Bedding The Best Man (Bedding the Bachelors Book 7) Read online

  “I thought we’d put the stage down by the water, and have the dance floor here…” She pointed to the spot she had in mind.

  “That sounds great. What are you thinking for entertainment?”

  “Not sure yet, but I have a few ideas. We’ll have to be quick about it since I’m sure most of the best groups are booked up. A little creativity might be in order. I’ll start making phone calls today.”

  She swiped her finger over the screen again and brought up a photo of the yurt.

  “That’s amazing!” Evie clapped her hands. “I had no idea it would actually be that beautiful! I mean, I’ve seen photos online…”

  “Believe me, it’s even better in person. The fire pit, the lights dancing off the canvas…” Brianne’s thoughts began to wander. “It’s breathtaking.”

  Evie took the phone to keep swiping through the photos. “Speaking of breathtaking…”

  Brianne groaned, seeing the photo of Gabe hanging the chandelier. His arms were flexed, his polo shirt riding up as he stretched. A wide swath of his abs was visible. He was delectable, of course. And he’d just broken Brianne’s heart.

  “Yeah, he’s okay, too.” Brianne turned her attention to her laptop, opening her vendor files. “We absolutely have to lock down our vendors. Today, if not sooner.”

  “Brianne, what happened between you two?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Brianne sighed, her head dropping. “I guess there’s no way to impress upon you the importance of expediency right now, is there?”

  “Not until we talk about what’s really important. So you might as well come clean.”

  Brianne’s eyes filled with tears and this time they fell before she could stymie them. Evie gasped, running around the desk to throw an arm over Bri’s sholders.

  “Oh my God! He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Brianne shook her head, pointing to her chest. “Here. He hurt me here.”

  “How? What’s really going on?”

  Brianne took several deep breaths. Could she trust Evie? Of course, she could. She wasn’t just her assistant, but one of her most trusted friends.

  “I have to tell you the real reason Eric left,” she said.

  Ten minutes later, it was all out on the table. She’d confessed everything—the dreams, Eric’s text, her first night with Gabe, and the beauty of their time together at the campground. Then she told her about Gabe’s change of heart that morning.

  “Whoa.” Stunned, Evie slumped against the back of her chair. She played mindlessly with her ponytail. “You’ve been in love with Gabe all along?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Brianne said.

  “I would. I mean, Jesus Christ, you were having dirty dreams about him…”

  “That’s all they were. Dreams. I can’t control my subconscious.”

  “No, but you can listen to it when it’s screaming to be heard,” Evie countered. “I mean, think about it! Your inner voice was trying so hard to get your attention! Finally, you said his name out loud, so Eric would hear it and react. It’s like straight out of fucking Freud, boss.”

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” Brianne murmured. “He doesn’t want me.”

  “Yes, he does. I think he showed you that last night. But he feels guilty about Eric, and it’s totally understandable.”

  “I do understand. I feel guilty, too. But Eric left me.”

  “True. But neither of you have talked to Eric since. Gabe’s probably wondering what happens when you do see him. If maybe you’ll regret being with Gabe after all. That you’ll want Eric back.”

  Brianne frowned. “He never said anything like that. He just talked about his own guilt.”

  “He’s a guy, Bri. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s scared of you choosing Eric over him. Again.”

  “Again,” she whispered. Yes, she supposed it made sense. After all, she and Gabe had had feelings for each other for a long time, but he’d been right when he said Eric still stood between them. He always would until they could work things out once and for all. But when would they have the chance?

  “I’m so tired, Evie.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “I know. But you’re a smart, strong woman! What is it you want?”

  Bri shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess…to just be happy.”

  “Okay. Happiness. A good start. What else?” Evie jumped up from her chair, taking notes as she paced the floor. Her hyperactivity and bright smile gave Brianne a little bit of bolstering.

  “Um, I want to kick ass at this contest with Leland.”

  “Now you’re talking! And what will that contest mean for you?”

  “Success for the business. Success for us!”

  “Hooray!” Evie tossed her notepad in the air, making Brianne laugh at her enthusiasm.

  “Listen, lady.” Evie got in Brianne’s face, leaning over the desk for emphasis. “You are going to kick ass with this. Why? Because you’re Brianne fucking Whitcomb, that’s why. It’s what you do. You do not fail, because you don’t know how to fail. Now let’s get the fuck to work.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, despite her newfound enthusiasm to get “what she wanted,” Brianne felt more hopeless than ever. She’d considered everything she’d learned from Gabe and their night away, and what it would take to throw an event spectacular enough to compete with Leland, and she’d come to the terrible conclusion that it just wasn’t possible.

  Not with the time and financial constraints they were under.

  She wondered what would happen when she conceded without holding an event. There was no way she was going to win. Why bother embarrassing herself? She’d give up, close the business, just like Jane had. Leland would get everything.

  She’d never quit anything before, though. She didn’t even know how to go about it. And if she did, she would never live it down—first getting stood up on her wedding day, then closing her business. She might as well go out and buy some of those muumuus Evie had teased her about.

