The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) Page 6

  “Thanks, Jolly,” Huntley said, rigid in his arms. “Fawn—sweetie—would you tell Eric to get Rita for me?”

  “Don’t you want a doctor?” Fawn asked.

  “No, Rita can massage it out of me. It’s just a little tweak.”

  She frowned. “But—”

  “Leave Lucy with us. She’ll keep an eye on Miles,” Huntley said, smiling faintly.

  Fawn kissed him tenderly before throwing Miles a warning look and departing.

  Sweat building on his forehead, Miles shifted his load and hurried through the trees to the distant cabin. Huntley wasn’t very tall, but he was loaded with high-maintenance muscles and weighed more than he’d expected.

  “I’m getting old,” Miles muttered, staggering past cabin six.

  “You are,” Huntley said. “Look at me.”

  They both laughed until Miles stumbled over a tree root and Huntley swore. “Easy, Jolly.”

  “Call me that again and I’m dropping you right here.”

  Lucy jogged ahead of them, her round bottom a welcome distraction. “I’ll get the door,” she said, hurrying up the stairs.

  Pausing to gather his strength, Miles took a deep breath and hauled his friend up the stairs and inside. It was like his cabin, but all brown and mossy green and the bed was bigger. He gently lay Huntley down on top of the covers.

  He was more concerned about his friend than he wanted to admit. “You sure about the doctor? You seem pretty screwed up for one little fall.”

  Sinking back into the pillows, Huntley closed his eyes. “No doctor.”

  Miles leaned over him on the bed. “Not like you have to worry about paying for it.” He made a move toward the end of the bed to take off Huntley’s shoes but Lucy was already there, her pale fingers working apart the laces.

  “Nice boots,” she said.

  “New,” Huntley said, opening his eyes. “Miles?”

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  Huntley was gazing at him, his face serious. After a long moment he said, “Please stay.”

  “Of course. But if you can’t get up soon, I’m bringing you to a hospital.”

  “I mean for the wedding. The week. I need you, Miles.” He closed his eyes, opened them again. When he spoke, his voice was so soft Miles had to lean down to hear him. “You were right. I don’t think I can stand up to my parents without you here.”

  Miles glanced back at Lucy, saw by the shock on her face that she’d heard. No help for it. He cleared his throat. “If you really love her, you will.”

  “Not if I’m too weak. You know how I am around them.”

  “You’ve just never been sufficiently motivated.” Miles squeezed his shoulder. “Just do it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You know you can, being on your own so long. Maybe it’s too late for me, like that part of my brain just didn’t develop at the critical time.”

  “Huntley.” Miles sat down on the bed, careful not to jostle his friend. “You’re a good guy. You love your parents. They’re devoted to you and you’re devoted to them. It’s usually a good thing. Just sometimes, you need to push back a little more, take a stand. Like now. There’s nothing wrong with your brain.” He flicked the guy’s forehead. “At least, not in that way.”

  Huntley glanced at Lucy, who had politely turned away to pour a glass of water from the bar, and gestured Miles closer. “They really don’t want me to get married,” he whispered. “I’m afraid of what they might do.”

  “They can’t keep you apart if you don’t let them.”

  “Please, Miles. Stay. We’ll back each other up.”

  Miles took the glass of water from Lucy and set it on the bedside table. Her expression was thoughtful, unreadable. He wondered what she was thinking, if she’d tell Fawn about her groom’s confession, and realized he couldn’t leave Huntley alone in that mess. That he never really had any choice.

  “I’ll stay,” Miles said, just as a knock sounded on the door.

  The worry lines in Huntley’s face eased into a broad smile. “I knew it! You big softie.”

  Miles got up. “You’re welcome.” Lucy was already opening the door to Eric, Huntley’s driver-bodyguard, who had a large, padded rectangular object slung over his shoulder. Behind him was an older woman in a purple velour sweatsuit.

  “Rita, thank God!” Huntley cried. “It’s that tweaky thing in my back. It just snapped.”

