The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) Page 7

  He knew what she was asking but didn’t bite. If she wanted to know if he was as rich as Huntley she’d have to ask outright, though she might leave him alone if she learned how modest his income really was. “Did you hear about the fourth ‘groomsman’?” he asked.

  She grinned. “That’s so cute—to ask his sister! Isn’t that great? She’s threatening to wear a tuxedo, Alex said. Something about pissing off their mother.” Wrapping her uneaten bagel in a napkin, Krista shifted in her seat and pushed out her chest a little bit, smiled more broadly. Flirting. “Alex made it sound like your parents were similar. Would they have a problem with a lesbian in a tuxedo at your wedding?”

  Miles shook salt over his egg. “My mother died when I was three, I haven’t spoken to my father in over fifteen years, and I think people should be able to wear whatever the hell they want to a wedding.” He popped the egg in his mouth. “It’s not Broadway.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I don’t think Alex meant—oh, shit.”

  Seeing the stricken look on her face, he realized he was being a jerk. He swallowed the egg and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I know what Alex meant.”

  “We were just talking about how nice it is here, that’s all, and how nice it is for some people to be able to afford it and share it with people close to them.”

  “Of course. And he’s right, I did grow up more like Huntley than like Alex.” Alex had come to Stanford with a Goodwill wardrobe, a full need-based scholarship, and stories about living part of his teen years in a homeless shelter. “I had all the privileges in the world. I can’t complain.”

  “He seemed really nice. I liked his eyes. Brown and warm, you know? I inherited my dad’s gray eyes—he’s white—but I really wish I had my mother’s. Brown eyes are so warm and deep, you really feel like you can see into a person.” She licked her lips. “His were like that, which is a good sign.”

  “A sign?”

  “Oh, right.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, peeked at him over her fingers. “Promise not to tell? I thought maybe you’d heard already, being friends with him.”

  “I haven’t talked to Alex in years.”

  “Forget I said anything.” She forced a smile and looked out the window. “I wonder if the sun will come out at all today?”

  Sometimes people thought that because he was big and quiet he wasn’t very smart. “I take it Alex and Lucy are being set up together?” he asked gently.

  Krista’s eyes went wide, nodding. “I’m not supposed to know who Fawn picked out, but I can totally tell.”

  “Picked?”

  “Lucy has terrible taste in men, so she asked Fawn to choose.”

  The thought of earnest Alex and the intense redhead together made him frown. “I just don’t see it.”

  “You’re going by the Lucy you saw this morning, which I can understand. She doesn’t realize what a turn-off it is to look like an angry teenager, especially when you want to be taken as wife material.”

  He choked on a mouthful of coffee. “Wife material?”

  “See, that’s what I mean. All that black denim and leather and boots—it’s scary. Men like someone a little softer. At least, the kind of man she wants to settle down with does.”

  “Which would be”—he wiped his mouth with a napkin—“Alex?”

  “If they hit it off. I only just met him, but he looked adorable for her. I hope she changed into something good back in her cabin.”

  Miles had a sudden image of Lucy shapeshifting like a mutant in the X-Men. “Change?”

  “I took her shopping.” Krista sat up tall, patted her fluffy curls, grinned. “I’ve been dying to do it for years. Get her out of that Elvira black into something fresh and appealing. We found the most gorgeous celadon wrap dress that really brings out her eyes. And it’s cotton, so not too elegant to wear it here. The lodge, anyway, which is pretty nice in a rustic sort of way.” She looked around.

  “Your friend—Lucy—she’s agreed to this? She doesn’t seem the type to go along with that sort of thing.” He wondered what celadon was. It sounded like a prehistoric mammal.

  “I know, but it was all her idea. She really wants to get married. She was engaged for years and the guy bailed at the last minute.” Her voice dropped. “Left her for somebody else. No warning. Lucy’s really pissed.”

  “I bet.” It didn’t sound like the right frame of mind to get engaged to somebody else, though. Casual sex—sure. Definitely. His own experience was all for that. He followed that train of thought while Krista went on.

