Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter 10

The Best Man

The pool deck gleams with artificial light, and the symphony of tree frogs and crickets replaces that of tropical birds. The balmy ocean breeze is cooler now, and the only thing between me and relaxation is the group gathered around a long table under the pavilion at the end of the terrace.

Sadie tugs me forward, but senses my nerves and signals a waiter. “Chill out, Carmella.” She presses a glass into my hand.

I look down at the pink beverage, the smell of rum wafting from it. Strawberry daiquiri. “I don’t usually―”

“You’re on vacation.” She shrugs. She doesn’t have a matching glass in her hand. “Come on, let’s meet everybody.”

Chairs scrape at our approach, and Nelson gestures to two empty seats near the head of the table. Sadie sinks gracefully into the chair nearest her fiancé, and I take the other, along with a hearty sip of my daiquiri for fortification. Still standing, Nelson plunges into the whirlwind introductions, including Sadie’s mom.

Of course, I already know her. Linda Berkley-Miller, a somewhat blowzy woman with a lingering affection for big hair who’s still clinging to her beauty queen days, hasn’t changed in ten years. She wriggles her fingers at me, showing off the rhinestones on her acrylic nail tips. My smile tight, I return the wave.

Nelson’s mother, on the other hand, has a classic elegance about her that I can only attribute to being the wife of a rich businessman, namely the older version of Nelson at her side. Her dark hair is swept into a bun on the back of her head, and no wrinkles dare to mar her linen dress. Her smile has a genuine quality I’ve always thought was lacking in Linda Miller’s smile. I realize Sadie’s trying to emulate her future mother-in-law’s poise. No wonder she seems so composed and Zen over breaking up with Ryan.

It must be a cover for how emotional she is inside.

The round of introductions continues, but my attention skids to a halt when Nelson indicates the man sitting beside me.

“And this is my brother, Joshua.”

Oh, great. The best man. The one Sadie’s thinks I’ll hook up with at the wedding. He smirks at me, and when I tentatively offer my hand, he deposits a creepy kiss on my fingers instead of the awkward handshake I expect.

“Sweet as Carmella,” he jokes in a voice only loud enough for me to hear.

Do people really talk like this? If he was a bad-looking guy, I could ignore him and almost forgive him. But he’s kind of handsome. Sun-bleached blond hair, the same dark blue eyes as Nelson. The shape of his jaw bears a resemblance to his brother’s as well. But he’s younger. A lot younger, in fact. Maybe thirty or thirty-one, a year or two older than Sadie and me at most.

“It’s just Carmella. Nice to meet you, Joshua.” I clear my throat and take a sip of water.

“It’s just Josh, then.” He grins, revealing perfect, straight white teeth.

Across the table, Mrs. Mattingly—I’ve already forgotten her first name—catches my attention. “Sadie tells us you’re a pastry chef in Savannah, Georgia.”

My face fills with heat. Glancing at Sadie, who gives an innocent shrug, I nod. “Well, sort of. A friend of mine from college started a bakery a few years ago, and I guess I’m her right hand woman.” My brain feels a little addled, the pavilion a little less than stable. Probably the rum. “She has a great reputation, though. Caters for some high end clients.”

“Carmella’s being modest,” Sadie interjects. “She’s got her own repertoire that puts most professionals to shame.”

That probably wasn’t intended as a dig on Tess’s abilities. But before I can counteract the insinuation, Nelson says, “Sadie, love, maybe when you and Carmella go to the final cake tasting, the head pastry chef can give her some ideas, let her look around a bit.”

My jaw drops. “Oh, that’s . . .”

Then I stop. Whether or not I ever intend to open my own bakery, I’ll be working at Tess to Impress for the near future, and probably most of the distant future. To explore the kitchen of a five-star pastry chef is beyond all my expectations. Tess would jump at the chance. I owe it to her to scout things out.

“That would be amazing, actually. Thank you, Nelson.”

He waves off my gratitude and leans close to Sadie, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. With a sigh, I turn my attention to the salad a waiter has just placed before me. Given how much of my daiquiri I’ve slurped down, if I don’t put some food in my stomach, things are not going to be pretty.

