All I Need Is You aka Wedding Survivor

by Julia London

  “I would trust Aunt Cloris to take care of herself,” he said, walking down the steps of the porch.

  “But what if Aunt Cloris can’t get the attention of someone as suave as you, Cowboy? Then what?”

  “Then she can talk to Uncle Harry. Are we paying these people?”

  “Of course.” Marnie laughed, bouncing down the steps behind him. “We have two men coming, and they get a five-hundred-dollar per diem, plus room and board, and then a thousand each for the night of the wedding.”

  Eli stopped so abruptly that Marnie almost plowed into him. He slapped a hand over his heart as he turned around to face her. “No way,” he said, shaking his head. “Please don’t tell me that we are paying two gay men almost five grand to dance with Aunt Cloris.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you that,” she said, her smile fading. “But we are.”

  With a heavy sigh, Eli looked heavenward for strength. “How come I didn’t know this?”

  “It was in the original budget I submitted for your supreme approval, and maybe if you’d call every once in a while, you might know what was going on.”

  “I did call,” he reminded her, “and you said everything was cool.”

  “Because it was. It is. What did you think I was going to say, everything’s a mess? That I can’t do my job without your oversight? This wedding is right on budget, pal, and by the way, just why did you call? To tell me you were really what?” she demanded, her hands going to her hips.

  Suddenly, Eli was irritated. He was tired, and confused, and still miffed they were going to pay those jokers five grand to dance with old broads. Add to that a bunch of useless feathers and God knew what else and he was beginning to feel like a jester in Queen Olivia’s court.

  “Well?” she insisted.

  Now that little demand made it worse, because she said it in a tone that implied she had some right to him, that he owed her a phone call, which he did not, and it didn’t set too well with Eli. He lifted a heated gaze to her. “I called to say I was counting on you to take charge and not muck this up.”

  Marnie’s eyes narrowed. She angrily swatted at a bug or something that went flying past. “Is that all?” she asked in a voice that was deathly low.

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” she snapped, and suddenly stepped around him, marching toward the bridge. “I guess I just thought maybe you called to assure me that you wouldn’t be so rude as to ride off into the damn sunset without telling me so much as to kiss your ass!”

  “Riding off into the sunset?” he bellowed. “What the hell does that mean? In case you have forgotten, I left you a message, but at last look, I really don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “No, you sure don’t!” she shouted over her shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything but bark orders and pass judgment on other people’s weddings. It’s a mystery to me why someone as anti-wedding as you would be so involved in this.”

  This was going nowhere fast. Eli caught up to Marnie as she reached the trail down to the bridge, and stayed on her heels until they reached the bridge. When he tried to help her, she slapped his hand from her elbow. “I can do it,” she snapped. “I had to pass wedding boot camp 101, remember?” She grabbed the rope railing, bent over as far as she could, and made her way across like a duck.

  Eli walked across, gestured for her to get on the four-wheeler, then got on in front of her, cringing at the feel of her body around his. Goddammit, why did a woman with a mouth like Marnie’s have to feel so damn good?

  He started the thing up and went racing down the mountain, ignoring Marnie’s little shrieks of surprise and terror at his reckless driving. When they reached the lodge, Marnie slid off the back before he could turn it off and said, “If it’s all right with you, Herr Commandant, I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you do,” he muttered.

  With a harrumph, Marnie pivoted sharply and marched back to the lodge while Eli watched the very sexy wiggle of her butt in those tight fleece pants.

  She could just go to hell for being so goddamn cute.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The two professional guests, John and Jim, were more than happy to check all the china and ensure it had arrived intact and in sufficient quantities. Because of their help, Marnie was able to do some other work and then join the rest of the group later for dinner. After a plate of enchiladas and a couple of glasses of wine, Marnie followed everyone outside, all bundled up in her brand-new double-fleece jacket, to sit around a large campfire in one of three bonfire pits the lodge maintained on the front lawn.