  “We’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy. Everyone out!” Rita waved her arms.

  Fawn slipped in past the others and knelt at Huntley’s bed. “How are you feeling, honey?”

  Rita scowled at her. “That means everyone.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Fawn said, her voice steely.

  “I’ll be in our cabin,” Lucy told her, and Miles followed her out the door into the foggy morning.

  He looked at his watch. Not even eleven yet, and it was only Monday. He dreaded the week ahead, wondering if he’d been stupid to give in.

  For a short person, Lucy had a quick walk, and he found it easy to match his stride to hers. He thought about the impending reunion with his father and stepmother, the terrified look in Huntley’s eyes, and made himself focus on how the air was humid and fresh and felt good against his face. There were worse places to be stuck for a week.

  He looked over at his companion.

  Less cute people to spend it with.

  * * *

  “She loves him,” he said after walking next to her for a few minutes. “Your friend. Fawn.”

  About time he figured that out, she thought. “You assumed she was a gold digger.”

  “Most of them are.”

  “Most of whom?”

  “Relax. The women who chase after Huntley.”

  “If there was any chasing, it was the other way around,” she said.

  He sighed. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Don’t worry about Fawn. She’s the real deal. She’s beautiful, smart, funny… and strong. Independent.” She shot him a glance. “Unlike her groom.”

  “Not thrilled for them to get hitched?”

  “I was okay with it until a few minutes ago. Now I’m worried.”

  “He’ll come through.”

  “She deserves more.”

  Miles smiled. “More than Huntley the Third?”

  “Kind of a mama’s boy, isn’t he? And they haven’t even been together a year.”

  “He owns most of New England.”

  “His family does. Huntley is more of a lapdog than a tycoon, from what I can see.”

  Miles studied her, looking more amused than offended. His gaze dropped down over her body, and she almost wished she’d put on one of her new marry-me outfits instead of her basic black. “What do you do for a living?” he asked.

  “I’m a process analyst in the pharmaceutical industry,” she said. “How about you?”

  “What the heck is a process analyst?”

  “Well, most days I analyze the process,” she said. “Then, to shake things up a little bit, I process the analysis.”

  He smiled. “I see. Sounds exciting.”

  “It is to me.”

  “I’m glad.” He bowed his head. “I’m the founder and director of a non-profit after-school facility. Though Huntley will tell you I’m a gym teacher, and that’s about right.”

  “Now that sounds exciting,” she said.

  “It is. I love it.” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a slow whoosh. “I wish I were there right now.”

  “Stop worrying. Fawn is no gold digger. She made her first million before she was twenty.”

  “Big difference between a million and a billion.”

  “She’s not—”

  “Sorry, forget I said that. I believe you. Maybe it’s not her devotion I’m worried about.”

  Lucy looked down and kicked a pine cone with her boot, sighing. “I’m going to have to tell her.”

  “You really shouldn’t.”

  “What kind
of friend would I be if I didn’t? She’s tough enough to handle the truth. She’ll have a better idea of what she’s up against.”

  He put his hands, warm and heavy, on her upper arms. “It would be cruel to both of them. He was just laying it on thick to get to me. You wouldn’t want to worry her for nothing.”

  “He’s that sneaky?”

  He released her, shrugged his massive shoulders. “Maybe. If he were desperate. He’s a bit immature sometimes.”

  “Jesus.” Lucy ran her hand through her hair and looked back at Huntley’s cabin, relieved he wasn’t touching her anymore. Too distracting. “I’m really going to have to tell her. She’s back there thinking he’s dying. If he’s just putting on a big show—”

  “I think he’s in some pain, just exaggerating it. Like how he insists he can’t stand up to his parents without my help.”

  “This is not the kind of man I’d choose for my best friend.”

  “He’s a good guy. Loyal to a fault. Children and puppies love him.” Miles put his hand in the middle of her back and guided her away. “He’s just a numbnuts sometimes.”

  Maybe she could find Krista and Betty and ask them what they thought. But if she did that, there was no chance it wouldn’t get back to Fawn, and she might resent their gossiping about her.