Around the table, people pair off in quiet conversation, and to my horror, Nelson’s brother slowly inches his chair toward mine.

“So you bake.” Josh rests his chiseled chin in one hand. “Suppose you might give me a few tips before the week’s out?”

He manages to ask this just as I shove half a buttered roll into my mouth. I stare at him for a minute while I chew. The roll slides down as one hard lump when I swallow. “You’re interested in baking?”

My incredulity brings a smile to his face, one that’s both amused and openly seductive. The pointers he’s interested in have nothing to do with sugar and eggs.

“I might be persuaded to cultivate an interest.”

If he keeps up the innuendos, I might be persuaded to throw my salad in his lap.

“So what do you do?” I ask instead.

His features relax. He leans back, no longer on the prowl. “I’m what you’d call in business reconnaissance. Nelson’s taken on the helm of the family operation since our father retired.” He lazily gestures across the table. “So now I have to fill Nelson’s shoes. Travel around, meet with CEOs of businesses in trouble, scout on mergers and acquisitions. Sometimes just look for good investments.”

“Sort of like a headhunter, but with companies.”

Now that he’s not oozing charm in my face, listening to him is a little interesting. The accent helps. Though not as definitively British as Nelson’s, the cadence underlies everything he says. I can’t figure out what else I hear in his voice.

Josh grabs his wine glass. “I suppose you could look at it that way. But not so ruthless. Most of the time, we’re looking to save companies, make them stronger. Find ways to make the existing infrastructure work.”

This reminds me of the conversation Ryan and I had over dinner the other night, about urban planning in areas with historic significance. Josh is sort of talking about the same thing, about finding ways to preserve the integrity of something. My cheeks flush again, my thoughts drifting beyond our dinner conversation to the things we talked about on the beach.

The way Ryan acted on the beach.

Josh’s grin takes on a lopsided, mischievous cant, like he can read my mind. Skin crawling a little, I shove the other half of my roll into my mouth and try to come up with a better topic of conversation. One that won’t remind me of Ryan and the mess that brought me here in the first place.

Sadie catches my attention, saving me from the awkwardness. “Carmella, I forgot to tell you. The seamstress called. She can’t make it until tomorrow afternoon for the fittings.”

I wash the roll down with a hearty sip of strawberry daiquiri. “Okay.”

“That leaves us some free time tomorrow morning to go exploring in Christiansted.”

My lips stretch. “My kind of exploring, or yours?”

Sadie’s version of exploration involves shopping, and lots of it. “We could do a little of both.”

Nelson touches her arm, casting an apologetic look my way. “Did you forget, love? We have to meet with the officiant first thing tomorrow, and then it’s brunch with our mums.”

Sadie’s face falls. “I did forget. I guess I was looking forward to hanging out with Carmella.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I say quickly. “Christiansted’s smaller than Savannah, I can take a self-guided tour with no problems.” Except the part where I don’t like wandering around strange cities on my own. “Or I could just hang out here, enjoy the beach.”

“Nonsense,” Nelson says. “Sadie told me how much you’ll enjoy sightseeing, and tomorrow’s as good a day as any. We can reschedule with the officiant, and we have brunch with our mums every day.”

Great. Now I’m making them rearrange their plans to accommodate me. “No, really, it’s no big deal. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

“I’ll go with you.”

I nearly roll my eyes when Josh speaks, but restrain myself. While I don’t exactly want to venture out on my own tomorrow, the very last thing I want to do is venture out with Josh Mattingly.

I turn to him with a tight, close-lipped smile. “Really, that’s okay. You’d probably be bored out of your skull.”

His eyes have a weird, evaluative look in them, like he’s scouting me out the way he’d scout out a business in need of intervention. “It would be a pleasure to show you around Christiansted.”

“Good!” Nelson exclaims, and Sadie flashes a huge smile my way.

Now I’m stuck.

“So.” Josh leans way too close again. “What sort of exploring shall we do?”

My expression turns a little impish. “Do you like history?”

He grimaces. “Not really. Why?”

“Because I do.”

Something like chagrin spreads across his face as I start rattling off the historic sites I want to visit. A little worm of devilish delight wriggles through me. If I’m stuck with this guy all tomorrow morning, I might as well make him regret offering his company.

