“You know, a shower for lingerie,” Amy said, her expression two shades away from condescending. “Next Friday afternoon.”
“I know what a lingerie shower is,” Sammi said, trying not to clench her teeth. “I thought we were having a couple’s bridal shower.”
“I’m throwing the couple’s shower,” Clara said, looking up from repacking her cache of lipstick. “We’re each giving you one. Amy, Mia and I.”
“Three bridal showers?” Three? Her mind echoed faintly. But why?
She shot Blythe a desperate look, but her friend was nodding along as if having three separate showers was completely reasonable. That or she’d bonded with the other women over sex talk.
“I’ve got your bachelorette party covered,” the traitor said, tucking her feet back into her high-tops. “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s a party hot enough to melt your unmarried panties right off.”
It was all Sammi could do not to cover her butt with her hands and tell them all to leave her panties alone.
“SAMMI JO, DID YOU hear who is back in town?” Fiona Green set down the last of the boxes of vegetables she was delivering to wave a hand in front of her face. “Hoo, baby, it’s gonna be a hot couple of weeks.”
“Because Laramie’s back?” Sammi asked absently, paying more attention to the order she was checking than to the tenth announcement today of Laramie’s return. All around her the kitchen hustled and bustled through breakfast service, the cacophony of voices, dishes and cooking soothing after a night of lousy sleep.
“Laramie. The man is drool worthy. He’s the kind of guy who just looks at a woman and, poof,” Fiona blew on her fingertips, “her clothes disappear.”
“Uh-huh.” Sammi Jo grinned as she signed off on the delivery. “Good luck staying dressed.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“You do?” Sammi’s smile dimmed. Fiona had been a couple of grades behind her in school. How young did Laramie like them?
“No, but I know women who have. And they’ve told me.”
“Ahh.” Relieved, and late, Sammi said her goodbyes and scurried around two waiters, the line chef and a busboy, double-timing it to the dining room.
What was it with everyone’s obsession with sex?
She tried to wrap her mind around it all.
First the bridesmaids—and in the stuff of nightmares, Mrs. Ross. Then her newest guests had asked to change rooms three times, all in search of a bed that gave the best bounce. If that wasn’t enough, her favorite sitcom had launched a new storyline about—yes, of course—sex.
Added to that, all the staff could talk about was the fact that Laramie was back in town. Two of the maids appeared to be wearing lingerie—while another had asked for the day off to go to the spa for a body buff and glow. Last night, even the kitchen staff had debated what foods were best to seduce the man.
Sammi Jo felt as if she should warn poor Laramie. Or she would if she wasn’t so irritated with everyone putting all of the sex thoughts in her head—and a little afraid that with this theme, she’d see her mother sashaying through at any time in Daisy Dukes and pink pumps.
And then there were the cheating rumors. Those she’d rather ignore, but the sidelong glances and pitying looks she’d garnered over the past few days warned her that the issue couldn’t be avoided.
Which meant she had to talk to Sterling.
Sammi glanced at the clock on the wall, winced and hurried through the staff entrance to the inn’s dining room. The morning sun already shone bright through the wide, arched windows. It was gratifyingly full for a Thursday morning. The dining room boasted twenty tables clothed in white with matching china and pretty carafe centerpieces. The window’s arch was echoed in the entry, where Sammi Jo had switched out the hostess stand for a mahogany piecrust table. The overall effect was elegantly cheerful, she thought as she moved through the tables, pausing to check with the head waiter to make sure nobody needed her help.
“Good morning,” she greeted when she reached the table next to the window. “I’m sorry I’m late. We’re a little short staffed in the kitchen.”
“I was afraid I was going to have to eat alone,” Sterling said with a wink as he set aside his iPad.
Sammi slid into her seat, smiling at her fiancé. Dark eyes contrasted with his wheat-blond hair, and while maybe his lips were a little thin and his chin a smidge weak, he had a clever personality and a Yale polish that made quite a package.
She was glad that he was so much more than a walking, talking erection with roaming hands and a one-track mind. Then her smiled dimmed. Maybe it was only with her that his mind never hit that track? They were to be married in three weeks. She knew he was interested in sex; there were too many rumors to pretend otherwise. But if she asked, what if she found out something she didn’t want to know. Like, what if he was a closet deviant? What if, after they married, he’d want to wear her new underwear and have her spank him with chilled vegetables? Was that worse than him not wanting her at all?
In reality, she didn’t want him. Not in that way, she admitted, twisting her fingers together in her lap.
“Sammi Jo? Is everything okay?”
No, she wanted to scream. She had no interest in sex, she didn’t like sex and she thought life was much tidier without sex. Yet, the only thing she could think about now was sex.
Her lips trembled, but Sammi managed to hold back the crazed rush of babbling nerves.
“I’m sorry. I’m just distracted by work. Don has us short staffed again, and we’re having some tech issues at the front desk. Add in the wedding hoopla, and I’m a little frazzled.” She swirled her hand in the air to emphasize her words, hoping he’d put her odd tone down to being overwhelmed. “I wish we could have something a little more low-key.”
Something that didn’t require Mrs. Ross, for instance.
“I know, I know.” Sterling set his coffee down, dabbed his napkin to the corners of his mouth, then gave her the smile that made him such a good salesman. Earnest and charming, with just a hint of persuasive guile. “But Sammi, this wedding is about more than us. It’s about the image we present to the community. Look at it as a networking opportunity. The guest list is impressive, the gifts will likely be cash and the entire event will make good press. That’s good for our businesses.”
Seriously? She was working double time to prepare the inn for its debut as a wedding destination, hearing honeymoon advice from the gardener and being nagged to death by Mrs. Ross over stupid details she didn’t care about while being overridden on the ones she did. And all for the good of their businesses?
Stomach tight, Sammi wanted to lean across the table and tell him that she’d had enough. Sterling wasn’t the one dealing with the wedding planner from hell. If he wanted to improve his damned business, he could take out an ad.
“You’re right,” she agreed, absently rubbing the knot in her shoulder. “I’m a little overwhelmed. Added to all of that are the new software changes your father wants implemented and the insane things my bridesmaids are saying. I suppose it’s just been a rough couple of days.”
Sterling reached out to lay his hand on hers again, this time giving it a quick squeeze.
“You worry too much, Sammi Jo. Let the wedding coordinator do her job and don’t let your bridesmaids drive you crazy,” he suggested, his smile a little less easy now. “As for the computer, I actually need to use it