“Bizzy Bizzy.” My dad offers up his signature greeting my way as he lands a kiss to my cheek. “Word on the street is you drummed up the dead once again. Gwyneth and I got caught up in a few little details last night and missed the show.”
Gwyn’s lips twist with satisfaction. A few delicious details are more like it. That man knows his way around a bottle of champagne, not to mention a woman’s body.
A sickly groan evicts from me as Jasper lands a kiss to my lips.
“What’s wrong?” He pulls back, fully in tune to my dismay.
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head as I say hello to his mother. “What are the two of you up to today?”
Gwyn squints out a smile, albeit short-lived and a touch sour.
“Mayor Woods invited me to a luncheon this afternoon right here at the café,” she says. “I asked if there were any benefits or city programs she needed assistance with, and she said there was a position open on Cider Cove’s Beautification Committee. It seems the official kickoff is just a few weeks away, and there’s still so much to do.”
“Then move the date,” I snip without meaning to. Oh heck, I’m so frazzled by my own wedding, I meant it. “Mayor Woods has the official unveiling of Georgie’s pet project on our wedding day. And Jasper and I both want to be there when Georgie is honored for her work.”
“The same day?” Her expression sours on cue, but there’s an underpinning of glee in her eyes. “I’m afraid the city isn’t able to move the date. Besides, the two of you have already seen Georgie’s project. The unveiling is just a formality. I’m sure Georgie won’t mind that you’re not present.”
Jasper takes a breath. “Mother—Georgie is officiating our wedding.”
“Honestly, Jasper?” Gwyn’s chest bucks as if she were about to be sick. “Is there nowhere you won’t draw the line?”
“Was that a potshot at me?” My finger lands to my chest as I ask the question, and for the record, it was rhetorical.
Gwyn scowls. Of course, it was a potshot at her. Who else would I want to drag down to the bottom of the ocean? That is, before she drags down my poor son.
“No, no.” Dad glides an arm around his questionable fiancée. “Gywnie just means that maybe you should have a man of God—or a woman of God do the deed.”
“And in a church.” She nods with fervor. “For goodness’ sake, you didn’t even send out invitations. You sent out emails with cartoon pictures of happy faces and party hats.”
My shoulders sag at the sight of her disappointment.
“They were texts,” I say. “And I wanted to send out invites, but—”
“I stopped her.” Jasper gives my ribs a gentle squeeze. “We figured since we were only inviting a few friends and family a text would be quicker.”
“And we’re not doing anything formal,” I add.
Gwyneth scoffs. “I gathered that when I read shoes were optional.” She takes up my father’s hand. “Come on, Nathaniel. I’ve booked a pedicure at the spa. I’d hate for us to ruin the wedding photos with unkempt feet.”
They take off and I butt my forehead against Jasper’s chest.
“We can always elope,” he whispers.
“And miss the photo op with their well-groomed feet? I have a feeling we’d never hear the end of it from both our mothers. Hey? Can you believe it was a year ago to the day that you strolled into my life?”
“More like you strolled into the Atlantic and I dove in after you.” He pulls back and examines me with tenderness in his eyes. “Was that just a year ago? I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime. You wouldn’t want to recreate that meet and greet later, would you? Sans that whole water thing, of course.” He gives a quick wink. Unless my bathtub is on the table. I promise to hold you extra tight. He waggles his brows.
“I might take you up on that. A hot bath sounds like it will be on order. I can’t believe we’re really getting married—after just one year.” I bite down on a smile. “You do realize I’ve yet to meet your father.”
“He’ll be at the wedding. He told me to tell you how excited he is to meet you. He’s easygoing, unlike…” He nods in the direction his mother took off in.
“I can’t wait.” I trace his tie with my finger. “Hey, any updates on Julian’s case? Do you know if it was a homicide?”
He lands a kiss to the tip of my nose.
“I’m sorry, Bizzy. Forensics seems to think we can’t rule it out. Do me a favor and let me handle this one. You have enough on your plate. The only thing I want you even thinking about is our big day.”
My mouth opens and closes.
“You’re right.” I shrug. “I have enough on my plate. In fact, my entire focus starting now is hunting down the perfect dress to wear when I walk down that aisle. Will you be home for dinner? I can pick up takeout and we can walk Sherlock and Fish along the beach. That’s about as close to recreating our meet-cute as I care to get.”
He chuckles at the thought. “Done deal. Unless there’s some miraculous break in either of my cases.” He bears into my eyes with his own. “One thing is for sure. There is no case that will keep me from our wedding day. Or our honeymoon.” Jasper and I already decided to postpone our official honeymoon until we could figure out a decent time and place to take it. We’re more than content to spend it in bed alone for seventy-two hours straight.
“Ooh.” My shoulders bounce at the thought. “We get a honeymoon? You do realize we only have a three-day weekend to play with. My cottage or yours?”
“Either or. What the heck? We’ll do both.” He lands a kiss to my lips. “Try to
