A Summer Wedding at Cross Creek Inn

by Cheryl Holt

  “Yeah, and I’m Santa Claus.”

  “I have an ID. I can show it to you.”

  “I’m sure it’s fake, and I never dabble with jail-bait.”

  She was so spoiled, and she shook her blond hair like a whiny toddler. “Don’t be such an asshole. We could have fun.”

  He sighed wearily, as if she was a huge pain. “I work here, Miss Holliday, and it’s against the rules for me to fraternize with the guests.”

  “So break the rules. Do I look like I care? It’s not as if I’ll tattle to your boss.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t.”

  He stomped off, and he’d lit a spark to her temper. She liked to behave however she pleased, and for a few seconds, he figured she’d hurl some insults, but she didn’t.

  “Prick,” she muttered.

  She whipped away, and when she noted Kyle behind her, she instantly smoothed her features so her petulance was concealed. He studied her and realized she wasn’t quite as glamorous as usual. She hadn’t put on any makeup, and her hair was tangled, as if she’d just staggered out of bed and wasn’t worried if anybody saw her.

  It was an odd discovery. Her every move was calculated to get people to watch her. Had she forgotten what was important in her world?

  “It’s only nine o’clock,” he said. “Why are you up so early?”

  “My mother banged on my door a bit ago so she could throw a hissy-fit. After she left, I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

  Since he didn’t have a mother, he never liked to have anyone denigrate their own, but he swallowed down his irritation. He hadn’t met Crystal Benjamin, but he’d observed her from a distance, and he bet she’d be hard duty as a parent, so he’d try not to judge.

  “She was being a total bitch,” Lindsey felt compelled to add.

  “Aren’t you two incredibly close? It’s what the tabloids claim.”

  “It’s all an act.” She waved a hand, as if her relationship with her mother was irrelevant. “I need to eat. They must be serving breakfast somewhere in this stupid place. Have you stumbled on any food?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to invite her to join him and his sisters, but he wouldn’t force her on them.

  “The bar behind the Great Room is changed into a restaurant in the mornings,” he said, “and there’s a buffet. You can probably grab a plate without having to wait for a waiter to bring you something.”

  “Perfect,” she murmured, but she didn’t head off.

  She looked tired, her eyes droopy, and he suspected she was hungover. The previous afternoon, she’d been drinking constantly, and he thought she’d taken some drugs before he’d ever run into her. Apparently, she had some serious issues with addiction.

  “Have you checked your social media pages lately?” he asked, when he should have butted out.

  He absolutely did not want to be friends with her, but he hated for anybody to be so miserable. Especially a female. In that, he was too much like his dad.

  If she hadn’t peeked at her sites, she might not have been aware that she had major problems brewing. They were about to sneak up and bite her on the ass. He wasn’t much of a web hound himself, and he had no idea why any sane person would have her life play out in such a public way. She couldn’t sneeze without the whole world noticing and critiquing her.

  “Of course I checked them,” she said, her gaze narrowing. “It’s my business and my brand, so what’s your point?”

  “It sounds as if a lot of people are angry with you.”

  “There are always idiots who are angry with me. They’re jealous of how popular I am, and it makes them crazy.”

  “Well, then, I’m sure you have it all under control.”

  “I don’t need any lectures from you. I get enough of them from my mother.”

  He could have responded with a comment that was rude and petty, but instead, he said, “I heard you hitting on that hiking guide. Sam? Why do you do crap like that?”

  “I wasn’t hitting on him! God, what a shitty thing to suggest!”

  “He’s so much older than you.”

  “I like older guys.” Her tone was very snide. “Younger guys turn out to be such babies. I can’t stand them.”

  He nodded derisively. “And you are so mature.”

  “Who should I hit on then? You?” She snorted with disgust. “You should be so lucky.”

  “Okay, that’s all of you I can tolerate for one morning.”

  He started off, and he hadn’t taken ten steps before she said, “Hey, I’m hungover, so I’m grouchy. Would you like to eat with me?”

  He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, and she might have been a kid who was lost. Her cocky swagger had vanished, and he always viewed himself as a knight in shining armor for girls who needed help. He nearly announced that he’d skip the meal with his sisters, that he’d dine with her instead, but he just really didn’t like her.

  He felt sorry for her, but he didn’t like her.

  “I can’t eat with you,” he said. “I’m having breakfast with my sisters.”

  “Oh. Would you like to hang out later? It’s so boring here.”

  Again, he was tempted, but she was trouble, and he couldn’t deal with her.

  “We have family stuff going on all day,” he lied.

  “Family stuff,” she mumbled almost to herself, and there was envy in her voice.

  She’d never had much of a family. From the stories Jennifer had shared, it was clear Lindsey’s homelife was awful. Her rock-star dad had died of an overdose when she was a baby, then her mom had moved them in with Mr. Benjamin. What must that have been like?

  Obviously, Mr. Benjamin hadn’t been much of a stepfather. Or if he’d expended any energy to mold her character, he hadn’t had much of a positive effect.

