Samantha’s stomach dropped as they rolled into the parking lot of the Hobart Garden Hotel. This was it, what the whole trip had been leading up to, but now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for it. She looked over at Tristan, thankful they’d be so busy during the wedding that she wouldn’t have time to miss him—but she feared that wasn’t true, and squeezed his hand as they came closer toward the valet stand.

Renee had explained to Samantha how much money was being spent on the wedding, but there was nothing that could have prepared her for this. The hotel was a hundred stories high, like a wall of windows looking over the big city. Pristine, beautiful, and made her instantly self-conscious about the way she was dressed. She tugged at the tattered edge of her denim shorts and waited in the car for the valet to retrieve her from her seat.

“Madame,” he said respectfully, offering his arm for her to hold onto.

She pulled down the hem of her tank top, then retrieved her backpack from the back seat before accepting his help. “Thank you,” she said, then stepped up to the curb, not knowing what else to do.

The valet turned to Tristan, offering a red ticket in exchange for his keys. “Should I send your bags ahead, sir?” the man asked, but Tristan only shook his head, set his glasses on the bridge his nose, and threw his backpack high on his shoulder.

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

Samantha busied herself braiding her hair as she followed Tristan to the elevator. “Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” she asked, looking around to the masses of people, all dressed in business suits and dresses.

He shrugged and smiled down at her. “I haven’t the faintest idea.” He reached for her hand, but she immediately retreated.

“Wild Stallion, remember?”

He cracked a smile, but ignored her warning and stepped toward her anyway. “You can call me that whenever you want to, baby.” He then tugged on one of her braids and pressed the call button for the elevator.

They stepped out to the lobby a short time later, where a bus boy with a hopper full of matching luggage passed in a hurry. Samantha looked around for the reception desk, wondering if that was where they should try first. “Maybe we can call Renee—”

But before she could finish her thought, a squeal came from the other side of the elevators and traveled all the way down the hall. Not two seconds later, a flurry of light brown hair and skinny legs launched themselves to the top of Tristan’s back.

“It’s about time!” Renee shouted.

Samantha covered her mouth, watching Tristan almost tumble forward before catching his balance and reaching up over his head to flip his sister over his shoulders. She was in a headlock before she could even blink.

“Woah, woah, woah!” protested a very tall, very lean man who came to stand beside them. “That’s my future bride you have there.”

Samantha instantly grinned. She’d seen pictures of the handsome ballet dancer, but there were people who were more attractive in person, and Renee’s fiancée was one of them. He had a sort of James Dean quality about him. Inky dark hair that was both perfectly combed but messy at the same time, and his eyelashes were so thick it almost looked like a chore to hold his eyes open.

Renee glanced up, head twisted around Tristan’s death grip, and giggled. “Phin, you remember my brother Tristan.”

Tristan let go of Renee, almost dropping her, then draped his arm over her shoulder, anchoring her arms at her waist. “Sisters,” he said, holding a hand out to shake. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.”

Phin only laughed, and shook Tristan’s hand. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, then he turned toward Samantha and took the backpack from her shoulder. “And you must be Samantha. Renee has been talking about you for months.”

Samantha glanced over at her friend, a lump forming in her throat as she held out a hand to Phin—but he immediately yanked her forward and into a two-armed hug. “It’s good to meet you, finally.”

Emotion hit her like a sack of onions—without warning, tears stung her eyes and she blinked them quickly way. After all this time, after all these months, she was finally meeting the man her best friend would marry. No, she wasn’t just meeting him, she was pressed into his chest barely able to breathe. Renee was as close as she had to as a sister, and until this moment Samantha wasn’t sure she liked Phin. He was a strange man who had swept in like Batman, capturing her best friend—with no plans to ever let her go.

But she did like him.

He was warm, protective, and he made Renee smile like Samantha had never seen before.

She finally closed her eyes, accepting the man who would be as close to a brother as she’d ever have, and hugged him back “The feeling’s mutual,” she said softly.

