by Fiona Lowe
Knowing he may live to regret it because McBain would likely continue to seek him out for dating advice long after the favor was done, he clapped his hand on the clueless doctor’s shoulder. “Brandon, the first rule of dating is making it all about her and leaving your neediness at the door.”
“But I can tell her how grateful I am that she came on the date, right?”
“Yeah . . . no.” He shook his head and swallowed a sigh, already tasting regret. “Your job is to ask questions and listen. Be attentive.”
Brandon pulled out his phone. “What sort of questions?”
Shoot me now. The MontMedAir pager thankfully chose that moment to beep loudly, and he pressed it into Brandon’s hands. “This is your call, McBain. If I leave now, I’ll just make it to Bear Paw for the wedding.”
“You’re driving on no sleep?”
It wasn’t ideal. He started walking toward the exit. “I’ll drive with the windows down and the music blasting.”
“Text me the questions,” Brandon called after him.
“Later.” As much as Will respected Josh as a friend, he hoped one of Katrina’s bridesmaids was going to make his weekend worth the frustrations of being McBain’s date doctor.
—
MILLIE took the short but familiar walk toward the main house. What had once been her parents’ guesthouse was now considered her apartment whenever she was living in Bear Paw. She appreciated her parents’ generosity, especially now that she was studying to become a doctor and was required by her scholarship to spend her summers working in Bear Paw.
She could see her parents chatting in the kitchen, dressed and ready for the wedding. As she opened the back door she clicked her fingers before executing a soft-shoe shuffle across the kitchen floor, ending in a twirl in front of her folks. “Ta-dah.” She’d spent more time than usual getting ready and she thought she looked pretty sharp.
Her mother, dressed in a gray silk shift dress gathered in at the waist with a matching cummerbund and secured with a diamante brooch, stared at her, horrified. “Why are you wearing a tuxedo?”
Millie smiled, already prepared for the question. “Because, Mom, I’m the best man.”
“You’re the best person,” Susie said tightly, “and in my experience, women who stand up with their guy friends always wear a dress.”
Stay calm. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but I did tell you I was wearing a suit.”
“And I assumed you meant something classic, like Chanel.”
She laughed, hearing the tightness in the sound and wishing it wasn’t there. “A Chanel suit is way out of my price range and besides, it wouldn’t have all these awesome pockets for my stuff.”
“That’s what a purse is for.”
Millie looked at her mother’s tiny clutch purse, which perfectly matched her shoes and frock. It was barely big enough to hold a phone let alone her blood glucose monitoring meter. “You know I need more room than that.”
Conflicting emotions warred on her mother’s face, and she let out a long sigh. “Yes, but if you’d let me take you shopping, I’m certain we could have found the perfect dress and purse.”
And I would have hated it. “Mom—”
“You look terrific, Millsy,” her father said, finally stepping into the conversation as he always did, just as it was getting uncomfortable. “You’ll put all the others guys in the shade.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I better get going or Josh will beat me to the church. I’ll see you guys there.”
“At least wear some color,” Susie said, pressing a pretty wine-stained lipstick into her hand. “You look pale. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
As a redhead she was frequently pale, but that wasn’t what her mother meant. “I’m fine, Mom. The numbers are my friend today. I promise I’ll put on the lipstick just before I go into the church, I’ll spritz on some perfume and I’ll pinch my cheeks. But seriously, all eyes will rightly be on Katrina and Josh, not me.”
Thank goodness. As her fingers closed around the door handle, her father asked, “You’ve got everything, right?”
For the briefest moment, she rested her forehead on the doorjamb and then she patted her pockets. Dex, keys, tester kit, snack. “Yep. Bye.”
It wasn’t until ten minutes later when she was parking next to Josh’s sports car, which positively gleamed, that she realized she’d left her phone back at the guesthouse, sitting on the charger. Oh well, she was at the church now and if Josh needed anything he could tell her in person. Feeling naked without her heavy purse on her shoulder, she hurried over. Stepping out of the bright afternoon sunshine into the dimness of the changing room, her eyes were slow to adjust and she fuzzily made out the shape of a guy with his back to her.
“Hey, Josh,” she said moving in for a big hello hug. “Fifteen minutes ’til show time.” As her arms went firmly around his shoulders, she caught the flash of blond hair, the sharp zip of citrus cologne and the glint of amused dark-blue eyes.
Josh had brown hair, wore woodsy cologne and his eyes were silvery gray. And as tall as Josh was, her cheek was usually closer to his shoulder than this and he didn’t feel quite so broad. Who exactly was she body-hugging?
She was about to step back when she heard, “Hey, Millie.” Josh’s voice was filled with gentle amusement. “On my wedding day, you’re supposed to be making a fuss of me, not Will.”
Will?
Her brain melted at the exact same moment as her body. No way! Not possible. He wasn’t even coming to the wedding. But as she glanced up into familiar dancing eyes—eyes she’d spent way too much time daydreaming about last year—she knew. Dear Lord, she had her arms wrapped tightly around Will Bartlett.
Shock dried her mouth and embarrassment made her arms drop away fast from his wide shoulders. She stumbled backward, wishing desperately that she could teleport anywhere as long as it was far, far away from here and Will Bartlett. Be cool. Be calm. Be disinterestedly detached. “H-Hi—hello, Will.”
Oh yeah, so cool.
“G’day, Millie.” A cheeky, lopsided grin lit up his perfectly symmetrical face, and she saw the precise moment he recalled exactly their last meeting—the time she’d fallen into his lap. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
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