Strike a Match Page 3

  That was how she had realized that she was looking for a change. Something was different in her now. She wanted more. But seeing Shelly happy with someone else was still a little difficult—it still felt fresh even though it had been a few months now.

  “These are huge.” Shelly’s girlfriend Claire took one and reached out to squeeze Sasha’s elbow. “How are you?”

  “Good.” Sasha kissed Claire on the cheek, careful not to drop her tray. Claire was perfect for Shelly, even if at times she hated to admit it. They just seemed to get each other. Shelly seemed to be comfortable around her in a way that she hadn’t quite achieved with Sasha. They were cute together, and recognizing that helped Sasha move on.

  “What are you doing here?” Shelly declined the shellfish Claire offered her, sipping her drink instead.

  Sasha shrugged. “Picking up a few catering shifts here and there for some extra money. I jumped at the chance to be a part of Samantha’s big day. She’s the best.”

  Claire nodded. “She is.”

  Sasha bit back a laugh—Shelly had confided in her that Claire had been totally anti-matchmaker from the moment they’d met, even though their entire first meeting was choreographed by Samantha, unbeknownst to them at the time. Sasha wondered how many of this evening’s attendees were Samantha’s clients, or possible matches for said clients. One never could know with Samantha—she was wily like that.

  Applause from the surrounding crowd interrupted their conversation as Samantha and Lucinda playfully danced in the center of a larger forming circle. Sasha looked at her tray and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get these little guys to the masses before the first course comes out. It was great seeing you. Game night soon?”

  “Definitely.” Shelly raised her glass toward Sasha and smiled. “You’re on my team this time though. Jamie totally cheated last time.”

  Sasha laughed as Claire rolled her eyes and blew her a kiss. The last time she had dinner with them, Claire’s brother Jamie had come over to play video games with Shelly and a pretty heated Mario Kart tournament was born. Jamie and Claire dominated the first and second place spots of every race—it was a total ambush. Sasha had really enjoyed herself, even though she was easily the least skilled gamer there.

  “Bye, Sash.” Claire waved as she and Shelly headed toward their table. Sasha watched them get comfortably seated, making a mental note to pop by their table later to check in on them.

  When she glanced back toward the center of the room, she noticed a woman looking frustrated, staring down the front of her expensive dress. The woman turned and Sasha could see why: there was a red wine mark in a streak on her lap. She looked up to grab Jonah’s attention and motion for him to bring some seltzer water before she realized why the woman looked familiar—that was Marisol Monteiro, Samantha’s mother, and she was willing to bet that the wine stain was the result of Jonah’s ineptitude.

  She hurried over to Marisol, handing off her shrimp tray to Jonah and shoving him out of sight before the older woman noticed. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  Marisol glanced up, appearing surprised by Sasha’s presence. “That server spilled wine on my dress.” She pointed toward Jonah’s back and her forehead creased in annoyance.

  “I can get someone to help you get that out before it ruins the dress, ma’am. Give me one second, okay?” Sasha went into crisis management mode—there was nothing worse than a red wine stain on the mother of the bride’s dress before pictures were taken. This was a code red if there was one. Before Marisol had a chance to reply, Sasha jogged to the main bar and grabbed Shaun’s walkie-talkie.

  “Casey?” Sasha waited for his reply.

  “What’s up, Sasha?” Casey’s voice was muffled; Sasha could hear the loud noises of the kitchen staff hustling behind him.

  “Is Elise there?” She didn’t have the time to try and explain the importance of this to Casey. It would be a lost cause.

  “She’s busy, what’s up?” He sounded annoyed.

  “Put her on, it’s important.”

  The line went quiet for a moment before Elise’s voice chimed in. “Everything okay, Sash?”

  “Negative. Red wine spill on the mother of the bride, totally our fault. How do we fix it?”

  “Oh, crap. Depends on the material of the dress.” Sasha heard Elise tell someone near her to stir something while it was simmering. “Is it in a noticeable place?”

  “Oh, yeah, big time.” Sasha was starting to sweat; this felt unreasonably more stressful than firefighting.

