Rules of Engagement Read online

  Rules of Engagement

  Make Me A Match Series

  Kay Lyons

  Kindred Spirits Publishing

  RULES OF ENGAGEMENT Copyright © 2020 by Kay Lyons

  Cover art Copyright © 2020 by @ luckybusiness

  Cover art design by Kindred Spirits Publishing

  978-1-953375-00-1

  978-1-953375-01-8

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Books Also Set in Carolina Cove

  About the Author

  Also by Kay Lyons

  FAQ

  Chapter 1

  Wedding planner Eliza Bellefonte smiled at the happy couple and watched as they made their way onto the dance floor inside the tent dominating the rear of the seaside hotel.

  Beneath the crisp white canvas, three hundred natural bamboo chairs with pearly-white cushions matched white-draped tables glittering like sea glass beneath the ten thousand artfully draped lights overhead.

  Sand-colored runners ran the length of the long tables, and fairy lights twinkled with perfect randomness amid white and teal ribbon and greenery. Intertwined with that was a mix of white hydrangeas and jasmine, the abundance of blooms dotted with crystals. Crystal and candles finished the table arrangements, the varying heights of the pillars lending even more elegance to the overall look.

  The very young, very spoiled bride had insisted on beige and white for the foundation to make it more "beachy" even though she'd also demanded the tent have a floor to keep all that awful sand contained. Eliza remembered hearing that request—the hundredth or so at that point—and biting her inner lip to keep the smile pinned to her face.

  Why bother with a beach wedding if sand wasn't a welcome guest?

  But the bride was always right, even if she was neurotic about sand.

  On the beach.

  Be thankful, she mused, blinking her tired eyes. Six months ago she'd wondered if she'd have to close what was left of her business and file for bankruptcy due to the damage done when her partner—and boyfriend—had not only ended their relationship but taken off with half of the business as well as their administrative assistant. The two had secretly started their own company on the sly before Eliza realized what was happening and managed to charm clients into choosing them, then proceeded to rub Eliza's nose in the mud with every client they'd lured away.

  Eliza forced her thoughts from the past and back on the couple of the day, focusing on the cashier's check currently processing its way into her account via her bank's phone app. One must never be too cautious, and this bridezilla had made Eliza a little too nervous with some of her last-minute demands. The changes always came with a comment about not paying if her wedding wasn't "just right."

  The one ace up Eliza's sleeve was that the bride and Eliza's former assistant had bad blood between them, also over an old boyfriend, so the bride couldn't push too far or else she would risk having to hire her nemesis.

  Still, she hadn't made Eliza's life any easier, because she'd known Eliza needed the business. And while Eliza had contracts in place to cover her own interests, the last thing she needed was negative social media.

  Or another attorney fee.

  There had been enough of both during her breakup with James and the business breakdown. So much so she'd had to get an attorney involved to protect herself. Now her newly named Dream Weddings was once again hers and hers alone.

  But until she got her business back on its feet, it paid to be overly cautious—and overly accommodating. Because in the end, none of it mattered so long as she got paid.

  "Gorgeous," Marsali Jones said. "As always."

  Eliza turned to find her best friend of the last fourteen years standing behind her, another woman at Marsali's side. "Hey," she said with a smile after muting the mic she wore, which connected her to several of the catering staff. Eliza leaned into Marsali's quick hug and relished the embrace. "It's so good to see you. I've missed you."

  "Right back at you," Marsali said, squeezing Eliza.

  "I didn't see your name on the list."

  Given that Marsali was a professional matchmaker and friends with Hollywood A-lister Oliver Beck, it wasn't unusual for Marsali to appear at functions hosting members of Wilmywood's movie production crowds. Bridezilla's father was part of Wilmington's movie-making group but—

  "I'm Amelia's plus one," Marsali said, introducing Eliza to Amelia Porter, a set designer.

  Amelia had sandy-brown hair pulled back in a simple twist, and wore a sleeveless rose-gold gown.

  "When she said you guys were playing phone tag and her fiancé couldn't make it, I volunteered to come and convince you to pull off a mini-miracle for them," Marsali said, sliding Eliza a glance.

  Oh, yeah. That's why Amelia's name had sounded familiar. "Ah, now I remember," Eliza said with a nod. "I'm sorry for the delay. As you can see, I've been a little busy, but I'd planned to try again first thing Monday." Eliza waved a hand at the interior and crowd. "When's the date?"

  Amelia exchanged a glance with Marsali before making eye contact with Eliza.

  "Two weeks," the woman said, wincing appropriately. "I know. It's asking a lot because it's a huge rush, but if I want a wedding instead of just a date at the courthouse, it's the only way. I'm… kind of on a time schedule and we don't want to take a year to plan something. But we want small and intimate, but special," she added, "since it's my first and only."

