by B. E. Baker
“Let’s just say she’s not your type, and she will be sitting alone, probably looking annoyed. If that doesn’t help, I’m sure the hostess can help you find her. Her name is Geo Polson.”
I eye Luke pointedly. “Should I be making up an excuse right now and doing this over the phone?”
Luke shakes his head. “Go, tell the kid what you want, and let her plan it for you. Mary means well, and Geo knows nothing about Mary’s hopes and dreams of all her friends getting married and being as happy as we are. It’s not a sticky rat trap, I promise.”
I click my key and slide into the seat of my black Aston Martin Vantage. I do enough business in Atlanta to keep a car here, thankfully. I cry a little inside when I have to drive a crappy rental car. They always smell like Cheetos. GPS routes me to midtown, some place called the Local Pizzaioli. Looks pretty decent. I wonder whether she picked it, or whether Luke did. It looks just like his kind of place.
I ease my car into a spot and give her a pat on the hood as I walk toward the entrance. Not my type, Luke said? What does that even mean? She’s old? She’s taller than me? Her teeth are wonky? When I open the door, a perky hostess with a pressed white shirt and black slacks greets me with a forced smile.
“Welcome to the Local Pizzaioli!” She pulls out a menu with a little too much enthusiasm and sends one flying toward my head.
I stumble backward, but I catch it without losing an eye. “Thanks. I’m supposed to be meeting—“
My eyes scan the room while I’m talking, but I don’t see anyone sitting alone. I assume this Geo person must have already left. Unsurprising, since I am more than half an hour late. Then I see a woman tapping her black booted foot in the back corner. As if she senses my gaze, her face turns toward me and suddenly, I can’t form any coherent words.
Her eyes are bluer than the ocean in Bora Bora, startling even from here. Her hair falls straight down from her face in a shimmering black sheet far past her shoulders. Her cheekbones slant down toward a sharp chin, and if this is Geo, Luke is a moron.
She’s exactly my type.
He could have told me she had a body that would make any Hollywood starlet jealous, or a face to launch a thousand ships. Instead he let me practically stand her up, probably laughing inside the whole time. I wipe my mouth to make sure I’m not drooling.
I shake my head. That must not be her. Luke’s got an odd sense of humor, but he’s not delusional. Plus there’s no way this girl doesn’t date. Maybe since this Geo has bailed, I could introduce myself to Miss America instead. Then at least it wasn’t a wasted trip.
“Excuse me sir, you sort of trailed off there. Who are you meeting?”
Right. I clear my throat and swallow. “Um, her name is Geo something.”
“Oh, yes, she’s waiting right this way.”
Right what way? Is it her? Please, please, let the breathtaking woman be Geo. The hostess takes three steps in the right direction and then pulls up short. She giggles like a five year old girl. “I should verify you’re the right person.”
“You need to verify who I am?” I lift one eyebrow. “Why?”
She giggles again and I suppress a scowl. “Let’s just say a few guys have claimed they were meeting her here that weren’t.”
Let’s say what? “Huh?”
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Trig,” I say.
She smirks. “So I guess you’re one of those creepy guys.”
She was leading me to Geo, and then she stopped. I gave her my name, and now she thinks I’m a creeper?
Wait, maybe she’s saying this woman is so breathtaking that men are lying and saying they’re meeting her here. If it’s Geo though, she really is supposed to be meeting me.
Then it hits me. I could kick Luke for his stupid sense of humor. I never, ever use my real name for anything, as he well knows. I grit my teeth and force the words out. “My full name is Bernard Thornton the third.”
“Oh, it is you, wonderful. Right this way, then.”
And we’re walking toward her. The girl who’s probably every breathing man’s type.
I realize about halfway across the dining room that I have absolutely no idea what to say to her. Sorry I’m late? I’m not usually so inconsiderate? Isn’t that what an inconsiderate guy would say?