  Realizing it wasn’t the right time, Lucy continued walking with Miles toward the lodge, a throbbing pain growing between her eyebrows. “If I don’t get my coffee I’m going to kill somebody.”

  The big man next to her grunted his agreement, and they set off side by side, two of her fast steps to one of his.

  They arrived at the lodge just as Betty and Krista were coming out, each holding a bagel and a white ceramic coffee container, the kind that looked like paper but was non-disposable. Krista was in a form-fitting cotton beige track suit with Uggs, her hair tied up in a batik-patterned bandana. Betty, looking hungover and pissed, wore a huge gray Cal sweatshirt and baggy jeans.

  When Betty saw Miles, she tilted her head back and whistled. “Looky there—it’s Paul Bunyan.”

  Miles hesitated only a second before saying, “Damn. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me without the ox.”

  Krista, who had been studying him, smiled suddenly and gave Lucy a questioning look.

  “Betty and Krista, this is Miles, the best man. Miles, Betty and Krista,” Lucy said.

  “Paul Bunyan’s got nothing on you,” Krista said. “Though if anyone could pull off flannel…”

  “Krista is straight, unlike me,” Betty said, not even looking up from her coffee.

  “My loss,” Miles said politely.

  Lucy sighed. “Behold the blushing bridesmaids.”

  Through a mouthful of bagel, Betty said, “I’ll be blushing because of that damn dress. Can you believe she chose pink? Does she want to be a cliché? I suppose she’s wearing white, too.”

  “At least you don’t have red hair. Poor Lucy is going to look—” Krista saw Lucy’s raised eyebrow and bit her lip. “Not that it matters. Nobody’s going to be looking at us.”

  Betty snorted into her coffee. “Somebody will be looking at Lucy. Somebody special. Somebody right back there.” She rolled her eyes toward the lodge.

  Lucy’s stomach clenched. “He’s in there?”

  “Who?” Miles said.

  The women froze and stared at each other in silence. Lucy wanted to slap them. The whole thing was embarrassing enough.

  Krista cleared her throat. “Is that what you’re wearing today?”

  Lucy wasn’t going to discuss her private life in front of Miles. “You know, I think I forgot something back in my cabin.”

  “Would you like me to help you look for it?” Krista, an aspiring fashion designer, had given Lucy a hard time about her “monochromatic palette” for years.

  “Thanks, no. Finish your coffee and I’ll try to see you at—what did Fawn say?—the Yoga Yurt at eleven-thirty.”

  Krista looked around. “Where is Fawn, anyway? Or is that a silly question?”

  Should she tell them about what she’d seen and heard? Lucy could feel Miles’s gaze on her. “She’s in his cabin.”

  “Silly question,” Betty said, pulling a pair of black Ray-Bans over her eyes. “Come on, Krista, let’s eat. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

  Lucy nodded toward her own cabin in the other direction. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “You know, I’ve changed my mind,” Krista said. “I think I’ll stay here, maybe meet some new people. Miles, are you going in?”

  Holding Lucy’s gaze, he put his hand on the door. “Yeah. If I don’t get my coffee I’m going to kill somebody.”

  “Great! See you gals at yoga!” Krista said.

  Lucy and Betty walked a few steps together before the path to their cabins split in opposite directions. “I wonder who Fawn picked out for me,” Betty said. “Should be easy to pick out the lesbian in this crowd. I swear, I haven’t been around so many aggressively straight people since high school.”

  “Fawn didn’t pick out Miles for Krista. She doesn’t even know the guy.”

  “But he’s Huntley’s best friend, and look at him—she could wear ten-inch heels and still look like a shrimp. She loves that,” Betty said.

  Lucy hesitated, not sure she wanted to leave Miles and Krista alone together, then reminded herself what she was doing. “So, the man I’m—”

  Holding up her hands to her ears, Betty pivoted away. “Sorry! I swore I wasn’t going to get involved.”

  “But he’s there? In the lodge?”

