Abby stared at a candle sat on a side table opposite. That was probably the source of the smell. Geranium and some kind of flower if she had to guess. Maybe rose? She didn’t like it, whatever it was.

Guessing wasn’t her strong point. She was second-guessing herself all the time when it came to Jordan.

Abby hadn’t been attracted to many women since university. What had happened there had been one night. She’d experimented. She’d slept with a woman. She’d enjoyed it. Ticked it off her list. But that was that. One and done.

Since then, she’d only slept with men. Did that make her bisexual? Pansexual? Did you need a relationship with a woman to earn that label? She wasn’t sure three orgasms counted.

Jordan was the first woman who’d snagged her interest in 15 years. She was trying not to focus on that. These weren’t the thoughts a bride was meant to be having about… her staff.

Perhaps, by not thinking of Jordan like that, Abby had crossed a line.

Funny thing. She didn’t care. From the moment they’d met in that café a few weeks ago, Jordan had intrigued her. Made Abby sit up. Stirred something inside her she thought was long dead.

Jordan was simply someone on Abby’s wavelength. Someone she clicked with. That she had breasts and a vagina was incidental.

However, Abby would be lying if she said she hadn’t wondered what those breasts looked like. Or what it would be like to kiss them.

Stop it!

She sucked in such a deep breath that her rib cage felt like it was riding up her body and about to strangle her.

She let it out.

Jordan had done her job and lessened Abby’s stress on one level. But she was also proving a distraction. Together or apart. Jordan had started messaging Abby on a regular basis, and her messages always made Abby laugh. They were personal and witty. Did she do that for every bride she worked with? Abby hoped not. Somehow, it was important. Jordan had told her she was different. Not so spoilt. A normal person. Abby enjoyed Jordan’s company. They worked well together. They made a good team.

Just like her and Marcus, obviously.

Abby closed her eyes, choking again as she breathed in the aromas. She was surrounded by calming colours and satin fabrics. It wasn’t Abby’s natural habitat.

Moments later, the shop manager, Lisa, came back with Abby’s latte, along with a tray of shortbread. Did any bride this close to the wedding ever take a biscuit? Abby doubted it.

Lisa was one of those women who believed there was no such thing as too much make-up. Her eyelashes were so thick, it was a miracle she ever managed to pry them open. Abby had nothing but respect for her attention to detail.