  Sitting in Adirondack chairs and feeling very groovy (since when did a couple of glasses of wine make her feel so mellow?), Marnie tried to engage Olivia in a chat about her canyoning experience, but quickly learned that Olivia wasn’t as thrilled with the experience as she had been during the filming of The Dane, when she’d let the stunt double do the really hard stuff. “It was the most miserable experience I’ve ever endured,” Olivia avowed. “You won’t believe what they expected me to do! Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that. Where’s my dress?”

  “In a very safe place,” Marnie assured her. Just like her shoes, about which Olivia had already asked. But as Marnie was feeling no pain (maybe it was a different kind of wine?), she smiled happily at stars that seemed close enough to reach up and grab and convinced Olivia that everything was fine.

  When Olivia was certain that her clothes were accounted for, she began to talk about that damn arch (which had likewise arrived today, a familiar landmark looking so oddly out of place), and how she did not like where they intended to put it. “It will ruin everything,” she sniffed between sips of her apple martini. I don’t want it next to the lake. I want it on the other side of the clearing. The guests might have to walk a little farther, but really, after the party I’ve treated them to, is that too much to ask?”

  Actually, Marnie thought asking for the arch to begin with was a bit too much.

  “I don’t see what difference it makes,” Olivia petulantly continued. “It’s not like they can’t land it on one side of the lake or the other.”

  “Olivia, will you shut up about that damn arch?” Vince groused.

  “If you tell me to shut up once more, Vince, I swear I am going to walk out of here.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. You won’t make it to the main road before a bear gets you.”

  “Omigod, how long are we going to keep the bear gag going?” she groused while Vince and the TA guys laughed. Well, all the TA guys except Eli, the uptight killjoy who had not deigned to come out tonight.

  “Sleeping,” Michael said when Jack asked.

  “Sleeping my ass,” Cooper snorted. “I bet he’s sniffing around the cocktail waitress.”

  “There’s a cocktail waitress?” Michael asked, wide-eyed.

  Marnie sort of had the same question, and really, the fact that Eli was hanging out with some chick did not give her a warm fuzzy feeling—it pissed her off. He’d probably argue she had no right to be pissed off. He had, after all, officially stated his position about them in LA, even if he did blow it by kissing her, but nevertheless he had reiterated said position, perhaps not in so many words, but in attitude, just this afternoon. Nevertheless, Marnie had to endure several more days of him, and she would really prefer it if he wasn’t diddling the cocktail waitress while they were trying to work.

  “Hey kid, you want a nip of this?” Cooper asked, and held up a flask to Marnie. “Brandy,” he said with a wink. “It’ll keep you warm.”

  “Nothing else will,” she said smartly, and grabbed the flask and took a long swallow.

  “Careful,” Cooper said laughingly. “Remember the altitude. That stuff will go directly to your head if you’re not careful.”

  Whatever that meant. And anyway, Marnie was past the point of caring, and took another long swallow. And apparently several more, because the next morning, she woke up with a raging headache, feel
ing exhausted and out of sorts and trying to remember how exactly she’d made it to her room last night.

  Her mood was not improved by the discovery of a note that had been shoved under her door.

  Marnie—be ready with your gear by 11 a.m.

  E.

  “All right, Eeeee,” she snapped and headed for a hot shower.

  She was waiting outside an hour later with her backpack on her back so that her hands were free to hold up her head. That was where Rhys joined her wearing a baby-blue ski suit in spite of it being late summer. She thought, as he ranted about not having enough time to make the cake, and when would his help arrive, that the suit made him look a little like the Michelin man.

  “Are you going to be okay in that?” Marnie finally asked, unable to bear watching him go on about the cake in that suit. “The temperatures get up in the fifties in the summer, but it feels much warmer because we are closer to the sun.”

  “How do you know?” Rhys demanded gruffly. “Have you read as much in your little travel book?”

  “Well…yeah,” Marnie said, slightly injured. “It’s been pretty accurate so far.”

  “I must be here at precisely eight a.m. or there will be no wedding cake!” he insisted loudly.

