I smirk back, hoping my horns are showing.
“It’s going to be a magical weekend,” Sukii says with a bitter chuckle.
I have a bad feeling she’s right.
8 Dinner and a show
Lori
My mind is stuck on the redhead.
Seeing her flip out over being called a puck bunny makes me want to torment her more. Ladies never talk to me like that. She wasn’t impressed at all. Which gets me going.
Fortunately, Sami’s tasked Brady and me with a Princess and the Pauper job, setting up the meet and greet. I’ve used the hour we’ve been doing it to figure out things to say to the redhead to see if we can keep this banter going.
The spot where the meet and greet is taking place is not what I expected at all. It’s a wooden pavilion with heavy beam construction along the shore of the lake. There’s a massive fireplace in the middle of the one wall that’s solid. The others are open, overlooking the farm. Besides the elegance and huge chandeliers, it reminds me of the West Coast, the cool cedar structures built around North Vancouver Island near the beaches so people can have cookouts without getting rained on.
A camera crew takes photos as we set up the bar and hang lanterns from the trees, as if Brady and I are a decorating crew. Sami decided it was what she wanted for the setup, an Instagram photoshoot.
“Dude,” Brady interrupts my internal monologue. “Is the team really calling off paintballing tomorrow?” he asks as he struggles with hanging a lantern on the beam at the entrance. “Just ‘cause Sami vetoed all fun because she’s worried about bruising in the pictures, doesn’t mean we have to listen.”
“As far as I know it’s on. I was planning on going.”
“Good, Sami’s hired a fleet of makeup artists. If anyone takes an actual injury, it will be covered by makeup. Matt’s cousins said they’re playing no matter what, and they challenged the team, so if we don’t play, we look like little bitches.”
“That’s true.” I laugh.
“Besides, the paintball course here is sweet and I haven’t played in years. I think it’s a good idea for us guys to blow off some steam while the girls are at the spa. It’s better than creek fishing or horseback riding.” Brady makes a jerking-off motion.
“And I have zero interest in shooting clay disks. But shooting you and Carson, now that is highly enticing.”
“Don’t say enticing, it makes you sound like a rich douche,” Brady mocks me.
“I am a rich douche.” I step back to check our handiwork. Brady comes and stands next to me, holding up the picture Sami gave us. We look at it, then the tables, then the picture again. “Looks right, eh?”
“Yeah eh!” He mimics that stereotypical Canadian accent to mock me.
“Oh my God, you guys,” Nat squeaks and rushes up to us from the trail in a smoking white summer dress. “It’s perfect.”
I tear my stare from her dress and turn back to the pavilion. It’s nice.
Rustic chic is what Nat and Sami call it.
And I have to admit, it’s impressive the way the rustic pavilion and lake shore and fresh-cut firewood balance against the pretty tables, ambient light, and designer dishes and accents.
“When Sami said she wanted pictures of you boys doing the setup to capitalize on your fame, I had no idea you could accomplish this.” Nat slings an arm into Brady’s and rises to her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Well done.”
“She gave us a specific photo with a map and detailed instructions.” I hold up our picture. “Chimps could have done this.”
“Blindfolded chimps,” Brady laments. “And she picked us because we’re the only ones here who know how to light a fire.” He points at the bonfire we have readied and will light the moment this starts.
“No, this is awesome. And just imagine, girls all over our Instagram will be gushing about the super sweet hockey players who participated in the wedding set up.” She kisses him again. “I’ll help you put the throws on the backs of the chairs; if, Lori, you want to finish setting up the rope lights and paper lanterns lining the walkway in?” She takes over, directing us as if we haven’t been doing this whole thing alone all along.
Brady winks at me because we had already agreed we were doing that next.
“Roger that.” I salute and skip to it while Brady and Nat place the lavender throw blankets on the backs of chairs, for when it gets cold later. As I finish, I help them arrange the canister candles along the stairs to the pavilion.
“They have to finish the tent and we’re done.” Brady folds his arms, taking it in. “I hate to admit it, but this is going to be impressive.”
“Yeah, dude. Sami and Nat have an eye,” I agree.
“What?” Nat calls from the other side of the pavilion.
“Nothing. Just mentioning how worked we’re getting,” he jokes. “Speaking of getting worked, how’s it going with that redhead?” Brady asks. “What happened earlier? Because she looked pissed off when she came back inside after yelling at you by the lake. Is that some foreplay you guys have going on? Or do you know this girl from somewhere else?”
“I don’t know her at all.” I take a deep breath and hang the last light. “She walked in on me taking a piss, watched me pee, and then yelled at me for being a dick while staring at my dick. I tried to figure out who she is, and she yelled at me some more and flipped me off.”
“Hot crazy scale?” Brady asks.
“Oh, I suspect she’s a ten in both categories, which I will say is also enticing.” I laugh bitterly as he rolls his eyes. “But I checked with Sami, she’s genuinely a PR rep sent here by Stan Levisohn. I thought for sure she was a puck bunny, stalking me constantly in bathrooms like some hot
