Falling for the Best Man (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm, #1)(9)
Bec held up her hands in defeat. “Okay. If you say so. And now I’m going to catch up on some sleep.”
Emmy caught sight of the time and realized she was now five minutes late. “I’ve got to go anyway.” She caught the strained look on Bec’s face and her mood softened. “We can talk when I get back.”
“Sure.” Bec yawned as she headed upstairs. Once Emmy was sure her sister was gone, she hurried outside to where her other problem of the day was waiting for her. Why did she get the feeling it was going to be a long morning?
…
“Kit! Buddy, you made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Christopher grinned as he clapped his old friend on the back. It was obvious from Lewis’s beaming face that settling down agreed with him. And if he’s happy, then I’m happy.
“We’re so glad you did. And sorry about the accommodations. Trust Lawrence to flood the inn. Still, Emmy was amazing the way she stepped in. And so lucky she had an updated cottage, ready for you to use.”
“Updated?” Christopher choked as he glanced over to where Emmy was standing. Behind her was a backdrop of fall colors, the rolling hills a riot of gold, red, and brown, but they all dimmed in comparison to her. Her white dress was made of soft cotton and fell in gentle folds around her body, giving him just a hint of what was below. It suited her in a way Christopher couldn’t explain. It was like sunshine and happiness. His pulse quickened and he looked away. “Is that what she told you?”
“Yes. Why? Is there a problem?”
Oh, there was a problem all right.
His deal was at risk just because the wedding planner happened to think he was a walking liability, based on the fact they’d shared two nights together. And that I’d wanted more from it than she did. That’s a mistake I won’t be making again, no matter how many white dresses she has.
“I wouldn’t call it a problem. More like a complication. I told Emmy that while I was here I needed to find a pretend girlfriend to help me lock down the producers of the show, and she’s now made it her personal mission to stop me. She has this crazy idea Melinda will think I’m trying to ruin the wedding.”
“Oh.” Lewis said, grimacing. “Might be some truth in that.”
“You know I’d never screw with your big day, right? I just flew all the way from Australia to be here with you. I’m your best man. I got your back.”
“I’m grateful,” Lewis quickly assured him before blowing out a column of air. “But, here’s the thing. Melinda might’ve heard me talking about some of the things you’ve done in the past. I explained it was all in good fun. Remember at Harrison’s bachelor party when you managed to get eight phone numbers? Or that time when we all went to Vegas and you met up with that hot redhead?”
“You told her about that?” Christopher dragged his gaze away from Emmy and rubbed his chin. So much for things staying in Vegas. He vaguely recalled the night in question, which had involved a lot of flirting before the redhead had found someone richer and drunker. Still—not really the kind of story he wanted people talking about. As for getting eight phone numbers, he’d scribbled random numbers down on drink coasters to avoid being set up by other members of the wedding party, not because he was a player.
He was no saint, but he was careful about who he dated.
The problem was that his friends looked at his life and then joined the dots all on their own. And while normally Christopher didn’t mind, it had never occurred to him that anyone might take it seriously.
Like Melinda. Or Emmy.
Hell.
“Of course not. Well, not on purpose. Besides, if it’s any consolation, it’s not just you she’s worried about. You share the honors with a reportedly color-blind florist and the lead singer in the band who may or may not hit the high C while they’re playing our song.”
“I feel so special.”
“But trust me, when she’s not being bridezilla, she’s pretty damn awesome.” Lewis beamed with pride as he glanced over at his future wife, who was currently having an in-depth discussion with Emmy’s friend who was giving them the tour of the vineyard. Christopher’s anger faded.
This wasn’t about him. It was about Lewis getting married.
“So, what are you saying? That I should wait to look for my future fake girlfriend when the wedding’s over?”
“Of course not.” Lewis shook his head. “Just be discreet. And speaking of which, tell me more about this television deal. Do you really need to have someone with you?”
Christopher nodded. “Thanks to some hokey market research, I need to look like a regular, settled-down kind of guy when I meet the producers next week.”
“You? A regular guy?” Lewis coughed. “Isn’t that going to take more than a fake girlfriend?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Christopher asked sharply.
“You travel most of the year, and the rest of the time you live in a bachelor pad that barely has furniture. But hey, don’t get me wrong. You’re the one living the life while the rest of us mugs are getting up each day to go to our nine-to-five grind.”
“That doesn’t make me any less normal,” Christopher protested. “I still brush my teeth every morning and swear when I stub my toe. I’m still the same kid who liked Star Wars.”