  No. She wasn’t going to go out like that. No way. She shook herself, squaring her shoulders. Onward, she told herself.

  “Did you get through to the string quartet?” she called out to Evie, seated just outside her door.

  “They’re busy,” Evie groaned.

  “Of course they are.” Brianne had made so many phone calls, her nails were chipped from dialing. And so far, no luck. None of her favored bands or acts were available that weekend. One person had even snidely commented that Brianne, of all people, should know that brides booked their bands far in advance. Another crack about the aborted wedding. How cute.

  She placed her forehead on her folded arms. What else could possibly go wrong?

  Just then, the front door opened and closed.

  “Don’t worry, dear heart, I’ll find my way in.”

  In a few seconds, Leland was looking as slimy as ever in the doorway. Evie stood behind him, making slashing motions with a pair of scissors.

  “What do you need, Leland?” Brianne did her best to appear sunny and full of confidence. He was obviously here to snoop. The last thing she needed was for him to see how undone she was by this contest.

  “Just checking in to see how things are going here, Brianne, dear,” he said. “It’s something Jane and I used to do, checking in with each other. To see if the other needed help, that sort of thing.”

  Bullshit, Brianne thought. She knew Jane too well to believe a crap story like that.

  “That’s very generous of you, Leland,” she said, her shoulders thrown back and chin held high. “It means a lot to me that you would take the time from what I’m sure is a great deal of work for you, just to come here and check on me.”

  “Oh, no need to worry about that.” Leland waved one manicured hand, stepping further into the office. The sweater draped over his shoulders matched his eyes, something Brianne knew without being told was a deliberate touch. She’d bet he’d just com
e from the salon, his hair looking absolutely perfect—not a strand out of place. “Things are well in hand in my neck of the woods. This is hardly my first rodeo, darling.”

  “No, you’ve been through quite a few rodeos over the years,” Brianne observed drily. Evie threw a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle at Brianne’s quip.

  Leland’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly—probably as much as they could since he was so heavily Botoxed.

  “You have no idea how much sleep I’ve been losing over you, darling,” he said, clicking his tongue.

  “And why is that?”

  “I can only imagine how overwhelmed you are, with everything that needs to be done for an event this big, and such a short amount of time in which to do it all. You have to be pulling your hair out.”

  “Not at all,” Brianne replied. “In fact, I’ve solidified my vendors. We’re a go.”

  “A go?” Leland looked surprised.

  “What, Leland? Have you been doing a little more checking in on the competition than you’re willing to let on?” Brianne shook her head, frowning. “That isn’t fair. I wouldn’t want to find out you’ve been wasting your precious time calling around to see who I’ve booked.”

  “Who said I had?”

  “No one. I would just hate to hear it. Like you said, there’s so much to be done, and no time to waste.” She smiled sweetly, wanting nothing more than to claw her nails down his unnaturally smooth skin. She wondered if there were scales beneath it.

  He smiled tightly in reply. “I’m glad to see you have things so well in hand, dear. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

  “And I, you,” Brianne assured him. She waited until Evie escorted him out of the office before throwing her mug across the room. At least it was empty, she thought, as it broke against the wall.

  “Damn,” Evie said, shaking her head when she saw the mess. “I was gonna do that.”

  “What are we going to do?” Brianne asked, throwing her hands up in the air. “He’s on to us.”

  “How much would you be willing to bet he held back the news about Jane dropping out of the contest, just to give himself the edge?”

  Brianne’s eyes widened at Evie’s theory. “Of course he did, that snake! He probably knew for days before coming to me! Jane probably didn’t announce it to the magazine before then, but he knew. He had to know. He’s got spies everywhere, the creep.” She looked at Evie, feeling her spine strengthen as she did. “We have to win this. I’m more determined than ever to wipe the floor with that pig.”

  Evie smiled. “Atta girl.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Later that evening, Brianne went home—only for a change of venue, however. She planned to work on the event long into the night.

  She’d already made one phone call she’d been loathe to make: Gabe’s office. And just as she’d thought she might be, she’d been redirected to an assistant. She didn’t think he’d want to speak to her, and she shared the sentiment.

  What hurt the most was the feeling that another man had let her down.

  First Callum, then Eric. Now Gabe. Whenever she thought she’d found happiness, something got in the way. There had to be something wrong with her.

  Focus on your work, she told herself. The work was the one thing she knew she was good at. Then again, was she? Her company was on the verge of failure, and if this contest didn’t go in her favor, she’d be starting from scratch somewhere else.

  She’d worked too damned hard to let that happen.

  Sipping her wine, she looked at the plans on her laptop, perched precariously on her knees since there was no room anywhere else. Maybe the ashtray thing had gone a little too far, but there was no way she’d give up a single one. Jamie had once joked that she needed offsite storage space. She’d wrapped one of them up for his birthday gift and when he’d opened it, she told him she’d taken his advice and was finding places to store them.

  Then she’d taken it back when he wasn’t looking.

