Exhaling, the tightness in her chest eased a little. “My lawyer is confident we can work something out that’s manageable for me.”

“I’m sure catering the Wedding of the Century doesn’t hurt things either.”

Well, it wouldn’t not hurt things. “Exactly. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Peter H. Mitchell-to-be, I have celebrity clients to impress.” Daisy glanced at the clock on her oven. “Unusually late clients. Christian and Zoe are always on time. Maybe I should text—“

Her phone vibrated and Isabella snagged it from the island, then handed it to her with a wink. “Must have known you were talking about her.”

Zoe: Unexpected visitor. We’ll be thirty minutes late. ? Is that okay?

Daisy: See you in thirty. ? Or we can reschedule. I’m flexible.

Well, this week Daisy was, because she didn’t have any clients scheduled. In fact, she had lightened her workload considerably since she’d agreed to go into business with Isabella. Something that now made her panic.

Zoe: We’ll be there in thirty. Thank you. Xo

“Late, right?” Isabella got a paper plate from one of the cabinets and loaded it up. “This will make a great lunch.”

“Nature of the beast.” Realizing what she was implying, Daisy hastily added, “Not that Zoe’s a bridezilla. She’s the exact opposite. Aunt Leah, however…”

“No need to explain, I’ve been a passenger on that crazy train before,” Isabella said around a sandwich as she headed to the door. “Best thing ever when Zoe and my brother decided not to get married. Although, I wouldn’t have minded having Zoe as my sister-in-law, but her mom…”

“Aunt Leah’s not all bad,” Daisy protested weakly, but she knew the truth. The woman was exacting, demanding, and opinionated. Something Daisy had a hard time stomaching. However, Aunt Leah had been Daisy’s mother’s best friend growing up and had married Daisy’s uncle. Family had to stick with family. “She’s…herself.”

“And so are you, which she should be thankful for. Wish me luck and say hello to Jules for me.”

“I will. Good luck!” Furrowing her brows, Daisy filled up a glass pitcher with ice and water, and then set it on the island. “Wait, what for?”

“Peter and I are heading to his grandparents’ place up in Martha’s Vineyard for an engagement party. Supposedly, the President has been invited,” she said, clearly teasing. Peter and Isabella had been engaged for three months. His family owned a national baseball team, not to mention the ears of politicians.

Daisy grinned. She liked Peter, for the most part. His twenty-two-year-old widowed stepmother, not so much. That tart was always giving Peter looks, and sometimes, she thought Peter gave them right back. It was a sore subject for Isabella, so Daisy and Haven had agreed to stop bringing it up and instead concentrate on being happy for their best friend.

“Look at you, Miss High Society. Sure you’ll be able to mingle with the commoners when you get back?” she asked, wiggling her brows.

“Whatever. See you in a few days.” Isabella blew her a kiss. “Are we still on for dinner, before the silent auction?”


After Isabella left, Daisy moved to her desk again and sat down. Her email notification pinged and she enlarged the tab.

Grin transforming into a full on smile, she opened the email from her Englishman.


I won’t be able to place my usual order. I’m out of town on business. Actually, it’s family stuff. Bloody, boring family business stuff. I hope to have all this behind me within the next two weeks, so that you and I can concentrate on other things.

How are things with you? Everything sorted with your mother’s latest bill, yet? Sure I can’t order ONE BILLION CUPCAKES to solve all of your problems, and then we can run off together into the sunset?



She grabbed her phone and began to text him.

Daisy: I don’t think they make enough sunscreen to protect our skin if we did that. ;)

Jules: Har, har. Sorry about the lack of order this week and the next.

Daisy: You think I only talk to you for your business?

Jules: Sometimes. ;)

Daisy: Fine, then in order for me to continue talking to you, you have to order ONE BILLION of them.

Jules: I really could, you know.

Daisy: You and Dr. Evil.

Jules: A fair comparison. Can you see my pinky finger held just so? Perhaps I’ll get my mini-me to take a selfie.

Daisy: Are we really ready for pictures? Gosh, after nine months, we might be moving too quickly. ;)

She was halfway joking. In all this time, she’d never seen him, not even on Facebook. Not that that was odd. Most guys she knew didn’t have an account, or either used it sparingly. Heck she barely had time for her personal page and devoted most of her time to The Sweet Spot’s page.

Jules: It wouldn’t do my or your imagination justice. I already know you’re a glorious creature.

She twisted her lips. He’d totally sidestepped that one.

Daisy: Ha! Flatterer. Send me your celebrity look-alike instead. Then I’ll send you mine.

For a few minutes, Jules didn’t reply and she wondered if she’d said something wrong. Maybe he didn’t like being compared to a guy with a really bad past. Or—

Jules: How about him?

She opened the attachment and laughed.

Daisy: You’re hilarious. I can’t be lusting after my cousin’s husband.

Jules: What about his twin brother? She’s not married to him, is she?

Daisy: Seriously? His twin brother’s nice looking enough, I guess.

Jules: Which means you think he’s handsome.

Daisy: Does not!

Jules: Daisy.

Daisy: Okay, so I find him, and not his twin brother, who’s married to my cousin, attractive. Sue me. I swear, Jules, if you ever tell anyone, I’ll strangle you through the screen.

Jules: Just attractive? Be honest.

Daisy: Fine. I think he’s hot. Happy?

Jules: You have no idea. Where’s my picture?

Daisy: I don’t think I look like anyone famous…

Jules: If pictures make you uncomfortable, that’s okay. I can wait.

Daisy: You’re sweet, and yes, I’d rather wait. What if what we look like doesn’t do it for each other?

Jules: What if they did?

Daisy: I’m a chicken. Anyway, I’m sorry that you have bloody boring family business stuff. Sure I can’t send some cupcakes to where you’ll be going?

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