“Could I ask you something else?”

She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Anything.”

“Is your mother coming?”

“Not this time.”

“Did you invite her?”

Sam shook her head. “I wanted you to be able to enjoy yourself.”

“And after the scene I made at your first wedding—”

“That had nothing to do with why I didn’t invite her this time. I don’t want her there.”

“I hate that you girls never see her.”

“That was her choice, not ours. She should’ve thought of us before she cheated on you.” She kissed his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow if not before.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You’d better be.” She left him with a smile and went into the living room where Celia was wiping up tears.

“I should’ve known it had something to do with the wedding,” she whispered.

Sam hugged her. “It never occurred to me that he’d be worried about giving me away. I should’ve talked to him about it sooner.”

“Your plan is perfect, honey.”

“I’m glad you think so. Nick will drop off Dad’s tux on Friday.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for coming by.”

“Like I told him—nothing is changing. I’m right up the street any time you need me. My future husband saw to that.”

“Which is just one of the many reasons we love him.”

Chapter 7

Drained from the conversation with her father and beating herself up for not talking to him sooner about the wedding, Sam arrived at her HQ office to find Shelby Faircloth waiting for her. “Did we have an appointment, Tinker Bell?”

“Nope, just a few last-minute details that I need to pin you down on, and since I can’t get Mohammad to come to the mountain…”

Sam grinned at her. She’d been fully prepared to hate whatever wedding planner they hired, but Shelby was damned hard to hate. “Mohammad is at your service. Fire away.”

Shelby withdrew a pink portfolio from a pink briefcase.

“Don’t you ever get sick of all the pink?” Sam asked.

Shelby recoiled. “Sick of pink? Never! It’s my signature color.”

“No! Really?”

Grinning at Sam’s sarcasm, Shelby withdrew a three-panel brochure containing the groupings of flowers she’d given Sam to choose from. “This is it. You have to decide. What’s it going to be? Orchids, calla lilies or tulips?”

Sam moaned and put her head down on the desk. “I can’t decide! I like them all!”

“I’ve got the florist and the cake lady so far up my kazoo I can’t take a deep breath without hearing from one of them. You can’t put it off any longer.”

“Which one would you pick?”

“It’s not my wedding.”

“Shelby!”

“Most brides would’ve made this decision weeks ago. It’s only because all these people are so thrilled to be affiliated with your wedding that they’ve let you slide this long.”