by Morey, Trish
She sat up and snatched up a pillow. “Mitch Bannister, you are making fun of me!” and she swiped him with it as he lay on the bed.
“Hey!” he said, “don’t go hitting a bloke when he’s down.”
“So get up and fight like a man.”
And he did, retaliating with his own pillow, and it was on. They went blow for blow on the already tousled bed until he managed to knock her pillow out of her hands and grab her flailing wrists to drop her bodily to the bed. She was panting and laughing while he pinned her there, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling with her chest, her scarlet hair like a crazy tangled crown around her head, and his lungs squeezed tight in his chest.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlett Buck,” he growled, in a voice that felt like gravel, as he gazed down upon perfection, from her crazy scarlet crown all the way past her luscious curves to her provocative red tipped toes. “So crazy beautiful.” And the green eyes that looked up at him glistened like waterholes that were so goddam deep you could drown in them, and god, he was tempted to jump right on in.
But those toes had given him an idea that might save him from saying anything even crazier before all the blood drained from his brain and headed south.
Though it might not save his sanity.
He reared back on his knees.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help but feel something’s missing,” And he disappeared into the dressing room.
“Like what?” she called behind him.
He came out brandishing a grin and her pink sparkly boots. “These.”
“Now who’s kinky?” she said, reaching for them and pulling them on, before reclining on her side, propping up her head with her hand, the other on her hip. “So, how do I look?”
He looked at her, naked but for those outrageous boots, and with his mouth watering and his cock standing to attention, knew his sanity was a lost cause.
“Like every cowboy’s dream come true.”
She smiled, a slow, wide, knowing smile. “Then what are you doing standing all the way up there, cowboy?”
Yet another good question. He loved how this woman’s thought processes worked.
He launched himself onto the bed, collecting her in his arms and meshing his mouth with hers and tumbling her across the big wide bed until he stopped with her on top. “Hey cowgirl,” he whispered in hot, heavy breaths against her throat, “seeing as you’ve got your boots on and all...”
“Uh-huh?”
“I thought maybe you’d like to go for a ride?”
Thank god, she thought moments later as he lay sheathed and ready to guide her hips down over that long, hard length of his, some decisions didn’t need thinking about.
Some decisions came to you gift-wrapped on a dish.
They made it down to lunch eventually, surprised to find only two of the party at the table. Sharon was laughing and Robbo was grinning and there was no mistaking the way they both sprang back in their chairs at their approach. “Kristelle’s at the spa with her mother,” Robbo explained as they sat down, “and the others took the chance to grab a helicopter to go sightseeing. They’ll be back soon.”
“How is Kristelle today?” asked Scarlett, and couldn’t help but notice the way Sharon’s once warm smile grew tight at the mention of the bride-to-be.
Robbo took a breath, and fiddled with a stray coaster and frowned absently out over the spectacular coastline where the turquoise sea fairly sparkled today. “Nervous. I mean she’s happy about the weather improving, and the improved chances for seeing Staircase to the Moon, and now she’s aiming for achieving Zen-like calm at the spa.”
“Excellent,” said Mitch, “maybe we should talk about the plan for the rings.”
“The rings! They’re in the safe in the villa. How about I give them to you now?”
The men wandered off while Scarlett sat back with a freshly delivered coffee and said to Sharon, “You didn’t fancy going to the spa?”
The other woman shook her head. “To be honest, it’s nice to have a little space. This is all really weird. I’m still not even sure why I’m here.”
“Why? How long have you known Kristelle?”
“See, that’s the thing. I started at a new gym a few months ago, and the first time I went, Kristelle asked me for coffee after. I thought it was a nice gesture. So we had coffee and a chat and it just became a regular thing. But y’know? I don’t think she actually listens to anything anyone else says, if you get my drift.”
“She knew sooo much about your job, right?”