  “Not involved.” She waved and walked away,

  Lucy lingered, staring at the lodge. The two of them had looked good together. Just walking side by side, Miles and Lucy had to look ridiculous. A mismatched set.

  With a shake of her head, she went back to her cabin to change.

  Chapter 6

  THE WOMAN—HE DIDN’T KNOW which it was, Betty or Krista—walked ahead of him into the lodge. He recognized the warm interest in her eyes, but he wasn’t in any mood to reciprocate, no matter how attractive she was. Tall, athletic, quick to smile.

  “Have you known Huntley long?” she asked him.

  “Since we were teenagers.”

  “Oh, you’re from back East, too?”

  “Just when I was a kid. I’ve been in the Bay Area for ages.”

  She glowed at him, leading him to a small circular table near a back window overlooking the shadowy forest. “Save this spot and I’ll get you something. How do you like your coffee?”

  He stayed on his feet. “No, please sit. I’ll get my own. Yours is getting cold.”

  She started to protest but he insisted and strode off to the coffee service, gently touching the burn on his hand from earlier that morning. He realized he was starving. After he found a bagel and a glass bowl of cream cheese, balancing a hard boiled egg in the middle of the bagel, he rejoined the friendly bridesmaid.

  “Forgive me, but I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

  She grinned and held out a hand. “Krista Lang. I went to high school with the bride. And Lucy and Betty, of course.”

  “Miles Girard,” he said. “High school is good at bringing people together.”

  “Like battle.” She took a small bite of her bagel. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

  He looked around the lounge, wondering in spite of himself what man the other woman had been talking about, a man who would be looking at Lucy, but he only saw a few staffers walking around tidying up, carrying towels, refilling the coffee service. “I wonder how many of us are here this early in the week,” he said. “I wasn’t really given a choice.”

  Krista sipped her coffee. “I would love it if it weren’t for—” Music suddenly blared from her midsection. She put down her cup and fumbled with a zipper on her sweatshirt, pulled out her phone, and the warmth drained out of her face. She twisted around and hunched over it, facing the window. “Yes? No, it’s no problem…”


  While she became engrossed in what was obviously a call from work, Miles wished he’d escaped to his cabin. He ate his bagel in three bites, gulped down his coffee, and wondered if the hiking trails were any good. The Pacific was fewer than three miles to the west, the rocky coast largely untouched up here, wild and gorgeous. He wished he had a group of his kids with him to show them the tide pools, make sandcastles, freeze their asses off.

  Just as he was working through ideas for fundraising and chaperones to make a field trip possible, Krista put her phone away. “I am so sorry, that was totally rude. It’s just—she’s really difficult. My boss. Not that she’s my boss. I report to somebody else, but I have to do whatever she says, no matter how irrational, you know?”

  Miles gave her a sympathetic nod.

  “I’ve got to find a way to use the lodge Internet without Fawn kicking my butt. Being totally out of the loop for a whole week isn’t an option. I’m a designer for a new knitwear company. Very original, groundbreaking designs. Well, I’m an associate, which is why I can’t really disappear for a week. The woman I work for is notorious.” She reached forward and rested her slim fingers over his hand. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you about Alex.”

  “Alex? Oh, Alex Sargeant.” One of the guys from their freshman dorm at Stanford, Huntley’s other groomsman. He looked around the lodge again. “Has he arrived?”

  “I met him right before I met you, inside the little shop back there. He was really nice, joked about Huntley having his own house in Atherton for whenever he got sick of living in the dorm. His own house, all to himself, when he was just eighteen.”

  “Not all to himself,” Miles said, smiling into his coffee. “He had to share it with the servants.” And then with Miles when he’d split from his father, dropped out of school, and didn’t have anywhere else to go.

  She laughed. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to be rich like that.”

  “Nobody can unless they’re born that way.”

  “That’s exactly what Alex said.” She dropped her gaze to the table. He could feel her hesitating over what she said next. “He mentioned he was the only groomsman to grow up without money.”