  “She wasn’t hurt, not like you’d think. Just furious he screwed up her plan. She wanted to be married at thirty and on her second child by now. So he wasted a lot of her time, and that bothers her more than anything, even cheating.”

  An unwelcome vision of Felicia obsessing over wedding websites flashed in his head. He knew what it felt like to be the token penis in a tuxedo. “I see,” he said.

  “She’s totally type-A, dotting her T’s, everything nice and tight, no surprises. When I took her shopping, she brought her laptop into the dressing room and recorded each thing on a spreadsheet. No shit.” She laughed merrily.

  He nodded, not too surprised this woman he’d just met would be sharing so much with him. Something about his face, his size, maybe his silence, made all kinds of random people, not just single women, open up to him. Like a bartender. Wherever he went, people latched on to him and told him things they really shouldn’t have. Every once in a while he wondered if he should have become a spy. Or a priest.

  Krista went on. “If she hadn’t been so eager to make up for lost time, she never would have let me put her in turquoise, believe you me.”

  “She’s lucky to have your help.” Rising to his feet, Miles held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Krista. Forgive me, but you’ve got me wanting to see if I can find my old friend, Alex. Catch up on lost time.”

  She sat up straight, eyes wide. “Oh, of course!” She bit her lip, looked like she was wondering if she’d said too much. “Look, you won’t repeat anything I told you about Lucy, will you? I don’t know why I blabbed all that. I get that way when I’m… Anyway, I don’t think he even knows they’re setting them up and I’d never forgive myself if I prejudiced him against her.”

  “No, no, don’t worry about it. I won’t say a word. It was nice talking to you.” He escaped out of the lodge without asking at reception for Alex’s cabin number. He and Alex had never gotten along. Overcoming so much adversity had made the man an insufferable bore in his opinion, and Alex thought Miles was a spoiled dumbshit who burned bridges he would’ve killed for.

  He tried again to imagine Alex and Lucy together. His brain was quick to get Lucy naked, short and curvy, more red hair, climbing on top of him—

  No, wrong him.

  So, she thought she wanted a husband. He was surprised Alex wasn’t married already; he was also the type to have a plan like that, down to the genders of his theoretical children. Always scheming, measuring, campaigning, working. Eyes on the future.

  He got tired just thinking about it. Reflecting that ambition was for other people, Miles went to his cabin, determined to spend the rest of the day in the hot tub.

  * * *

  Around one o’clock that afternoon, Lucy noticed Krista waving at her from a bench in a grove of redwoods behind the lodge.

  “Where were you?” Krista asked. “Yoga was awesome!”

  Patting down the filmy green dress flapping around her legs, feeling frozen and ridiculous, Lucy tip-toed through the ferns to meet up with her and Betty. The wet fronds soaked her silk ballet flats. Her idiotic, impractical, beige silk ballet flats. “Fawn isn’t with you? I thought we might catch some lunch.”

  Krista shook her head, eyes shining. “Getting a jumpstart on the honeymoon, I bet.”

  “The yoga instructor is hot,” Betty said. Her short, round body flushed and shiny, she splayed out on the bench wearing o
nly a red sports bra, black boxer shorts, and purple flip-flops.

  Lucy wrapped her arms over her chest. “I’m not. Aren’t you cold? I feel stupid just sitting around the lodge, but then I go outside and it’s freezing out. I never should have let you pick out my clothes, Krista. I’m uncomfortable and immobilized.”

  Krista got up and took her arm. “Meet anyone interesting?”

  She thought of Miles, shoved that aside. “Nobody new. The resort is deserted.”

  Krista frowned. “I figured he’d be in the lodge. The yoga class was empty, too—just me, Betty, and Jaynette. She’s the yogi.”

  “Three felt like a crowd to me,” Betty said.

  Lucy fumbled at the knot at her waist. “Once I figured out how to tie this thing I wasn’t about to take it off. But I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to get back into my normal clothes so I can enjoy this place better. Go for a hike after lunch. There’s supposed to be a river leading to the coast, just past the last cabins on the north side.”

  “No, you’re not.” Krista squeezed her arm to hold her back. “Any minute now you’re going to meet this guy and you have to make a good impression.”

  “I agree. And I don’t want that impression to be ‘stupid girly-girl.’”

