Page 25 of Best Man
I’m standing on the balcony, looking out over the lake glowing with the last threads of sunshine, when the bedroom door opens behind me. I turn and nearly swallow my tongue. I don’t know which I prefer more, Zeb in a suit, or in the jeans and T-shirts I’ve been seeing lately.
But I have to admit that he fills out a suit like no one else. Tonight’s offering is a dark grey one with a white shirt and purple tie. His skin is sun-kissed after the afternoon in the pub garden, giving him a golden glow that makes his blue eyes seem even more vivid. His grey-flecked dark hair tumbles around his face. He looks healthy. My mouth twitches. Healthy and ready to organise.
I lean back against the railing. “Okay, give it to me.”
He blinks. “Pardon?”
I smile. “The lecture. I’m ready.” I stretch my neck and jaw and bounce on my feet before gesturing at him. “Come on.”
He shakes his head. “I never realised a man-child could be so funny.”
“You think I’m funny?”
His mouth twitches. “I said I never realised it. I still haven’t.”
I laugh. “Come on, Zeb,” I coach. “Lecture me, baby.”
He sighs. “I have no intention of lecturing. That’s wasted on someone with the attention span of a tree branch.”
“Ouch, I am actually wounded,” I try to say solemnly but spoil it by laughing. I love sparring with him. It feels like it lights me up inside. I’m never bored with him. Instead I feel alive. The times in his office when he snipes at me are something I’ve actually grown to look forward to over the last few years, to the extent that sometimes when I’m about to get into trouble I’ve actually thought,Will this make Zeb mad? If the answer was yes, I’ve swung into doing it. I will, of course, never tell him this.
He sits down on one of the chairs. “I just want to warn you that this probably isn’t going to be the pleasantest evening you’ve everspent.” I nod encouragingly. “Both sets of parents dislike me, one to a greater extent than the others. I’m not sure who else is here out of his friends.”
“Were any of them your friends too?”
He shakes his head. “No. Patrick didn’t like my friends. Said they were judging him.”
“Were they?”
He considers that. “Probably.” He pauses before honesty obviously compels him to add, “Definitely.”
“What are his friends like?”
“Like him,” he says slowly, and I wince.
“Ouch. Shall we get room service?” I wink at him. “Stay in and break the bed.”
I regret the last statement because a mask falls immediately over his face. “We won’t be doing that,” he says stiffly, and I hold my hand up.
“I’m sorry. I was joking.” I wasn’t, but it won’t improve the situation if he knows that. I’d like nothing better than to stretch out in that huge bed and see that tanned, hair-roughened body against the blue sheets. A horrible thought occurs to me. “Are you worried that I’ll embarrass you?”
I’m gratified by the confused look that crosses his face. “No. Why?”
“Because I wound up Patrick earlier.”
He shakes his head. “I think that was probably justified.” He pauses. “Just don’t do it tonight,” he adds hurriedly.
I hide a smile. At that second, a long mournful sound echoes through the room, making me jump. “What the fuck was that?” I gasp.
He bites his lip, but mirth dances in his eyes. “The dinner gong.”
“Thank fuck for that. I thought it was the call for Judgement Day.”
“I doubt your soul is entirely ready for that,” he says primly.
He turns and walks away, and this time I don’t bother to hide my smile. I follow him down the palatial staircase, through the reception area, and into a cavernous dining room. Accepting a glass of champagne with a smile from the waiter at the door, I look around curiously.
A huge mahogany table is set in the middle of the room on which glasses and china gleam. Four floral arrangements set along the tablegive off a pretty scent that clashes with the aftershaves and perfumes of the guests.