She laughed. “Yeah, exactly. I remember talking about it and then being envious when she said she didn’t have to work. She only did it for the—” She rolled her eyes and raised her fingers to make quote marks in the air—“sense of purpose, apparently.”
“And then just a couple of weeks ago, she told me she was getting married and asked me to be her bridesmaid, because it’s such short notice that nobody else she’d asked could make it. And I thought it was strange that she was asking me, but I had days off owing and it was an all-expenses-paid trip to Broome staying in Cable Beach of all places, and she was in a tough spot and I thought, why not?” She shook her head. “But then I got here and it’s like she can hardly remember anything about me. I’m like an accessory after the fact. And I know it’s bad, but I started wondering if she even has any other friends.” And then she grimaced. “I told you it was weird.”
It was weird. But then Kristelle seemed to be one out of the box.
“Maybe she’s just stressed.”
Sharon nodded. “She’s stressed all right.”
“Maybe the spa treatment will work.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” But Sharon didn’t look like she believed it and Scarlett had to admit, she had good cause.
“So Sharon,” she said, leaning closer, “This might sound strange too, but I’m curious about this accounting thing. Tell me about your job, what do you actually do?”
The men returned a few minutes later and the sightseers returned a little after that, full of all the amazing things they’d seen from the air, and the conversation was lively and lunch was ordered and arrived and was demolished with gusto and the atmosphere was festive.
With two hours to go before the wedding, people were just thinking about making a move to prepare for the ceremony when Alice Svensson bustled nervously up to Robbo’s side. “Robert, Kristelle wants to know where you’ve put the gown.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t put it anywhere.”
Alice blinked and swallowed and tried again. “So where is it?”
This time Robbo twigged. “The dress? You’re looking for the wedding dress?”
“Ye-es.”
“I thought you had it.”
“Oh, god.” Alice peeled away from the table and disappeared and everyone around the table blinked, and that was really all there was time for because it was Kristelle who appeared next; Kristelle in a sundress with her skin glowing and hair all pinned up into an intricate and elegant up-do, and how every bride-to-be would want to look, if it wasn’t for the rabid eyes and her mother hovering anxiously behind.
“Robert, darling,” she said with words that fairly dripped with arsenic, “where is my dress? You know, the one I’m supposed to marry you in. In. Less. Than. Two. Hours. From. Now?”
A sheen of sweat broke out on Robbo’s forehead as the coaster in his fingers shredded. “I don’t know, darling. Where can it be?”
She laughed, if you could call it a laugh. “You seriously mean to tell me that you don’t have it?”
“I thought it was bad luck for me to have anything to do with it before the wedding day. When you weren’t carrying it, I assumed Alice had brought it with her.”
“Aaaaargh!” She turned on her bridesmaid. “Sharon, you should have done something. Why didn’t you think of it?”
Sharon sat bolt upright in her chair. “How? Why?”
“Because you’re supposed to be supporting me. You shou
ld have known something was wrong. You should have done something about it.”
“But you came up the day before me. I didn’t know you didn’t have the dress.”
“You could have asked!”
“And you could have realized then and I could have brought it the next day.”
“You’re saying this is my fault? You’re useless!”
“Hey,” said Robbo, “Leave Sharon alone. It’s not her fault.”
“Then whose fault is it?”
“Oh god,” said Rolf across the table, who looked like he’d been visited by the ghost of weddings past, and hailed a passing waiter for a double scotch.
“Calm down,” said her mother nervously hovering behind Cyclone Kristelle, “we’ll get another dress. We’ll go shopping. It’ll be fine.”
Kristelle’s fists clenched at her sides. “We’re in a tiny town at the arse-end of the world and I’m supposed to be getting married in less than two hours. Where am I supposed to find a dress?”
“Actually,” Mitch piped up, and said, before Scarlett could stop him, “Scarlett’s got a dress.”
All heads swiveled her way. “What?”
“You wouldn’t mind if Kristelle borrowed it, would you, Scarlett?”