  “You look gorgeous, doesn’t she, Betty?”

  “I’d hit it,” Betty said, chewing on her thumbnail. “Actually, no, but I’m not your target demographic.”

  “My target demographic is a man who appreciates a woman with the sense to wear thick boots in the wilderness,” Lucy said.

  “At least wait until after lunch.” Krista pointed at Betty. “And I am not going into the restaurant with you in your underwear.”

  “Fine.” Betty stood up, pulled her bra over her head, and gave a vigorous, topless, nipple-shaking shimmy. “I was burning up anyway.”

  Krista swore, took Lucy’s arm, and pulled her off into the trees.

  Laughing, Lucy glanced back at Betty. “Should we save you a seat?”

  “No, I’m going to check out Jaynette’s hot yogi asanas again,” Betty said, pulling her bra back on. “Meet me for a massage at three? At the Relaxation Yurt. It’s on the map.”

  “Sounds great. See you then.” When their friend was out of hearing range, Lucy turned to Krista. “That girl needs to get laid.”

  “So do you, which is why you’re going to stay in that dress instead of donning the Ensemble of Doom again.”

  Maybe Krista was right about her preference for black clothes. Lucy had asked her friends to take over this, this—she would not call it husband-hunting, which implied conquest and destruction, and she didn’t want anything that dramatic, God knew—this introduction. If Krista thought pastels and synthetic fabrics would accelerate the courtship process, she’d give it a shot.

  They walked down a narrow walkway through a thick grove of redwoods that cast the carpet of ferns below into deep shadow. In a sunny meadow ahead, Lucy caught a glimpse of a sign pointing to a large white building: The Snowy Egret. “Oh, thank God. Food.”

  Krista stopped and pointed to a fork in the path. “Hold on. I have to go back to my cabin first. I’m still in my workout clothes and I don’t have my wallet.”

  “You don’t need a wallet. It’s all-expense-paid, remember?” Lucy pulled out her phone from between her breasts and studied the sweat-slick screen while Krista gaped at her. She stared back. “What? The dress didn’t have pockets.”

  “Where’s the matching clutch we bought?”

  “That stupid thing didn’t have a strap. I’d lose it in a second.”

  “That’s why it’s called a clutch.”

  Lucy reached over and used Krista’s sweatshirt hoodie to wipe the sweat off the screen. “The Snowy Egret is open at eleven-thirty to three every day for lunch, then at five until ten for dinner,” she said, reading the file she’d downloaded the week before. “They serve omnivorous, vegetarian, gluten-free, and vegan delights to the discerning palette—”

  “I’ll still have to change.”

  Lucy frowned at the designer track suit, brand new and embroidered with sequins. “You look great and nobody’s around. Come on.”

  Krista made an unhappy noise, probably debating which was better: wearing the wrong thing herself or sitting with a friend who wasn’t wearing anything at all. She followed Lucy to the white door.

  A pale waitress with white hair, wearing a white apron over her white blouse, white slacks, and white Keds, led them over to a table draped with a white tablecloth and handed them each a white menu.

  “I’m feeling very African American right now,” Krista said in a low voice, looking around without moving her head. The walls, curtains, and floor were also white.

  Lucy studied the menu, stifled a snort. “Check out the food.”

  Krista scanned it and her jaw dropped. Then their eyes met across the tops of the menus. They burst out laughing.

  “Mind if I join you?” a man said from behind Lucy, just as she was pointing at the special.

  “Chicken with wine sauce, jicama salad, artichoke soup,” Lucy said, still laughing. She twisted around to see a man with dark brown hair in a long-sleeved navy T-shirt. Early thirties, laugh lines around the eyes, nice lips. She took in the rest of him, the slim fit of the shirt over his toned biceps, his flat stomach. He wore fashionable dark jeans and thick-soled Keens.

  “Alex!” Krista pulled over a chair from the next table. “Please! We were feeling lonely.” It was a small table, barely room for two, but he nodded his thanks and sat down. His knees bumped Lucy’s and she shifted away to give him more space.

  So, she thought. This is… Alex.

  The man she was going to marry.