I wrack my brain for some smart way to apologize that would make me sound charming, but every single line I’ve ever used withers and dies. I glance toward Geo, now only a dozen steps away, and I can barely remember my own name, much less come up with anything witty. Is Luke blind? He could have prepared me that she could be a print model if her career as an event planner doesn’t pan out.
I’m five steps from the table, walking alongside the hostess, when a thirty-something man in a suit approaches the table before we can.
“Pardon me ma’am,” he says, his voice unsure. “Are you here alone?”
Geo looks up, and even though she’s not looking at me, the weight of her gaze makes me swallow again.
“Yes,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “Can I help you with something? I know the area pretty well. I grew up around the corner.”
The man gulps and I want to throat punch him. Buzz off idiot, I have an appointment. I’m stupidly late, but he doesn’t know that. “I was wondering whether you’d like to join me and my buddy.” He waves back at a table a few over from hers. “I travel a lot, so I know it sucks to eat alone.”
What a tremendously sloppy line. I almost feel bad for the guy.
“It’s terrible when people don’t respect other people’s time.” Her eyes dart my way. “But I’m meeting someone, and I think he’s finally here.”
“Oh.” The man blinks a few times. “Well, I could give you my phone number. If that doesn’t work out, I mean. I’m very punctual.”
I’m very punctual? Seriously? Just what every girl dreams of. A punctual boyfriend. I suppress the urge to laugh.
I clear my throat instead. “I’m finally here sweetheart.” I step around the hostess and tap the table. “So sorry to keep you waiting.” I turn toward the awkward guy and bob my head. “I’m Trig Thornton, but it looks like you’ve already met my girlfriend, Geo.”
“I guess you don’t want my phone number then?” he asks Geo.
“Scram, dude.” I can’t quite keep the irritation out of my tone.
He scurries back to his table, and at least he has the decency to look down self-consciously when he does.
“I imagine that happens to you a lot,” I say.
The hostess catches my eye and wisely hands me a menu and heads back to the front of the restaurant.
“What? People pretending to be my boyfriend?” She arches one pristine eyebrow.
Heat rushes into my face. “Uh, no. I meant guys hitting on you.”
When she simply stares at me reproachfully, I continue. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Luke didn’t tell me about this lunch until it was almost time to be here.”
“That doesn’t sound much like Luke, but then I haven’t known him long. From what I hear, you’ve known him for quite some time, which is why you’re the best man.” She stands up to shake my hand. “Geo Polson.”
I sit down across from her. “Nice to meet you Geo. It really is past time we met, seeing as you’re my girlfriend and all.”
She frowns.
“What? Too early to joke?”
Finally a tiny smile. “I’ve found Luke to be pretty organized and punctual.”
“We tech nerds lose track sometimes when we’re focused on work things.”
She nods at me. “Well, I’m glad you finally made it. I’d love to get some of the details hammered out for the bachelor weekend right away. With the wedding looming in the next three months, we don’t have much time.”
“Do you have a list of the groomsmen?” I ask.
She reaches into a black portfolio and pulls out a sheet of paper. “You, of course, although I do admit I had your name listed as something other than
Trig? Is that what you said?”
“My given name is Bernard, it’s true,” I say. “But in college, I was so good at math that I got a nickname after I got a perfect score on every math test in class. First time a student had ever done it. Everyone calls me Trig now, for trigonometry.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and she meets my gaze. When she does, I stare at her like a dope. I really, really wish I hadn’t been late.
“I can barely do sums on paper.” She grins ruefully. “But for the wedding party, I have you listed, Paul who I presume you know since he’s Luke’s brother, someone named James—“
“James Fullton.”
“Right. And someone named Bradley Millhouse.”
I don’t like Bradley Millhouse, but it’s complicated and I don’t want to get into it. “I don’t know him very well. He was a good friend of Luke’s first wife.”
Geo’s eyes widen and she makes a note on the paper. “Thanks. That kind of information is invaluable.”
“Need to make sure he doesn’t blow up the wedding?” I ask.
“Something like that.”
“Have you ever had anything truly crazy happen?” I ask. “I bet you have some great stories.”
