Page 30 of Renegade

Most of the girls at the dental office tolerated me on good days; not Elizabeth though. She was always friendly and warm toward me and I’d come to consider her a friend. And a friend’s wedding trumped everything.

Once Dr. Mulloy found out that I was going, she decided that it didn’t make sense for us to drive two vehicles down and insisted I take her. Thus began what I would always fondly remember as,‘The Road Trip from Hell.’

The screen confirmed that I had just passed the hotel, so I moved into the left lane to turn around. “Good thing we’re on an island. We can’t ever get too lost.” I laughed so hard that I snorted, while Dr. Mulloy rolled her eyes and went back to her cell phone.

Killjoy.

There was something that had been nagging at me most of the nine and a half hour drive. Dr. Mulloy and I had worked closely together for the last three years and while, she made things more difficult than they needed to be most days, she chose to confide in me. That had to mean something.

“Hey, Doc. Would you consider us friends?”

She looked up from her phone and frowned. “Honey, call me Sandra when we’re not in the office. And no, we’re not friends. Christ, could you imagine a slave being friends with his master? God, why is the air so wet down here? Can we crank the air up? I’m melting.” She began messing with the various dials, while my stomach rolled in disgust.

Slave?

She saw me as her slave? Well, that certainly cleared up things for me. I was here as her driver this weekend—nothing more. The thought depressed me more than it should’ve. I knew Elizabeth would be busy with all the wedding preparations and I guess part of me imagined that Sandra and I would hang by the pool, sipping fruity drinks and swapping guy stories. Not that I had any, but I would’ve listened to hers.

We pulled up in front of theGulfside Resort and Event Centerand a man in uniform quickly rushed over to the car. “Right this way, madam. We’ll get your bags and park your car for you.”

Sandra joined me on the curb and watched amusedly as the bellhop effortlessly pulled our luggage from the trunk and onto the trolley. “So, did Brandon ever call you back?”

I frowned. “Brandon? Oh, right, the guy you set me up with last year. Uh, no. He did not ever call me back.”

She pursed her lips, while continuing to watch the man unload the car. “He’s a fool then. Who knows, Lauren—maybe we’ll both get lucky this weekend and find our Mr. Right.”

She bumped me with her hip and grinned and I nearly fell off the curb in shock.

See what I mean?

The woman was a complete conundrum.

I gave up on any thoughts of weekend romance about ten minutes after checking into my room. Sandra’s room was right next door and she insisted on opening the conjoining door between the two to make it feel like ‘one big hotel suite.’

Her idea of sharing a hotel suite had consisted of raiding the minibar in my room and trying on my clothes while I applied makeup in the bathroom. By the time we made it down to the beach for the ceremony, Dr. Mulloy was three sheets to the wind. “You look like a beautiful fairy,” she loudly whispered in my ear as we found our seats.

I patted her arm and looked around for help. I had not signed up for this; this was supposed to be a carefree weekend where I didn’t stress over my boss or the fact that my car was likely never going to be seen in one piece again.

Her hand shot out and grabbed my dress. “Why don’t you dress like this at work? You always look so boring.”

I pushed her hand away and slid to the far edge of my chair. “Because we have uniforms…that you picked. This would not be appropriate for work. Come on, let’s just watch the ceremony.”

I’m sure I looked unrecognizable—that had been the whole point. At work, my hair was always pulled up in a bun, so I wore it down. It fell in loose waves down my back, thanks to the humidity in the air; all I had to add were a couple of strappy headbands.

My dress was my favorite part of the whole look though. I’d found it online and, while it was shorter than I’d imagined, the emerald really brought out the color of my eyes. I’d added my graduation necklace to it. The spaghetti straps led into a soft v that was sexy, yet still somewhat modest and there was a tie at the waist, giving the illusion that it was two separate pieces. It felt like silk against my body and I briefly envisioned meeting someone at the reception who wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of me.

Dr. Mulloy, on the other hand, was not quite who I imagined. She’d chosen to wear a beaded carnation pink strapless gown with a matching blazer and appeared to be melting inside of it from the way the sweat was pouring off her forehead. She’d also worn her strappy heels, even though the invitation clearly stated that the ceremony would be on the beach and attendees were encouraged to wear flip flops. She sank down into the sand with every step she took.

Other than that, it had been a beautiful wedding—Elizabeth was gorgeous and David hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of her. They got engaged just a few months after dating; she said they both just knew.

I wanted a love just like that—you know, once I got my car back and reorganized my life. Basically, when I got a handle on all the adult shit I was supposed to be doing. Adult me would have matching towels and be able to cook like Martha Stewart, but would never let Monica con her into something stupid.

“You don’t know how to cook,” Sandra leaned in and shouted in my face.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered at her.

Using my chair for balance, she moved even closer to me. “You’re over there talking to yourself about meeting ‘the one’ and you said you’ll cook like Martha Stewart, but you don’t even know how to cook. That’s gonna be a problem.”

Shit.

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