  Chapter 7

  LUCY STUDIED THE GUY AND realized he was studying her right back. Suddenly uncomfortable, Lucy buried her face in the snowy-white menu.

  Krista kicked her under the table. “We were just noticing the theme of the restaurant.”

  “Yeah?” He glanced around. “Ah, I see it now.”

  Smiling, Krista leaned over to show him the menu. “Halibut, endive, coconut broth, and skinned new potatoes. Get it?”

  The waitress brought him his own menu and rearranged the table to make room for his place setting. He studied the first page, then said to Lucy, “Albino beets. I’ve never heard of that.”

  Lucy smirked. “Wouldn’t that be a turnip?”

  “No, I imagine it’s a just a type we’ve never heard of,” Alex said. “Perhaps an heirloom.”

  Lucy stared at him. “Perhaps.”

  “I’m having the chicken breast and jicama salad with vichyssoise,” Krista said.

  “Good, they’ve got a vegan entree,” he said. “White cannellini and gnocchi with cabbage.”

  Which would have had Lucy reaching for the Beano, so she settled on the chicken. And, because Alex had shifted over to eliminate the space between them, she decided to ask for wine too, even though it was early and she was freezing and they only had chilled whites.

  After they’d ordered, Lucy put on a warm smile and turned to Alex. “You’re an old friend of Huntley’s?”

  “Not too old. Only since college.”

  “We’re not old, Lucy,” Krista said, and Lucy wished she’d let her go back to her cabin.

  The waitress placed a goblet of coconut water in front of each of them.

  “I meant I haven’t known him as long as Miles has.” Alex sipped the coconut water. “They went to prep school together, the whole bit—fathers belonged to the same country club, summer home in the Hamptons, spring break in Costa Rica, that sort of thing.”

  “Miles didn’t mention that.” Krista looked thoughtful.

  “He’s always been in denial,” Alex said. “There was a lot of that at Stanford. Kids realizing how good they had it, not wanting to feel guilty about it.”

  The waitress placed a painted wicker basket of crustless baguette slices on the table. Lucy slathered a piece with butter and put it in her mouth, uneas
y with Alex’s tone. “Isn’t he an old friend of yours?”

  “Not really. We were roommates very briefly. Freshman year. Stanford makes a big deal about residental education. You’re supposed to learn as much from each other as from your classes.”

  “It didn’t work out?” Lucy said.

  “He dropped out of school right after Christmas break. Moved into Huntley’s mansion in Atherton, which is where Huntley spent most of his time too, since he hated his roommate. But then the spot opened up in my room, and he started sleeping with a girl on the third floor—” He closed his eyes for a second then laughed, looking embarrassed. “My God, listen to me. Not the sort of stuff I should bring up at the man’s wedding. Point is, I got to be great friends with Huntley, but Miles left before I got to know him.”

  “Why’d he drop out?” Krista asked.

  Alex sipped his drink. “You’d have to ask him.”

  Krista glanced at Lucy. “But you must know something.”

  “It’s not my place to say,” he said. “And really, I only heard about it secondhand.”

  “He never went back?” Krista asked.

  “Krista,” Lucy said, “It’s really not any of our business.”

  “No, he never did, and it killed me. To have that opportunity—” Alex cut himself off again, ducked his head. “Sorry. I’m kind of irrational about education. And access to it.”

  Krista gave Lucy a meaningful eyebrow wiggle. “Alex is a lawyer for an educational non-profit in San Francisco.”

  “Great,” Lucy said. Small talk was not her thing, especially when the other person was chatty. Easier just to nod and listen.

  Breaking the awkward lull in the conversation, Krista said, “I had breakfast with Miles this morning. He seemed like a really nice guy.”

  “He is, he is,” Alex said quickly.

  “I kind of talked his ear off,” Krista said.

  “Easy to do,” Alex said. “He’s not much of a conversationalist.”

  Lucy was finding it harder to keep the smile on her face, so she looked down at the plate that had appeared in front of her and speared a potato. She really was going to have to think of something to say. Chewing, she caught Krista’s eyes on her, the silent entreaty to speak. She swallowed and said, “Not that you knew him very well.”