The Bride Wore Tie-Dye. Pamela Ingrahm
that mass of molten flame cascading down her back. He guessed it would reach to her beautiful behind when let out of the elegant twist she’d spun it into, and he had every intention of confirming his suspicion as soon as the situation allowed.
His conscience twinged. When she’d been dressed in purple tie-dye and piggy leggings, he had immediately assumed she was flighty and inappropriate for the video. Even when they’d talked at the pizza parlor, he’d liked her more and more but still had been relieved when she’d declined an interest. Now, however, faced with this vision, he was forced to admit he had judged her on surface evidence. He, of all people, should know better than that.
When she glanced nervously at her fingernails—which he noticed were missing the purple enamel—he knew he must have been staring. It made her uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said.
She shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I should expect your confusion after the way I was dressed this afternoon.”
He matched her chuckle. “I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like that get-up.”
The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled. It was charming.
“Now you’ll have to forgive me for being rude, but you could use a casual consultant.” Her eyes raked down his sports shirt and cutoffs.
“What?” he asked with pretended affront. “You don’t like my outfit?”
“It’d be perfect if you’d put on a faded, holey jersey. But the collared shirt thing…” She shook her head despairingly.
Trenton guessed he wouldn’t have to worry about whether she’d express her opinion or not if she joined the video team.
She took a sip of her drink.
Trenton finished piling the burgers on a platter and started toasting the buns.
The sound of the door gliding open caught their attention. Bridgette came out, holding hands with Glen.
“Everything’s on the table. You about ready?”
In answer, Trenton handed Glen the huge platter of burgers. After taking the last set of buns off the grill, he shut off the gas and carried that platter himself.
Glancing back toward Melodie, he jerked his head toward the house. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
The ensuing moments were chaotic. Melodie was introduced to Ronald, Juan and Cassie, Bridgette’s teammates. Ronald, she learned, was the cameraman, Juan the marketing director and Cassie did the still photography, specifically for the video jacket. Bridgette was the producer.
Amber was obviously feeling no ill effects from her upset stomach earlier for she was in the middle of the big melee of hands reaching for mayo and mustard and lettuce and pickles and chips.
A little intimidated, Melodie waited for the crowd to clear before fixing her plate and following the trail of people out of the kitchen. Bridgette was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Glen’s legs. Ronald and Juan were in the easy chairs, and Cassie had claimed the other end of the couch by Bridgette. The kids were using the coffee table to support their plates, and Trenton was sitting on the step down into the sunken area.
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