  Shaun pulled out some lemons and seltzer and pushed them toward Sasha with a shrug. She frowned and tried Elise again. “So, anything?”

  “Well the usual routine won’t resolve the stain if the material is too fine. Does Shaun have salt?”

  Shaun nodded and poured some into a small bowl for Sasha.

  “Affirmative, salt is available.”

  A few people approached the bar and ordered drinks, so Sasha stepped to the side. Elise continued to think out loud on the line. “Okay, gather the supplies and call Giovanni.”

  “Giovanni?” Sasha had zero desire to engage with the eccentric wedding planner any more than was absolutely necessary. Yes, he was a great contact for Casey and Elise, but the guy was kind of a whackadoo if you asked her.

  “Something I can help with?” A female voice from behind her caused her to turn. An attractive older woman decked out in diamonds and pearls smiled at her kindly as she motioned toward the stain supplies.

  “Maybe.” Sasha turned off the radio and shoved it into her back pocket. “Any tips on how to get red wine out of what appears to be a designer gown?”

  “Oh, darling, of course. Who’s the unlucky victim?” The woman followed Sasha’s gaze toward Marisol, who appeared to be chastising Jonah. “Gotcha. I’ll handle this, dear.” She took the collection of items Shaun and Sasha had assembled and headed toward the unfolding scene with a gracefulness that made her appear to almost be floating.

  “Who was that magical creature?” Sasha said to no one in particular, amazed at how quickly the woman deescalated the scene. Jonah slinked away looked thoroughly reprimanded and Sasha hoped he stayed in the kitchen for a while, or at least swapped his serving section with someone else. She reached for her walkie-talkie to suggest that to Casey when someone next to her answered her question.

  “That is Edie Davenport. She’s a wiz at stain removal, so you’re in luck.”

  Sasha looked up and locked eyes with the beautiful blonde speaking, her hazel eyes twinkling as she smiled. She looked so…“I know you. Abby, right?”

  Abby nodded and accepted the drink Shaun held out to her. “I wasn’t sure if you would recognize me. How are you, Sasha?”

  Sasha dropped her gaze to the glass at Abby’s lips as she considered how she knew this woman. Had they dated? No, she would remember those lips. Had they slept together? She studied the delicately manicured hand holding the glass and mulled that over. No. She looked back at Abby’s eyes and let herself get lost for a moment—her name had come to her instantly, but she couldn’t recall from where. Then it occurred to her. “The mixer. We met at one of Samantha’s mixers.”

  Abby raised her eyebrow. “We met at more than one. I’m glad to see I made an impression.”

  Sasha felt her face warm at her reply. She had met many of the eligible bachelorettes at those mixers. They were all attractive and funny, but her focus had been on…“Shelly. I was sort of laser focused on Shelly. Sorry, I…Sorry.” She wasn’t sure what else to say so she fell back on the advice her father always told her: when in doubt, listen before you speak.

  Abby shrugged and looked out at the dance floor with a frown. “It’s okay. I was in the same boat.”

  Sasha turned with her and saw Shelly and Claire dancing and laughing. She looked back at Abby and found Abby watching her. “Yeah. That’s kinda—”

  “Sucky,” Abby supplied with a laugh.

  “Totally sucky.” Sasha shook her head as she co
nsidered the irony of the situation. She was standing at the bar watching her near perfect match dance with her girlfriend, while commiserating with another near perfect match at the wedding of their shared matchmaker. It was kind of ridiculous. She decided to run with it. “So, clearly I’m working at this event.” She motioned toward her uniform. “Woefully still single and in a unisex tuxedo. What about you?”

  “Well, although I’m not a fan of the term woeful, I, too, am single. But I am decidedly better dressed.” Abby sipped her drink and did a curtsy.

  “You’ve definitely got me there.” Sasha took a moment to appreciate the emerald cocktail dress Abby wore. It pulled out the green in her hazel eyes. Plus, it was very figure flattering, which Sasha also noticed. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” Abby looked back to the dance floor and chuckled. “I think the stain debacle has been resolved. I see hugging.”