  “All right, Rhys,” she said irritably and put a hand to her throbbing head. “Just set your alarm and be here at precisely eight.”

  “And how do you suppose I will set the alarm in a tent?” he demanded.

  Oh for chrissakes, what a drama queen. “There is no tent, Rhys. We’ll be back here tonight,” she said as a boy pulled up on a four-wheeler and gestured for her to climb on. Marnie did not hesitate to do just that. “Just calm down, and everything will be all right!” she shouted at Rhys as they drove away.

  Those were, she would muse weeks later, her proverbial famous last words.

  When she reached the bridge, Rhys right behind her, several surefooted boys were already there carrying boxes and coolers and God knew what all across the rope bridge. On the other side was Herr Commandant directing the boys, looking disgustingly sexy in a pair of faded jeans, boots, and a lined corduroy shirt over a tee.

  Marnie was the first to cross the bridge, slowly and carefully, and when she landed on the other side, she swore she saw his blue eyes crinkle in something close to a smile. “Morning,” he said.

  “Whatever,” she muttered irritably, and was about to make a smart-ass remark, but Rhys was practically weeping with fear on the other side of the ravine. “Just hold on to the rail,” Eli called out to Rhys, then sighed, shoved a hand through his thick hair, and pointed to a stack of stuff behind him. “That’s your gear,” he said to Marnie, stepping past her.

  “I have my gear,” Marnie said, turning slightly so he could see her backpack.

  “I mean the bedrolls and tents for you and the cake man,” he said. “You can pitch it next to mine—you’ll see it when you get to the clearing…Yes, it will hold you,” he shouted at Rhys.

  “I can’t do it, Mr. McCain! I simply can’t do it!” Rhys was sobbing.

  “Yes, you can,” Eli called, his voice reassuring. “Just hold on tight, don’t look down, and walk across.”

  “A tent?” Marnie said, trying to get the words bedroll and tent to click somewhere in her brain. “What do you mean, a tent?” she asked.

  “That’s great, Chef,” Eli called out. “Just a few feet more!” And then, in a low aside, “What’s the guy’s name, again?”

  “Rhys. Did you forget to tell me something?”

  “Like what?” he asked, watching Rhys.

  “Oh, I don’t know. That you’re fond of the cocktail waitress. That I’m sleeping in a tent. Yep, I’m pretty sure that not once did the word tent or cocktail waitress come out of your mouth.”

  He shifted his gaze from Rhys to her. “What in the hell are you talking about?” he asked calmly. “Okay, how’s this? You’re sleeping in a tent. And I’m not fond of any cocktail waitress that I am aware.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since when have I not been fond of a cocktail waitress? Or since when are you sleeping in a tent? Look, Marnie, there’s not enough room at the lodge for everyone coming in today, and there is a lot to be done up here. Chef Boyardee is going to join us up here, too, because our blushing bride must have all her meals specially prepared, and they are moving into the cabin today.”

  The cocktail waitress was suddenly forgotten because Marnie could only think of sleeping among bears. “You mean we’re going to camp up here? And Rhys is going to cook for us?”

  “Didn’t Jack tell you this? Yes, we’re going to camp up here. But Chef Boyardee brought food for the stars and himself. Not you and me. We schlubs will eat what the lodge brings up. And not a cocktail waitress—probably one of these guys. So do me a favor and get your tent set up,” he said, glancing back at the trail to the cabin. “Jack is flying the arch up here, and we’ll need all hands to get it down.”

  Marnie looked at the tents and bedrolls laid out on the ground. But what about showers? What about bathrooms?

  Eli reached for Rhys as he neared the end of the bridge and helped him to terra firma. “See? You made it. The bridge is intact and so are you, dude.”

  “Only by the grace of God,” Rhys muttered, and dragged a sleeve across his perspiring brow.

