One Hot Summer by Melissa Cutler Read Free Book Online Page B

and zeroed in on a second vase. She thrust a printout of the wedding’s floor plan in front of his face, impeding his progress. “As you can see, we’re in one hundred percent compliance with Texas state regulations on tent occupancy codes, number of exits, and exit clearance space.”
    He stepped left, away from the printout, and jammed the measuring tape into another vase. “That’s a nice story, but you’re over the occupancy code by sixteen people. And that’s not counting the servers, the band, and your crew. The two extra tables probably also mean some of the aisles are too narrow, which is also against code.”
    Impossible. She shook the paper. “You barely glanced at the layout.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “You think this is my first rodeo?”
    No. No, she didn’t. But as she looked at the layout, doing some fast math about the square footage and the number of guests set to arrive, it was becoming embarrassingly obvious that it was hers. What had Alex and Carina been thinking, renting a tent that was too small for the wedding party? And why hadn’t Remedy thought to double-check that?
    â€œI’ll nix the extra tables.” That shouldn’t be a problem. The bride and groom hadn’t elected to assign seating, and there was no chance of every single guest showing up.
    â€œSee that you do.” Micah retracted the measuring tape again. “You’re going to need shorter candles, too. These are off by two inches. If you use Maria Valleros as the florist in the future, you’ll have to watch her about that. She’s almost as notorious a code violator as Ty Briscoe himself.”
    Damn it. “Done. Fine.” There had to be thirty candles and vases in the storage room next to Remedy’s office that her assistants could swap out in time for the wedding.
    She turned away before he could catch a glimpse of the heat rising on her neck like a neon sign announcing her mortification. If there had ever been a man she’d wanted to not look like a fool in front of, it was Micah Garrity.
    â€œFunny, isn’t it, how raking in buckets of money makes people feel above the law?”
    Throughout her life Remedy had found that to be unequivocally true, but she refused to give Micah the satisfaction of her agreement. “What is it with you and money? It’s not like it killed your dog or stole your Bible or something.”
    â€œYou don’t know that.”
    With the wedding only a few hours from starting and the addition of the code violations she had to correct, she didn’t have the time or patience to stand around and dicker with him. With her professional mask back in place, she spun on her heel to face him again. “Are we done here? It looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I’d like to get on with it.”
    He nodded at a far corner of the tent, to a cluster of brawny men clad in traditional Polynesian tribal attire standing near a side exit. “First, let’s talk about what they’re doing here.”
    Oh, for heaven’s sake. “They’re Polynesian dancers. This is a tropical island–themed wedding and they’re the entertainment. What’s the problem now?”
    â€œAnd how do you explain those torches they’re holding?”
    She caught her hands squirming and forced them to still against her clipboard. “Those aren’t torches. They’re batons.”
    This time, there was no “almost” about it. Micah’s eyes glowed with genuine amusement. He rolled those full lips over each other like he was formulating the perfect cutting remark to put her in her place. Then he turned to the dancers. “Hey, Tito, are you and your crew planning to set those batons on fire tonight?”
    â€œHey, Chief. Good to see you, man. Yeah, you bet we are.”
    Damn it, damn it, damn it.
    â€œInside or out?” Micah asked Tito, walking his