A Summer Wedding at Cross Creek Inn Read online

  “She scares me to death, so I try to never talk to her. Should I have?”

  “I simply hope nobody’s fighting at your supper. I would hate to have it ruined.”

  “Ruined! Who would be fighting?”

  “Maybe ruined was the wrong word,” he hastily said. “There are some articles about Lindsey all over the web. I thought you should know.”

  “She’s an influencer. Of course there would be articles on the web.”

  “These are bad stories that are circulating. Crystal is in legal trouble too. You know that, right?”

  “Over the admission’s scandal?”

  She and Eric had discussed it once, but he’d claimed his father’s lawyers had handled it. There had been dozens of names printed in the newspapers, but Crystal’s hadn’t been one of them. Then again, Jennifer didn’t care about the scandal and hadn’t really followed it.

  “Watch this video of Lindsey,” he said, “then check out some of the replies that were posted.”

  He stuck his phone under her nose and punched the play button. A video scrolled by, of a very drunk Lindsey in a bar, complaining about college. Jennifer peeked down at the number of comments that had been posted: almost twenty-thousand! She thumbed through a few near the top, and they were vile and cruel.

  She blanched, and Kyle reached over and took the phone away from her.

  “That’s just one site,” he said, “but it’s everywhere. Her sponsors are dumping her, so her career is in the toilet.”

  Jennifer leaned closer and asked, “Would Lindsey and Crystal know about this? I’m having enormous problems with reception in this building. They might not have seen any of it.”

  “They know. I spoke to Lindsey this morning, and she claimed it was no big deal, but it’s been rolling downhill all day.”

  Jennifer gazed out the front doors, studying the mountains off in the distance, and her mind was racing.

  “What are you thinking?” Kyle finally asked, after the silence had gone on too long.

  “I’m trying to decide if this could wreck my wedding somehow.”

  “I can’t envision how it would. As you mentioned, you’re marrying Eric. Not Crystal or Lindsey. It’s just that Lindsey and her mom don’t like each other very much, so they’ve probably been arguing. Crystal will be in an awful mood.”

  “Which could definitely ruin the supper,” Jennifer said. “She and Sharon detest each other, and if she’s irritated, she’ll be extra bitchy.”

  “Exactly.” Kyle nodded like a wise elder, as if he’d voiced a universal truth.

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked. “What’s your best guess?”

  “Crystal and Lindsey might pack up and fly back to LA, but if they did, you wouldn’t really miss them, would you?”

  “No.” She glanced around, terrified one of them might be lurking behind her and eavesdropping. “Should I talk to Dad about this?”

  “I wouldn’t. He already believes we’re too different from the Benjamin family. This sort of public drama would simply confirm his reservations.”

  “Dad is having reservations? About my marriage?”

  It was his turn to blanch. “No, no, I chose the wrong word again. I don’t imagine he would have any advice to share about Lindsey and Crystal. The whole thing is way out of our league, and it would only make him worry.”

  “You’re right.”

  Kyle raised a brow. “Last night, he didn’t come in until after three o’clock.”

  “Amy told me. Where do you suppose he was?”

  “Hitting on the babes. Where would you suppose?”

  “What a disgusting thought!” Jennifer scoffed. “The female guests are my age, and if I found out he was attracted to one of them, I’d have to kill him.”

  “Guys get weird when pretty girls are shoved in their faces.”

  “Dad doesn’t.”

  Kyle snorted. “We should keep an eye on him. If he’s hitting on somebody, we have to be sure she’s worthy of him.”

  “He’s not hitting on anybody. Push that insane notion out of your head.”

  The prospect was strangely upsetting, which was bizarre. Their dad had been widowed for seventeen years, and he’d spent every minute of those years working and rearing his kids, so it wasn’t as if her mom had died the previous day. She’d passed away when Jennifer had been eight, so it was ridiculous to be anxious.

  He wasn’t betraying her mother’s memory or dating too soon, and she attributed her apprehension to nuptial nerves.