They all parted, realizing they were making a spectacle of themselves in the middle of the hotel lobby, and Renee came up to take hold of her hand. “I thought you’d never get here,” she whispered, her head resting on the top of Samantha’s shoulder in the familiar way she’d missed.

All of a sudden, it was like the last six months disappeared. Like it always did. Because Renee owned a piece of her heart. Reunions weren’t awkward or uncomfortable; they were like finding an old pair of slippers after a long summer. They were worn, comfortable, and perfectly molded to your feet. She and Renee fit together, and she immediately felt at home.

The group continued talking and moving toward the reception desk, and for the first time since Renee had moved out, Samantha realized she wasn’t losing her best friend. She would still miss her like crazy, would still have to adjust to not seeing her face every day, but you could never lose a person who held a part of your soul. Renee wouldn’t be able to get rid of her even if she tried.

They began talking about the trip, about how different the city was compared to Los Angeles, and Renee stopped. She turned around to look at Tristan and tilted her head. “That reminds me. What happened with the car?” she asked, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. It was a normal question—one that should have been expected after being almost two days late to his sister’s wedding, but he adjusted his stance and looked at Samantha. “Radiator cap. Of all things.”

Renee’s brows furrowed and she looked to Samantha. “And it delayed you for that long?”

Samantha nodded, taking hold of Renee’s hand and squeezing. “That’s what happens when you break down in the middle of Colton, Iowa,” she answered. It wasn’t a lie, but for some reason it felt like one.

They continued walking, catching up on wedding stuff, while Phin escorted them to the reception desk to check into their rooms. Tristan and Phin took the task of checking in the car, while Renee rambled on about this weekend’s itinerary.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” Renee said, playing with the ends of Samantha’s hair.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world—”

Renee interrupted, cracking a grin. “No, I mean the party.”

Samantha narrowed her eyes. “I thought I missed—”

“No.” Renee shook her head. “Phin and I decided to do them together, bachelorette and bachelor all in one.” She got quiet suddenly, then rested her head on Samantha’s shoulder again. “We only get to see you guys for a few days, and splitting up didn’t make any sense.” She turned around to look at her fiancé, causing her face to instantly soften. “I want you to get to know him, Sam. Really know him, and I’m worried we’re going to run out of time.”

Samantha frowned then, and shook her head. “There’s plenty of time…” But she was saying it for her best friend’s benefit, because the moment she thought about the days she had left, a hard knot formed in the bottom of her stomach and made her feel ill.

A buzzing noise began vibrating in Renee’s pocket and she broke away to pull her phone from her pocket. She looked down at the screen then turned toward Samantha. “Betty, my seamstress, she’s waiting for you in my room. I know you’re probably tired, but do you mind if we run over there? I’ll have the guys bring your key when they’re done.” She turned to Phin and Tristan, grabbing hold of each one of their shoulders and lifting up on her toes. “I’m taking Sam. Bring her key to my room when you’re done. Okay? Okay!” Before waiting for an answer, she turned back to Samantha and took hold of her arm again. “I’m a mess. Can you tell?”

They walked arm in arm to the elevator, where Renee told her all about the events leading up to the wedding. About the caterer canceling last minute, about how her future mother-in-law was freaking out. But somehow it all had resolved itself in the end, because some big famous baker was coming into town and agreed to take the job.

They continued on to Renee’s room on the fifth floor, all the way to the end of the long hall. The suite was almost the size of the apartment they’d shared back in LA, although there were twice as many clothes thrown about it.

“Betty!” Renee exclaimed, as she walked into the room.

A woman who looked to be about the age of Samantha’s grandmother turned in her overstuffed seat. She set the pair of pants she was stitching to the arm of the chair and patted her salt-and-pepper bun.

“This,” Renee began, “is my best friend, Samantha.” It was said in a way that said “Finally!” And she pushed Samantha toward the woman like a sacrifice to her maker.

