The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) (7 page)

Huntley hesitated. “Yes.”

“Well. That’s too bad.” Miles threw the
napkin across the floor toward a green bin labeled COMPOST. “I’m
really sorry, but you’d better notify your runner-up. Alex is
coming, didn’t you say?”

Huntley reached out to grab his arm, but
Miles was already moving toward the door. “Your father won’t be
here until Friday,” Huntley said, jogging after him, “and I’ve
stuck them in a cabin that the manager promised me is halfway to
the Pacific.” He dug his fingers into Miles’s forearm. “Damn it,
Miles! You’re my best friend. You have to be here. This is it for
me, Miles. Fawn is it.”

Miles may have been sore from the ride up,
and his back still tweaked at a forty-degree angle, but nothing was
going to stop him from getting back on his bike and riding the hell
out of there. Except for distant glaring at his half-brother’s
wedding, he hadn’t seen his father in sixteen years. He was going
for a few more—like, forever. Forever would do it.

“If I believed in this marriage, Huntley, I
might stay. Given she’s just another model who’s done something
special to the little man in your pants—no. Absolutely not.”

He flung open the door of the lodge, not
surprised, given his luck, to see the beautiful girl in question
and her little redheaded friend standing there.

“Fawn!” Huntley cried, leaping past him and
taking the tall blonde in his arms. He spun her around to face
Miles. “Help me convince him to stay. He’s trying to make a run for
it.”

The girl smiled at Miles, all gorgeous and
toothy.

Huntley stood off to the side looking smug,
as though one glance at the genetic miracle of his girlfriend would
stop him dead.

“Hello and goodbye.” Miles brushed past her
and strode into the woods. He’d found a shortcut through the trees
that went straight from the lodge to his cabin. Huntley said his
father was coming Friday, but that may have been wishful thinking.
Alan Girard wouldn’t pass up a free week’s vacation at an exclusive
spa, especially if he could watch his old rival, Huntley’s father,
bleed a fortune. Even with a prenup, Alan would be rubbing his
hands together anticipating an extracted divorce with lots and lots
of lingering financial pain.

“Damn it, Miles!” Huntley caught up to him
and grabbed his arm. “You’re the do-gooder, always trying to save
the criminals of tomorrow. How about you lavish a little of it on
me?”

“‘Criminals of tomorrow.’ Nice.”

Huntley jogged alongside him over the ferny
undergrowth, his blue eyes perking up with hope. “Who else do I
have in my life to look out for me like you do?”

“You’re a billionaire. Put someone on
salary.”

“Underlings only tell you what you want to
hear, like stop buying so much useless shit, do fifty squats,
invest in Google. The important stuff, never.”

Miles stopped walking, aware the women behind
them were watching. The short spunky one, Lucy, wore all black,
setting off the brightness of her hair. Tight jeans, tight sweater,
tight leather knee-high boots. Next to Fawn, who wore something
girly and transparent in pink, she looked like a redheaded
Catwoman.

Blinking away that enticing thought, Miles
turned back to Huntley and lowered his voice. “I told you what I
thought and you bribed my employee.”

“You didn’t really mean it. You just have a
bad attitude about all marriage right now.”

“Do you really want that in a best man? When
your parents are fighting you too?”

“You’ll back me up. You’re too decent not
to.”

“It’s better I go. I won’t be polite to my
father, your parents will see I’m not happy here—and let’s face it,
I’m no good at pretending to like people when I don’t.” Kids he
could manage. Adults, not so much. “I’ve already hurt your bride’s
feelings.”

“You haven’t even talked to her. Listen—you
agree to give Fawn a chance and I’ll keep your father and
stepmother away from the wedding.”

“How? You’d tell your father to disinvite one
of his oldest connections? One with almost as much money as he
has?”

Huntley’s gaze fell to the ground.

“Thought so,” Miles said, the corner of his
mouth twitching. “You don’t have a lot of practice defying
him.”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

Sighing, Miles squeezed his shoulder. “You’re
going ahead with the wedding, aren’t you? When even your best
friend is giving you a hard time?”

“But that’s the exception, that’s what you’re
saying. That I’m the chickenshit.” Huntley moved up closer, chest
to chest, and stared up at him. “This from a guy who can’t even be
in the same state as his own father because of something that
happened over fifteen years ago.
Almost
happened. You’re
still running away from one little come-on—”

“Watch it, Huntley.”