  Eric was about to arrive, and once he did, she’d be fine. They’d have an agreeable meal with their parents, and she would calm down.

  “It’s a wedding, Jen,” Kyle said. “Everyone falls in love at a wedding.”

  “Not Dad!”

  “I’ll spy on him and let you know if he’s misbehaving. Where is he this afternoon anyway? I haven’t seen him for hours.”

  Just then, a car pulled up in the driveway, and her dad climbed out of the driver’s seat. When Sharon Kildare climbed out of the passenger seat, Jennifer was amazed she didn’t faint.

  Kyle smirked. “Maybe two Laytons will marry two Benjamins.”

  “Don’t even joke about it!”

  “Who’s joking? Shall I run out and ask him where he’s been?”

  “Could we just . . . just . . . not discuss this? For some reason, it’s giving me incredible anxiety.”

  “They were merely riding in a car together. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It could simply be sightseeing.”

  Her dad was tipping the valet, then he and Ms. Kildare would stroll into the Great Room. The encounter would be so awkward, and like the coward she apparently was, she jumped up and started off in the other direction.

  “Where are you going?” her brother called.

  She didn’t reply, but waved a hand, wanting to hide, breathe, and reflect on how relieved she’d be when Eric was finally with her. She needed to focus on that moment and nothing else.

  A knock sounded on her door, and she was tempted to not answer. Greg was the only person she’d truly like to talk to, but he was back in his own room, showering and dressing for the parents’ supper, so it wouldn’t be him.

  They’d frittered away the afternoon, driving scenic routes through the high country. The entire escapade had been divine, and she would be so sad when she headed home on Sunday. Her budding friendship with him was exciting and fun, and her solitary life in Malibu no longer appealed.

  Her world there was quiet and boring, her routines selected so there were never any changes. After she’d been tossed over by Dennis, she’d deliberately built a structure for herself where there were never any bumps in her road. To her astonishment, that world suddenly seemed restrictive and stifling.

  The knock sounded again, and she wondered if it might be Eric. Miss DeAngelo, the event planner, had left a message that he was about to arrive. It had been from Miss DeAngelo, not Eric, but that was typical.

  She and Eric led such separate lives that it wouldn’t have occurred to him to keep her apprised of his whereabouts.

  The knock sounded a third time, and she muttered, “Hold on, hold on, I’m coming.”

  She went out to the sitting room and yanked the door open. When she saw who was standing there, she couldn’t process what she was witnessing. Her initial thought was that she had to be hallucinating, and she blinked over and over to be certain she wasn’t.

  “Surprise!” her son, Alex, said.

  “What on earth . . . ?” she murmured. “You’re supposed to be in Kenya and much too busy to make the trip.”

  “Dad guilted me into it.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. The bastard even sent a private jet to bring me. How could I refuse? I decided Eric is an obnoxious prick, but he’s my only brot
her, so I should probably be here for his wedding. If I’d skipped it, I’d likely have regretted it forever.”

  “Yes, you likely would have. If I’d had the money to fritter away, and the notion had dawned on me, I’d have sent a plane for you too.”

  He was a tall, handsome boy, with hazel eyes and her same brown hair, but in her motherly opinion, he was much too thin. He had the lean, gaunt physique of a marathon runner, and he was very tan, but then, he worked in the tropical sun. He looked scrubby and exhausted, as if he’d just completed a hard journey, and he had.

  They were still hovered in the doorway, and he grinned and threw up his hands. “Well, are you inviting me in or not?”

  She nodded with pleasure. “Yes, I’m definitely inviting you in.”

  “There you are!”

  Jennifer was standing on the front steps of the Inn where she’d been impatiently watching for Eric’s SUV to pull through the security gate. He’d finally arrived and had just climbed out of the vehicle.

  He was so handsome that he took her breath away: golden-blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, six-foot-two in height, two-hundred pounds of perfectly-sculpted muscle. He was a hunk who stopped women in their tracks when he walked by, and he was about to be hers forever.

