One Summer Weekend Read online

  “You’re mean.”

  “And you’re desperate.”

  She had him there. “Fine. You can choose the music, though I’ll hope you’ll take pity on me and find a compromise channel.”

  “Maybe. I’ll also need something nice to wear.”

  He gave her a really look. “I’m not taking you clothes shopping.”

  “I can’t think of a single thing in my closet that’s appropriate for a beach wedding,” she said, and he was amazed all over again at her ability to keep a straight face while being a total pain in the ass.

  “Bullshit. You could bring that dress you wore to Brandy’s birthday party.” She’d looked amazing at his older sister’s thirtieth.

  “I don’t remember which one I wore.”

  “Like a sleeveless sundress thing. With flowers.”

  “Oh yeah, I like that one. It has pockets.” She gave him a sideways look. “I’m a little surprised you pay so much attention to what I wear, though.”

  “I remember it because that douchebag you were dating kept making stupid jokes about doing some gardening when the party was over.”

  “Oh, Matt? He really was a douchebag.”

  “I wasn’t too broken up when you kicked him to the curb.”

  He hadn’t said much at the time because they’d had issues in the past with her having a guy for a best friend not going over well with Carly’s boyfriends. The same with some of the women he’d dated. Sometimes others couldn’t wrap their heads around their friendship, so Noah and Carly had learned to be more hands-off when it came to relationships than typical best friends would be.

  “I guess I do have a few things that would work,” Carly admitted.

  “Other than the actual wedding ceremony, it’ll all be beach casual, probably. Especially the clambake reception.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You can’t get married on the Cape without a clambake, according to Emily.”

  “But it’s the reception?”

  “Like an after-reception reception, I guess. They were going to have it earlier in the weekend, but Jim thinks it’s a pretty sketchy way of cooking shellfish and he’s terrified somebody—mostly him—will get food poisoning before the ceremony. And they’re leaving on their honeymoon Sunday morning, so that’s the only way they can both be happy.”

  “I have a new swimsuit on hold at Brandy’s shop,” she said. “I feel like paying it off for me would be fair.”

  His sister worked for a touristy boutique a few doors down from the bookstore. Noah had learned over the years that anything sold at a boutique cost more than the same item if sold at a store. “Do I get Brandy’s discount?”

  “Of course.”

  “I guess I could do that.”

  “Then I’ll do it.” Then she held up a finger. “If Zoe doesn’t mind me taking the weekend off. It’s our busy time.”

  Noah nodded, because it was true. But he also knew that no matter how busy the store was, it didn’t hold very many customers at a time and he’d seen each of them handle it alone with no problem.

  “Just out of curiosity, what’s your exit plan? Are you going to fake-dump me someday because I’ll tell you straight up right now, I’m not fake-marrying you.”

  He snorted at the thought. “You know me. Unlike you, I have no interest in getting married, whether it’s fake or not.”

  “Maybe I should be a total bitch so they won’t like me. A couple weeks after the wedding you can be all mopey at work and tell them we broke up. They’ll be thrilled.”

  “One, you can’t be a total bitch because I’ve been saying nice things about you for months and they’ll start questioning my judgment. Two, if you were that much of a bitch, I wouldn’t be all mopey at work. And most importantly, three, they’ll be thrilled because then Emily can hook me up with Sara.”

  “You can’t fake date me forever, Noah.”

  “Hey, when it comes to fake commitments, I am all in.”

  * * *

  Carly walked past the long row of storefronts set into the historical brick buildings and, as she did every morning, stopped in front of the bright splash of color that was Cedar Street Books.

  They’d paid a fortune for the book-themed stained glass set into the wooden door, which they’d had to fight the town for permission to paint a bright blue. Zoe had done an amazing job with the beach reads window display this month—though the sand was going to be a bitch to clean up—and it all caught the tourists’ eyes and got them in the door.

  When she and her cousin had finally realized their dream of opening the bookstore together, they’d spent weeks trying to come up with a name. The best were already being used elsewhere in New Hampshire and they’d discarded all the cutesy puns they’d brainstormed. Finally, they’d settled on a name that was simple, classy and told the tourists where to find them.

  They were on Cedar Street.

  She used her key to let herself in and locked the door behind her since they didn’t open for twenty more minutes. Zoe was already there, as usual. She lived in the apartment above the store, while Carly had a five-minute commute from the outskirts of town. Since their grandparents owned the building, the rents for the store and Zoe’s place were more than fair for prime space near the lake.

  “Good morning,” Carly called and got a response from the local history section.

  After pouring herself a coffee, she walked to the counter and moved the books Zoe had put in her mug’s spot so she could set it down. Then she hit the button to power on the computer and waited. And waited. “This computer is dying.”

  Zoe appeared, a book in her hand. “Maybe next year.”

  “I should bring in my laptop.”

  “Nope. You know the rules. The store is the store and everything’s totally halfsies.”

