Read Online Four Weddings and a Break Up by Elyssa Patrick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elyssa Patrick
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cordial to her and Julie. Before Ginny could knock, her mom opened the door.
“We’ve been waiting for you. Hello, Grant.” Her mom looked past Ginny to where Grant was pulling out some weeds.
Grant’s head jerked up, his silver hair shaggy around his strong face. He spoke in his thick Scottish accent. “Hello, lass. Do you want to see what I’m doing with the roses later on?”
Curiously, her mom blushed. “Yes. Of course.”
Then waving good-bye, her mom pulled Ginny inside and into the hallway, which was done in a cherry maple. Her mom was young, only fifty-one, and pretty, with her honey blonde hair cut to her jaw, and a smattering of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Her brown eyes were bright with excitement, and she squeezed Ginny’s hands. “I’m so glad you said yes. I invited a few people to join us.”
“Mom,” Ginny drew out. “I thought it was just family.”
“I consider them to be members of our family.” Her mom adjusted the hemline of Ginny’s shirt. “Oh, how I wish Julie wasn’t in the kitchen right now. Maybe I can get her real quick to put some color on your face. I don’t know why you don’t make yourself up more. And for goodness’ sake, Ginger Belle Michaels, please take out that ponytail and wear your hair down. You’re such a pretty girl.”
“Mom.”
“I’ll stop before I get ahead of myself. But do try and smile.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, nothing. I just invited a few people over. Like I told you.” Her mom led her to the living room. “Now promise me you won’t get mad.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Ginny.”
“I promise,” she said halfheartedly, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Satisfied, her mom gave Ginny a gentle shove into the living room. Sitting on the couch were seven men, ranging from mid-twenties to late thirties. Handsome, average, nice . . . they all ran the gamut in looks and physique. The only thing they had in common was that all of them held a yellow rose.
“Where did you find them? Online?”
“No,” her mother said, a little guiltily. “Well, maybe one or two. The rest work at the bed and breakfast.”
“I think this is illegal,” she muttered. “Or child abuse.”
Her mother ignored her and turned her attention to the men. “Gentlemen, this is my oldest daughter. The one I was telling you about. Her name is Ginny. She’s thirty-three, and she teaches high school English. Very smart. Got a great sense of humor. Pretty. And very nice.”
“Why not just tell them I’m good for breeding, too?” she asked.
“Now as we discussed, you’ll each have five minutes with Ginny. She’ll cut the buds off your roses from four of you, leaving three left. Those three will join us for dinner. Although don’t worry for those who aren’t picked. I instructed Julie to pack you a take-home meal and dessert. I’ll bring Ginny to the kitchen where you’ll have your one-on-one with her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ginny said to the men. All of them looked so uncomfortable. One of them muttered something in Spanish. She turned to her mother, her hands on her hips. “Mom. Do they even speak English?”
“The language of love knows no barriers.” Her mom eyed the men with relish. She pointed to a tall, lean man with wavy dark hair and equally dark eyes. “Raoul es mi favorito . Do I have that right, Raoul?” Her mom enunciated the last question slowly.
Ginny wished that the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
“ Sí .” Raoul’s mouth glinted with humor.
“Seriously, I am so, so sorry. Lo siento ,” she added for good measure.
“Ginny!” Her mom grabbed her arm and propelled her out of the room to the kitchen, where her sister was taking out a tray of freshly baked sugar cookies.
“I am not doing this,” Ginny hissed. “You wonder why I don’t come over here. It’s because you ambush me.”
“Ginny, you’re getting up there. It’s my fondest wish that I have grandchildren.”
“Then
“We’ve been waiting for you. Hello, Grant.” Her mom looked past Ginny to where Grant was pulling out some weeds.
Grant’s head jerked up, his silver hair shaggy around his strong face. He spoke in his thick Scottish accent. “Hello, lass. Do you want to see what I’m doing with the roses later on?”
Curiously, her mom blushed. “Yes. Of course.”
Then waving good-bye, her mom pulled Ginny inside and into the hallway, which was done in a cherry maple. Her mom was young, only fifty-one, and pretty, with her honey blonde hair cut to her jaw, and a smattering of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Her brown eyes were bright with excitement, and she squeezed Ginny’s hands. “I’m so glad you said yes. I invited a few people to join us.”
“Mom,” Ginny drew out. “I thought it was just family.”
“I consider them to be members of our family.” Her mom adjusted the hemline of Ginny’s shirt. “Oh, how I wish Julie wasn’t in the kitchen right now. Maybe I can get her real quick to put some color on your face. I don’t know why you don’t make yourself up more. And for goodness’ sake, Ginger Belle Michaels, please take out that ponytail and wear your hair down. You’re such a pretty girl.”
“Mom.”
“I’ll stop before I get ahead of myself. But do try and smile.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, nothing. I just invited a few people over. Like I told you.” Her mom led her to the living room. “Now promise me you won’t get mad.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Ginny.”
“I promise,” she said halfheartedly, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Satisfied, her mom gave Ginny a gentle shove into the living room. Sitting on the couch were seven men, ranging from mid-twenties to late thirties. Handsome, average, nice . . . they all ran the gamut in looks and physique. The only thing they had in common was that all of them held a yellow rose.
“Where did you find them? Online?”
“No,” her mother said, a little guiltily. “Well, maybe one or two. The rest work at the bed and breakfast.”
“I think this is illegal,” she muttered. “Or child abuse.”
Her mother ignored her and turned her attention to the men. “Gentlemen, this is my oldest daughter. The one I was telling you about. Her name is Ginny. She’s thirty-three, and she teaches high school English. Very smart. Got a great sense of humor. Pretty. And very nice.”
“Why not just tell them I’m good for breeding, too?” she asked.
“Now as we discussed, you’ll each have five minutes with Ginny. She’ll cut the buds off your roses from four of you, leaving three left. Those three will join us for dinner. Although don’t worry for those who aren’t picked. I instructed Julie to pack you a take-home meal and dessert. I’ll bring Ginny to the kitchen where you’ll have your one-on-one with her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ginny said to the men. All of them looked so uncomfortable. One of them muttered something in Spanish. She turned to her mother, her hands on her hips. “Mom. Do they even speak English?”
“The language of love knows no barriers.” Her mom eyed the men with relish. She pointed to a tall, lean man with wavy dark hair and equally dark eyes. “Raoul es mi favorito . Do I have that right, Raoul?” Her mom enunciated the last question slowly.
Ginny wished that the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
“ Sí .” Raoul’s mouth glinted with humor.
“Seriously, I am so, so sorry. Lo siento ,” she added for good measure.
“Ginny!” Her mom grabbed her arm and propelled her out of the room to the kitchen, where her sister was taking out a tray of freshly baked sugar cookies.
“I am not doing this,” Ginny hissed. “You wonder why I don’t come over here. It’s because you ambush me.”
“Ginny, you’re getting up there. It’s my fondest wish that I have grandchildren.”
“Then
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