Page 37 of Best Man
I look at Patrick who is staring at Zeb and oblivious to his fiancée’s glares. “Does that apply to Patrick?”
He shrugs. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
My stomach twists and something must show in my face because he grabs my arm lightly. “I like you,” he says quickly as Zeb turns and comes back towards us. “You’re good for him. Don’t let Patrick wind you up.”
“Am I good for him?” I say, startled. “I irritate him mostly. I’m tooyoung for him, apparently, and too chaotic. He’s obviously looking for someone older and responsible.”
“He’s more alive this week than I’ve ever seen.” He shakes his head. “Zeb doesn’t know his arse from his elbow sometimes. He’s infuriatingly blind to what’s under his nose.”
“What are you two talking about?” Zeb asks as he comes up to us.
“What a terrible shot you are,” Max says, releasing my arm as Zeb glares down at it. He holds up his hands in defence. “We weren’t doing anything.”
Zeb shoots me a look as if to see if I’m okay, and I see now what Max was talking about. He wears that responsibility like Superman wears a cape. I smile at him. Some superheroes never get recognised, I suppose.
He looks a little startled at the warmth of my smile, and then his gaze focuses behind me, and he blinks a few times. I turn and start to laugh.
Xavier is walking towards us with a sheet wrapped around him.
Max groans. “What the hell are you dressed in?” he mutters as Xavier saunters up to us as cool as an ice cream.
He looks down at his outfit and up at Max as though he’s a moron. “A toga.”
“I can see that,” Max murmurs. “I should have actually saidwhyare you wearing that?”
“It’s period dress,” he says, frowning at Max.
“Thank you,” I say triumphantly. “I told you that invite was badly worded.”
“Zeb?” comes a tentative voice from behind us, and as a group we swing round to face Patrick who is standing with a warm smile on his face. His blond hair glows in the sun and he looks unspeakably beautiful. My heart sinks a little from where it had been buoyed by Max’s words. Why on earth would Zeb look at me when this man was obviously his taste? I look at Zeb who is staring hard at Patrick as if analysing him and my heart sinks further.Still is his taste.
“Can I help you?” Zeb asks. “Should I be doing something? You never gave me any tasks this weekend.”
I smile a little. I’m sure mentally he’s cursing that he hasn’t got his diary on him. It’s huge and held together by bands because it bulges with paperwork and lists.
“Oh no, I just wanted you to have a good time,” Patrick says, drifting closer to Zeb and nudging me subtly out of the way. I open my mouth to object, but shut it as the two of them stare at each other like they’re mesmerised.
Max coughs and elbows Zeb who jumps.
“Sorry,” Max says cheerfully. “But I think the man heading towards me with the gun is indicating it’s my turn to shoot.” He winks at Patrick. “Unless he’s on a homicidal rampage, in which case I’m volunteering you to take one for the team.” He looks him up and down. “You’re so very good at that, after all.”
“Max,” Zeb warns, and Patrick bristles.
“Oh don’t bother, Max,” he says spitefully. “If I wanted some dinosaur of a reporter to cast judgement on me, I’d have gone to Piers Morgan. At least he’s famous.”
“You wound me,” Max says cheerfully. “I’m literally bleeding on the ground from your sharp words.”
“Better than bullet wounds because you couldn’t duck quickly enough,” Patrick says sharply and I gasp.
Now, I remember who Max is. He’s a famous reporter who quit after he was taken hostage in Syria. He was shot in an escape attempt but still managed to make his way through the country on his own until he reached safety. I hadn’t recognised him at first because his hair is longer now, and he’s grown a beard.
I glare at Patrick but Max just shrugs. “The bravest thing you ever did, Patrick, was to leave the house not wearing underwear. You’ll excuse me if I don’t take your words to heart.”
I laugh, and Patrick flushes and edges into Zeb’s side. I narrow my eyes, and Max stares at the two of them.
Then he takes the gun the man gives him, steps up to the line and calls, “Pull.” In one smooth motion, he turns slightly to the right and fires. A second later there’s the sound of breaking glass and a car alarm starts to blare.
“That’s my fucking Audi,” Patrick exclaims, and Max shrugs.
