Wooing The Wedding Planner

“Next door?” Roxie asked. The truth hit her flat in the face. “You’re the tenant?” Of course he was the tenant.

“I used to be,” Byron answered. “Now I live here.”

Briar’s mouth formed into an intrigued O. She then cleared her throat and gestured toward the bedroom door. “Harmony and I will just tiptoe downstairs and wait.” She cast her eyes in Byron’s direction, fighting a grin. “Hi, Byron.”

He pressed his lips together. “Briar.”

Roxie waited until Briar was gone before lifting her shoulders. “What do you mean you live here now?”

Byron glanced around her to his mother. “By any chance, have you spoken with Pop about the house lately?”

“No,” Vera said. “Why?”

Byron cursed under his breath. His gaze veered back to Roxie. “If you’re interested in leasing the Victorian, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Why?” Roxie asked, fearing she knew the answer already.

“Because it’s mine,” Byron finished. “Sorry, duchess.”

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d2b080ec-c91f-5ed1-a81a-c5070420cd76)

THE SOUND OF hushed arguing echoed into the dining room from the kitchen. Byron fought the urge to scrub his temples, where his irritation was starting to collect. Whatever satisfaction and tranquility he’d found under the rain showerhead in the master bath had vanished under storm clouds of hassle.

Byron pushed aside the spray of flowers in a beveled vase at the center of the table so that he could see Roxie sitting opposite him. She looked near perfection again in a navy blue dress belted in white sateen. Her hair was drawn back from her face at the nape. A string of pearls rested against her neck. Despite her polish, she couldn’t hide the strain he saw around the lines of her mouth.

The voices in the kitchen rose several notches, his mother’s whisper rising to a shriek as his father’s exasperation rose to a muffled shout. Byron rolled his eyes toward them. “Sorry about this.”

Roxie jerked a shoulder, glancing past him at the archway through which his parents had disappeared. “Mistakes happen.”

“Yeah. They do.” When her gaze settled on him again, that unblinking stare of hers fixating on his face, Byron pushed up the sleeves of the denim button-up he’d donned quickly when he realized he had unwanted company. He and Roxie hadn’t exactly parted under normal terms Tuesday morning. The whole thing had ridden on the back bumper of his mind—the kiss, the awkward lull that followed and the entire sleepless night he’d spent on her floor.

The wine hadn’t been enough to forget her sleepy eyes, the lure behind them that had hooked him like a fish. He wished he didn’t remember what it was like to kiss her. Every time he’d thought about it over the last two days, he’d felt that hook dig in a little further.

He stanched the flow of his thoughts, skimming the edge of his index finger under his nose. “Since the two of them aren’t getting anywhere, maybe you and I could straighten this out.”

Roxie’s shoulders squared against the back of the chair. “Okay.”

“My mother probably told you that this is my great-aunt and great-uncle’s place. Since starting the accounting firm took a chunk out of my savings, I moved into the loft above the garage to build my savings back. On Monday, Athena gave my father the go-ahead to offer it to me outright.”

Roxie’s brows gathered. “But your mother thought the house was still available.”

Byron wondered whether to tell her that the deal with Athena and his father wasn’t concrete. Instead he said, “I figured word got around to my mother, seeing as she and Pop are still married and all.” He stopped to let the spirited debate in the next room speak for itself.

Roxie fiddled with one of the pearl and diamond drops at her ears. “So I guess since you’re practically moved in and the house is in your family, I don’t stand much of a chance.”

“Sorry,” he said again and meant it when he saw the crestfallen look on her face. Guilt flared in the pit of his stomach and spread outward. He smoothed his hands over his knees when the urge to reach out to her nearly broke loose. He scanned her long lids as her gaze fell to the folder on the table in front of her.

The folder. Byron frowned at it and the family logo printed on the front. Inside would no doubt be the lease agreement. His brows came together. His agreement with his father was only verbal.