  Eliza ignored the first and only comment and focused on the schedule. Two weeks? Eliza glanced at Marsali, noting her curly-headed friend had embraced her curls for the night. Marsali’s hair was a thing of beauty but tended to have a life of its own some days. Kind of like the craziness of her business, she mused.

  "You and I both know you can totally pull it off. And," Marsali added, "they'll happily pay you whatever it takes to make it happen in that time frame."

  Marsali knew all of Eliza's secrets, including the time Bobby Jones had felt her up on the school bus, but more importantly, Marsali knew of her financial struggle to stay afloat since the big showdown with James.

  "After seeing how amazing this is, I really want you to plan it, Eliza," Amelia said, her soft green eyes pleading. "Please. Say yes. I want a beautiful wedding, but there's no way I can do it all on my own."

  Eliza stared out at the large area scattered with creamy lounges and love seats carefully placed in front of flowered backdrops. Outside, tulle billowed in the breeze, looped across the custom arch and decorated with gigantic flower arrangements. All of which had been ordered months in advance and carefully tracked.

  Like Amelia, so many wanted the picture-perfect wedding but had no clue of the effort it took to make such things happen. The venue, lighting, seating, props, gowns, catering, band, staff, fittings, setup and take-down labor. The list was nearly endless, and no
matter how simple a bride said they wanted a wedding to be, it always, always turned into more.

  Weddings were a production, and depending on how deep the pockets the bride and groom—or their parents—had, the bigger and more elaborate things tended to get. But Eliza had yet to fail her clients. Whatever they wanted, they got, especially now when she worked so hard to showcase her talents over her competitors'.

  After all, happy customers fueled her bank account and the safety those numbers gave her state of mind. Facing bankruptcy tended to make a person need that safety.

  "Eliza?" Marsali gently nudged her arm. "I'll help however I can. I know it's late notice but… I'd consider it a personal favor. They've got a great story, and it deserves a celebration the likes of which only you can pull off. Please?"

  Eliza shot both women a glance before she inhaled and opened the book she carried everywhere with her. She had copies of her copies, because when she couldn't find something digitally, she always fell back on her trusty paper bible of wedding information. "Two weeks," she murmured. "What day?"

  "A weekend would be best but… any evening. You make it work," Amelia said. "And we'll make it work, too."

  Wow. Now that was an unusual statement. Usually the bride had one date in mind and refused to budge from it, demanding the world stop whirling and shift around her date accordingly. But due to her change in business status… "You're in luck," she said, staring at the date that had brought her so much pain. "I have that Saturday open two weeks from now."

  Because the very elaborate, very lucrative, very posh wedding she'd planned inside of Landfall had gone to James and his bimbo after James had finagled a golf game with the bride's father.

  "Ink us in," Amelia said with a happy smile, her hands clasped in front of her like she wanted to dance and was trying to contain her excitement.

  "Ink, huh? We haven't discussed my fees," Eliza murmured.

  "If you can do something like this on a small scale in that time frame? Ink," Amelia said, nodding her head to confirm her words while giving Eliza a steady look.

  Yeah. This had taken fourteen months to plan. Two weeks? Sure, no problem. "Do you have your gown?"

  "No."

  "Venue?"

  "Not yet."

  "Color scheme?"

  Eliza glanced up and found Amelia beginning to look a bit wild-eyed and panicked. A soft laugh left her chest, and Eliza shook her head and snapped the book closed. She really needed to investigate panicked-bride hazard pay. "Can you meet me after the reception is over to give me an idea of what you'd like?"

  "Absolutely. Does that mean you'll do it?" Amelia said.

  Eliza agreed with a nod, rattled off the Saturday date just to confirm it, and Amelia gave Eliza a quick hug in response.

  "Thank you. Thank you so much. Oh, I see someone I know and I have to go share the news. I'm so excited! Excuse me."

  Marsali remained after Amelia hurried away, and once the woman was out of hearing range, Eliza stared up at her taller friend and lifted a single eyebrow high. "Are you trying to put me in an early grave?"

  Marsali laughed and wrapped an arm around Eliza's shoulders, squeezing.

  "I'm trying to show you that there are actually special couples out there who have the forever kind of love and Amelia and Lincoln are one of them."

  "Uh-huh."

  Marsali released Eliza and stepped in front of her to get her full attention.

  "You amaze me. How do you make a living planning weddings that look like something out of a fairy tale or catalog shoot when you say you don't believe in love?"

  "Easy. It's called a creative mind and financial security."

  "Lizzie, you sound so jaded."

  "And you know why."

  "You can't let James destroy you."

  "It's not just James and you know it. James was… James was just the icing on the proverbial wedding cake."

  "Fine. Your parents' marriage was pretty awful."

  "As was everyone else's in my family."

