The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy)

by Gretchen Galway

  Chapter 27

  AFTER SEVERAL MINUTES, STILL DAZED, Lucy rubbed her cheek along Miles’s jaw. “You can’t be very comfortable,” she whispered.

  “I’m fine.” He slipped his hands down her sides, caressed her hip. Shifted his pelvis. “Mostly.”

  Now that she was coming back to earth, she realized how crazy they were. “They’re still out there,” she whispered.

  “Just the staff. The rest sound like they’ve moved back to the tables. Chowing down.”

  She rested her head on his chest and listened. He was right. The hum of the crowd was farther away. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  He tangled his fingers in her hair. “What’s the hurry?”

  She hesitated, not wanting the moment to end. But it had to. “Doesn’t the best man give a toast?”

  Miles jerked up, dislodging her. “Damn!”

  She got her feet underneath her and struggled to get into a squat beside him. Balancing on top of his broad hugeness may have saved her dress from the worst damage, but there was quite a bit of dust and grass on the silk. She brushed it roughly. “Hold on, you can’t just crawl out of here.”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “Got to give that toast. I spent all night writing it. When I wasn’t thinking about you.”

  She kissed him back. He tasted so good.

  But he broke away with smile, reaching for the tablecloth.

  “Wait! I can’t go out there like this,” she said, looking down at her dress.

  “Stay. I’ll be right back.”

  “I can’t stay here. For one, I want some cake.”

  A hand appeared, lifting the tablecloth higher. “Hello?”

  Lucy scrambled back and ducked her head under her hand.

  “Shawn! My man!” Miles flashed Lucy a grin. “Don’t worry. Shawn’s cool.”

  The tablecloth went higher, and the staffer’s furry face appeared. A fresh breeze blew under the table. “Mr. Girard. The groom was wondering if you were ready to speak, or if you need Mr. Sargeant to step in.”

  “I’ll be right there. Tell Alex to chill.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, nodding as he disappeared. His gaze had never moved from Miles, as though not noticing the tousled woman squatting right next to him with her dress bunched over her knees.

  Grinning, Miles goosed her thigh as he reached for the tablecloth.

  Then he paused. Slowly looked back at her.

  He held her gaze for a few deep breaths. Something in his eyes made her heart, already racing, trip over itself.

  The playfulness faded away. No hint of a smile remained. She swallowed over the dryness in her throat as he reached up and cupped her jaw in his palm.

  “I love you, Lucy.”

  She stopped breathing. “Christ,” she whispered.

  “I want you in my life.”

  She was shaking. “It’s too soon.”

  At that, he smiled. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

  Not for that. “But we—”

  “Tonight,” he said, and left.

  * * *

  Feet sore, dress rumpled, heart fragile, Lucy waved at Shawn as she opened the door to her cabin.

  The golf cart guy raised a hand and drove off, the thick black mustache failing to hide the grin on his face.

  Maybe I’m not the first slutty bridesmaid you’ve found under the cake table, she thought.

  She shut the door behind her, leaned against it, closed her eyes.

  Miles had given his toast to the bride and groom, hamming up his role as drunk, irresponsible best man. The crowd laughed and cried. Lucy managed to slip into a seat next to Betty at the head table without drawing too much attention.

  Though Betty found some grass in her hair. “Nice bling. Have fun?”

  Face burning, Lucy forked a huge bite of wedding cake into her mouth. “Is it that obvious?”

  “I saw you come out. So to speak.”

  Oh, God. “Anyone else?”

  “Who cares?”

  Betty was right. It didn’t matter what other people thought.

  What Miles thought, however… saying he loved her…

  He’d been drinking, turned on, caught up in high emotions of the day.

  Well, the day was nearly over now. Fawn and Huntley were off on their honeymoon, happy and hitched and starting their ever after. Krista, a softball star in junior high, caught the bouquet before disappearing with Alex. And Betty took off with Jaynette in her old car to explore the Lost Coast up north for a few days.

  Leaving Lucy alone in her cabin. Waiting.

  She hung up the dress, a fruitless effort since it was badly wrinkled, frayed on one side, and streaked with dirt. Not that she had a place for such a dress in her normal life anyway.

  Running her finger along the scooped neckline, she remembered Miles’s touch and shivered.

  Too much, too fast.

  She peeled off the chemise and everything else and got into the shower. The hot water felt good, washing away makeup and dust, the soreness in her shoulders. But it couldn’t touch the fear.

  What if he regretted what he’d said?

  If only they could go back in time. Meet years ago, when she was still in her twenties, uneasy with the cold bed she shared with Dan. They could have taken their time—

  No. Stupid to speculate. She turned off the shower and stepped onto the soft mat. Pausing at the door to confirm the cabin was quiet, she jogged naked out the back door and flipped back the hot tub cover.

  Steam billowed up. It was only mid-afternoon, and the sun was still uncovered by fog, but the coastal air was typically chilly.

  She sank under the water and sighed.

  Why am I smiling?

  It was wrong, it was foolish, it was dangerous.

  Eyes closed, she let her legs float while the jets pounded her back and she thought about Miles—and smiled.

  She loved him too, and not just as a human being.