She nods. “I’ve had my share of odd occurrences for sure. But fair disclosure, I don’t normally plan weddings. In fact, I usually avoid them at all costs.”
“Why is this an exception?”
She sighs. “My best friend Paisley begged me, and her boss, Mary, is a hard lady to turn down.”
I want to meet Mary now more than ever, after this description. “Well, with a deceased first wife and two kids, not to mention money thrown into the mix, and business contacts from each of them, I imagine you’ll have your hands full navigating it all.”
“The bride wants a guest list of one hundred, and the groom wants five hundred.” She flips her menu open and focuses on it. “This is kind of my area of expertise though. I’ll make sure this is a happy and respectful celebration of Luke and Mary’s love, as it should be. Any information you can share or tips you may have for managing the groom’s guests are greatly appreciated.”
I want to say something that makes her happy. Badly. I can tell she’s effective at her job. Not to mention, I imagine every guy she meets wants to tell her whatever she wants to know. “If I think of something I’ll share, but I think everyone will be happy for Luke. He’s had a rough couple of years. Beth died when Chase was born, in case you hadn’t heard.”
“Paisley mentioned that, and it’s a heartbreaking story for sure. I’m glad Luke gets a second happy ending though. And with enough preparation, we can foresee and prevent any negative outcomes for this wedding.”
I frown. “You don’t really think that. No matter how much you plan, you can’t anticipate everything.”
She shakes her head. “I disagree. All outcomes in life can be prepared for. If you take the care and effort necessary, you can avoid 99.9% of undesirable events, especially for big parties like a wedding. You can prepare contingencies for the rest.”
“Like a hurricane?”
“I always have a fall back venue in case of inclement weather or other emergency. Sometimes I even have a fall back date.”
My jaw drops. “Are you telling me that you sit around and think about every doom and gloom thing that might occur?”
She snaps her menu closed. “It’s my job, Trig. I imagine other people might find your number calculations boring. But I provide a service that helps people to enjoy their important days without dealing with any undesirable hiccups and with a minimum of interruptions. Can you say the same?”
She’s so gorgeous with her eyes sparking and her lips compressed that I want to yank her across the table and kiss her senseless, but since she’d slap me and walk out, I pull out my menu instead. “Having now thoroughly perused the options, what do you recommend, Miss Contingency Planner?”
The waiter walks up as though on cue, a smile plastered on his face.
“I always order from the core at every restaurant. Which means here, the pizza’s safe,” she says.
“I’ll have the fettuccine Bolognese,” I say, one eyebrow cocked. “I never play it safe.”
3
Geo
I like Luke so much that I’m surprised by how much I dislike his best friend. I knew he was younger than Luke—Mary said Luke started college pretty late in life, after he’d already been an electrician for a while. Trig’s handsome enough, with shaggy, slightly curly dark hair, and eyes such a light shade of brown that they’re nearly gold. And he’s tall too, much taller than me, which is rare. But when he opens his mouth, I have to work overtime not to roll my eyes so far up into my head that they’ll get stuck there.
“If you really wanted to live life dangerously,” I say. “You’d order the fish.”
“I didn’t say I was a moron,” Trig says. “I never eat fish that wasn’t caught the same day as I’m ordering it.”
Spoken like someone worth a gazillion dollars. Mary mentioned he was even richer than her fiancé, the dramatic over spender. It’s bizarre talking to someone who could literally purchase the restaurant where we’re eating. He actually seems way more normal than I expected in his dark green sweater and faded jeans.
“Your privilege is showing,” I say. “I had fish sticks for dinner last night. Frozen, from a bag.”
His nose scrunches up. “Please be kidding right now.”
“I ate at Mary’s house with Amy and Chase, and no, I’m not joking. You might be surprised how delicious fish sticks and oven French fries can be. Especially if you combine a little mayo and ketchup to dip them in.” I kiss my fingers. “Mmmm.”
He makes a strangled noise and sips his water. “I doubt that’s true.”
Needling him is actually pretty fun. “I’ll be sure to put that on the menu for the bachelor party, then?”