  "I know, but that doesn't mean—"

  "Maybe it does. Ever think of that? I'm sorry, but I think you're delusional, Miss Matchmaker. These two?" she said, lowering her voice to a cautious whisper. "I give them six months and that's being generous."

  "Eliza. That's awful."

  "Hey, I've been doing this since I was sixteen with my first job as an event assistant. The rose-colored glasses have long since shattered, especially after all I've been through this past year. I've learned the signs, and trust me, they don't have it."

  "What signs?"

  "For one, he's twice her age."

  "Sometimes those work."

  "And sometimes they're because Flirty Child Bride broke up the first marriage. He was also in the bar last night with his hands all over a—"

  "No need to continue," Marsali interrupted, lifting her hand toward Eliza. "I like my naive state where I can still believe in love. Don't ruin it for me."

  Eliza chuckled at her sweet friend's expression and hooked their arms, tugging Marsali toward the bar. "That's because you're in love with love. And a Hollywood hottie."

  "Stop it. I am not."

  "Hmm. Lie to yourself if you like. Me? I see how you eye your Ollie."

  "Shh. Keep your voice down," Marsali ordered, taking a quick glance around. "He has other friends here, you know."

  "So you admit it?" Eliza asked.

  "Absolutely not. Oliver is… a good friend. Who, I might add, lives in LA while I'm here. Besides that, he only sees me as Mac's little sister."

  "Which is why Mac's little sister needs to focus on the release of her book in what? Three weeks?"

  "Two. And thank you. But you're still cynical," Marsali muttered.

  Eliza shifted her weight on her aching feet and wished once again the bride hadn't been so anti-sand. The hardwood floor wasn't nearly as forgiving, and she had several hours to go yet. "I'm realistic. Love gets most everyone to the altar, but it does nothing to keep them married. Or even in business together."

  "That's called integrity—and commitment."

  "No argument there."

  "That's it. You're killing me. I am going to fix you up no matter how much you protest. I didn't like James because there were some red flags you chose to ignore."

  Eliza flinched. "Ouch."

  "You know it's true. And I'm not saying that to be cruel, but simply because you settled for less than you deserve," Marsali added.

  "He… I…"

  "Exactly. The right guy will never treat you the way James did, and I'm going to make it my mission to find a man who will make you realize that. From now on, you are going to let me match you."

  Eliza stared up at her taller friend and shook her head wryly. After the devastating betrayal by James and watching her mother scrimp by between men and the financial support they offered, the last thing she ever wanted to do was fall in love and find herself vulnerable to a man again. "Wanna bet?"

  Chapter 2

  Carter Hayes left his house via his rear deck and headed next door. Mac's home stood between Carter's and his brother Lincoln's and, ever since Mac had moved in, had acted as the in-between for the three bachelors. Evening free time was usually spent hanging out with whomever was free.

  Lincoln had a pool in his backyard that they all used, and Mac had made his recently purchased home his by hiring a professional landscaper to come and create a visual haven that included an outdoor patio with a big-screen and built-in kitchen, as well as a beautiful garden that extended down to the canal. Both men left Carter thinking he needed to up his game since his yard only held an assortment of Piper's toys.

  "Hey. How was Piper's first week?" Mac asked.

  Carter jogged up the stone steps to Mac's raised patio. "Good. She's getting back to her usual self."

  "Did she get over her upset?"

  He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. I keep reminding her that they'll be home to visit soon and will hang out with her on video chat sometimes until then. She
isn't happy but she's adjusting."

  Lincoln's twins had left for college a week ago and were settling in, and Piper hated that her cousins hadn't been around for her first day of pre-K. Now that she was going to school like the "big kids," she wanted them to be around to acknowledge the fact.

  "Where's she now?"

  "Breanne recommended another friend of hers to babysit," he said, referring to his niece. "They're inside watching a movie."

  "Another babysitter?"

  Carter avoided eye contact. "Yeah. The, uh, last one didn't work out."

  "What happened?"

  "Don't ask."

  Mac started chuckling and Carter glared at his friend. "It's not funny."

  "Ah, but it is. Little Miss Hottie came on to you, didn't she? I saw her getting out of her convertible in her cheerleading uniform," he said with a shake of his head. "Jailbait in sneakers."

  Carter swiped a hand over his face and rubbed hard. "That girl had just turned sixteen. If Piper ever—" He broke off, unsure of what he'd do other than lock his daughter up in her bedroom and not let her out until she was forty.

  Some men would've accepted the babysitter's offer of letting him be her "fabulous first" without a care for the consequences. But having a daughter of his own and not wanting to go to prison for statutory rape, Carter had fired the girl on the spot. Thankfully he had a nanny cam in the main room of the house as well as in Piper's, so when the girl had gotten mouthy over her dismissal, he'd pointed out that he had proof nothing happened.

  "It's that bad-boy look," Mac stated with a grin. "The muscles, Harley, and tats? You're the triple crown."