The morning is pleasant, the clear blue sky dotted with clouds that float on the balmy breeze, like dollops of whipped meringue on top of warm custard. Other than the fact that Joshua Mattingly is my escort, I enjoy wandering around the Christiansted historic park. The only thing that completely squelches my enthusiasm is the way he hovers, teasing me over the number of pictures I take.

“Can’t help it.” He grins when I glare at him. “You make the most adorable tourist.”

My floppy hat probably prompted the adorable part of the comment. “For your information, I happen to have majored in history.”

“I thought you were a baker.”

I turn to take another picture rather than explain my ambition to become a state historian. Comparing today to my San Juan excursion with Ryan makes me even less excited about the centuries of history surrounding me. While Josh strolls to an interpretive display, I send a text message to Tess, asking her to call me in about twenty minutes.

My phone rings just as Josh and I exit the historic park. “It’s my boss,” I explain. “She wouldn’t call me unless it was really important.”

“Must be a flour emergency,” he quips.

Frowning, I hurry away. The crash of ocean waves filters over the line when I answer.

“Why am I calling you?” Tess asks.

“To get me out of an uncomfortable situation by the name of Joshua Mattingly.”

“The best man you weren’t looking forward to meeting?”

I groan. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t keep hitting on me, despite the complete lack of interest I’ve shown.”

“It can’t be that bad. Send me a picture.”

A glance in Josh’s direction proves his attention is elsewhere at the moment, so I quickly snap a photo and send it to Tess.

She whistles when it comes through on her end. “I’d tap that.”

“Very funny, Tess.” I send a tight smile Josh’s way when he looks over and waves. “Listen, I need your take on something.”

“If it’s about Sadie Miller’s mental breakdown, I’m all ears.”

“Sadie’s actually pretty lucid. It’s not that.”

I find a bench nearby and sink down, aware of Josh’s slow approach. I wave him away, indicating a need for privacy. When he shrugs and wanders toward a street vendor’s stand, I turn and use the brim of my hat to hide my face.

“You know how I had that stopover in San Juan?”

“Yeah.” The slurp of something through a straw carries over the line.

Peering at Josh to make sure he remains out of earshot, I continue. “I ran into Ryan.”

Tess snorts and coughs. “Wutkowski?”

“What other Ryan do you know who pertains to this situation?”

She gives one final cough to clear her throat of whatever she’s drinking. “Did you tell him about Sadie’s wedding and all that?”

“I did.” I pause for a few seconds. “He seemed to expect it, like it’s just such a Sadie thing to do.”

“Did you get the inside scoop?”

“More or less.” I run through the two sides of the story, at least to the extent Ryan and Sadie each shared them. “Neither one of them told me the whole truth. But they both seem to think getting together as a couple was a bad idea in the first place.”

“Well,” Tess says, “I wasn’t exactly part of your little clique, so don’t expect any input from me on that.”

I lean back and stretch my legs out, catching Josh’s eye in the process. I hold up my hand, fingers spread in a give-me-five gesture. “Ryan was acting really weird, too.”

“Maybe he’s embarrassed you got stuck in the middle.”

“Maybe.” The recollection of our walk on the beach surfaces, and an unexpected rush of heat fills my face. “He sort of asked me not to come to St. Croix. To stay in San Juan, to be more precise.”

Tess is silent for a moment. “You don’t say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Carmella, you just said Sadie and Ryan both left out the part of the story that completely explains their mutual breakup. The other reasons they cited for the split are valid, but it’s all stuff that could be worked out through compromise. And if Ryan actually asked you to consider saying in San Juan with him, instead of going to Sadie’s wedding like you promised her, then I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re keeping the whole truth from you for a specific reason.”

A needle of suspicion pokes my core. “Like what?”

She sighs. “I’m not gonna guess, because I’d probably be wrong. But it sounds like, whatever the truth is, they both think your knowing would hurt you.”

What could possibly hurt me in the grand scheme of Sadie and Ryan’s breakup? Other than the fact that they’re my best friends, and, like I told Ryan, I’ll end up losing one or both of them when this whole thing’s all through. But maybe Tess is right, that somehow I’m part of the equation. Why else wouldn’t they tell me everything?