  Carly grumbled about being able to use her own damn laptop in her own damn store, but she appreciated the rule. They’d pinky sworn on it the day they’d decided to apply for the loan because doing business together could—and often did—ruin relationships. One giving more than the other would lead to resentment and arguments that, while they’d always be cousins, could sink their close friendship.

  Carly had grown up there, but Zoe’s parents had moved away and she’d only come in the summer to stay with their grandparents in their cottage on the lake. The two of them could always be found in or under a tree, reading books, talking about books and—one time—even cowriting a book. That had been a disaster. But they were always reading, until Noah would find them and talk them into swimming or riding their bikes into town for ice cream. But as they hugged goodbye at the end of every summer, Zoe would tearfully promise that someday she’d be old enough so she could stay and they would open a bookstore.

  They grew up. Carly worked for an insurance company. Zoe got married and stopped visiting during the summer. Then she’d shown up one day with a car full of boxes, a divorce decree, and a determination that it was time for them to make their dream come true. It was a terrifying leap, but they’d held hands and jumped together.

  It was the best thing either of them had ever done. They worked well together. And speaking of working together, she needed to talk to her cousin about not working together.

  “Hey Zoe, is there any bribe I can offer that will get me the weekend after next off? I know that would leave you working alone in peak busy time, but I got invited to a wedding on the Cape.”

  Zoe’s head popped out from behind the shelf. “Nobody does a spur of the moment wedding on Cape Cod. Did they have a last-minute cancellation and you were on the backup list because if that’s the case, you should decline and send them a set of really ugly water glasses.”

  “No, the actual invite wasn’t spur of the moment. Noah asked me to be his last-minute plus-one.”

  “Who’s getting married?”

  �
�His boss, so it’s kind of a big deal to him.”

  “I’ll do it, but you owe me one. And so does Noah.”

  Abandoning the computer for the moment—or knowing the temperamental machine, for a few moments—Carly stood and went over to take a few of the paperbacks Zoe was shelving. “Let me do some.”

  “This one goes in my section.” Zoe held out a paperback but when Carly tried to take it, she tightened her grip and held on to it for a few extra seconds. “You might want to read it first, though. It’s a good one.”

  “I’ll take it with me, just in case I can sneak some reading time.”

  In a small town like theirs, a bookstore having a section called “the books with the really good sex scenes in them” wouldn’t go over very well. And whether they were simply shy about it or were shopping with their little ones in tow, a lot of women were reluctant to ask about the steamier romances. Since those were Zoe’s favorite reads and she loved to hand sell books, they’d given her a small section of her own in the store.

  And the store’s regular customers all knew that any book shelved under the Recommended by Zoe sign would not only be a very good read, but a scorcher, as well.

  “You might not want to read that one while the only guy you’re sharing a bed with is Noah.”

  “I won’t be...” She let the words trail off, belatedly realizing she hadn’t asked him about the sleeping arrangements. They’d be expected to share a room, of course. But she didn’t know if a beach resort did the two-double-bed thing like hotels did and she didn’t know the name of the resort, so she couldn’t look it up and see what the rooms looked like. “I doubt we’ll be sharing a bed.”

  “I’m telling you, Carly, I think I’ve seen this movie on that channel that plays all the romance movies. Just friends until there’s a mix-up with their accommodations and they have to share a bed. Accidental spooning escalates pretty quickly from what I’ve seen.”

  “When he said he’d made up a fake girlfriend, I asked him if he’d been watching romantic comedies without me.”

  “See? You know.” Zoe looked pretty pleased with herself. “You already know how this story ends.”

  “Seriously?” It was too early in the morning for this annoying crap. “The story’s going to end with me with a fresh tan and a belly full of resort food.”

  “Fine, but I’m surprised Noah wants to take you as his plus-one, anyway. I mean, isn’t going stag and banging a bridesmaid something guys do?”

  “Not if the bridesmaid in question is your boss’s sister-in-law, I guess.”

  “Ah. Don’t shit where you eat.”

  “Exactly. And it’s cool. I’ll get a free weekend at a swanky inn on Cape Cod with my best friend.”

  Zoe picked up Carly’s coffee mug and stole a couple of sips before setting it back down. It was a really annoying habit she’d developed since vowing to give up caffeine. “It’s weird, though. I mean, if you and Noah are supposed to have been dating for a while, you’ll have to dance with him and kiss him and stuff.”

  “There won’t be any and stuff with him. That would be weird.” She couldn’t even imagine doing any and stuff with Noah. “Dancing’s no big deal. And I don’t think we have to kiss. A lot of couples don’t go around kissing each other in public.”

  “Weddings are different, though. People are more romantic at weddings.”

  “So we’ll hold hands. Maybe he’ll put his arm around me. Remember when I had that wicked bad flu and he took care of me? And I stayed with him when he busted up his leg in that bike accident. I’ll spare you the details, but holding hands won’t be that big a deal for us.”

  They actually had kissed one time, back in middle school, though she’d never told Zoe about it. With the pressures of high school looming on the horizon and a rumor going around that Noah Stafford was a bad kisser, they’d come up with a plan to practice some light make-out skills on each other.

