Bangkok (That Wedding Girl Book 3) Read online

  That Wedding Girl

  -BANGKOK-

  Book 3

  Maggie Way

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE FIRST CHAPTER FROM BOOK FOUR – PARIS!

  ARE YOU EXCITED FOR THE NEXT DESTINATION?

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The right of Maggie Way to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part maybe reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Maggie Way

  Editing by: Tracy Vincent

  Cover design by: Shea Chevarie @ Addendum Cover Design

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tristan. Is. Standing. In. Front. Of. Me.

  My brother’s best friend, my soon-to-be new boss, the guy who I shared that ridiculously hot kiss with, is standing in front of me.

  The guy I hadn’t seen for years prior to that kiss.

  The guy who then decided afterwards that the kiss was a mistake and that it can never happen again.

  The guy who I, despite my best judgments, can’t stop thinking about. How can one person be all these different things at once?

  I have to cast that aside.

  Nothing can ever happen between us.

  He’s right, nothing can happen between us. Or nothing will, not that there’s a difference. All that history and now: this new association we have formed. I have to take him out of the potential boyfriend box and back into the old one I shelved him in – guys I would never ‘go for’. I’m just going to ignore all the thoughts I had about him.

  I’m going to have to ignore the fact that my heart is fluttering like a hummingbird at the sight of him this very second. If there is anyone who can pull off an open green flannel shirt and baggy jeans, it’s him. He’s always dressed like this, so why am I suddenly finding it the most attractive thing? Then there’s that face. Along with that oh-so-secret-and-sexy smirk, his head is cocked to the side as he fixes his gaze on me.

  Just act cool. I’m going to pretend I’m totally fine to see him, and act like everything’s normal, the way we were before that kiss happened.

  I avert my gaze to the laptop and open up my run sheets, quickly trying to get into professional mode, trying to quickly prepare for this impromptu dinner/business meeting. He drops his duffle bag on the floor.

  “How was the Amalfi Coast?”

  “Good! Everything went brilliantly. My clients got the day they deserved,” I nod eagerly.

  “I saw the photos, you did a great job,” he says, looking at me appraisingly. “You’re rather photogenic as well.”

  I blush. I was only in one photo with Amelia and it wasn’t a particularly good angle of me. Dammit, why does he have to be so damn attractive? It’s really not helping. Distraction level: 1000%.

  “Of course I did a good job, I wouldn’t expect any less of myself,” I say, diverting his compliment.

  “You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you’re great at what you do.” He pauses for a moment, and I can feel his eyes on me. “Are you just going in and out?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Transit right? Where are you going?”

  Oh. I must have a dirtier mind than I thought.

  “Oh yeah, just waiting to go home. Where are you off to? I thought I was going to come see you back in Sydney.”

  “I’m going back to New York. I have just over,” he checks his chunky metal watch, “three hours to kill. You?”

  I’ve got four. Interesting…

  “My flight’s at 9:45.”

  I look up to see the tiniest resemblance of a smile emerge on his full lips. Lips that kissed me so damn well.

  Without invitation, Tristan pulls out the wooden chair and sits opposite me. My face warms at this close proximity, and I keep my eyes on the laptop.

  “You know, you really shouldn’t watch porn in public,” he snorts, commenting the fact that my face is now the colour of beetroot. It’s because of you!

  I look up at him and close the laptop.

  “The trip away agrees with you. You look good with a bit of a tan.”

  “Thanks—”

  “Straight-Laced.”

  I smirk. “Well, your look is interchangeable with a farmer’s. In fact, I’m going to call you Farmer from now on.”

  “You can call me whatever you want,” he blazes at me with those eyes.

  I stare at him in disbelief. How can he go from making me hate him one second, and love to hate him the next?

  “So…how are you planning to kill time?” He looks eagerly at me for a response.

  I shrug casually. “Have a quick dinner; take a nap on those couches. Do you want some banana bread?”

  He shakes his head. “I was on my way to the lounge. Join me. Great food, a lot quieter, and the chairs are a lot more comfortable.”

  Three hours alone with Tristan? I wasn’t prepared for this. Not in the slightest.

  “I can’t, I flew economy. They won’t let me in.”

  “Don’t worry, I will get you in,” he smiles at me and stands up. “Let’s go.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  I stare at him with a curious look. “What if I like where I am?”

  “You will like the lounge better; trust me on this.” He’s unfazed by his high-handedness and stands there, urging me to pack my things. Well I can’t really refuse my new boss can I, even if I’m tempted to talk back at him? Grabbing my laptop, I crouch down and quickly pack it away. Before I get a chance to grab the bag, Tristan swoops in and takes it.

  “Are you trying to be a gentleman?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I can carry my bags.”