  Every minute since she’d met him, she’d kept pinching herself. He could have married any gorgeous, rich girl in the world, but he’d picked her. She felt like a princess in a fairytale.

  “Hey, babe!” he said as she rushed over.

  He drew her close, delivering a quick kiss to the top of her head. He was an animal in private, but he wasn’t big on public displays of affection.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever get to Colorado,” she said.

  “For awhile there, neither did I. Is everyone here?”

  “Everyone who matters anyway.”

  He stared up at the building. She thought it was a charming place, but for a brief second, he scowled, as if he was disappointed.

  “It’s a friggin’ log cabin,” he disdainfully muttered.

  After Crystal had booked the spot, Jennifer had shown him pictures on the Inn’s website, so he was aware of what Crystal had arranged. What had he been expecting? It was a mountain inn, tucked away in a lush, quiet forest. That was part of its allure, and his remark left her with the perception that she’d failed in selecting the venue, but none of it had been her idea.

  At his voicing the derogatory comment, a nearby bellman frowned, and she insisted, “But it’s a really, really fancy log cabin. Come inside, and you can settle in your room. You must be exhausted.”

  “I am exhausted. It seems as if I’ve been traveling for a year rather than a day.”

  She led him under the portico and up the three steps into the Great Room. He assessed his surroundings like an imperious king and ultimately said, “It’s . . . different, isn’t it?”

  “It is, and I like it. The patio where we’ll have the rehearsal dinner is fantastic, and the chapel where we’ll hold the ceremony is so beautiful.” She leaned in and whispered, “There’s a hot springs pool in a grotto. If you’re nice to me, I’ll let you skinny-dip with me in it.”

  The suggestion made him grin. “You just improved my mood.”

  “And you improved mine, simply by getting here. I rescheduled the parents’ supper for tonight, and you’ll be able to host it with me.”

  “It’s tonight?”

  “Yes, and it starts in three hours, so I need you to relax for a bit, then change your clothes so we can be the first ones at the table.”

  “It’s a meal for our parents. They have to become acquainted. Why do we have to be there at all?”

  “It’s our wedding, Eric. We have to attend every event that’s planned.”

  She must have looked aghast because he bent down and kissed her on the lips. “Poor you. This has been stressful, hasn’t it?”

  “Very stressful, but then, weddings usually are.”

  “I was hoping you’d have nixed the supper.”

  “It means a lot to me to go through with it. It’s important. Our dads haven’t even met yet, and we’re about to marry. That’s too strange.”

  He snorted and murmured in her ear, “My dad’s such a prick, and your dad isn’t. I’m not in any hurry to have mine meet yours.”

  “My dad likes every kind of person. Despite how your dad acts, it will be fine.”

  “How about Crystal and my mother? Any explosions there?”

  “None that I’ve witnessed. If they’ve spatted, the news didn’t reach me.”

  “I’ll pretend that’s a good sign.” He stopped, appearing temporarily confused. “Am I checking in or what?”

  “No. I’ve got your keycard.” She pulled it out and handed it to him. “All you have to do is sneak upstairs and lock yourself inside.”

  “I want a shower so bad. And a drink. Please tell me there’s liquor in the rooms. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. This isn’t a dry county or some weird shit like that, is it?”

  “You should have an entire bar—if Josh hasn’t drunk it all.”

  He and Josh Taylor were sharing a suite, and as Jennifer mentioned his friend, Josh strolled in from the rear verandah. Eric went over to engage in some high-fives and man hugs.

  At the same moment, Victoria DeAngelo walked up to Jennifer and asked about an issue with the rehearsal dinner. Jennifer was rarely consulted on any topic, so she was flattered by Victoria seeking her out for once. But when she glanced up, Josh was whisking Eric toward the stairs.

  I’ll text you, Eric mouthed, and he waved his fingers over his hair, indicating he was off to take a shower.