  Okay, Marnie was into adventure as much as the next person, but no one had bothered to tell her that she’d be sleeping on the bare ground with strange animals, and it only added to her general irritation. With a heated glare for Eli, she snatched up a tent and bedroll, stuffed them under her arms, and started up the trail to the clearing. Only the tent and bedroll were heavy, and the trail seemed a lot steeper today than yesterday. By the time they reached the clearing, Marnie was laboring as much as Rhys.

  This day was really beginning to blow.

  In the clearing, one tent was already set up, just as Herr Commandant had said, beneath the trees near the ravine. It was a nice big tent, too, the kind nomad kings from Mongolia probably used. Marnie dropped her stuff next to it, dumped the contents of the tent bag, and out came the tent and several poles. But no instructions. No instructions!

  She spent a few minutes examining the pieces, which gave His Royal Majesty time to get up to the clearing, carrying a huge box on his shoulders with not so much as a single bead of perspiration on his face. He walked by her and glanced at all the pieces of her tent as he passed. He put the box down near the lake, then turned around and walked back. He squatted on the ground next to the mess she’d made. Then he looked up as the Michelin man lumbered by.

  “Do me a favor,” he said quietly. “Give Rhys a hand pitching his tent, will you?”

  “Help him?” She leaned across the tent pieces and pinned him with a look. “There are no instructions.”

  “For what?” Eli asked in all seriousness.

  “For what! The tent, that’s what!”

  He looked as if he couldn’t comprehend those words. “It’s just a tent, Marnie. It doesn’t need instructions.” He picked up one end of the tent. “This is the top. That’s the bottom. Here are the poles you put through these tabs,” he said. “Got it?”

  “I know that,” she said, snatching the tent from his hand, but she didn’t know it at all. She didn’t know it even a little, because the whole time he was across from her, she’d noticed a couple of well-worn areas of his jeans that frankly were strategic and intriguing and infuriating.

  He rose back up to his full height and glanced at Rhys. “So…can you, like, wrap this up here?” he asked, gesturing in a wrap-it-up way. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and we can’t spend the whole day on basic tent assembly 101.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do in the cocktail lounge,” she said and picked up her tent.

  He sighed and put his hands to his waist. “Marnie, I don’t know what this is about a cocktail waitress, but I have not set foot in the lodge bar. I have been working pretty much round the clock th
e last few days. So whatever the problem is, let’s just move on past, all right? We’ve got a goddamn wedding to get through.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” she said.

  “Great,” Eli bit out, and walked on. Marnie stuck her tongue out at his back, admired his butt for the thousandth time, then futzed with the pieces he’d shown her.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Rhys said from behind her after several minutes of her futzing. Marnie glanced over her shoulder—and her mouth dropped open. Rhys had not only assembled his tent, he had already unrolled his bedding and placed it inside the tent. The Michelin man marched to Marnie’s side, took the pole from her hand, then the tent. “It’s really quite simple,” he said with much superiority, and in minutes, he’d assembled her tent. “There you are. You need only to stake it securely, and you will enjoy a good night’s sleep.”

  “Rhys…thanks!” she said with great delight and surprise as she admired her tent. A tent that was, she couldn’t help noticing, considerably smaller than the other two it was sandwiched between. She’d been lucky enough to pick up a pup tent.

  “You are quite welcome. And for the record, that man was not in the bar last evening, I can assure you, because I was, and I would have definitely taken note of him, along with any cocktail waitress.”

  “Ah,” Marnie said. Wasn’t this just grand? Now she felt like an even bigger fool. “Thanks.”

  “You are very welcome. Now if you would be so kind as to show me the facilities, I really must begin preparing the midday meal for Olivia. She’s hypoglycemic, you know.”

  No, she didn’t know, but Marnie was not surprised. Olivia had a little of everything. Money. Looks. Weird diseases and religions.

  She showed Rhys the cabin, which he instantly proclaimed totally inadequate for his needs, but he went to work nonetheless, fishing things out of one of the three coolers that had been brought up to the cabin. Marnie left him just in time for the arrival of Vince and Olivia, which, she thought, might as well have been on a red carpet.