a Hitch
Jenna: Great. Olivia is throwing a tantrum.
Ugh. Scanning the dresses, I select the least scandalous. And that’s saying something because the little black dress in my hand is cut down to my navel and probably hits just below my ass.
Twenty thousand dollars, Till. Twenty grand. As I toss the garment over my arm and grab the silver strappy heels, that becomes my mantra.
I take a few minutes to scan the notes Jenna sent me last night. I have them mostly memorized. Parents’ names, the groom’s name, even pictures of Jacob, the cheating ex. She left nothing out in her synopsis, and I’m eternally grateful.
Jenna’s room is three doors down from mine. I lift my hand to knock, but Melinda yanks the door open before I get the chance. “She hid one of my shoes,” she hisses.
“What?” I swear I’m slow blinking.
“She hid one of my shoes. I know she did. She’s trying to ruin things already.”
“Oh, geez. Okay. I won’t let her out of my sight until the wedding is over.”
Melinda takes my dress and ushers me inside. Olivia is easy to spot. She’s stewing in the corner with an annoyed expression on her face. I cross the room and hug Jenna like we’ve been friends for years.
“What isshedoing here?” Oh, Olivia. Such a pain in the ass already?
“This is Abby. She’s a friend from yoga. Her dad has been sick, so we weren’t sure if she could make it, but surprise! Here she is.”
Wow. The lies fly from Jenna’s mouth with such ease. I’m seriously going to have to up my game. And yoga? I might be the least coordinated person on the planet.
“Who is she supposed to walk down the aisle with?”
“Oh, don’t worry about details, Liv. That’s what the wedding planner is for,” Jenna replies with false sweetness dripping from every word. “Abby? Why don’t you go first? I know you have some stuff to do. We can keep each other busy while they do your hair and makeup.” Jenna points to a chair set up by the window.
“Ah, sure.” I follow her directions and take a seat. Two women descend on me like flies to shit. “Okay, so we’re missing a shoe?” I ask innocently. “Anything else?”
You could hear a pin drop. “I don’t think so. Not yet anyway,” Melinda huffs.
“I’ve got it.” I’m about to tell them my plan when the makeup artist shushes me, and I automatically snap my lips closed. They paint my face and pull my hair into a high, sleek ponytail for the next twenty minutes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love how it swishes when I walk.
“Perfect,” Jenna exclaims. Grabbing my arm, she leans in and whispers in my ear. “Lindy had both shoes when she walked in. We went into my bedroom for a few minutes, and when we came out, Olivia was here, but the shoe was gone. She’s such a bitch.”
“Okay, so we think it’s in the suite?”
“I think so?” That doesn’t sound promising.
I glance around. “I’ll find it. My sister Sloane used to hide and refuse to come out. I’m a great seeker.”
Jenna grins. “You just might be the best investment I’ve made for this wedding.”
I laugh because what the hell do you say to that? The fact that she has twenty grand in disposable income still shocks me, even after spending so much time with the Westbrook billionaires lately.
With my hands on my hips, I scan the suite. When my gaze lands on Olivia, the faintest hint of remorse flits across her face before she dons a mask of indifference. She’s definitely attempting to sabotage this wedding, but I don’t have the time or the expertise to go all Dr. Phil on her ass. She sits perched on a windowsill beside a large armoire and watches me from the corner of her eye. While everyone else shuffles about the room, she’s the only one that hasn’t moved.
Narrowing my eyes, I search for something to prop me up high enough to search the top of that armoire. My gaze darts from the giant maple furniture to the chair sitting at the desk and then to Olivia. I see the nervous twitch of her eye and know I’m right.
Without preamble, I drag the chair over to where she sits. It’s much heavier than I was expecting, but I muscle the damn thing across the carpet. I give her agotchalook when she doesn’t move out of my way. The room around us goes silent, and when I peek over my shoulder at Jenna, she stands with a satisfied smile.
Removing my shoes, I step onto the chair's seat and try to climb up high enough to see, but I’m still a good six inches short. I hop down, turn the chair around, and call for Melinda. “Hey, Melinda? Can you come hold this chair for me?”
Melinda literally skips across the room. Her gleeful face shines brighter than diamonds. “Of course,” she sings.
“Seriously. What do you think you’re doing? There’s nothing but four inches of dust up there,” Oliva mutters.
I give her the side-eye. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