“Ooooh…” the woman said, with a thick Italian accent. “She more beautiful than you say.” She walked toward Samantha and circled her a couple of times before looking up. She then took one of Samantha’s thick blond braids in her palm, and flipped it over. “After we sew, we cut.”

“No, no,” Samantha protested, shaking her head. “No cut.”

Renee only laughed, pushing her forward again. “She means trim, and yes! I bet you haven’t had one in two years.”

Before she could even argue, Betty fetched a garment bag from the back of the door and thrust it into Samantha’s arms. “Put on,” she ordered.

Not wanting to argue with the tiny woman, she nodded, then turned to Renee with her eyes open wide open and did what she was told.

* * *

Just as Samantha feared, the dress was too tight. Much too tight. Getting into the thing was like trying to fit a hamburger patty into a hot dog bun. Bits of flesh were sticking out all over the place, but mostly in the top region. Betty circled her in the middle of the room, while Samantha desperately regretted all those pancakes she’d eaten on their trip.

“Okay!” Betty exclaimed. She took hold of each side panel and yanked them together. “One… Two…”

Samantha sucked in her stomach and blew out a breath.

“Three!”

The panels slammed shut behind her, and Renee, who was standing on a chair above her, tugged at the zipper. She made a few grunting noises as she tugged and stretched, while Betty shoved and stuffed Samantha with jabbing fingers. Then all of a sudden, as if the Gods had come out to show their mercy, the zipper flew up. Samantha pulled in a gasping breath, stumbling forward and steadying herself with a nearby chair, before she glanced up at Renee.

A full-length mirror was right in front of her, and her shoulders relaxed when she saw her reflection. It wasn’t half bad. Which honesty surprised the hell out of her. The fabric was a blush color, not pink or peach, but a color somewhere in between. It flattered her skin tone perfectly. There was a silky skirt that draped to the floor, somehow making her look a little taller, but the only thing she didn’t like was the A-framed bodice that pushed her breasts nearly up to her chin. And even that—aside from being completely public inappropriate, made her look gorgeous.

Betty circled a couple of times around the chair, scratching her chin and tugging at bits of the fabric as she went. “Hmmm…” she mumbled, before sticking a few pins in the hem. She came to stand right in front of Samantha. Her tongue tsked off the roof of her mouth as though deciding what to do. Then, as if not having any impulse control whatsoever, she lifted Samantha’s breasts in her hands and started bouncing them.

The door to Renee’s hotel room burst open at that moment, and Tristan and Phin walked in, carrying her bags. They both stopped dead in their tracks.

“And vhat do we going to do with these?” Betty asked thickly, still bouncing Samantha’s breasts up and down.

Renee, who was still standing on the chair, must have been so shocked by what was happening she didn’t move it all.

Betty looked at Renee, still standing up on the chair, and Renee looked at Phin who was standing by the door with Tristan.

But Tristan looked right at Samantha. Her face flushed with embarrassment and she instantly started to giggle. Renee started giggling too, which caused Betty to throw her hands in the air in frustration.

“Vhat?” she questioned sharply.

The whole room erupted in fits of laughter, doubling over. Except Betty, who stuck hands on her hips and stormed into the restroom.

Blood rushed to Samantha’s face and neck as they came to, because there was no mistaking the look on Tristan’s face. It was inappropriate, sexy as hell, and she couldn’t breathe.

He covered his mouth with his hand, wiping over his chin, then down his throat, but his eyes never left hers. “I could really go for a burger and fries about now,” he said to Phin. “How about you?”

Phin cleared his throat a moment later and looked to the floor. “Sounds good to me, brother.” They placed Samantha’s bags by the front door, her keycard on the entryway table, and turned toward the exit. Renee stepped down from her chair, waiting for the guys to close the door behind them, then stood right in front of Samantha and looked down at her breasts. “She’s right you know. Vhat in fuck are we going to do with these?”