  “I could carry you if I wanted.”

  My cheeks warm.

  “But I’m not going to, and you’re not going to carry your bags. So come on, let’s go,” he says gently but firmly and starts walking ahead.

  Letting out a quiet breath I take my handbag and quickly dash out of the food court to catch up with him.

  ♦

  “I can’t believe the hourly rate you charge for your services. It’s insane,” I state, sliding some peanuts in my mouth.

  He shrugs. “What can I say? I’ve worked with a lot of clients, run a lot of events. They know what they’re getting with me and they will pay good money for it. That also means making sure my staff are well compensated.”

  Tristan gives me a gentle nod. To say he’s worked with a lot of clients is a massive understatement. Fortune 500 Corporations, non-profit organisations, wealthy individuals and families to name a few. He is really determined to create and oversee a team that will become Keys Destination Events. Tristan may be an event planning extraordinaire, but I can tell he is really in his element being his own boss and I think he genuinely wants to make it a good place to work. I�
�m rather excited.

  “If you say this is all paid for, then I will have another iced tea thanks. And another bowl of trail mix!”

  Tristan smiles. “Sure, whatever you want.”

  He flags the bartender to make another drink, and orders a scotch - neat - for himself. We are sitting at the bar; our knees just inches from touching. Just the two of us, no one to disturb us for miles. After a bit of initial awkwardness and keeping the focus of the conversation on the business, we’re bantering like we always did. Just like that day, before all that mess happened. He’s back to his usual tongue-in-cheek bastardy self and I am using any semblance of my wits to retort back to his jibes. It’s so easy again, just being with him.

  He’s right. We can be totally professional about this, after all we do work together now. The job Tristan has lined up for me is still being discussed, and he will give me all the relevant information in a few days. With the exception of a high profile client or large budget wedding, Gabe and I get the sole responsibility of handling the weddings. To think this all happened just because I bumped into him in the midst of my drunken rage.

  Either way I’ll be glad this came my way if that means I can go to lounges more often. This place is awesome! From the lush leather couches, to the soothing jazz music and utter privacy, this is the best way to wait for a flight. Even the salted peanuts taste amazing, and I’m already scoffing down my third bowl. The bar is a thing of beauty itself, from the black marble table to the rainbow coloured wall of bottles behind the bartender.

  “You didn’t have to pay for me to come in. But that dinner was freaking delicious.” I make an A-OK signal with my fingers. “Mmm!”

  After the barely edible food I had on the plane, this was a monumental upgrade. At Tristan’s insistence I ordered the pork belly and crackling, cauliflower, dates, and charred cos lettuce. He ordered his usual meal of choice: a club sandwich. And then of course, I had to have some dessert and they did not disappoint - hazelnut and chocolate meringue, sandwiched with a dark chocolate ganache, served with cocoa-lemon sorbet.

  “I told you it’s better here than at the food court didn’t I?” He finishes the last of his sandwich.

  “And they can store your bags away for you here too, amazing!”

  I love that I don’t have to cart around my bag, and I’m only carrying my wallet and phone.

  He nods as he leans his elbow on the table. “Funny that. Money always buys better service.”

  “Should I have another chocolate mousse?”

  He grins at me. “You love your chocolate, don’t you?”

  “It’s a bad habit, isn’t it? I mean I exercise but I really should cut down—”

  “Oh, so that’s your secret?”

  “To what?”

  “To having such a great body.”

  My face warms suddenly. He clears his throat and looks away slightly, sensing the way it came out. “Ahem, how did you find the flight? Did you have any trouble?”

  He looks concerned, and I appreciate that he cares.

  I nod, giving him a faint smile. “I was pretty good actually. But that’s what Xanax and in-flight games are good for.”

  Tristan furrows his brows, unhappy with my response. “Do you really have to take it? The drugs?”

  “It helps.”

  “I don’t think it’s such a good idea if you are going to be flying frequently.”

  I purse my lips. He’s got a point, but what can I do? It helps calm me down, and for a long flight like this it was definitely necessary.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I can try gentle or forceful persuasion, what would you prefer?” The corners of his mouth quirk up slightly.

  “Neither, so pick one.”

  He looks amused. “In that case, as your new boss, I order you not to take Xanax from now on. I can’t risk my staff being under the influence of drugs while they are serving clients.”

  “I knew you were going to use that card sooner or later.” I glare at him playfully. “Alright, I’ll try but I can’t make any promises. Maybe I should become best friends with merlot and pinot noir.”

  “Just try, alright? That’s all I ask of you.”

  Why do I feel like he’s saying it not as my boss but because he truly cares?

  “So, you must be used to flying then?” I ask, keen to change the topic.

  “I am.”