“Maybe it’s not your father you’re afraid of.
Maybe it’s his horny little wife.”

Miles’s body went rigid. He glanced at the
women, still watching them, and let out a long breath. “I’m leaving
now,” he said, stepping back.

“You don’t think you can fight off a woman?
Big guy like you?”

“Shut up.”

“I could teach you a few defensive moves.”
Huntley jumped in front of him and grabbed the lapels of his
leather jacket. “Come on, we’ll go practice in the Yoga Yurt.”

“Let go of my jacket.” Even though Huntley
was holding on to him, he leaned his chest back and kept walking,
dragging his friend alongside.

“Oh,
Miles
,” Huntley cooed in a high
voice, “you’re so big and strong, so big and handsome, so big and,
oh, so
big
—”

Refusing to laugh, Miles gave him an icy
stare and dragged him another step. Really getting into the spirit
of things, Huntley lifted his foot and rubbed it up and down his
calf through his jeans. “Such big muscles,” he chirped, and when
his foot went a little too high, Miles grabbed him and flipped him
over onto the ground.

Flat on his back, Huntley didn’t try to get
up. “Then again, she might like it if you got rough. Think it’s
foreplay.” He shifted, trying to roll over, then flinched and gave
up. “Whoops. I think I’m hurt.”

Miles looked down at him. “Good.”

“Tweaked my back. I don’t think I can get
up.” He closed his eyes and grinned. “Here comes the bride,” he
said, just as Fawn came running up and flung herself onto her knees
in front of him.

“Baby, are you okay?” She cupped Huntley’s
face with her hands, then looked up at Miles in angry confusion.
“Why did you attack him?”

“I’ll be fine.” Huntley smiled into her eyes.
“I’m used to Miles beating me up. He’s just so big, you know?”

Miles snorted and moved to finish what he’d
started when Catwoman jumped in front of him, poking his chest with
a pointy fingernail. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

He looked down at her finger. She couldn’t
have been much over five feet tall and didn’t look very muscular,
either—more bunny rabbit than pit bull. Goth bunny. “You going to
make me?”

She jabbed him again, this time in the belly.
“I’ll give it a shot.”

Huntley groaned and got into a sitting
position with Fawn’s help. Pressing his face into her chest, he
groaned louder. “I need him to—help get me to the cabin. Then he
can—go. I’ll ask—Alex—to be my—best man. He’s a—nice guy.”

Miles looked down at Huntley’s petite
bodyguard. She had green eyes, as green as the oxalis growing under
the redwoods. She acted as if her finger, still pointed at his
heart, carried magical powers.

Maybe it did. He found it mesmerizing.

“You’re bleeding!” Fawn cried.

Huntley stared at a red smear on his hand.
“So I am.” He turned an overly mournful gaze up to Miles.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Miles gently pushed
Lucy’s hypnotic finger out of his way and squatted down to his
friend. He put an arm around Huntley’s ribs and hauled him to his
feet, not immune to his genuine gasp of pain. Huntley sagged
against him, unable to straighten completely. “Where’s your cabin,
you big baby?” Miles asked softly.

Fawn put an arm around Huntley’s other side,
her face twisted with worry. Good thing she was tall. “We’ll get
you a doctor.” Eyes shining, she frowned at Miles over Huntley’s
golden head. “Be gentle with him.”

Huntley grinned, then flinched. “It
really—wasn’t—his fault,” he gasped.

Rather touched by Fawn’s attitude, Miles took
more of Huntley’s weight and wiped a floppy chunk hair out of his
eyes with his free hand. “Sorry, buddy. Sometimes I don’t know my
own strength.”

They stumbled down the dirt path until they
came to the paved walkway leading away from the lodge. “It’s the
Live Oak cabin,” Huntley said. “Number seven.”

“Lucky seven,” Miles said.

“Asked for it—on—p-purpose.”

Miles caught Fawn’s eye and managed a smile.
Her concern wasn’t faked, that was obvious. “Maybe you are lucky,
Huntley.” He stopped, nodded at the cabin next to them, and bent
his knees. “I’ll try to carry him from here. That’s cabin four
already.”

“Thanks, Jolly,” Huntley said, rigid in his
arms. “Fawn—sweetie—would you tell Eric to get Rita for me?”

“Don’t you want a doctor?” Fawn asked.

