A Perfect Wedding by Zoe Dawson

Author:Zoe Dawson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult, college romance, bayou, bad boy, family romance, sexy NA contemporary romance, wedding, novella
ISBN: 978-0-9909075-6-5
Publisher: Zoe Dawson
Published: 2015-06-23T04:00:00+00:00

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Booker

“Isn’t that too high?” I said, backing up and looking at the rose. Braxton was working on another iteration of our wedding cake. I was currently looking over his shoulder. “Is something burning?” I asked as I sniffed the air.

Braxton sighed and whirled on me, shoving me out of the way and heading toward the oven. He gave me a calculated look and pulled out more sponge cake. “It’s just the extra batter on the pan getting toasty.” He leveled a look that would have killed me dead in my sneakers if looks could kill. “Don’t you have something better to do than come into my kitchen and drive me batty with your comments?”

“No, I don’t. I miss—”

“If you so much as utter her name again with the word miss, I. Am. Going. To. Deck. You. It’s only been a week.”

“Geez, you’re touchy.”

“Booker, why don’t you go see Ma? Catch up with her and Win. She can tell you all about her visit to New Orleans. Right?”

“You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“What was your first clue?”

“All right,” I said, snatching up a generous amount of buttercream frosting and licking it off my finger. “Needs more butter,” I said, smirking. Brax threw the spatula at me, but I ducked. “Ha! Missed.”

“I’m warning you, huckleberry!”

“That rose is too high,” I said quickly, then danced out of the kitchen and shut the door before he started throwing sharp objects like knives and cleavers.

Something heavy banged against the door as I heard a steam of Cajun French with my name mixed in.

“Aunt Heloise would wash your mouth out with soap,” I yelled through the door.

“Booker!”

I chuckled. As much fun as this was, I agreed with Brax. I needed something to do so I would stop thinking about how much I missed Aubree. We’d talked on the phone a couple of times, but they were brief conversations, and didn’t fill the empty hole in my gut.

Once in my GT, I drove over to my ma’s house. Getting out of the car, I walked up her flagstone path, picking a bunch of hydrangeas. As I entered the house, I could hear the buzz of a saw coming from the back while I wove through a maze of boxes and old Confederate stuff scattered everywhere around the kitchen and living room. I saw some old journals on the counter. I recognized them as the ones River Pearl had read that revealed what had happened with our ancestors.

“Ma?” There was no answer. I grabbed a vase for the flowers, and added water. After putting the bouquet on her island, I picked up one of the journals and immediately liked Duel’s sweeping handwriting. I set it back down and thought maybe I should read them. I headed for the back, the screen door slapping as I passed through.

I approached her storage shed/antique display area and saw Win Sutton, shirtless and in a pair of worn jeans, running a band saw, a tool belt around his lean waist. I’d never seen him so casual.

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