  With their both having a parent who’d passed away when they were little, it should have provided a link to bond them. But he suspected Lindsey didn’t have any friends. She had tons of fawning admirers who liked to be close to her fame and fortune, but he doubted any of them genuinely liked her. She was pretty unlikeable.

  “If you decide to slip away, text me,” she said. “Would you like me to give you my number? It’s private, so I don’t usually offer.”

  She glared down her pompous nose, as if she were a queen bestowing a huge favor, and he agreed rather than argue. “Sure, but don’t count on me. My phone isn’t working right, so my texts might not go through.”

  It was another lie. Other people were having problems with their phones, but his was fine. He simply didn’t want her to be able to contact him. She was so set on herself that he truly believed she could turn out to be a stalker.

  “You could call my room,” she said, “and leave me a message there.”

  “I’ll think about it, but like I mentioned, I’ll be busy.”

  “If the tedium kills me, it will be your fault.”

  They exchanged numbers, then he walked on, and he thought she might pester him further, but she didn’t. She appeared lonely and wasn’t feeling well, but then, alcohol could do that to a person. He’d had the health classes at school, and he was probably the only student in history who’d taken those lessons to heart.

  Life was a hard teacher, and he’d been forced to pay attention. Still though, she worried him, and he was fighting the urge to stay with her. In that, he could be a real idiot.

  He altered his frown into a smile and went out to greet his sisters. They were screwed up enough, so he already had plenty of weird women to fuss over. He didn’t need to add a drug-addled, spoiled brat into the mix.

  Sharon stood in the Great Room, near the Inn’s entrance. The big double doors were open, and she could see down the sloped driveway that led to the small town situated lower on the hill. There were snowcapped peaks off in the distance.

  Greg had rent
ed a car, and they were going for a drive. She was waiting for him and practically quivering with such impatience that she might have been twelve and suffering from her first crush.

  She’d been up late—with Greg—but when she’d risen to face the day, she’d been annoyingly perky. And happy for once. It was as if she’d contracted a disease of misery, and suddenly, a miracle had completely healed her.

  The cure had been hot pizza, cold beer, and some country line dancing, as well as some earnest conversation with a very kind, very handsome man. It was ridiculous to have wallowed in gloom for so long, and it was even more ridiculous that a single night of ordinary fun could entirely rearrange her thinking, but that’s exactly what had happened.

  The fact that they’d made out like horny teenagers in the backseat all the way to the Inn was simply an added bonus.

  Outside, a black limousine meandered through the security gate, and she watched, vaguely interested, as it approached the building. After her humiliating encounter with Crystal and Lindsey the prior afternoon, she wasn’t about to rush out to greet whoever it was.

  The expensive vehicle indicated someone very important was about to arrive, and she figured she knew who it would be. No one on the guest list was richer or more important than her ex-husband, Dennis. Her nerves ignited, but to her great surprise, she easily tamped them down.

  Ever since she’d been informed about the wedding, she’d been dreading this moment.

  Because Dennis had tossed her over for a much younger woman, her ego had taken a beating. She’d convinced herself she was dowdy, old, and plain, but in the past few hours, it had occurred to her that she wasn’t any of those things, and if Dennis or Crystal thought she was dull and drab, she didn’t care and had nothing to prove to either of them.

  It was such an obvious observation, and one she should have grasped years earlier, but she’d buried herself in regrets. Her son, Alex, had constantly scolded her for letting Dennis grind her down, but Sharon hadn’t been able to shrug off her sense of being terribly wronged by him.

  Maybe she was finally moving on, finally over Dennis, and she felt lighter, as if she’d shucked off a heavy yoke.

  His driver parked by the front steps, and a valet hurried over and opened the door. As Dennis emerged, she caught a glimpse of a beautiful dark-haired female snuggled on the rear seat. No doubt it was the starlet he was casting in his next movie, and she was curious as to what Crystal would think if she’d caught that same glimpse.

  When Sharon had been married to him, she’d been very naïve and had never realized how he’d cheated on her. After the divorce, she’d been deluged with stories about his many affairs. People were still compelled to fill her in on juicy details, which was exhausting.

  He preyed on actresses, expecting sexual favors for his making them famous, so it wasn’t unusual for him to have a gorgeous actress in his car, but honestly!

  He would only be at the mountain inn until Sunday. Was he so obsessed that he couldn’t leave her in Los Angeles for the handful of days it would take to get his son married?

  He’d been wed to Crystal for fifteen years. Had he cheated on her as he’d cheated on Sharon? If he’d bring the girl to Colorado with him, he must be infatuated to an extreme degree. Was he preparing to dump Crystal as he had Sharon? Would he pick yet another starlet and have a Wife #3?

  Again, to Sharon’s great surprise, she received no special joy from wondering if he might be about to split with Crystal. They’d become a distant memory, like characters in a novel that wasn’t particularly intriguing.

  His luggage was unloaded and put on a cart, and as the limo pulled away, Sharon speculated over whether his girlfriend was returning to LA or if Dennis had rented a little love-nest for her in the village so she was nearby. Would he be sneaking away from the nuptial festivities so he could misbehave with her?

  Dennis was sixty, so it was a nauseating thought.

