Page 2 of Afterglow

I take a step back, confusion and indignation taking over. “Excuse me?”

“Well, not you you.” She waves a hand, indicating my body, then cringes. “I mean, I thought I was corresponding with a woman all this time. I didn’t realize Bryce was a—”

I cut her off. “A gender-neutral name?” I’m not one to beat around the bush in my everyday life, but I try to keep my bluntness to a minimum with clients. That idea went out the window a long time ago where Leanne is concerned, however.

“Right.” She nods then shoots a glare at her sisters, who are giggling together, clearly taking too much enjoyment in this little misunderstanding. Luckily, the rest of the group hasn’t descended on us just yet. They’re still unloading their cars and talking with my staff.

“Why did you assume I was a woman, exactly?” I huff. Meeting her was bad enough, but this? This is almost cruel.

“You’re a wedding planner,” she blurts.

I bristle, straightening my shoulders until I’m standing at my full height. “I am not a wedding planner,” I hiss through clenched teeth, fighting to keep my voice level in an effort not to attract more attention—or sound like an asshole. “I’m an event coordinator… for a thousand-acre ranch that hosts events of all kinds.”

Now technically, I am a wedding planner, among other things. It’s not a title that normally bothers me. I’ve heard it all before, and at nearly forty, I’m secure enough not to be thrown by this kind of comment, but it’s too much coming from her. It feels like she’s diminishing my role here, when it’s my love for this ranch and my desire to showcase its beauty that makes this venue successful.

“Well, I was just—”

“You were just expecting a woman to be coordinating? Bit sexist, wouldn’t you say?” I bite out, starting to lose my composure. Sure, events is an overwhelmingly female-dominated field, but I don’t feel like putting her conscience at ease this morning. Not one bit.

Eric murmurs, “Oh shit,” to Jenna, who covers her mouth with her hand to stifle another laugh, her gaze bouncing between me and Leanne.

“I am not sexist!” Leanne whisper-shouts.

“Are you not? You assumed a wedding planner”—I use air quotes around the words to drive my point home—“couldn’t possibly be a man. You assumed because of my name that I was a woman, and you didn’t think to clarify. If I had done the same, would you not be calling me sexist?”

“There’s no reason to make a scene,” she says, her charged tone drawing the eyes of those around the other cars. “It was my mistake, okay?” She nearly chokes on the admission, as if it causes her physical pain.

“I’m not the one making a scene, Leanne,” I say, and my underlying frustration wraps around her name, making it sound deliciously wrong. Like those two syllables said with the quiet fury building within me could ignite us both and set us ablaze—for good or bad.

She observes the curious glances and confused looks pointed our way before forcing a full-toothed smile onto her face. “I think it’s time you showed us around. We have a lot to accomplish before the rehearsal. As you know, Bryce.”

She spits my name like it’s a curse.

“Yes, I’m well aware… I am the wedding planner after all.” I allow a small smirk to tilt my mouth up on one side before taking a step back and motioning toward the barn behind me. “Please, follow me,” I say, my tone dripping with barely leashed derision.

Turning on my heel, I lead the group into the event barn, which is flanked by lodges for groups like this. I hear a soft intake of breath from Jenna and turn to see her grab Eric’s arm as she takes in the open area where the reception will be held. Glass doors and picture windows line the front, showcasing the view of the mountains. Skylights filter in natural light, and Edison bulbs are strung crisscrossed along the top of the space to add to the ambience when darkness falls.

“We’ll meet back here to go through setup once you’re all settled,” I say, walking backward toward one of the two lodges named for the state’s mountain ranges: Beartooth Lodge. It has more of a cozy feel, with an open kitchen and casual living room, as well as a game room. Boulder Lodge, on the other side of the barn, is where our commercial kitchen is, along with a larger gathering area.

“This is where the wedding party will be staying.” I nod toward the door behind me. “Parents and guests will be spread across the other lodge and the glamping tents.”

The group is made up of Eric and Jenna, Evelyn and Leanne, Eric’s two brothers, and four additional friends. Both sets of parents are also here, with the remaining guests scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

“You’ll find your name on the door to your room, as coordinated with Leanne.” I give her a curt nod. “So, if you’re unhappy with your accommodations, you can take it up with her.”

My grin is mischievous, and her eyes shoot daggers at me in return. The group snickers, and I wonder if I’m going too far with my needling. She looks like she wants to poke her tongue out at me, but doing something so silly would be impossible with a stick the size of a vaulter’s pole up her ass.

Since our very first email exchange, it’s been a series of barbs and passive aggressiveness between us, all as per my last emails and please let me know if I’ve misunderstoods. I was so taken aback by her irascible tone I didn’t immediately squash it. I’m not usually one to put up with condescension and disrespect, but Leanne’s brand of instigation got right under my skin. So, with every subsequent email, our animosity only grew.

Ignoring Leanne’s continued glare, I address Jenna and Eric. “Take some time to get unpacked. If anyone needs anything, don’t hesitate to ask. My staff and I are here to ensure this weekend is everything you want it to be.”

Near-silent muttering has me turning my head ever so slightly. “What was that, blondie?”

The look on her face is priceless when she spits back, “It’s Leanne, and I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Leanne, manners,” her mother chides from beside her, shock coloring her tone as she blinks at her daughter like she’s never seen her before. I offer a smile to placate the woman, and Leanne turns a deeper shade of red. I assume she’s internalizing all the obscenities and insults she wishes she could hurl at me but can’t in present company. Somehow, I feel confident the dam will burst in time.

Everyone peels off to their respective rooms, the parents walking across the barn to their own lodge, and I continue down the hall until there’s only the sound of my and Leanne’s footsteps. Even though she’s here alone, she’s taken one of the private rooms for herself, meaning her room is the last in this hall. Gripping the doorknob, I twist and send the door open, holding my arm out to the side.