Page 11 of The Worst Best Man
“Not exactly,” Aiden admitted. Not at all, really.
Chip slapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, man. Our Frankie’s not the most forgiving person in the world.”
“So one slip up, and that’s it?”
Pruitt peered at him over her sunglasses. “Why? Are you interested in her?”
“As she so astutely pointed out, I’m no more her type than she is mine,” Aiden said, side-stepping the question. He wasn’t interested in Frankie. He was intrigued by her, but that was different.
“Why couldn’t you just have been nice and polite or, God forbid, friendly?” Pruitt sighed.
“I don’t want to be friendly. I don’t have time for friendly.”
Pruitt flopped back on her lounger pouting. “And now we have a maid of honor and best man who hate each other.”
“We should have eloped,” Chip said, squeezing her thigh with affection.
“We are eloping. We just took everyone with us.”
Aiden bit back a quip about knowing better for next time. Thanks to him, there almost hadn’t been a first time.
The server returned with a tray of pink frothy drinks with umbrellas and enough fruit to build a salad. “Mr. Randolph,” he said with a flourish. Chip grinned and passed out the drinks. “Hatfield, you’re the man.” He slid a twenty onto the tray.
Aiden took a sip of his drink, winced, and set the glass down on the table next to the chair.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. and almost Mrs. Randolph.”
Pru squealed and jumped out of her chair. “You’re here!” She threw her arms around Franchesca.
She’d changed, he noted. Gone were the very small white shorts and entertainingly tight tank. In their place was a flowy cover up with a deep v that showed an eyeful of breathtaking cleavage and a hint of the black bikini beneath. Her hair was still piled atop her head. She looked exotic, curvy. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d have a hard-on like a teenager in a moment.
There was nothing subtle about Franchesca.
“I made it,” she said, grinning down at Pru.
“How was your flight? Do you want a drink?”
“Here.” Aiden pressed his pink concoction into her hand.
She stared at the glass with suspicion.
“Oh, for God’s sake. It’s not poisoned. Just drink the damn thing,” he ordered.
“Remember what we were talking about, Aiden?” Pru warned him. “Friendly?”
“You’re in trouble,” Frankie sang under her breath so only he could hear. She took a sip of the drink. Her full lips closed over the straw where his had been only moments ago. “Don’t you worry about Aide and me. No drama. Scout’s honor. Even if he did cockblock me from a sexy surfer at the airport.”
Pru linked her arm through Frankie’s and led her away, shooting him a dirty look over her shoulder. “Come on, Frankie. Let’s go spend some time with the girls. Now, tell me about the surfer.”
Aiden and Chip watched them go.
“Surfer, huh?” Chip asked.
“Shut up.”
Chip laughed. “Come on. Let’s play some volleyball.”
Chapter Six
