Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,98

to Jess, there are so many couples, Rory’s already rung Huntley and Handsome HQ and asked them to send more fizz.’ Her eyes are shining. ‘How does that make you feel?’

I think for a second. ‘Great … but worried it could all still go wrong.’ I smile, because this isn’t just about me. ‘There are so many amazing exhibitors, they deserve a fabulous day.’

Poppy nods. ‘Don’t forget to try Clemmie’s Little Cornish Kitchen afternoon teas out on the lawn.’

I give her a teasing nudge. ‘Are you bigging-up the competition?’

She laughs. ‘She’s done some fabulous weddings for us at the farm – her meringues are to die for.’

I’m scrunching up my cupcake wrapper and picking up my tray. ‘I’ll try them next time I’m outside. I’d better be getting on, I’m taking iced elderflower cordial round next.’

It’s one of those days when there’s so much going on that my head feels like it’s going to explode. And because my phone never comes out of my pocket and I’m passing the clocks on the wall at a run, I lose all track of time. When I finally get a chance to head for the pretty cake stands and curly metal tables and chairs under the white canvas tent on the lawns, the shadows are getting long, so it has to be late afternoon. And when I pull my phone out to check, there are four texts from Phoebe that I don’t have time to open.

Out on the lawn, the strings of ditsy floral bunting are swinging in the breeze, and beyond the marquee poles there’s the Little Cornish Kitchen owner, Clemmie, in a pretty orange tea dress, her auburn curls caught up into a bun on top of her head, handing out samples. As I head into the shade, I’m making bets with myself on how likely it is I’ll find a meringue to sink my teeth into rather than concentrating on where I’m walking. So when I run slap bang into a denim-shirted chest I’m kicking myself for being so careless. As a very familiar scent engulfs me and my head starts to spin, I’m silently cursing for not having checked my face or topped up my perfume since this morning.

‘Nic, what are you doing here?’

There are deep shadows in the stubble on his chin and his voice is low with laughter. ‘Looking for a free shower?’

I allow myself a full eye roll. ‘Not funny. Try again.’

This time the ends of his lips are hinting at a smile. ‘It’s your big moment, Milla Vanilla, what kind of a guy would I be if I missed that? I had to be here to support you.’ His full smile finally breaks loose. ‘Don’t worry, I brought my umbrella.’

I hiss at him under my breath. ‘Like you’ll need that in this star zone, Captain K.’ Then I grin at him. ‘Have you been here long?’

‘You could say that.’ He blows out his cheeks. ‘At first I raced after you. When I was too knackered to run anymore and still hadn’t caught you, I decided to have a look around and wait for you to bump into me.’

If I can’t hold back my grin it’s because I’m suddenly feeling really bouncy when I thought I was whacked. ‘I can’t believe how at home you look.’

He shrugs and shuffles the stack of flyers he’s picked up. ‘I’m that kind of a guy – easy wherever I am.’ He’s biting back his smile. ‘Or it could be because I’m wearing the team uniform.’

‘Excuse me?’ Obviously, apart from Jess with her linen trousers and Gucci loafers, we don’t have one.

He gives me a nudge. ‘Pure coincidence. Have you noticed how similar our denim is.’ His smile widens. ‘And please note, I’m wearing a shirt today.’

I’m pursing my lips so this banter stops there. ‘And moving on, how about we take a look at Clemmie’s afternoon tea? I’m told the dainty sandwiches are spectacular.’

He nods. ‘They absolutely are.’

‘You tried them already?’

‘Yes.’ He takes in my surprise. ‘I was waiting a while. And before you ask the question, the answer’s yes, yes, and yes again …’

I’m frowning. ‘Yes, what?’

His eyebrows rise. ‘Yes, that’s what we’ll have for our wedding.’

We have to keep this straight. ‘You mean Pixie’s wedding?’

When he smiles this much, the dimples slice up his cheeks. ‘Isn’t it the same thing?’

I’m aware there’s something more important to root out here. ‘What will you have?’

He smiles. ‘The afternoon tea … and Poppy’s cake with petals sticking to it …’