  It should’ve been impossible.

  And it could never last. Right?

  The sound of a door slamming made her open her eyes.

  “I didn’t want to scare you.” Miles stood next to the spa. He’d changed out of his tux into jeans and a snug black T-shirt. His brown hair was tousled, his jaw shadowed with the hint of an afternoon beard. Hands in his pockets, he watched her with a sober, slightly anxious expression on his face.

  “Too late,” she said softly.

  The corner of his mouth curled up. “Is it?”

  She stretched her arms out beside her along the edge of the spa, nodding. Her breasts bobbed at the surface.

  His gaze dropped, along with his smile. “I thought we should talk.”

  Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want to talk. He looked so serious, so worried. “Join me first.”

  “We should—we really should talk.”

  The sun sparked amber highlights in his hair, making him seem warm, young, vulnerable.

  She floated over onto her stomach and held her hand out over the edge to him. “After.”

  “Lucy—”

  “Whatever happens, I want one more time with you.”

  His brow wrinkled. “Whatever happens, I want more than one time.”

  She shrugged. Got her feet under her on the seat and slowly stood up.

  His eyes drifted down to her wet, naked body. She ran her hands over her stomach to her breasts and stroked, squeezed, pinched her erect nipples.

  His jaw clenched. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I swore to myself we’d talk.”

  She grabbed a handful of T-shirt fabric and pulled him closer. Her other hand worked the lower hem free, slipped around his waist, found warm skin. Making a low growl in his throat, he stepped into her embrace. Emboldened, she lifted up his shirt and stroked the hard, broad muscles of his back, his shoulders. As the shirt went over his head, she rubbed her breasts against his bare chest. “We can talk, too.”

  “I g
ive up. Come here.” He reached down, moving his hands over her ass, and lifted her up to his mouth.

  His hard, open kiss ended the conversation.

  Chapter 28

  HER HAIR HAD DRIED IN a funny tangle over her left cheek. Lightly, careful not to wake her, Miles brushed it aside and studied the little pearls dotting the curve of her earlobe. Her breathing was deep and slow, her mouth slightly parted against his chest. She was smiling.

  Would now be a good time?

  Sure, now would be great. Since she’s asleep, you dumb-ass.

  “Lucy?”

  “Mmmm.” The arm over his chest stretched. Pulled him closer.

  “It’s getting late. You want to go find some dinner?”

  She cracked open an eye. “Storing up for winter again?”

  “Something like that.” He slipped his hand down her naked back, found the comforter, pulled it up over her shoulders. “And I did want to talk. We… what I said…”

  His mouth went dry. He swallowed over the lump, licked his lips. Wrong time. What if she says no? They’re in bed together. Naked. Totally awkward.

  Both her eyes were open now. She lifted her head and smiled. “You already went out on a limb. Let me go first this time.”

  He exhaled in relief. You coward. “Okay.”

  She ducked her head for a moment. Curls tumbled over her forehead. Then she looked up, her smile gone. “I’d like to see your apartment.”

  “Oh.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Well, it wasn’t my ultimate goal, no.”

  “But it means—we could, you know, keep seeing each other.”

  “Obviously we’re going to keep seeing each other.”

  She pulled up into a sitting position, taking the comforter with her. “Obviously?”

  “You think I was going to let you hide in Berkeley and never see me again?”

  “So you were committed to stalking me?”

  “If necessary.”

  “Even if I said I didn’t want to see you anymore?”

  “I’d be like that guy on the news. Hiding in the bushes outside your apartment. Calling you day and night. Visiting you at work.”

  She turned away, grabbed a water bottle on the bedside table, and drank. “Maybe we should get dressed before we have this conversation.”

  Suddenly that seemed like a very bad idea. “No, let’s talk now.”

  “I don’t like hearing about your detailed plans to stalk me when I’m in bed naked with you.”

  “It wouldn’t have been against your will.”

  She rolled out of bed and went over to the armoire. “You’re probably kidding, but I just can’t joke about stuff like that.”

  The way she pulled on a T-shirt and underwear at light speed reminded him of the other night at the Peace Yurt. He put his feet on the floor and looked around for his own jeans. Remembering they were outside near the spa, probably wet, he sank back onto the bed. “Come back here. I was just kidding.”

  She stared at him. “It was all the detail that got me. Like you’d really thought it out.”

  “Sorry. Believe me, I’m not thinking about anything except how to get you naked again.” He stretched out on his side, patted the mattress.

  “Sorry to overreact. I just, well, felt like you took the wind out of my sails. After our fight yesterday, I thought you’d be happy I wasn’t… you know……”

  “Will you sit down?”

  She did. And took off her T-shirt too. “Happy?”

  He grinned, so happy he almost forgot there was something big he wanted to say. “Actually, maybe you should put that back on,” he said, staring at her chest. “Damn, you’re pretty.”

  After a quick kiss on his lips, she flipped onto her side, nestling her bottom into his lap. “There. Now you can’t see.” She wiggled. “And we’re both comfortable.”

  He held her, desperately trying to stay focused, painfully distracted by the delicious handful in his arms. “When I said stalk—”

  “Bad word choice.”

