Page 1 of Forever and Always #1

BOBBY

I rush out of my office, juggling my phone, suitcase, and a large portfolio case. As I speed past her desk, my assistant, Rachel, calls out.

“Bobby, don’t forget the Smithson files! And please, for the love of all things good, try to be on time for once!”

I flash her a quick smile and grab the files. “Got it, Rach! I’m on it!”

Being a wedding planner isn’t easy. We’ve been in high demand ever since we launched three years ago, thanks to our stellar reviews.

Rach and I love helping couples create their perfect day.

I lean on her a lot, especially since I never had much support from my family after they rejected me for being gay.

Rachel took me in as a teenager, and now, in my late twenties, I’m still grateful for the home she gave me and the support she continues to offer.

I glance at my watch, hoping I’m not running late.

I dash out of the building, hail a taxi, and jump in, quickly giving the driver the address. As we weave through the city, I review my notes and the wedding design plans for my client, Mrs. Smithson.

Just as we near the estate, my phone rings—Rachel again.

“Bobby, the caterer’s behind schedule, and the flowers haven’t arrived yet. You need to handle this, pronto!”

I groan inwardly, feeling my stress levels rise. Not the way I wanted to start my day.

As the taxi pulls up to the Smithson estate, I take a deep breath, put on my best “wedding planner” smile, and step out.

That’s when I see him—a tall, imposing figure in a police uniform standing by the entrance. Our eyes meet, and a jolt of annoyance shoots through me. What is a cop doing here? And why is he looking at me like that?

I try to ignore him and head inside.

“I need to see some credentials before you enter,” the officer says, his voice a low rumble.

I spin around, my eyes narrowing at the sudden interruption. “Excuse me? I have an appointment with Mrs. Smithson. I’m the wedding planner.”

The officer steps closer, his gaze steady. “I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England, buddy. No one enters this property without clearance. Now, I need to see some credentials.”

Not saying this guy was an ass, but he was.

I sigh inwardly, annoyed by the delay. I open my suitcase and pull out my business card and a copy of my contract with Mrs. Smithson. “Here,” I say, handing them over. “Satisfied?”

The officer takes his time examining my documents, his expression unreadable. Finally, he hands them back and steps aside. “Fine. You can enter. But be aware, we have a situation here.”

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What kind of situation?”

The officer’s expression turns grim. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just… be careful.”

I take a moment to appreciate his rugged good looks. His black hair is cut short, accentuating his strong features. His tan skin and muscular build are evident even under his uniform. A hint of tattoos peeks out from beneath his sleeves.

The stubble on his jaw adds a rough edge to his appearance, making him look like a man who means business. He must be at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders level with the tip of my nose. His deep brown eyes seem to bore into me, as if daring me to challenge him.

For a moment, I forget about the wedding, the clients, the situation. All I can think about is what it would feel like to run my hands over those muscles.

The officer clears his throat, breaking the spell. “Like I said, be careful, Mr…?”

“Davidson. Bobby Davidson,” I reply, my voice softer than intended.

“Bobby,” Officer Darke repeats, his expression unreadable. “Enjoy your meeting.”

With that, he steps aside, and I walk into the Smithson estate, my mind still lingering on the encounter.

I snap back to reality, remembering my tight schedule. I glance at my watch and wince—I’m even later than I thought.

“Shit, no,” I mutter, quickening my pace.

I rush into the estate, hoping to make a good impression despite my tardiness. Rachel wouldn’t be happy about this—she’s probably shaking her head at the office.

Inside the grand foyer, I’m greeted by the elegant Mrs. Smithson, who looks like she’s been waiting.

“Bobby, darling! So glad you’re here. Ready to get started?” she says, her voice warm but with a hint of expectation.

I take a deep breath, compose myself, and slip into my charming wedding planner mode.

“Mrs. Smithson, I’m so sorry for the delay. I’m ready to dive in and make your daughter’s wedding day unforgettable. Shall we begin?”

“Yes, please, Bobby,” she says, her interest evident.

As we discuss the wedding details, I can’t shake off the image of that officer’s rugged looks and piercing gaze. But I push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

I refocus, pouring all my attention into the wedding details. Mrs. Smithson and I go over everything, from flower arrangements to catering. I expertly address each concern, my professionalism shining through. Mrs. Smithson seems pleased with the progress.

As the meeting concludes, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Despite the challenges, I’ve delivered a solid plan for the wedding.

* * *

As I pack up my things, Mrs. Smithson approaches me with a warm smile. “Bobby, thank you for your hard work. I feel so much better knowing you’re handling the details. You’re a true professional, and I can’t wait to see the final result at my daughter’s wedding.”

I smile, feeling a swell of pride and satisfaction. “Thank you, Mrs. Smithson. I won’t let you or your daughter down.”

Just as I’m about to leave, a commotion outside catches my attention. Raised voices and hurried footsteps echo through the foyer, followed by the arrival of that tall, muscular officer, looking even more rugged and imposing than before.

“Mrs. Smithson, I need to discuss the security arrangements,” he says, his deep voice commanding immediate attention.

My heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice—it reminds me of a beast, lurking in the woods, ready to pounce.

For a moment, everything else fades away: the wedding, the clients, the stress. All I can focus on is the officer’s presence.

I linger, pretending to gather my belongings, but really, I’m eavesdropping on their conversation and stealing glances at the officer. His expression is serious, his focus entirely on Mrs. Smithson.

“I understand your concerns, Officer,” Mrs. Smithson says, her tone calm, “but I assure you, we’ve taken every precaution. The wedding will be a private event with only trusted guests and staff present.”

His sharp, deep-brown eyes narrow slightly. “I’ve received intel suggesting a potential threat. I need to review your security protocols and make sure we’re taking all necessary measures.”

I notice the way his eyes sweep the room, briefly locking onto mine before returning to Mrs. Smithson. A shiver runs down my spine—I can’t tell if it’s from the tension or the intensity of his gaze.

Mrs. Smithson nods, unfazed. “Of course, Officer. I’ll have my team provide you with all the necessary information.”

As they continue discussing security details, I find myself captivated by the officer’s confident, authoritative demeanor. I can’t help but wonder what he’s like outside the uniform.