Page 8 of Not Just Gal Pals

“Okay, I’ll stay still until you go around me.”

With anyone else, this would have been funny, but Blake’s mouth was pressed into a line. I sighed and walked past Blake, resisting the urge to look back to see where she went. Blake Mitchell really rubbed me the wrong way. At least it was just over a week until the wedding, and after that, I wouldn’t have to interact with her again, barring any more awkward run-ins, of course.

CHAPTER FOUR

JENNY

Where the hell is Blake?

She’d said she’d be here early to help me set up. All the other guests would be arriving any minute to change into the dresses, so we’d be ready to surprise Amanda when she arrived.

I’d actually set everything up already, and to be honest, there hadn’t been a lot to do. Old Cedar Tea Room was a gorgeous, “ye olde worlde” parlor, and the private event room Blake had rented was already decorated to perfection: white lace tablecloths; delicate floral china; three-tiered cake stands laden with miniature cakes, tarts, and savory treats; and vases of gorgeous flowers picked from their impressive garden.

But still, it was the principle of the thing. I was just meant to be helping Blake with the bachelorette party, not doing the entire thing myself. And after our run-in yesterday, I wasn’t feeling particularly favorable toward her.

My phone pinged. It was Blake.

Sorry, running late. Caught at work.

I sighed and looked down at Walter who, after excitedly sniffing the room for the past hour, had finally calmed down and was sitting near my feet. “What do you think, Mister? Is she telling the truth or just trying to avoid helping?”

He looked up and cocked his head. Walter clearly didn’t know either.

“Well, we’d better get that photo over and done with, little guy.”

I really needed to do another post today. I popped Walter, wearing a little blue bowtie attached to his collar, on a chair so it looked like he was having an elegant high tea by himself. That would have to do. I added some music, wrote While I have a repawtation as a pawty animal, sometimes I just wanna woof back some treats in style over the image, and posted it. Walter posts usually performed well, so fingers crossed it would do better than my other recent posts.

I was giving Walter a treat for being such a champ when I saw Maya walking up the path, struggling under the weight of the dresses. I rushed to help her with the door. “Thank you so much for this!”

“No problem. I thought we could save this one for Amanda, since it’s the nicest.” Maya, already dressed in a pale-yellow gown that looked stunning against her brown skin and hair, handed me a gorgeous purple, Regency-style gown to put aside for Amanda.

As the other guests arrived, they picked out a dress and headed to the restroom to change. I was left with a light-blue dress with short, puffed sleeves. Looking at my reflection in the restroom mirror, I was surprised by how flattering and comfortable it was. The “waist” of the dress sat just under my boobs, leaving plenty of room for me to devour a few of the cakes I’d been eyeing, and the blue complemented my blond hair. The only problem was that it was way too long for my 5’4” frame. In order to walk properly, I had to hitch the dress up. Good thing I hadn’t planned any physical activities for this phase of the bachelorette party, or I’d probably trip over it and humiliate myself in front of Blake. That is, if she actually showed. But Blake or no Blake, I’d definitely be changing before we went dancing at Frankie’s.

Amanda was usually punctual, so after touching up my lipstick, I exited the restroom and joined the other women, who were chatting amongst themselves. A few minutes later, we heard a car pull up.

Maya peered through the window. “Yep, it’s her!”

We stopped talking and assembled at the entrance, ready to greet Amanda. She stepped out of the car and almost lost balance when she saw us all standing there in our Regency dresses with enormous grins on our faces.

I cleared my throat, putting on my best posh British accent. “Welcome to Pemberley, my dear. Goodness, what are you wearing? Please, put this on.” After eyeing Amanda’s outfit—which consisted of a cute cocktail dress and matching heels—up and down in mock horror, I handed her the purple gown and ushered her into the room.

“Oh my god! This is amazing.” Amanda gave me a big hug. “Thanks, Jenny and…” Amanda looked around, presumably for Blake.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Blake strode in, wearing long black boots over cream jodhpurs, a white shirt with a high collar, a white cravat, and a dark-blue waistcoat with a matching long tailcoat.

I froze.

And swallowed.

She looked absolutely incredible.

It was Mr. Darcy, crossed with...a very hot woman. And I was here for it. Really here for it.

“Jenny, are you okay?” Maya asked as I stared open-jawed at Blake.

No. No, I was not okay.

I knew I should be annoyed at Blake for running late, for being rude yesterday, and for ignoring me in high school, but all I felt was full-blown, all-consuming attraction.