  Her phone rang, causing a lot of scrambling on her part.

  I really need to clear some space, she thought, reaching over her laptop to grab for the phone.

  It was her mother.

  “Mom,” she said, trying to sound pleased. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear from her mom, but when she was in the flow it was hard to give a damn about one society scandal or another. And there was one topic of conversation she definitely didn’t want to discuss.

  Which, of course, was exactly what her mother had in mind. “How are you, sweetheart? Have you heard from him?”

  He-who-must-not-be-named, Brianne thought.

  “No, Mom. I would have told you if I had.”

  “Are you sure about that? You didn’t tell me you were having problems.”

  Brianne rolled her eyes, gulping down her wine. “I didn’t even know we were having problems, Mom. Remember? I told you that.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you. I’ve been wanting to call his mother, but I don’t know if I can bear speaking to her right now.”

  Brianne rolled her eyes again, getting up to pour herself another glass of wine. It was going to be one of those nights.

  “Mom, you’re not the one he left. I am. Besides, Janice didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Are you sure? That woman has always had too high an opinion of herself. I always wondered if she’d think anyone was good enough for her son. Ironic, seeing as she came from nothing.”

  This again. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were a snob,” Brianne commented, her jaw tight. What did it matter who his parents were? Besides, they had more money than the Whitcombs ever had.

  “You know me, Brianne. I’m the least snobby of anyone I know.”

  That was the truth—some of the women Kathleen spent time with were insufferable.

  “If it makes you feel better, call Janice,” Brianne said. “You can make sure she knows how miserable her son has made you.”

  “What about you?” her mother asked.

  “I’m too busy to worry about him, Mom. I have a lot on my plate right now.”

  She heard a sigh on the other end of the line. “To think. You could be married right now.”

  “Maybe I dodged a bullet. You never know.” It was as though Eric had left her mother instead of her.

  “Brianne, sweetie, you know I’ve always adored your sense of humor, but it’s not doing much for me right now. I only care about your happiness, and you act as though this is a big joke. Everywhere I go, people look at me as though I had a death in the family.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry. I am. I really have to go, though.” There was no way she could deal with this. A constant reminder of how she’d messed up. “I’ll call you later.” She hung up before her mother had the chance to reply.

  She emptied her wine glass, sitting back with a sigh. If Eric was in front of her, she would wring his neck.

  It wasn’t that she was unhappy to not be married. She was still secretly relieved that he’d run. If only everybody would leave her alone about it.

  The idea of moving to Chicago was still appealing. No matter how bad the winters were.

  The doorbell rang. “Oh, terrific,” she muttered. Maybe Mom had been sitting outside the building when she called.

  But it wasn’t Kathleen Whitcomb. It was Gabe.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling exposed all of a sudden. Why should she? It was her place. He was the one who should feel uncomfortable.

  “Hi to you, too.”

  “Don’t play cute,” she said, narrowing her eyes. It had to be the wine. She was feeling feistier than usual.

  He smiled. That only irritated her more.

  “Sorry. I just had to see you.”

  “For what? Feeling a little horny? Wanna go to bed, then have second thoughts later on?”

  “Ouch.” He sighed. “I actually came over to see if you need any help getting things together for your event,” he said. “That�
��s all.”

  “Oh.” She looked at the floor. “I thought when I was redirected to an assistant earlier today that you weren’t interested in helping me anymore.”

  “That’s not the case at all, Brianne. I was at the gym, and wanted to be sure you were taken care of when I wasn’t around the office.”

  She looked up again. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She stepped back. “Sorry. Come in. The neighbors are going to start wondering why you’re still standing outside.”

  Gabe stepped into the living room, a grin on his face. She knew he was reacting to her ashtrays again, but she ignored it. She had to stay in control of the situation. He wanted to help her. She needed the help. It was up to her to keep things professional.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, sitting on the couch, peering at her laptop.

  “Not as well as I’d like,” Brianne admitted. “I’m running out of time fast.”

  “Maybe this will help you,” he said, grinning. “The whole set-up we had yesterday? I mean, soup to nuts?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s yours. Fifty yurts. The whole thing. Enough facilities for everyone, top of the line—nicer than some people have in their own homes, frankly. My assistant got in touch with decorators for you, people who specialize in indoor/outdoor furnishings and decorations. Generators, seating, food prep arrangements, stage setup, a dance floor, everything. Even a First-Aid tent. All you need to do is find entertainment, caterers, and the other odds and ends you want people to enjoy. Like the color-coordinated marshmallow roasters you talked about when I took you home from the club.” He grinned.

  Brianne’s head spun. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “Nothing but the best. I mean it. Whatever you want, you have it.”

  “How? I mean, honestly, fifty of those yurts? With all those fabulous furnishings? I don’t know if I can afford that.” She wasn’t exactly flush with cash, thanks to the recent drop-off in business. Using her own money would cause tax complications.

  “Bri, I wouldn’t have reserved this for you if I wasn’t planning to help you with it.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yeah. Like, helping you pay for it. I want you to win this.”