  Sasha let out a sigh and leaned against the bar in relief. “Oh, thank God.” Marisol was embracing Edie, her expression markedly improved from earlier. “Crisis averted. I would offer to buy this Edie Davenport a drink, but the cocktails are free, so I don’t want to come across as cheap.”

  Abby leaned against the bar next to her and nodded. “Yup, that would totally seem like a cheap thing to do. You’ll have to come up with something more creative.”

  Sasha considered this. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure her necklace is worth more than my life. I’ll see if I can’t convince the kitchen to whip her up something special.”

  “I have it on good authority that her favorite after-dinner drink is cappuccino and that she has a soft spot for lemon meringue.”

  “You’re a valuable information resource.” Sasha turned, leaning on her elbow to face Abby more fully. “I’d better keep you around.”

  Abby gave her a curious look. “I’m not really one to be kept.”

  “I didn’t—I mean, I’m not suggesting—”

  “Relax.” Abby briefly placed her hand on Sasha’s forearm. “I’m kidding.”

  Sasha blew a wisp of her dark hair out of her eyes, looking for a segue. “So, tell me, how did you get invited to the biggest wedding of the year?”

  Abby paused, sipping her drink before she replied. “I work at a nonprofit that does a lot of work with Samantha and Andrew.”

  “Oh? What do you do there?” Sasha ignored the crackle of the walkie-talkie in her pocket. Abby was intriguing. She was gorgeous and flirtatious, but a little sassy, too. It wasn’t often that Sasha was caught off guard by a pretty woman—but twice now, Abby had made her stutter or blush.

  “I’m an accountant.” Abby shocked her once again.

  “An accountant?” Sasha couldn’t help the once over she gave Abby and, to her horror, her mouth began saying things that her brain was screaming to keep to herself. “There is no way someone as gorgeous as you fools around with numbers all day.”

  “Is that so?” Abby blinked, a small smile settling on her face as she placed the now empty cocktail glass on the bar. Sasha was aware of Shaun trying to stifle a laugh behind them. She swallowed, waiting for what would be a totally deserved tongue lashing for her forwardness.

  “Does it bother you? That I prefer the company of numbers to people with limited filters, such as yourself?” Abby’s lips shined as her tongue slid along them. “Contrary to what your skewed opinion may be, one can be both gorgeous and into math.”

  Sasha wasn’t sure what to say, but her father’s advice was clearly trodden on now. Abby saved her from making any more of a fool of herself as she turned to leave.

  “But thanks for the compliment.” Abby reached into her purse and slid a tip across the bar top toward Shaun, who was now shaking with laughter. She gave Sasha one last glance before she walked away. “Your back pocket is squeaking.”

  Sasha’s hand went to the walkie-talkie as a muted squeal came from it, masked only by Shaun’s uncontrollable laughter. She watched Abby stride away, her dress shifting seamlessly with every move, a beautiful, delicate creature disappearing into the crowd as the dance floor began to empty. She sighed. She had royally fucked that up.

  “Smooth, Romeo.” Shaun was wiping tears from his eyes as he attempted to pour drinks, a small line having gathered to the right of Sasha.

  “Shut up, Shaun,” Sasha said under her breath as she stepped away, turning up the volume on the walkie-talkie and checking in with Casey. “What?”

  “Sasha,” Casey huffed, “I’ve been trying to reach you for like five minutes. Did the stain thing get resolved?”

  “Yeah, sorry. It’s all good.” Sasha couldn’t make eye contact with Shaun because every time she did, he just snorted and got a little redder from laughing.

  “Good. I need you to pop in here. The first course is almost ready and we have a little backup—” The sound of something breaking in the kitchen cut off the rest of his sentence.

  She quickly turned down the volume in case swearing followed the unmistakable sound of dishes smashing and dropped her head, trying not to pout. This was definitely not how she had anticipated her night going.

  “Don’t worry, Sash.” Shaun pursed his lips, his face still flushed from chuckling. “I’ll hold down the fort. Think you can bring me a few more stars, Fruit Queen?”

