Page 12 of Stuck With the Best Man

Sebastien claps a firm hand on my shoulder, tugging my attention away from Ruby.

“How’s your hangover,mon ami?” he asks.

“Terrible, thanks to you.”

He chuckles and waves over Eva. “Cherie, can you please give my best man some of those magical pills?”

“Is that code for something?”

Eva, who overheard me, laughs as she comes over. “It’s just extra-strength Tylenol. Bastien enjoys the thrill of making it seem more illicit.”

Sebastien tuts his tongue. “I do not like the wordTylenol. It doesn’t agree with my accent.”

Eva is kind enough to provide me with the medicine and then I excuse myself to hunt down a glass of water. There are several white, chiffon-laden tents set up on the sand, each of which boasts tables of food and drinks. It’s simple fare, but elegant. Proof that the Linworths have great taste.

With the pills swallowed, I exchange the water for champagne and turn to find a place to park myself for the next hour or so. The ocean is calm today—playful and glittering under the sun. I like the way the waves lazily spill themselves onto the dark sand, as if they’re only offering the shoreline kisses because there’s nothing better to do.

Fine. I’ll admit it. Mermaid Shores is nice. Whatever.

When I glance over my shoulder, my gaze locks with Ruby’s instantly. She was watching me. Just like last night. Interesting.

As my headache ebbs away, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to have a little bit of fun. People rarely hate me. This bratty, beautiful ballerina presents a fascinating challenge.

She’s standing now, by herself near one of the tables, a flute of champagne in hand. I saunter over, trying not to smile too hard at the way her posture stiffens and her lips curl into a poorly concealed sneer as I get closer.

“Hello,” I say to her, taking the liberty of clinking my champagne glass against hers in a wordless toast.

She purses her lips. It seems to take monumental effort for her to reply with a simple, “Hi.”

“You didn’t come out with us last night.”

“I don’t go out often.”

“Not even to celebrate your friend’s wedding?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You look fine to me. Better than fine, actually. That dress looks lovely on you.”

Ruby is uninterested in my flattery. She merely glances away, toward the sea, and mutters, “It’s not mine.”

“Eva’s?”

“My sister’s. I raided her closet this morning.”

“She has good taste.”

“She also has a boyfriend, so don’t think I’ll put in a good word for you just because you’re abig fanof her work.”

Oh, this is delightful.

I grin at her. “I’m a big fan of yours too.”

Ruby narrows her eyes at me. “Is that so?”

“Your performance as the Lilac Fairy this spring was the best I’ve seen.”

She stares at me for a long moment, as if waiting for the punchline. When she realizes that it’s not coming, she mutters, “Thanks.”

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