She shook her head. “I really don’t think...”
“A wedding dress?” all of them said. “You’ve got a wedding dress? Why?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
Kristelle huffed. “This is pointless. Even if she had a dress, it would hardly be suitable for me.”
“I dunno,” said Mitch. “It’s white and frothy and takes up half the wardrobe. What did you say it cost? Two thousand dollars? A Vera Wong or something.”
“Vera Wang,” Scarlett corrected. “But I don’t think—”
Alice gasped, her gaze going from her daughter to Scarlett and back again, mentally sizing them up. “You’ve got a two thousand dollar Vera Wang gown hanging in your closet?”
“Mother, I hardly think—”
“Well think again,” her mother snapped. “Because right now there don’t appear to be too many other options.”
Which was why Kristelle and her mother were standing in their villa two minutes later as Scarlett unzipped the cover on the dress. “Oh my god,” Alice said, her eyes popping out at all that tumbled tulle, as if even she hadn’t believed this might work. “Kristelle, get your clothes off, right now.”
“It gapes,” complained the bride-to-be a few minutes later.
“It’s bound to,” said her mother, who already had the villa’s pre threaded needle kit out and ready to go. “You’re not as well-endowed as our American friend. But apart from that, it’s perfect. Hold still and I’ll fix it.”
A few tiny stitches under the arm, and it was done. And even Kristelle had to admit, she looked amazing. But still...
“Look, I have to warn you, I don’t think it’s a very lucky dress.”
“Oh, you’d do that, wouldn’t you?” Kristelle sniped, “You’d deny me this dress to ruin my wedding day.”
Oh good grief, thought Scarlett. “So go ahead. Take the dress.”
“It’s a dress,” Alice said, matter-of-factly as she helped her daughter climb out of it. “It’s lucky you had it,” she said, securing it back in its protective cover. “I’ll see you back at the villa, Kristelle,” she said, and left with the gown.
“So long as you understand, Kristelle, this dress has bad luck. Two brides and two disappointments.”
“Two?” She blinked, as she climbed back into her own clothes, and then shook the question away. “Well, that’s hardly likely to happen to me,” she said knowingly, “Robert can’t wait to get that ring on my finger. He loves me. Besides, he’d never marry better and he knows it.”
“Lucky Robert.” Try as she might, Scarlett couldn’t keep the snipe from her voice.
Kristelle paused, her hands behind her back at her zipper. “It should have been lucky Mitch, as it happens, but I’ll settle. Meanwhile, we all know Mitch can do a whole lot better than you. And he will, because he’s not going to marry you, you know. If he wouldn’t marry me, he’s hardly going to stoop to marrying trailer trash like you.”
Wow. Nothing like laying it on the line. Had she just lent this woman a wedding gown? Scarlett found a smile from the nether regions of somewhere. “You know, I really wish there was a way to say this nicely, seeing as it’s supposed to be a wedding ’n’ all. But I asked Mitch what you were like before we came, and he told me you were beautiful.
“Turns out he was wrong, as it happens, because you’re stunning. Super-model gorgeous in fact.” Scarlett paused, the look on the other woman’s face telling her she was clearly wondering what her problem was.
“What he didn’t tell me, because he’s too much of a gentleman, is that you’re a complete and utter bitch.”
Kristelle’s face turned as cold and hard as marble. “Trailer trash!” she repeated, as she headed for the door.
“Happy wedding,” Scarlett said. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Chapter Eight
Robbo and Mitch were sharing a last pre-wedding tipple at the bar—one of a series of last pre-wedding tipples—when Mitch looked at his watch and stood up.
“C’mon, mate,” he said. “Gotta get you to the church on time.”
Robbo didn’t move, just sat hunched on his stool looking melancholy. “To be honest, I was kind of hoping she’d call it off.”
Mitch blinked and sat back down again. He was feeling a bit dazed. The events of the past couple of days were spinning around in his brain and after a few drinks it was hard to pin them all down long enough to make sense of them. “Hang on, mate, what are you saying?”