  Their first—and only—kiss had been strange, but not unpleasant. But then Noah had stuck his tongue in her mouth and it was so weird, Carly laughed. At first, he was put out, but she was laughing so hard she snorted, and that made him laugh along with her.

  By the time they caught their breath, everything was back to normal and they swore they’d never try to make out again.

  “I’ll let Noah know I can go. Thanks for covering for me.”

  Zoe smirked. “Enjoy your made-for-cable-movie weekend.”

  Chapter Three

  The bride’s parents did okay for themselves, Noah thought as he reached the end of a long, winding drive and a massive, gray-shingled inn loomed in front of them.

  It looked as though it had been built by a sea captain with way too much money and while he couldn’t see it from this angle, he knew from the website that there were views of the ocean from three sides. And the back side overlooked a private beach, where Noah hoped to be spending most of his time this weekend.

  “This doesn’t suck,” Carly said, craning forward against her seat belt to see the widow’s walk wrapping around the roof of the main part of the tall and sprawling historic building. “Maybe we should have gone shopping for new clothes after all.”

  “Hey, I look great.” He was following the signs for parking, but he didn’t need to see her to know she was giving him a once-over and an eye roll. He was wearing cargo shorts because he didn’t give a crap what magazine editors in New York City thought and a navy polo shirt because it was almost like a T-shirt, but at least had a collar. And he’d exchanged his sneakers for a pair of boat shoes. It was practically formal wear.

  “I can’t wait to see the inside,” she said. “If it’s anything like the outside, it’s going to be the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.”

  Her excitement was contagious and relief loosened some of the knots that had been in Noah’s stomach since he first started the stupid lie. He’d enjoy Jim and Emily’s wedding, he and Carly would have a fun weekend at the beach and he’d worry about what came after when the time came.

  But the first hurdle came during check-in and he could feel the tension making his muscles—already tight from hours of driving—even tighter as he walked to where Carly was looking at an oil painting of the sea captain, who’d built the place, and his wife.

  “I think I’m going to like staying here,” she said when he was close enough to register in her peripheral vision.

  He wasn’t so sure about that now. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because this couple built the house and look at them. They look like the kind of people I’d want to spend a weekend with.”

  The couple looked like every other couple painted hundreds of years ago. Him, with cropped gray hair and beard, dressed in a vaguely nautical suit and sitting on a chair. Her, with her hair in a bun and wearing a fancy dress, standing next to her husband with her hand on his shoulder. “You know they’re dead, right? If they show up at the wedding, I’m out. And, fair warning, I might forget to wait for you.”

  “It’s about the vibe of the house. Look at her face. She’s trying not to smile and she’s got that eyebrow arched a little. And judging by the way his arm goes around her and where his hand would be, I’m pretty sure I know why she’s trying not to smile.”

  “I have no idea what kind of vibe the guy feeling up his wife gives the house, but there’s already an epic screw-up with the room.”

  She turned away from the painting to look at him. “How epic?”

  “Instead of two doubles, our room has one king-sized bed.” He wasn’t sure what reaction he’d been expecting from her, but it wasn’t the quick bark of laughter. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Just remembering something Zoe said.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Nope.”

  He’d expected her to push back about the sleeping arrangements, since the possibility of accidental spooning ha
dn’t been part of the deal. Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t actually asked about the beds to begin with. “When Jim was talking about the situation with the rooms and who should get which, I offered to take the double beds because you practically sleep on top of me, anyway. You like to snuggle.”

  “Oh, I do?”

  “That’s what I told him so, you know, he wouldn’t think it was weird that I offered to take two doubles over a king. But between them reserving rooms and now, the inn remodeled that room and went to a king, and nobody informed the wedding planners.”

  He practically held his breath, waiting for her reaction. It would suck if Carly balked and he had to explain to Jim and Emily why they got back in his truck and went home before they even got to meet her.

  “I guess it really doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’ve slept in the same bed before.”

  “Yeah, when we were, what? Eight? Nine?”

  “If you’re scared of me, you can build a wall of pillows down the middle of the bed like you did then.”

  “For the record, I was not scared of you. I just didn’t want to catch girl cooties.”

  “I still have girl cooties, you know.”

  “Yeah, but you’re...” He waved a hand at her. “You’re not a girl anymore. And you’re Carly.”

  “You’re an idiot. So where’s our room?”

  “Third floor, but there’s an elevator.” He frowned. “The guy at the desk stressed three times that it really is safe, so there’s a good chance we might die. I don’t know.”

  They didn’t die, although they barely fit in the antique elevator, even with only one bag each. And it made a hell of a lot more noise than any elevator he’d ever been in before. But they arrived on the third floor and he found their room with no problem.

  “Okay, this definitely doesn’t suck,” Carly said as she entered.

  Noah had to agree. The room was spacious and elegant, with none of the nautical-themed décor people on the Cape seemed to love to serve up to the tourists. The color scheme was pale blue and tan, like water and sand, and a small desk and armchair were the only furnishings. No love seat, so he didn’t have to worry she’d try to make him sleep on the couch.