  Shaun giggled uncontrollably as Sasha tossed a crumpled cocktail napkin in his direction as she headed for the kitchen. Fruit Queen, indeed.

  Chapter Four

  “Samantha.” Lucinda’s tone was playful but warning.

  “Yes, my dearest wife?” Samantha loved the sound of that. Saying it aloud felt like a dream come true—she and Lucinda had been through a lot in their relatively short time together, and this was easily the happiest day of her life. Well, maybe after Lucinda accepting her proposal, and the night of unbridled passion that followed it. Maybe.

  Lucinda laughed and spun Samantha, kissing her softly and holding her close. “I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing that.”

  “Well that’s good because I’m pretty sure that’s the only way I will address you from now on.”

  “With the dearest part?” Lucinda’s hand settled at the middle of her back, guiding her into the next turn.

  “I’m sure I’ll substitute other words on occasion. Like beautiful or sexy or wonderful…” Samantha followed Lucinda’s lead and stepped into the turn confidently. Dancing with Lucinda Moss was as easy as breathing these days. They had some of their best conversations during these moments—it was like time froze outside of their little bubble. She was still on her high after finishing their first dance as a married couple, thrilled at their perfect execution, glowing at how proud Lucinda was that all their practice had paid off. The whole thing made Samantha feel very emotional. And surprisingly charged.

  “I know that look, Samantha.” Lucinda’s arms were wrapped around her, and they swayed with the music, taking a few more minutes to themselves before they would start to mingle with their guests. They had agreed to enjoy tonight with each other as much as possible. Samantha had been the one to suggest it. In all her years of matchmaking the biggest complaint she heard from her married clients was that the night became more of a meet-and-greet than a celebration of their love. Samantha was determined not to let that happen to them, which was precisely why their vow exchange was a private affair with their immediate friends and family. The reception was a time of partying and joy—but they intended to share that with each other as much as possible. Which was another reason why Lucinda noticing that look made Samantha feel like kind of a hypocrite.

  “Tell me, love. What does that look mean?” Samantha wrapped her arms around Lucinda’s neck and brought their lips close. Being able to say that Lucinda was hers forever was doing all kinds of things to the butterflies in her stomach.

  “That look usually means you’re up to something. I think, considering our recent exchange of promises to each other, that we ought to have a clean slate, no secrets. What’s up?” Lucinda’s blue eyes twinkled. Samantha love
d her a little more.

  “Well, I was thinking…”

  “Mm-hmm, told ya.” Lucinda tightened her arms around Samantha’s waist, pulling them closer together as the crowd around them danced to the music in the background.

  Samantha wrinkled her nose and laughed. “I was thinking that once we got back from the Italian Riviera…”

  “And the villa in Sardinia.” Lucinda kissed her.

  “And after the villa.”

  “Where we’ll have no cell phone reception, no internet, no distractions, and I’m hoping, no clothes.” Lucinda’s hands wandered off her hips ever so slightly, sending a shiver up her spine.

  “Precisely. After all of that…” Samantha could taste the promises of sleepless nights and lounging, nap-filled days on the lips of her bride. Her stomach tightened in response.

  “Do you really want to think about after that, Samantha?” Lucinda’s lips were by her ear as she continued to dance them slowly. “Don’t you think you might be rushing past the best part of this wedding—the honeymoon? I’d hate to think your attentions were elsewhere. I have a feeling you’re going to need all the focus you can muster for the things I have planned for you.”

  Samantha felt faint. Lucinda ran her hand up Samantha’s back and along her side, brushing the side of her breast before settling at her ribcage. Samantha closed her eyes at the contact, willing herself to breathe, her ribs expanding and the pressure of Lucinda’s hand becoming more obvious. This plan was backfiring. “Shit.”

  Lucinda laughed and slid her hand back to the comfortably PG position at Samantha’s hip. “You were saying?”

  Samantha opened her eyes to find Lucinda’s knowing smile greeting her. “You’re the worst.”