“No, Rita can massage it out of me. It’s just
a little tweak.”

She frowned. “But—”

“Leave Lucy with us. She’ll keep an eye on
Miles,” Huntley said, smiling faintly.

Fawn kissed him tenderly before throwing
Miles a warning look and departing.

Sweat building on his forehead, Miles shifted
his load and hurried through the trees to the distant cabin.
Huntley wasn’t very tall, but he was loaded with high-maintenance
muscles and weighed more than he’d expected.

“I’m getting old,” Miles muttered, staggering
past cabin six.

“
You
are,” Huntley said. “Look at
me.”

They both laughed until Miles stumbled over a
tree root and Huntley swore. “Easy, Jolly.”

“Call me that again and I’m dropping you
right here.”

Lucy jogged ahead of them, her round bottom a
welcome distraction. “I’ll get the door,” she said, hurrying up the
stairs.

Pausing to gather his strength, Miles took a
deep breath and hauled his friend up the stairs and inside. It was
like his cabin, but all brown and mossy green and the bed was
bigger. He gently lay Huntley down on top of the covers.

He was more concerned about his friend than
he wanted to admit. “You sure about the doctor? You seem pretty
screwed up for one little fall.”

Sinking back into the pillows, Huntley closed
his eyes. “No doctor.”

Miles leaned over him on the bed. “Not like
you have to worry about paying for it.” He made a move toward the
end of the bed to take off Huntley’s shoes but Lucy was already
there, her pale fingers working apart the laces.

“Nice boots,” she said.

“New,” Huntley said, opening his eyes.
“Miles?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

Huntley was gazing at him, his face serious.
After a long moment he said, “Please stay.”

“Of course. But if you can’t get up soon, I’m
bringing you to a hospital.”

“I mean for the wedding. The week. I need
you, Miles.” He closed his eyes, opened them again. When he spoke,
his voice was so soft Miles had to lean down to hear him. “You were
right. I don’t think I can stand up to my parents without you
here.”

Miles glanced back at Lucy, saw by the shock
on her face that she’d heard. No help for it. He cleared his
throat. “If you really love her, you will.”

“Not if I’m too weak. You know how I am
around them.”

“You’ve just never been sufficiently
motivated.” Miles squeezed his shoulder. “Just do it.”

“Easy for you to say. You know you can, being
on your own so long. Maybe it’s too late for me, like that part of
my brain just didn’t develop at the critical time.”

“Huntley.” Miles sat down on the bed, careful
not to jostle his friend. “You’re a good guy. You love your
parents. They’re devoted to you and you’re devoted to them. It’s
usually a good thing. Just sometimes, you need to push back a
little more, take a stand. Like now. There’s nothing wrong with
your brain.” He flicked the guy’s forehead. “At least, not in that
way.”

Huntley glanced at Lucy, who had politely
turned away to pour a glass of water from the bar, and gestured
Miles closer. “They
really
don’t want me to get married,” he
whispered. “I’m afraid of what they might do.”

“They can’t keep you apart if you don’t let
them.”

“Please, Miles. Stay. We’ll back each other
up.”

Miles took the glass of water from Lucy and
set it on the bedside table. Her expression was thoughtful,
unreadable. He wondered what she was thinking, if she’d tell Fawn
about her groom’s confession, and realized he couldn’t leave
Huntley alone in that mess. That he never really had any
choice.

“I’ll stay,” Miles said, just as a knock
sounded on the door.

The worry lines in Huntley’s face eased into
a broad smile. “I knew it! You big softie.”

Miles got up. “You’re welcome.” Lucy was
already opening the door to Eric, Huntley’s driver-bodyguard, who
had a large, padded rectangular object slung over his shoulder.
Behind him was an older woman in a purple velour sweatsuit.

“Rita, thank God!” Huntley cried. “It’s that
tweaky thing in my back. It just snapped.”

“We’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy. Everyone
out!” Rita waved her arms.

Fawn slipped in past the others and knelt at
Huntley’s bed. “How are you feeling, honey?”

Rita scowled at her. “That means
everyone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Fawn said, her
voice steely.

“I’ll be in our cabin,” Lucy told her, and
Miles followed her out the door into the foggy morning.

He looked at his watch. Not even eleven yet,
and it was only Monday. He dreaded the week ahead, wondering if
he’d been stupid to give in.