Kiss a Bridesmaid (Always a Bridesmaid Book 3) by Courtney Hunt

Author:Courtney Hunt [Hunt, Courtney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ingleside Press
Published: 2017-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

At just after four that afternoon, Shortie arrived at the Savannah Ponds recreation center, bearing foil-wrapped trays of leftovers for the residents to enjoy. He strolled into the sunny atrium and waved to the stooped gentleman manning the front desk, his navy-blue baseball cap on backward, as though he were 50 years younger.

“Hey, George!” Shortie greeted him. “Brought you some leftover wedding cake.”

"Shortie!" Slowly, George high-fived him with his palsied hand, dotted with age spots. Shortie set the foil-wrapped trays on the marble counter and leaned against it. He ignored his throbbing feet, aching from working since before dawn, and dredged up a smile for George. When George struggled with the corner of the tightly wrapped foil, Shortie eased up the edge and handed him a small slice of cake.

“That’s all for now,” Shortie said. “Ms. Edna will scold.”

“I can handle her. Got lots of practice after 50 years,” George waved a hand. “How you been, Shortie? Heard you’re in the wedding catering business now.”

“Been doing a few weddings here and there.”

“That and The Pie Plate must keep you hopping.”

“Keeps me out of trouble.”

“I doubt that.”

“You should come by and—“ But Shortie’s invitation was cut off by a beautiful, clear voice singing the first verse of Amazing Grace from the next room. “What’s that?”

Shortie followed the singing to the French doors leading to the sunny lanai across from the reception desk. He peeked inside. Near the windows, two older women sat facing him, one champagne blonde and the other an improbable orange. A woman with chestnut brown hair sat with her back to him. The blonde woman caught sight of him first, and the singing stopped as the brunette turned. Abby?

“Shortie?” Abby scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

"Just brought some leftovers that I thought the guys here might enjoy," Shortie asked. "How's the hand?"

“Fine.” Abby wrapped her brown sweater around herself, tugging the cuffs down over her hands. “Thanks again.”

Shortie shrugged and stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He hadn’t done anything for Abby that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. When he heard her scream echo across the rose garden, his knees went weak. But she was just a friend. He’d feel the same way if Erin screamed. Maybe. Probably. Possibly. His protective instinct for Abby didn’t mean anything.

“Abigail, aren’t you going to introduce us?” The champagne blonde interrupted, her tone imperious.

“Oh, yes! Sorry,” Abby waved between them, flustered. “Shortie Campbell, this is my grandmother, Nancy McCarthy, and her roommate, Linda Olson.”

“Shortie?” Her grandmother repeated. “Is this the gentleman that helped you after you toppled into the mud?”

“Abby didn’t so much topple as get dragged by Jasper,” Shortie plastered on his best charming smile and shook her hand. “He’s just a puppy, ma’am.”

"Abigail says you own a restaurant," Nancy said, “and you're a caterer."

"Yes, ma'am," Shortie answered. "I just stopped by with some leftover wedding cake."

“Cake?” Linda spoke for the first time in a nasally northern accent. “Young man, did George put out that cake already?”

“I dunno.

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