  “Don’t you get sick of it? Don’t you ever get worried about umm…having an accident up there?”

  He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Why should I worry about something I can’t control?”

  “I guess.”

  “And no, I don’t get sick of flying. Getting good food cooked for you beats having to do it yourself all the time. I get to watch lots of movies, what’s not to like?”

  “But don’t you want to just enjoy being in the one place for a time, instead of packing and unpacking? I found it annoying enough packing for this trip.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were the organised one?”

  “I am! I’ll get used to it, I promise,” I say confidently, remembering to treat him as my manager first and foremost.

  “I’m just teasing. It took me a while to get into a routine, I’m sure you will transition very well.”

  “Well just so you know, I have started making some mock up changes to my website, saying that I’m not taking any assignments currently.” I can always change it should things not work out, but I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Enjoy the break before the enquiries come in. And they will flood in. But that’s the beauty of destination event planning, you can do the planning anywhere. As long as you have a laptop, access to a fax machine and a phone you’re set. Then you get to hop on a plane to oversee the wedding, and bam! You get a holiday out of it. What’s not to love?”

  “It’s just one big holiday for you isn’t it?” I tease.

  He nods in agreement. “I guess you could say that. Mum never took me anywhere, with her three jobs and me to take care of. I suppose I always had the travelling bug in me, but as you know it’s an expensive hobby. So why not get paid for it right?”

  This is new to me. “You never went anywhere as a child? Not even Melbourne? Brisbane? Byron?”

  He shakes his head and laughs. “Maybe the Blue Mountains once. Does that count?”

  I shake my head too. “Not really! Aww well I’m really proud of you. You have done some amazing things for yourself. Your mum must be so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.” There’s softness and sadness in his eyes. “She sacrificed so much to take care of me. I’m really glad I can take care of her now. The way my father clearly never did.”

  Just like that, a hint of anger flickers across his face. “Do you ever intend to talk to him?”

  He clenches his jaw, looking out into the distance. “Given he has a new wife and two kids to take care, I don’t see the point. He couldn’t care less about us, why should we?”

  I don’t feel comfortable pressing it, especially when it’s so personal. “Well your mum is now with someone else right?”

  He sips his drink. “Brett is more of a father to me than my real father ever was.” Tristan looks at me, a sombre expression emerging. “Sometimes I think I’m too much like him. Drinks like a fish, never wants to be home…”

  He trails off when I place my hand on his forearm, looking at him softly.

  “Mark my words. You could never be like him. You are too kind, too good of a person okay?”

  Tristan’s mouth pops open slightly. “What the hell have you been drinking? No one has ever called me kind before.”

  I smirk at him. That is so Tristan. “Well you are alright? Don’t ever think otherwise.”

  We stare at each other, slightly lost in each other’s gaze for a moment. I think I actually care about him, his happiness is important to me. But I better not gush over it like a ten year old schoolgirl, I’m an adult talking to my
boss. Clearing my throat, I sit up slightly to assume a more assertive posture.

  “Ahem well I am excited to see the world. Adam hated the idea of me going to Newcastle: even for the weekend,” I blurt out quickly.

  “Oh, him…” He looks at me, his eyes filled with concern. “You’re not in contact with him anymore, right?”

  I grimace, shaking my head. “God no! I’m never seeing him again, believe me.”

  The relief on his face is clear. “That’s good to hear, you should never speak to that prick again. I haven’t even met the guy and my blood rages at the thought of what he did to you.”

  I raise my eyebrow at him, my mouth quirking up. “It’s fine, everything happens for a reason. You gotta turn lemons into lemonade, right?”

  “That’s very mature of you,” he says as he looks appraisingly at me.

  “It just means I was meant to marry someone else,” I say hastily.

  Tristan gives me a funny look, rubbing his fingertips over his chin. “Wait…after all of that, you still want to go through it with someone else?”

  “Well, not right away, but yeah of course, I want to get married. Why wouldn’t I?”

  His face contorts in a derisive manner and he shakes his head. “I would never want to get married. So much hassle for not a lot of reward.”

  My insides twist at his blunt comment. Hold on…he doesn’t…ever? “You never want to get married?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t see the point. A total waste of time and…”

  He stops himself, pursing his lips. I wonder if he is speaking from personal experience; something happened to make him feel this way.

  Clearing my throat, I want to change topic. Desperately. “Well I’m excited for whatever you’ve got in store for me!”

  I raise my glass and he notices my sudden change of expression before he brings his forward to clink with mine. I’m going to bite my tongue. I don’t want to argue about this now.

  “To us,” he drinks, keeping his gaze on me. All night, he’s been sneaking lingering looks when he thinks I’m not looking. And I catch him every time. My stolen stares are a lot better timed than his as he definitely hasn’t caught me.