  “Yes. Agreed. When I said it though, what I meant was pursue.”

  “Much better.”

  “But even that doesn’t quite capture my intent, which—”

  “Because ‘stalk’ is just creepy. Even when I’m totally in love with the guy saying it.”

  His breath hitched. He stretched up on one elbow and brushed the hair off her face to see her expression better. “Is that what you are?”

  “Yes. Go on.”

  He sank back down, his heart thudding against his ribs. She said it. “You’ve derailed me. Again. Please don’t interrupt. What I—”

  “Sorry. I won’t—”

  He put a hand over her mouth.

  “Great, first you stalk me, then you get rough,” she said through his fingers, her voice muffled.

  “What I mean to say was that I’d chase after you until you gave in and married me, though now that you’re convinced I’m a pathologically violent, deranged maniac—”

  She rolled out of his arms and stared at him. Her face was not suffused with the joy he’d hoped for. In fact, she looked a little pissed.

  “More bad word choices?” he asked.

  “Please don’t joke about getting married. I said we’d keep seeing each other. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Well, I’d leave it at that, I really would, except marriage is all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

  “That’s natural. We’ve been at a wedding.”

  He shrugged. “So? It put things in perspective. It showed me how good it could be. How if I had it with anyone, it would be with you.”

  “If you had it?”

  “Stop nit-picking my words! I’m proposing here, damn it!”

  “Well, don’t! I’d just decided you were right and it was best to take it slow!”

  They stared at each other, now sitting a couple of feet apart on the bed. Breathing heavily, Lucy spun away from him and grabbed her T-shirt again. This time, Miles also got out of bed to cover up. His armored motorcycle suit would be nice, given how raw his ego felt, but he had to settle for his boxer briefs.

  He stood with his back to her, struggling to rally his confidence. She liked having sex with him, obviously; why did he assume she’d want him for anything else? Her thing about marrying Alex always seemed like a smokescreen to him, so why would he be any different?

  * * *

  “Miles.” She came up behind him, sliding her hands around his waist. He was warm and solid. Real. Too good to risk losing now. “You’re a wonderful man.”

  “Not enough, I guess.”

  She tried to rotate him, but he was as immovable as Half Dome. Smiling against his skin, she hugged him tighter. “You don’t have to propose to me.”

  “Oh, yes I do.”

  His belly was warm. She spent a moment enjoying it. “You were right. It’s too soon.”

  “I’m not afraid of commitment. I’m afraid of the opposite.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve met my father. Who’s to say I can do any better than him?”

  “I do. You have and you will.” She stepped around him and looked up into his face. “But this is exactly why I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

  “You’re worse than I am, you know.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You’d be married by now if you really wanted to be.”

  She sighed. Rested her cheek against his chest. “I wish that were true.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “It’s hard to admit I would’ve married somebody like Dan instead of waiting for you.”

  “You did wait for me.”

  “No, he dumped me. Thank God.”

  “I don’t believe it. He was just a decoy. You stayed with him so you could avoid the real deal. Because you weren’t ready.”

  She gave him a squeeze. “I’m ready. You’re not.”

  “I’m not like you. I don’t need
Excel to figure out what I want.”

  “No, just to figure out what I want.” Smiling up at him, she pushed him down on the bed. “I’m ready to work through your spreadsheet, by the way. Starting with ‘tongue.’”

  “Just say you’ll marry me. I’ve already proposed twice and you’ve turned me down each time.” He pulled her into his lap. “I’m not sure I can keep asking.”

  She put a hand on his cheek. “Tell you what. When I think you’re ready, I’ll ask you.”

  “How can I be sure you won’t string me along for years until I’m too old to make it with someone new?”

  “You’ll have to trust me.”

  “It’d be great for a few months, maybe even a couple of years,” he continued. “We like each other, we’re great in bed, et cetera.”

  Laughing, she twisted around until she was straddling him. “I can’t wait for the et cetera.”

  “But then I’d start talking about the future and you’d start pointing out all the problems we had together. Why we’re not ready to buy a house. Become parents. I’d be a sucker for all these arguments because I’m very practical.”

  With a push, he was on his back. She flopped on top of him, pinning his hands above his head. “If we’re not, we’re not. But we’ll have each other.”

  “Next thing you know, I’ll be forty and you’ll shack up with some young dude who doesn’t shoot blanks and I’ll have to get a dog—no, fish. For the aquarium. Lots of fish—”

  Her mouth shut him up. And her weight on his lungs, knocking the air out of him.

  “Since you’ll be in Reno,” he gasped. “The end.”

  “I’d follow you anywhere.” She kissed her way down his jaw to the pulse in his throat. He smelled good. He felt good. He tasted good.

  “Anywhere?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said, trailing kisses on her way back up his neck to his mouth.

  He broke free of her grip on his wrists and rolled her onto her back. He kissed her until she was panting for breath. “I don’t know.” He slid his hand down her stomach. “It sounds kind of stalker-ish to me.”

  She would’ve laughed, invited him to breakfast for the next few years, told him she loved him again, but what he did next—

  Pushed all of her plans right out of her head.

  Author Note