You May Kiss the Bridesmaid - Camilla Isley Page 0,6

slow on the freeway

And a third.

And remember the rings

I type back.

Yes, Mom

My phone pings again.

Anyway, if you get here at a decent hour, we’ll be in the Magnolia meeting room

I don’t reply.

They booked a meeting room to have an informal meet-up between the groomsmen and bridesmaids? Are they nuts?

And how long does Tucker plan to have the session last?

Thank goodness I accidentally got myself out of it.

This is going to be a long week.

Three

Archie

By the time I get to the hotel—more of a resort equipped with a pool and a spa and a vineyard in the backyard—in St. Helena, it’s already a quarter to six. I ask the clerk at the front desk where to find the Magnolia meeting room, in case my friends really have gone insane and are still discussing dances, frills, and color schemes.

The man points me in the right direction and, after meandering along a few corridors, I find the designated room. A brass plaque outside the door identifies it as Magnolia.

I poke my head in and sigh in relief at finding the space empty. I’m about to leave to go check in when a phone starts ringing inside.

There’s only one table in the room, and its polished wooden surface is cleared of objects. Where’s the ringing coming from? I follow the sound, kneeling down and crawling under the table where I find the device lodged between a chair and a table leg.

Without checking the caller ID, I pick up.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hello,” comes a surprised man’s voice from the other side. “Err, is Lana there?”

Lana, huh? She’s Winter’s best friend. Who, if I remember correctly, is dating Christian Slade, America’s number one heartthrob and, until recent events, Hollywood’s most wanted bachelor. Could this be him on the phone?

And just because I’m an asshole, I say, “Sorry, who did you say it was?”

“Christian, her boyfriend.” He confirms my deductions, sounding pissed enough.

An evil laugh plays in my head; it’s not every day that one gets to mess with the so-called Sexiest Man Alive.

“Sorry, man,” I say. “Lana forgot her phone.”

“Where?” His tone has turned murderous.

And since I’m not a complete douche, I stop the teasing. “Meeting room. She must’ve dropped it while discussing flower arrangements or something. But mine is just an educated guess, unfortunately; I didn’t get here in time for the wedding planning session.”

“You sound devastated,” Mr. Famous Actor says. I decide I like this dude. “And who are you?”

“Archibald Hill, the best man. Listen, man, I’ll drop off your girl’s phone at the concierge and leave a message to call you back, sound good?”

“Thanks, I guess?”

We’ve barely hung up when a cute brunette pokes her head into the meeting room. Her long brown hair cascades past her shoulders in soft waves, and she’s wearing one of those flowy maxi dresses in a pink flower print. She’s missing a colorful band tied over the forehead, or she’d fit in perfectly with Berkeley’s hippies of the seventies.

I dangle the phone in my hands. “Looking for this?”

Her deep blue eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, thank goodness it’s here.” Lana sighs in relief and closes the distance between us, taking the phone from me.

“Your boyfriend called,” I inform her. “He wasn’t too thrilled to speak with me. You should call him back.”

Her eyebrows draw together in a curious frown as she studies me. “You must be the missing best man.”

I grin. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

She smiles in return. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?”

The smile turns coy. “Mostly about how my best friend had to save your ass, literally, and on multiple occasions…”

I chuckle at that. So, this sassy, no-bullshit attitude is to be expected not only from the bride-to-be, but her friends as well?

“Touché,” I concede. “What did I miss? Was the meeting really necessary?”

Lana gives me a long, glad-we-understand-each-other stare, and then smiles. “It was mostly a schedule review of the few mandatory events for the bridesmaids and groomsmen.”

“Such as?” I ask, worried.

“Well, tomorrow we’re going wine tasting, which is optional. Wednesday is dedicated to the hen and stag parties, which you were supposed to organize for the stags.” I snort. Tucker took care of that, too. “Planning the bachelorette party was one of my duties as maid of honor, too.”

“Wait,” I cut her off. “You’re the maid of honor?”

She eyes me sideways. “Something wrong with that?”

“No, but… err… I assumed Winter’s sister would be the maid of honor since she’s family and all… Nothing personal.”

Lana’s face clouds. “Yeah, but we