“What did you have in mind for that?” he asks. “Other than loads and loads of fish sticks and pink sauce, obviously.”
“Mary’s an accountant, so she’s pretty slammed supervising whatever those people do during tax season. She wants to make sure she doesn’t let the parties happen too close to April fifteenth. The weekend Luke and Mary have requested that also fits with Paul’s schedule is February 12 and 13.” I pick up my glass to take a drink. My mouth feels dry for some reason, and my hands are a little shaky. Odd.
“Valentine’s Day weekend?” he asks. “Seriously?”
I lie. “I didn’t think about that.”
“A female event planner who doesn’t think about Valentine’s Day?” he asks. “I thought all women had their wish lists on file at Tiffany’s months in advance.”
What kind of girl does he date? “I’ve never set foot in a Tiffany’s in my life. Also, I hate Valentine’s Day and everything about it. I try to pretend it doesn’t exist each year. I mostly succeed, since I never date.”
He tsks and shakes his head slowly. “That’s a real shame. My sister doesn’t date either, but she absolutely loves February fourteenth. She wears all pink, makes fancy frosted cookies, decorates the house, and invites her friends and family over for a strawberry tea service. I may or may not get stuck going every year. It’s actually kind of fun.”
He obviously needs some redirecting. “Will that weekend work for you? Or have you already RSVP’d to a Strawberry Shortcake party? Or maybe you have a big date planned.” What’s wrong with me? Why did I even say that?
Trig’s mouth twists into a half smile. “Brekka’s party will be on Valentine’s Day morning, but no, I’m not seeing anyone currently. Which means I have no other plans.”
“Perfect.” Not that I care whether he’s seeing someone. I’m really making a mess of this. “For the bachelor party, I mean. With the date blocking out of the way, let’s talk options. Luke wants to keep this low key and appropriate. Most grooms are moving away from big, rowdy shows of excess testosterone these days, thankfully.”
“He mentioned that he’d prefer
we not feature strippers.”
I glare at him. “Right. No strippers, obviously. I hope that wasn’t something you had in mind.”
Trig glares right back at me. “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s restart. I’m Trig, and I never go to strip clubs, but I do sometimes make poorly considered jokes. The person I care about most in this world is my sister, a female, and I’d never objectify women that way.” He holds out his hand again. “Nice to meet you. And you are?”
I smile in spite of myself and reach up to shake, which is a mistake. His hand is warm and strong and when it wraps around mine, my heart flip flops in a way it hasn’t in years. I yank my fingers back like his touch burns. I almost wish it had, because it would serve as a reminder to keep my distance. My rules exist for a reason. Like not scratching ant bites, or staying put when you get lost. Even if I was interested in breaking my own rule, Mary’s fiancé’s entitled best friend would definitely be at the bottom of any list I made. Even before Luke mentioned he goes skydiving for fun. I shudder at the thought.
I need to hammer out the details of this bachelor weekend so I can actively avoid him until he’s a guest at the wedding. I pull out my lists, brandishing them like the shields they are.
“I made a list of optional weekend activities. I’m not sure if you guys would prefer a weekend at the beach relaxing or surfing to a weekend of ATVs in the mountains. Or if that all sounds too outdoorsy, I could plan some nice dinners and a pub crawl or something.”
“I think a bunch of guys laying around at the beach sipping drinks sounds a little …girly,” he says. “No offense. Did Luke say what he wanted to do? I’m not much of a drinker, and I don’t think Luke or Paul are either, so I’d rather more action than pubs.”
Surprise, surprise. “He told me you’d come up with some great ideas and that you planned almost everything fun they did in college and for years afterward. Did you have any other suggestions?”
He leans back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling. “What about a weekend of driving stock cars? I don’t know what weekends the track is free off the top of my head, and I think there’s some kind of NASCAR cup qualifying day in February, but I’m not sure when. It should be free other than that, especially if we do it on a Thursday or Friday. I know the owner, and he owes me a favor. Or ten.”
