Page 2 of Something Borrowed

I jump when a hand slides across my arse.

“Not likely,” he purrs. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

I gulp. “You don’t?”

“No. I keep precious things very,veryclose.”

“And by precious things, you probably mean your food,” I say nervously. “I know I hate to share my marmite cashews. They’re precious, and Stan can call me Gollum all he likes, but he knows if he reaches for the bag, his fingers will get rapped.”

The seeking hand freezes. “Who is Stan?”

“My best friend. There it is!” I exclaim in triumph and leap for the phone. I pick it up with shaking fingers and then moan despairingly when I see the time. “It’s ten o’clock. Oh god.”

“Is there a problem?”

Instead of answering, I tap a familiar number on my phone’s screen. “Come on, come on,” I mutter, pacing as I listen to it ring. “Climb off Lachlan’s dick and answer the phone.”

“Who are you talking to, sweetheart?”

The call connects. “What?” Joe says cautiously into my ear. I can’t begrudge him his air of worry.

“I need a favour.”

He groans. “Last time you said that we got fined for causing a public disturbance.”

“No, this time it’sreallybad,” I whisper. “I need you, Joe.”

“Joe?” the man asks from behind me. “Who the fuck isJoe?”

“Who’s that?” Joe asks.

“No one,” I say over the insistent voice of the man who is now frowning at me—the man who appears to think we’re married.

“It doesn’t sound like no one,” Joe says, his voice rich with amusement as my bedmate paces the room and shouts about people who cheat.

“Well, it is,” I say in a quelling voice. “Joe, I’ve got the Hollis wedding today.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ll be fine.”

“That might be true if I’d gone to bed at an early hour in my own bed.Sober,” I add with emphasis.

“Oh god,” Joe says.

I walk back into the bedroom. “I know,” I whisper. “I woke up naked, and apparently, I’m now in some sort of a relationship I have no memory of agreeing to. I leave that sort of behaviour to you, mate.” Joe laughs. “This is serious,” I hiss. I look at my watch and groan. “The bride will arrive at the church in an hour.”

I look over at my bedmate, who’s joined me in the bedroom and is still frowning. I ask him, “I don’t suppose you have a spare morning suit hanging around?”

“I don’t know any dead people,” he snaps.

Joe snorts in my ear.

“That’s not what I meant—” I start to explain and then give up. “Well, you know me,” I say briskly. “And I’m about to enter a corpse state if I don’t make this wedding on time, because my boss will fucking kill me.”

“Oh my god, you’re gettingmarried.”

“This is going well,” Joe murmurs in my ear.

“I’m a wedding planner,” I try to say to the man, but he’s talking over me. I grip the phone and tell Joe, “Don’t pay any attention.”

---