Read Online Ready to Wed by Cindi Madsen - Free Book Online

So needless to say, I avoided her as much as possible—it wasn’t too difficult, considering I didn’t have to go into the newspaper office very often.
    “Just don’t read it,” Jillian said. “But if you do, I’m totally down for jumping the woman in whichever nightclub she’s trolling tonight.”
    The pages of my paper stuck together, and I thought I probably should’ve just pulled up the Beacon on my computer instead. But I was prideful enough to have it delivered to my office so I could see my articles in print, so I might as well use it. I scanned to Phoebe’s column—she was forever trying to get me to give her dirt on my clients, especially the more well-known ones, like when I did the governor’s daughter’s wedding. I’d told Phoebe that I didn’t want to be involved, and told her I wouldn’t comment due to planner/client confidentiality.
    “Seriously don’t read it,” Jillian said as I skimmed the beginning that covered a young starlet drinking in a nightclub.
    My name stood out, and I blinked, thinking I must be seeing things. I shouldn’t be mentioned in the social column—I wasn’t even social.
    A few weeks ago, well-known wedding planner and fellow newspaper staff member Dakota Halifax wrote about her upcoming nuptials with all the excitement of a blushing bride. It turns out that her best-laid plans didn’t prevent her from being stood up at her own wedding. The exact details are unknown. Her friends haven’t responded to my calls, and her now-ex-fianc é claimed he didn’t want to talk about the disastrous day. I finally squeezed the following response out of him. “I love Dakota and I always will.” So, was it a case of cold feet, or is our wedding planner off her game?
    My breaths came faster and faster with each sentence, and angry heat traveled through my veins. No more Canary. As far as anger levels went, I was pushing into the Fuchsia zone for sure. I crumpled the paper in my hands. “I’m going to kill her.”
    “Like I said, you need an accomplice, I’m here for you.”
    “How could they even print this? How would they know that I was stood up? Did she call you?”
    The hesitation on the other end was answer enough. “I ignored the call and the message asking me to call her back. I thought she’d leave it alone—that she was just curious. I never thought she’d print anything about it.”
    “This is so embarrassing. It makes me sound desperate.” Right now, I felt desperate. Desperate to corner Phoebe Pratt and make her eat her words—literally. I was going to jam my paper down her throat. “I’m going down to the office. If I need bail money, I’ll call you. I suggest Barry from Barry Bonds.” I’d had to deal with him before when bachelor parties got a little out of control. He was faster than most, and easy to deal with, which was always important when brides were screeching at levels that could shatter glass. Plus, he used a play on a sports star’s name, and that made me oddly happy.
    “I know it sucks,” Jillian said. “But I called to check in and help you talk crap about Phoebe if needed, not send you on a rage spree. Besides, it’s Friday afternoon, and everyone will be leaving for the weekend, with her already off to some social event.”
    I exhaled. “Fine. I’ll have to hunt her down Monday, because there’s no way I’m searching through every club this weekend.” I did wonder if she’d actually answer her phone if I called. She probably would, and she’d be all smug, and then I’d be angrier, and I wanted to have the confrontation face-to-face.
    “I’ve got a bat mitzvah to cater tonight. Not sure how late it’ll go, but I’m hoping to have everything cleaned up and be home by nine. You’ll be cool till then, right?”
    “Yep. I got a new office supply magazine today.” I ran my hand down its glossy surface, the thought of all the pretty organizational tools inside helping calm the throbbing pulse beating behind my temples.