Skinny Bitch Gets Hitched Read Online Free

to do the same. Hey, it was a start for their blood-dripping menus. Andit had been a huge start for me when I’d needed to rebuild my name as a chef. I also couldn’t forget the time Zach had dropped everything—before we were even dating—to drive me three hours to the hospital to see my dad, who’d been admitted with complications from Stage III cancer. How Zach had calmed me down on the long drive there. How he’d been there for me in every possible way all these months of our relationship. The guy was true-blue and red-hot.
    I dropped down on the padded bench lining the foyer wall. I knew that Zach and I were serious, that he loved me, but I had no idea he was thinking about forever now .
    I loved Zach. I did want to marry Zach. Later, though.
    I knew what happened to brides-to-be. Even my sister had got all freaked out because she couldn’t find a wedding dress she liked , let alone loved. Everything was too bridal, too white or ivory, too traditional, too gowny. In the end, corporate lawyer Elizabeth, the one who wouldn’t normally give a flying rat’s butt about a dress, drew a pencil sketch of what she envisioned, brought it into every boutique and department store in LA and asked the salesclerks if the shop had something like it. She’d finally found the ecru, kimono-style dress of her dreams off the rack in Nordstrom for two hundred bucks. She’d lost three days of her honeymoon time to her crazed dress shopping.
    Then there was my friend Jules, who without warning six months ago went from being a normal, twenty-eight-year-old small-accessories buyer to the biggest, baddest bridezilla you’d never want to meet. No detail was too small, including thepush-up bras for the bridal party, which had to be special-ordered for $212 so that we would all have the same-shaped boobs in the $400 pale peach silk dresses she’d made us shill out good money for. No one had seen this crazy Jules coming. I forgave her after the honeymoon, but I did not forget.
    Not that there was a chance in hell I’d become some lunatic bridezilla. I knew that. But a big, honking diamond ring on my finger would be a huge distraction.
    Was he going to propose at his sister’s wedding? Or maybe later tonight?
    See, I was already distracted by the ring. I had a dog to walk. A cake to bake for 260 guests, many of whom I’d soon be related to by marriage.
    Holy shiitake.
    I needed Sara. Now. My heart beating like crazy, I ran into the living room to grab my cell phone from the coffee table and was about to text her, but this time I did manage to stop myself. Right now the proposal was supposed to be Zach’s secret, unless he’d shared it with anyone. It would be wrong to go blabbing it, even to my best friend.
    And guess what was coiled in a basket on the far side of the coffee table, on top of the stack of Vegan Life magazines I was always leaving around for Zach never to read. Charlie’s leash. I clipped it on him, put a note on the fridge that I was taking Charlie for a walk on the beach, then left in freaked-out wonder.

3

    T he first time I saw Zach Jeffries I hated his guts. Well, I thought he was gorgeous—tall, lean, muscular, with all that thick, dark, glossy hair and deep blue eyes, impossibly long lashes, and a slight cleft in his chin. But I still hated him. Seven months ago, I’d been in the middle of teaching my first cooking class, in the kitchen of my dumpy little apartment on Montana Avenue, when a loud, booming noise interrupted my scintillating lecture on the wonders of tofu. I’d gone to the living room window to find a giant 3-D sign being erected over the beautiful space where I’d dreamed of one day opening my own vegan restaurant.
    What did that sign say? The Silver Steer—complete with a 3-D silver steer’s head staring with its dead eyes right into my living room window. I’d marched right into that space anddemanded to talk to