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Damn. She felt a sting in her own, thinking of Audra’s dashed future plans. And maybe you’re disappointed in yourself for those girlish fancies you were indulging in about Alec Thatcher.
“Carrie Underwood,” Lilly said quickly, drowning out that little voice in her head. “‘Before He Cheats.’” It was a game they’d made up in college, naming the right song to fit the emotional moment. “I wish we could find Jacob’s car. I’d love to take a bat to his headlights.”
Beside her, Audra went still. “You…you think he broke our engagement because of another woman?”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Of course Lilly thought exactly that. What man in his right mind wouldn’t marry beautiful Audra, beautiful Audra from a wealthy, prominent family, who was every guy’s dream of the ultimate good girl? There had to be someone else. Men were easily distracted and had no trouble moving on to the next bright shiny thing dangled in front of them.
“Sorry,” she muttered now, guilt twisting with the tension in her belly. “Don’t listen to me. What do I know?” Except that there were dozens of ways for so-called “love” to go wrong.
It’s why she’d stopped believing in it—at least for herself.
Smart, right? Look at Audra, who’d grown up with every advantage, every emotional support, and still ended up with a broken engagement and likely a broken heart to go with it. While Lilly hoped her friend would pick herself up and brush herself off after this—and fully intended to do her best to get Audra back on her feet—it was going to be hard not to worry about her friend flinging herself headlong into her next romance. But Lilly had no doubt that her bestie would do that very thing, once she healed.
And with that abundance of goodness inside of her, Audra might be able to have it all the next time around.
Now if her last name had been Durand…that was a whole different proposition altogether.
This is how Durands love, her aunt had told her once upon a time, sweeping up the shards of a beer bottle that had been violently flung against a wall.
That’s when Lilly had started wising up.
Which didn’t explain the, well…giddiness that damn Alec Thatcher had made her feel.
Damn Alec Thatcher. She was going to think about him like that for the rest of her days.
No, she was going to stop thinking of him altogether. Immediately.
The next available clerk beckoned them forward. Lilly shuffled in the direction of the long, gleaming reception desk, each hand fisted around a suitcase handle, Audra trailing behind her. With dismay, Lilly realized the employee waiting for them was a young man. What would he think of their strange half-wedding, half-Pilates class get-ups? She’d rather they’d scored one of the two female clerks standing to his right, who looked to be in their twenties and also sisters or cousins or something. The pretty women would be sympathetic to the situation and likely have the savvy not to mention their odd mode of dress.
But their guy didn’t blink an eye and took hold of the platinum card she presented. “Yes,” he murmured, starting to key something into a computer. “Mr. Montgomery already called ahead and made sure we set aside the best suite available for you.”
Of course he had. The rich really were different, Lilly thought. It wasn’t bitter, that thought, just an observation. Wealth made things so much easier.
Order the pricey wedding planner to de-construct the nuptials-that-should-have-been. Book fancy rooms at a luxe resort for your daughter and her friend.
Lilly’s mind conjured up that tall, athletic man with the charm and the grin who had been slated to stand up for the groom at those canceled nuptials.
Flirt with a woman you just met because you both were in town for the same wedding. Within hours, tow her to a secluded corner and kiss her like you’d already spent hours in bed with her, it was that intimate and panty dampening-demanding. Suggest in a hot whisper they go to this B & B he knew of at Lake Arrowhead for a weekend soon—she’d love the place, with its mountain views and in-room hot tub. He’d make all the arrangements.
Because damn Alec Thatcher was rich too.
And Lilly, giddy—yes, giddy was the right word—on whatever powerful pheromones that man oozed without seeming effort, had begun forgetting a lifetime of caution, allowing secret fantasies to unfurl like seedlings beneath a warm sun.