“I thought it was a solution to everything.”
“Don’t you want to get married?”
Robbo screwed up his face. “That’s a hard one. Ask me something else.”
“Do you love her? Do you love Kristelle?”
“Oh, Kristelle. She’s beautiful isn’t she? Like an ice princess or ice goddess or something. Ice. Cold. Something.”
“Mate, do you love her?”
Robbo frowned. “Who?”
“Kristelle!”
“Oh, you still talking about her?” He shook his head. “I dunno. I must. I mean she tells me I do.”
“So you don’t actually love her?”
“I dunno. How do you know when you love someone? I mean, how do you know you love Scarlett?”
Mitch shook his head. “Mate, it’s not like that.”
“Of course, it is. Anyone can see you’re nuts about her.”
“Robbo—”
“And she’s nuts about you. The three blind mice could see that. God, it should be you two tying the knot.”
“Robbo, listen, this isn’t about me. This is about you. You and Kristelle. Because if you don’t love her, why are you marrying her?”
Robbo sighed a long loud sigh of frustration. “Because she wanted to get married and I’m scared to bloody death of her! Why do you think? And because when I said I had doubts about getting married so quickly, she said I was nuts if I didn’t because I’d never do better.” He looked sadly over at his friend. “She was right, wasn’t she? I’m too bloody ugly for someone like her.”
“Jesus mate, has she got you well and truly stitched up.”
Robbo shook his head and drained what was left in his glass. “And then I came here and met Sharon—” he looked at his mate, “Have you met Sharon? She’s an accountant, too.”
Mitch clapped Robbo on the arm. “Yeah, I know. I’ve met Sharon.”
“Yeah?” Robbo grinned. “Isn’t she something else?” He hiccupped and turned his empty glass upside down on the counter. “I need another drink.”
“No you don’t,” said Mitch, signaling to the bartender for two big black mugs of coffee. “What you need right now is a clear head and courage.”
“I’d rather have another drink.”
“Yeah
,” Mitch said, “wouldn’t we all?”
The elegant gazebo was the perfect site for an intimate wedding. Surrounded by the lush tropical gardens and verdant lawns, the lily pond below lent an aura of tranquility, as silver and golden fish flashed by the surface and lingered a moment before swimming away, and exotic birds made even more exotic calls from the trees around.
It could have been tranquil too, if the groom and best man weren’t missing in action.
“I’ll go look,” offered Scarlett, when the celebrant looked at his watch for about the seventeenth time.
She found them on their way, dressed formally for the wedding, sure, but looking more than a bit frayed around the edges. She caught Mitch’s arm and caught a whiff of alcohol with it. “Where the hell have you two been?” Although the answer seemed pretty obvious.
“Pondering the question of life, the universe and everything,” Mitch said.
“What?”
“Robbo has to talk to Kristelle. Where is she?”
“She’s with her father waiting to walk down the figurative aisle. Where do you think she is?”
Mitch smiled down at Scarlett in the green dress they’d bought together in Kalgoorlie and with her hair tied into an elegant knot. “Geez, you look beautiful, Scarlett.” And suddenly, in a bolt from the blue, he had the answer to Robbo’s question.
How do you know when you love someone?
You just do.
He blinked as his heart lurched with the enormity of the discovery. He glanced down at his watch. He needed to sit down and work this out a while. “How much time do we have?”
“No time! Are you drunk?”
“Not half as drunk as Robbo.” He looked around for his mate. “Robbo?” But his mate was long gone, already wending his unsteady way along the path towards the gazebo. “Shit!”
They chased after him but he had a decent head start and beat them there. “I can’t do it,” they heard him say to the celebrant and his parents and Kristelle’s mother. “The wedding’s off. Where’s Kristelle? I have to tell her.”
“You’re not marrying her?” said his mother.