  Jennifer nodded that she understood, and she told herself not to be irked that he was already rushing off. He’d been on the road for most of two days, waiting at airports and stranded on tarmacs. Of course he’d jump in the shower right away.

  He and Josh ambled off, and just like that, they’d forgotten her. She yearned to run after them and demand to be included, but that would be silly and juvenile.

  She could follow him to his room the minute she and Victoria were finished. He’d abandoned her in the lobby, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

  Yet he’d just arrived. Shouldn’t the interval have been more romantic? Shouldn’t he have been happier? With his traipsing off with Josh, it seemed as if he was there to hang out with Josh rather than her. She recognized that wasn’t the case, but still, it felt as if that’s what had occurred.

  She sighed and warned herself to quit being such a needy idiot.

  “I’m not busy this afternoon.”

  “Well, you can’t be in here with me. What if someone saw you?”

  Josh entered his suite and staggered to a halt. Eric was in his bedroom, and there was a female in there with him—but it wasn’t Jennifer Layton.

  They had a fairly good liquor cabinet supplied by the Inn, but Eric had wanted an upgrade on the whiskey, so Josh had headed down to get a bottle for him from the bar in the lobby. In the short period he’d been gone, who could have slithered in?

  The answer to that question was disturbing.

  He’d known Eric since they were little. They’d been raised in upper-class circles, reveling in childhoods that had been filled with travel teams, private coaches, luxury trips, and premier youth camps. Whatever small whim had tickled their fancy, it had been immediately furnished in the most extravagant manner.

  They’d grown up to be rich, handsome, famous men. Eric was renowned merely because his father was Hollywood royalty, but he often worked as a model too, so his face was everywhere. Josh was a superstar athlete, and the correct term for them was probably playboys. Or was that an old-fashioned word? He couldn’t decide, but that’s what they were. Gorgeous women threw themselves at their feet.

  While Josh liked to view himself as being a bit choosey, Eric co
uld be a real dog. He never rejected what was offered, but they were in Colorado for his wedding. No woman should be lurking in his bedroom.

  Josh crept to Eric’s door, suffering from a futile urge to prevent his friend from being stupid. When he discovered it was Crystal Benjamin, he wasn’t surprised, but he was disgusted.

  Crystal was exactly the kind of female who tempted Eric the most: sexy, blond, paper thin, exotic, famous in her own right—but she was Eric’s stepmother. Josh wasn’t particularly moral, but there was an incestuous vibe in the air that he didn’t like.

  Crystal was married to Eric’s father, and Josh couldn’t imagine how Dennis might react if Eric was caught with his wife. And what about Crystal?

  Josh suspected—if Crystal and Eric were linked in even the tiniest romantic way—Dennis would promptly escort her out of his home and his life.

  “Here’s your whiskey,” he said, pretending he hadn’t realized Crystal was present.

  The reckless pair was over by the bathroom. They weren’t touching, but he was receiving a definite sense that, if he hadn’t returned, they might have done something they shouldn’t have. On hearing him, they didn’t jump apart, giving the clear impression that they didn’t care if he observed them together.

  Eric’s hair was wet, his skin glistening from the shower. He’d tugged on shorts and had a towel draped over his shoulders. Crystal was primped and styled in clothes and jewelry that were so expensive she might have been off to a photo shoot, but then, she always looked amazing. Her role as Dennis’s wife was to appear young and glamourous, and she didn’t disappoint.

  “Hello, Josh,” Crystal casually said, as if it was perfectly appropriate for her to be where she was. “I’ve seen you around the hotel, but we haven’t had two seconds to chat. How have you been?”

  “I’m good.” He wasn’t good. Not with how his shoulder was wrecked, but he wasn’t about to have that discussion with her. He wiggled the liquor bottle at Eric. “I’m pouring—if you’re drinking?”

  “I’ve been drinking for a whole month,” Eric said, “and there’s no reason to stop now.”