Wedding Date (Dating #6) - Monica Murphy Page 0,17

me know by the end of the weekend, all right? I gotta go. It was nice seeing you. Text me.”

I remain in place as Craig slips out of my office, the door closing quietly behind him. As if he was never there. My brain is swirling with too many emotions. All of them negative. Or utter disbelief. Why would he think I’d be open to being his groomsman? Like…fucking seriously? There’s no way I can say yes.

No freaking way.

I leave the office a full hour before I’m to meet Kelsey because I have a feeling traffic would be bad. And I’m right. By the time I turn onto Ocean Blvd., the road is completely clogged with cars. I turn onto a side street and make my way around it, finding parking only about a block around the corner from the restaurant.

Pays off to know how to get around congested traffic because you’ve lived in an area your entire life.

Carmel is where the elite hang out. The rich folks, or the tourists. Kelsey works at Wilder Hotel—she’s the assistant to Alexander Wilder, and the hotel’s corporate offices are at the Pebble Beach location.

Alex travels the world, visiting the various hotels that are part of his luxury resort chain. Kelsey has traveled for him a few times, though not out of the country—yet. She has a feeling an opportunity will open up soon. She’s ambitious. Dedicated. Hungry to grow her career, and I think her boss recognizes that.

All of Kelsey’s friends hang out in and around Carmel as well. Most of them work in the area. Some of them even live close by. Stella Ricci’s family owns a few restaurants, but not the one we’re going to tonight.

I approach the quaint restaurant, detecting the faint murmurings of multiple conversations. The lights glowing on the outside patio, and the various giant pots full of fragrant, tumbling flowers. There’s a table for two right at the front of the flagstone patio, a woman sitting with her back to me. Long, dark hair spills down her back in luxurious waves, and I know it anywhere.

It’s Kelsey.

Stopping quietly just behind her, I press my hands against her eyes, covering them. “Guess who?”

“My favorite financial planner,” she says, her voice teasing.

“Wrong.”

“My favorite male friend.”

I refuse to be swayed by the compliment. “Guess again.”

“That rando who agreed to go to dinner with me tonight,” she says.

“Bingo.” I remove my hands from her face and round the table, pulling the empty chair out and settling in. “You got a prime spot tonight.”

“I’m trying to impress you.” There’s already a glass of wine on the table for me, and I reach for it, taking a few eager swallows. “Did it work?”

“You always impress me, Kels.” It’s the damn truth. I try not to stare at her, but holy shit, she looks amazing. There’s a single candle on our table, its gentle light flickering across her beautiful face, making it glow, and I’m stunned for about the millionth time by her beauty.

“Aw, thank you.” She smiles, reaching for her glass and taking a sip. “I ordered appetizers.”

“So presumptuous.”

“I know what you like.” Her eyes sparkle as they meet mine across the table. “How was work?”

Craig’s visit comes to mind, and I’m about to tell her what happened when our server appears beside our table.

“The appetizers you ordered, miss.” The waiter is young. Attractive. And he’s basically eye fucking my date.

“Thank you.” Kelsey smiles sweetly. I swear sometimes she’s completely unaware the spell she puts on men. Her beauty slays.

I glance at the table. See the giant tentacle lying across the plate, so large it flops over each side. “What the hell is this?”

“Grilled Spanish octopus, sir,” the server tells me. “And a smoked salmon salad with goat cheese.”

“I thought we could share the salad,” Kelsey says cheerfully.

“And the octopus?” I raise my brows.

“I thought it would be fun, trying something different.” She shrugs.

The server’s still hovering, his eyes only for Kelsey. “I think we’re good,” I snap at him, wanting him gone.

He sends one last, longing glance at Kelsey before he leaves.

“You were so rude,” she chastises, her eyes dancing.

I unroll my silverware from the cloth napkin sitting in front of me and grab my fork, reaching out to stab it into the salad that’s right in front of her. “He was looking at you like you’re a slab of octopus on a plate and he was starving.”

She laughs, shaking her head as she unrolls her silverware as well. “The octopus