Abby Porter had long, lustrous dark hair, and a rich, hazelnut stare. Her cheekbones were striking, as was the way she angled her head. As if to say ‘fuck you’ to the world. She didn’t look like she wanted to sing and dance about getting married to Marcus. But then, this looked like a professional shot, probably done before Marcus proposed. A work shot, perhaps. If Jordan had to guess, she’d say Abby was something in marketing. Probably a brand manager, or department head. Abby Porter looked like she knew what she wanted, and she normally got it.

Did Abby want to marry Marcus? Jordan didn’t know, and it wasn’t her job to know.

Her job was to make the experience of getting married as smooth as possible for the bride. This email stated that Abby would like her help, and wanted to meet to talk more. Could Jordan give her a call at her convenience?

Jordan took one more look into Abby’s cool, alluring stare, before throwing her phone in her bag. Sure, she could do that. But not tonight.

Tonight, she had some soothing adult grape juice to drink, and a best friend to appease.

Tomorrow morning, she’d see what Abby Porter’s story was.

For now, Abby could wait.

Chapter 2

Abby Porter gripped her five-iron and looked out over the green of the driving range. The monitor said her last strike had gone further than she’d ever hit it before. She wasn’t surprised. Today, Abby had a lot of frustration to whack out of her system. Was that the technical term? It was now.

She steadied her five-foot-eight frame, raised the club behind her, then brought it down, rotating her body as she smashed the ball into the air and down the range. She wouldn’t be surprised if that one went even further. She was in that sort of mood tonight after dinner with Marcus’s parents. She knew he was watching, assessing her from the small black couch at the back of their driving bay. Sure enough, when she turned, her fiancé was sitting, one foot balanced on top of his opposite knee, a knowing smile on his handsome face.

She’d chosen well, she knew that. Marcus was tall, dark, and handsome. Their children would be gorgeous.

“Something you want to talk about, Abs?”

“Nope.” She balanced the club against the side of their driving range bay, then flopped down beside him. Her body edged into Marcus.

He extended an arm and pulled her close to kiss her temple. “Good. I’d hate to be that golf ball. You left it in no doubt who’s the boss in your relationship.”

She turned, raising a single eyebrow. “Who’s the boss in our relationship?”