  He spun and marched in. Sharon was hovered by the doors, but she was off to the side and hoping he’d pass by without noticing her, but she wasn’t that lucky.

  He halted, did a doubletake, then said, “Sharon? Is that you?”

  “Yes. Hello, Dennis.”

  “Sharon, wow. It’s good to see you.”

  She was certain he didn’t mean it, but she replied politely. “It’s good to see you too.”

  He walked over to her, and she could barely resist the urge to lurch away. Her entire anatomy, down to the smallest pore, revolted at the prospect of his being too close.

  They hadn’t been face to face since the day the divorce had been finalized. She’d stopped by his lawyer’s office to sign some papers regarding her alimony. It had been the sole point in the whole debacle where she’d stood up for herself. He’d paid through the nose to be shed of her, so she was fine financially.

  As she’d staggered out of the lawyer’s building, she’d bumped into him. It had been a horrid encounter, with her bereft and accusatory, and him bored and derogatory. She still shuddered with dismay whenever she recalled it.

  For once, her vanity flared as he engaged in a slow and inappropriate visual meander down her body, and she breathed a sigh of relief over how meticulously she’d prepared for this very occasion. All the hours in LA with her fashion consultant and stylist had definitely been worth it.

  She was thin and fit, dressed in casual California chic: designer jeans, leather boots, a hand-quilted jacket, expensive sunglasses. She looked wealthy, settled, and confident, and it was the exact image she’d been desperate to convey.

  Dennis, in contrast, could have been homeless. Other than the costly watch on his wrist and the diamond ring on his pinkie finger, he might have been poverty-stricken. Torn jeans. Dirty sneakers. An out-of-date corduroy jacket that might have been purchased at a thrift store.

  When she’d been married to him, his hair had just started to fall out, and it had been a problem he’d fussed over, but hadn’t solved. Now he was quite bald, but he wore his hair in a gray ponytail, with strands combed over the top in a failed attempt to hide his condition.

  He hadn’t shaved, and it had been sexy when he was forty, but with him being sixty, he simply seemed unkempt and too busy to bother cleaning up.

  The biggest shock was how much weight he’d gained. He probably weighed two-hundred and fifty pounds. When he’d left her, he’d just begun to develop a paunch, but now, he was utterly obese.

  Since he was a Hollywood mogul and powerbroker, and image was everything in LA, she’d have assumed he’d pay more attention to his appearance, but apparently, his position and money had him believing the ordinary rules didn’t apply.

  But then, he blustered through the world and molded it to his specifications. It was why he’d grown so successful. He viewed himself as king of the universe. If he wanted to strut around like a lazy slob, he would, and there wasn’t a single person who could convince him not to act that way.

  “It’s been . . . what?” he said. “Ten years or something?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “You look terrific.”

  She swallowed down a burst of pride. “Thank you. I guess the mountain air agrees with me.”

  “I think it’s more than the mountain air. You’ve been taking care of yourself.”

  “I try anyway.”

  “Are the boys here?” He was referring to their two sons, Eric and Alex, who hadn’t been boys in a very long time.

  “Alex isn’t coming, remember? He’s in Kenya and couldn’t get away.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” It was typical that he’d forget such a paltry detail. His real family was his movies and his huge financial deals.

  “And Eric hasn’t arrived,” she said. “He was delayed by weather yesterday, so we’re expecting him today.”

  “We should have a family breakfast in the morning. That might be fun.”

 
She’d rather have a root canal without Novocain. “I’d like that,” she lied. “I’ll see if I can arrange it.”

  “How’s the wedding been so far?”

  “Nothing much has happened yet, so I’ve simply been enjoying the scenery. It’s mostly been young people drinking and catching up. The important events kick up tomorrow, with the bride’s lunch and the rehearsal dinner. There’s a parents’ supper tonight, for you and Jennifer’s father.”

  “I thought that was last night.”

  “Eric didn’t show for it, and Jennifer wasn’t keen on hosting it herself, so she rescheduled.”

  She could practically hear the word dammit! echoing in his head. Obviously, he’d strolled in on Thursday in the hopes of missing the meal. He could really be a bastard, and it was clear he couldn’t bear to chat with Greg. Well, the joke was on Dennis. Greg wasn’t interested in meeting him either.

  Dennis surreptitiously glanced at his watch, as if he was bored by her, and previously, she’d have been crushed, but she was bored by him too. She was saved from further conversation by Greg bounding down the stairs.

  “Sharon! There you are!” he called as he hurried over to her. “Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”

  “You’re not late,” she said. “I just got down to the lobby myself.”

  She was delighted by several delicious aspects of the encounter.

  Greg was a carpenter, and he worked his body hard, so he was buff and fit, his chest wide, his limbs muscled. She hadn’t seen him without his shirt, but she was betting his stomach sported a six-pack. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was sturdy and robust; he had all his hair, and was handsome as the devil.

  For their outing, he was wearing jeans, his Dodgers jacket, and a snug black T-shirt that stretched across his pecs. He looked macho and tough, like a gangster Dennis might have cast in one of his films, and Dennis was assessing him with a bit of consternation.

  Greg, bless his heart, draped an arm over her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek—as if they were teenagers who were dating.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.