‘Jamie.’
‘Yes, Jamie. I heard you telling him he was your favourite redhead.’
‘Ah but the fellas come and go, you, Aisling, my one true love, you are a constant.’
‘Flatterer.’ She grinned. ‘And I can’t sit and drink wine not when I’ve a wedding to be organising. Speaking of which, is he back from the suppliers?’ She inclined her head toward the kitchen.
‘He is, you’ll find him out the back prepping for tonight’s service.’
She smiled her thanks and passed through the restaurant saying hello to Paula whose ponytail was flicking about the place as she cleared tables. A smattering of diners were dotted about the space lingering over their lunches even though they probably should have been back at the office long since. Her stomach rumbled at the lingering hearty smells and spying a man tucking into a bowl of Irish stew she fought the good fight not to pick up a piece of the crusty bread on the plate next to it. Oh, how she’d love to dunk it into his stew! Think of your dress, Aisling. No pain, no gain. Cindy Crawford, Cindy Crawford, she added for good measure. She pushed through the doors into the kitchen and narrowly missed being hit by a flying piece of carrot. ‘Hey, watch it!’
‘Sorry, Aisling,’ the sous-chef, Tony said. ‘I was aiming for him.’ He pointed to Quinn who was laughing.
‘What are you to up to?’ she asked taking in the scene.
Quinn put down the piece of potato he’d been about to fire and held his hands up. ‘Truce?’
‘Truce, so long as I don’t have to sweep it up.’ Tony pointed at the handful of chopped vegetables on the floor.
Aisling could see she wasn’t going to get an answer, besides it was obvious the pair had been having some sort of food fight and irritation pricked at her. Here she was run off her feet organising their wedding and yet Quinn had time to arse about in the kitchen. ‘You need a shave, Quinn Moran,’ she said, a little snappier than she’d intended as she noticed his blond whiskers glinting in the light.
He didn’t notice her pique and homed in for a kiss causing her to squeal.
‘You’re all prickly!’
Quinn grinned wolfishly before rubbing his chin on her cheek.
‘Get off, you’ll give me a rash,’ she said, pushing him away.
He admitted defeat and headed to the sink to wash his hands. ‘You’re a hard woman so you are, Aisling O’Mara. Now then, is this a social visit or an official wedding visit?’ He didn’t know why he was asking given he knew the answer already. Aisling lived and breathed the wedding – it was all she’d talked about since they’d gotten engaged on Christmas Day. Truth be told she was driving him a little mad because you’d think they were Posh and Becks the way she was carrying on. He understood her insecurity where the wedding was concerned although it rankled she couldn’t shake the anxiety her eejit-ex Marcus had left her with. She should be able to move past what had happened because she knew he’d never do anything to let her down. For whatever reason though, she couldn’t and had insisted on a ridiculously tight window of time in which to organise their day. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was happy to have a low-key affair but she wasn’t, she wanted the works. He turned the tap off and picked up the towel, drying his hands off as she answered.
‘I’m here on official wedding business,’ Aisling said, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a piece of paper. She didn’t ask whether he had time to take a look at the photograph because if he had time for horsing around with Tony, he had time to help her make an important decision. ‘Here, have a look at this. I’ve come from lunch with Leila and she showed me some fabulous ideas for table settings but this was the one I liked the best. What do you think?’
She waited, eager for his response, while he looked at the picture.
‘A wise man agrees to everything,’ Tony said going back to dicing his carrots.
It was a sentiment Aisling had to agree with.
However, it would seem Quinn wasn’t feeling wise because instead of the expected, ‘It looks great, Ash, go for it,’ she was waiting to hear he pulled a face and said, ‘It’s a bit, you know?’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, already sensing this was not going to go down well, but it was too late now. ‘A little over the top, I guess.’
Aisling snatched the paper back inspecting it. She couldn’t see what was over the top about it. It was beautiful was what it was.
‘Sorry, Ash, but you wanted my opinion.’
She hadn’t. She’d wanted his agreement. ‘Well what did you have in mind then?’ She couldn’t help the belligerent air creeping into her voice.
‘Something laid back, simple I suppose.’
‘Yes, that’s all well and good, Quinn, but you’re not giving me any examples, are you? I mean do we even bother having a head table or are you talking a picnic blanket on the fecking floor.’ Her pitch had amped up several notches. ‘Or, you know we could go the full hog and do a Pam Anderson, Tommy Lee job and wear our swimsuits and head off to the beach.’
‘Bit cold, don’t you think?’ Quinn tried to make light of it. He didn’t get where she was coming from. He was sure if she had longer to organise their nuptials, they’d be saying ‘I do’ in a castle and she’d have him in a purple suit like the one your man Becks wore on his big day. He’d seen the shiny photos thanks to his mammy having shoved the Hello magazine under his nose. She’d laughed and said if he wasn’t careful his bride-to-be would have him decked out in similar gear
