You May Kiss the Bridesmaid - Camilla Isley Page 0,7

all had a fallout last year.”

“I’m familiar with the backstory,” I say, remembering Winter’s ramblings in Thailand about how her twin sister had had an affair with their best friend’s boyfriend. This woman’s ex-boyfriend.

Lana seems taken aback, and blushes. “Winter told you?”

“The very first night we met.” I chuckle. “Probably when she thought she’d never see any of us again once the expedition ended. And it’s your fault Winter spilled the beans.”

Lana scowls. “How is it my fault?”

“You made her promise to call her sister, and indirectly stirred up all the feelings she ended up ranting about later. But I thought the Knowles sisters had patched things up.”

Lana’s frown relaxes. “They’re in a good place now; we all are. But the maid of honor role requires a lot of interaction with other people. All our friends…” She pauses, as if searching for the right words. “…from before. And not everyone has forgiven Summer, so I guess Winter asked me to be the maid of honor to shelter her sister from blowbacks and unpleasantries.”

“Makes sense.” I nod. “Anything else important from the meeting?”

She checks a sheet of paper in her hands. “Not really. Thursday is a recovery spa day. Friday is free until the rehearsal dinner at eight. Saturday, the ceremony and reception. And on Sunday, it’s over.”

I low-whistle. “And you guys, what? Spent over an hour discussing this?”

Lana’s lips part in a wide smile. “Well, Tucker got a little carried away with the minutiae.” Then the maid of honor eyes me appraisingly once again. “If we could average out his fastidiousness and your devil-may-care attitude, we’d have two perfectly balanced groomsmen.”

I link my arm with hers and steer Lana out of the meeting room. “I think we’ll get along just fine. Any task regarding the best man and maid of honor specifically?”

She looks up at me. “Only walking down the aisle together, and joining the groom and bride on the dance-floor for the first dance. Can you dance?”

I let go of her elbow, take her hand, and guide Lana in a pirouette, saying, “I’m the master of the dance-floor.”

She chuckles. “Oh my gosh, Winter was right, you’re such a flirt.”

I wink. “Don’t worry, I don’t interfere with other people’s relationships.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.”

“So, when is the famous boyfriend going to join us?”

“Why? You want to ask for an autograph?”

“After the conversation we had? I think he loves me already, he’s going to ask for mine.”

“Why? What did you tell him?”

I grin ear to ear. “Nothing at all.”

We stop in the hotel lobby and Lana glowers at me. “I’d better call Christian back. See you later.”

I make a mock military salute and watch her disappear down a corridor, that flowery dress billowing behind her in soft waves of fabric. Once Lana is gone, I turn to the concierge to check in.

Minutes later, I jingle the key to room 452, my lair for the next week, in my hands and turn toward the elevators the receptionist has directed me to. But before I can take a step forward, all the air gets sucked out of my lungs as I catch sight of Winter standing in the middle of the entrance hall, head bent as she checks out a text on her phone. Only, the bride-to-be is no longer the goofy, messy person I’m used to. She looks all put together in a skin-tight black dress with a low neckline. The hem of the skirt reaches just above her knees, leaving exposed the bottom half of her long, lean legs… and her feet! Even more outside her character, she’s wearing a pair of black leather pumps with stiletto heels so high and thin… They’re a kick right in my gut. But it’s not just the shoes; her hair, usually a tangled mass of soft waves, is straightened to a silken golden-white curtain that hangs down to her waist.

Logan, my friend, you lucky bastard.

For the first time, the snake of jealousy coils in my chest and stands to attention for the woman before me. Yes, I made a pass at Winter when we first met, the same way I’d do with any attractive woman. But I never regretted our relationship turning to a solid friendship or her choosing Logan over me… at least until now. It’s a primal, irrational instinct.

I shake my head.

Get a grip, pal.

How can I be jealous of my best friend for getting married when it’s the last thing I ever want to do? Logan is about to give up his