My Future Bride

Trent

I hadn’t been able to stop smiling since I’d first laid eyes on the beautiful young woman who’d been unable to stop staring at me. I had the same problem, except I had a little more self-awareness and realized I was openly staring at her, so I pulled my eyes away. Briefly, but away all the same.

She was stunning. There was something about her that drew me in. It was like a magnetic pull that I was helpless to ignore.

I found myself standing at her table, openly gazing at her before I remembered who I was and where I was. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a woman that I was that attracted to. Her friends were pretty in the traditional sense, but the woman who’d caught my eye was my kind of pretty.

She had a natural beauty to her that matched the natural curves. She was radiant and glowing, and I wished like hell I could have seen her standing up. I was imagining round hips to go with the round breasts. I imagined she’d have the classic hourglass figure that men drooled over back in the fifties.

“Have a great time at the beach,” I said, smiling to a young couple clearly on their honeymoon as they walked out of the restaurant.

I didn’t normally make it a habit of making the rounds in the dining room, randomly chatting to guests, but after I had talked to my mystery girl and her friends, I didn’t want it to look awkward. I had spent twenty minutes chatting with total strangers and telling guests to enjoy their stay like a well-trained concierge.

I walked along the cobblestone path that led to the management offices for what I was hoping would one day be my chain of hotels. I owned two so far and was in the process of procuring a third. I wanted to get my hands in all the pots, from the very elite to the more affordable, family-friendly hotels.

It was a warm day, making the tie around my neck feel about three times tighter than it had been when I’d put it on that morning. I couldn’t wait to get to my office and loosen the damn thing.

“Good afternoon.” I nodded at Ashley, the assistant who worked for me and Richie.

“You look miserable,” she commented.

“I am. Do I have any meetings in the next hour?”

“Nope, take it off,” she said with a wink, knowing me very well.

I reached up and yanked the tie loose, breathing out a huge sigh of relief. “God, that feels so much better.”

“Why don’t you dress casual?” she asked. “No one expects you to wear a suit all the time. Richie doesn’t.” 

“I know, which is why I have to. He’s the casual one, running around in shorts and polos, looking like he just stepped off a yacht, and I’m stuck wearing this damn thing.” 

“You’re the boss; you decide what you wear,” she said, zero sympathy in her voice.

“I know, I know,” I muttered and headed into my office, already breathing better.

I stripped off my suit jacket, hung it on the hook by the door, and cranked the AC down a couple degrees. I was hot, and it had nothing to do with the sun outside. The woman was still front and center in my mind. Before I could even sit down, Richie pushed the door open and flopped a stack of files on my desk.

I looked at his casual attire and wanted to hate him for his easy way of just being the consummate cool guy. “What’s all that?” I asked.

“Paperwork, invoices, and so on,” he said, walking to my mini-fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

“Help yourself,” I said dryly.

“I did,” he retorted, coming back to take a seat in one of the comfortable tub-style chairs I had in the office. It was as if he was just seeing me and looked shocked. “You’re not wearing your jacket?”

“I’m hot.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you sick? Don’t breathe on me. I am not about to get sick at the kickoff to summer.” 

“I’m not sick.”

“Then, what?” he asked, scrutinizing my face. “You have a weird look, like—well, I don’t know. Something is off, though.” 

I broke into a wide smile. “I just met my future wife.”

He blinked, rose to his feet, and leaned in close, his hand moving toward my face.

I batted it away. “What are you doing?”

“I think you have a fever.”

“I don’t have a fever,” I said, taking my seat and spreading my arms out to hang over the armrests. The cool air from the vent above washed over me.

“You met your future wife?” he questioned.

I nodded. “At least, what I picture my wife to be.”

He groaned. “A reincarnation of Sophia Loren?” 

“Sophia Loren isn’t dead.”

“Oh, well, you know what I mean,” he said, waving a hand.

I thought about the woman who had captivated me earlier. “Yes and no. She had the full curves, but she also had a very girl-next-door thing going. She was perfect. Didn’t talk much, but perfect.”

“Only you could look at a woman and think wife material,” he said with disgust.

“You’re the one who reminded me of my age,” I said. “I look at a woman, and I think long term, not a quick roll in the sack.” 

He grinned. “That’s because you’re doing it wrong.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Are you here to work or lecture me about my dating habits?”

“You don’t date. I can’t lecture you about something you don’t do.”

“Let me rephrase that. Are you here to work or complain about my life choices?” 

He flashed me another one of his somewhat infamous grins. “Both. I’m good like that. I can do two things at one time. Just ask.”