Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(37)

“I think it was the nineties the last time that happened,” I say, chuckling at Rafferty’s raised middle finger.

“I can certainly do that. Thank you, Jed. You’re so lovely,” Rafferty says bravely.

Jed rolls his eyes. “You might have had the right idea, anyway. I’d be prepared to bet that Janine’s sister improves the more alcohol you drink.”

“I’d dispute that,” I mutter, searching around my desk. “Where the fuck has my highlighter gone?”

“You might find it if you embrace the quirky and rather eccentric notion of keeping your desk tidy.”

I give Jed a smile. He’s a gorgeous bloke—tall with wide shoulders and thick brown hair. His eyes are a very pale green.

“Are you ready for the Haldon wedding?” he asks. “Erica and Ryan, isn’t it?”

I nod. “It’s in three days’ time. I’m catching a flight up tomorrow to check over everything.”

“Scotland’s beautiful at this time of the year.”

“In complete contrast to Erica’s mother,” Rafferty offers.

Jed shudders. “She belongs in a cautionary fairy tale. Have you been to Scotland before?” he asks me.

“A few times, but sadly, only for weddings. Have you?”

He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “Many years ago. Mick and I had a holiday touring the Highlands.”

Mick died ten years ago in a car accident, and I’ve never seen Jed so much as look at another man. I look over at Arthur who’s observing Jed with a sweet look of sympathy.

Jed’s focus returns. “What are Janine and her sister coming in for?”

“Last-minute additions,” I say gloomily.

“Does anyone in that wedding ever consult the groom, and why are they still asking for more things? She gets married in two days. We’re not marital magicians.”

“I’d like that printed on a business card.” I sigh. “She wanted a pink coach last week. I nearly let her have it, because then I could have lain down and let her run me over.”

Rafferty snorts, and my boss shakes his head. “You’ll sort it, Joe. You’re the most diplomatic person I’ve ever met.”

“Hey,” Rafferty says indignantly.

Jed rolls his eyes. “The only way you’d succeed at diplomacy is if you were the only party involved in a dispute. And even that’s debatable.” He shuts his diary. “Okay, we’re about done. Don’t forget it’s the office Christmas do in ten days.”

“Why are we the only business who has their Christmas party while the New Year sales are on?” Rafferty bemoans.

Jed shudders. “There is no bloody way I’m venturing into restaurants at Christmas. I’d rather peel my skin back with a melon baller.” He looks at Arthur. “Do you have five minutes? We can go over the details of the Cornwall trip.”

Arthur nods quickly. “Absolutely.” They disappear into Jed’s office.

Ingrid perches her bum on my desk. “I wish Jed would just see Arthur,” she says. “He’s perfect for him.”

Rafferty fishes his stapler out of the bin. “I doubt Jed’s even noticed him. He put Arthur in the ‘young assistant’ box when he came to work for him.”

“He’s not eighteen anymore,” I say, slapping Rafferty’s hand as he reaches for one of the gaily wrapped bags of chocolate buttons on my desk. “But Jed doesn’t appear to have noticed that fact.”

Ingrid shakes her head. “I’m not so sure of that. I’ve seen a few looks lately.”

“Really?” Rafferty says. “I might win that bet yet.”

She rolls her eyes. “I find your concern for our fellow workers very touching.”

Rafferty grins and holds his hand to his chest. “Ingrid, you absolutely wound me. I’m filled to the brim with concern.”

“That’s the tequila,” she says tartly.

“There’s not a chance of it happening, Raff,” I say. “He’d see it as being disloyal to Mick.”

Ingrid groans. “I don’t understand that because Mick would be very cross with him if he knew. He loved Jed to the moon, and he’d hate to think of him on his own.”

“Well, that’s up to him,” I say softly. “He’ll move on if he’s ready.”

“Well, maybe you could give him some lessons,” Rafferty says, leaning back in his chair so far, it’s nearly touching the ground.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“It means I saw you at the Pink Coconut with that bloke the other night. You were off your face.”

I grimace. “I had far too much to drink.”

“Who was he?”

Rafferty’s disapproval is clear. For someone so free and easy, he has very firm views on relationships and cheating in particular.

I rack my brains. “I can’t remember,” I admit.

Ingrid and Rafferty groan. “That’s awful,” she says.

“It is not,” I say crossly. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything. Just kissed him.” I can’t shake the idea that I’m still married, even though it’s over, but I won’t admit that to anyone and show what a pathetic twat I am.