Sophie Pembroke - Falling for the Bridesmaid

It had been his laugh, she decided, as the key finally slid home. It had made it so abundantly clear that she wasn’t a real person to him, just a hilarious anecdote. One she had probably now ensured he would be dining out on for all time.

She was used to being seen as a public figure more than herself. She was always Rick and Sherry’s daughter first, and often Rose or Daisy’s sister before she was ever a person in her own right. Except when she was the Sex Tape Twin. And, quite honestly, she’d rather be nobody than that .

Except that was all she ever seemed to be to anyone outside her own family. And God, was she sick of it.

The car boot slammed shut; Tom must have managed to stow his cases away. Any moment now he’d slide into the passenger seat beside her and they’d have to make polite conversation all the way home. That, or sit in frosty silence. Violet wasn’t sure which would be worse.

She sighed. Yes, she was. Silence would be worse. Because only her dad had any idea how long Thomas Buckley would be staying at their house, and she couldn’t simply send him to Coventry indefinitely. This wasn’t boarding school; it was real life. And somehow that had turned out to be even more confining and stifling than the strict Catholic school they’d all been sent to.

She was a grown-up now. The mistakes of her youth were supposed to be in the past. She was more than the stories people told about her. Which meant sucking it up and making nice with the offensive American music journalist who would be writing some sort of tell-all about her family and their life any time now. And hoping he’d forget what a disaster this whole night had been.

It was like her dad had said, back when That Tape had first hit the internet and suddenly her sex face was splashed all over magazines and newspapers everywhere. He’d left the rest of the band in some hotel somewhere, mid-tour, and come home to check on her. While she’d lain sobbing on her bed, he’d rubbed her back and told her, ‘At least you know now, honey. Not everyone out there wants what’s best for you. And only you can decide who to trust.’

Well. There was an easy answer to that one, Violet had found. Don’t trust anyone—except family.

Will had been an exception to the rule, and a hard-won one at that. But it helped that he’d only ever been friend material. She wouldn’t trust even her best friend with her whole heart. Not like Rose had done.

The passenger door opened and Violet sucked in a breath before plastering on a smile. ‘All okay?’

Tom gave her a slightly wary look, as if uncertain whether she might just drive off with him half in and half out of the car. She couldn’t really blame him; she hadn’t been exactly consistent since they’d met.

Time to start mending fences before he started writing articles.

‘Fine.’ Tom slid into the seat beside her. ‘And, uh, you?’

She forced her smile to brighten further. ‘Just dandy.’

‘Right. And are you always prone to such extreme mood swings?’

Oh, God, he was probably thinking that she was on drugs, or bipolar, or something else that would make a good story. This was not going well.

Violet sighed. Time to try honesty. ‘Okay, look. We got off to a rotten start here, I know. But Dad wants you staying with us, working with him, and Dad doesn’t change his mind once it’s made up. So I just have to suck it up and get on with things, right? And since I don’t particularly want to spend the next however many weeks avoiding you or trading insults on sight, I figure the easiest thing is to pretend the last half an hour didn’t happen. Okay?’ Partial honesty, anyway. She didn’t need to mention—

‘Plus you don’t want me to tell the story of this evening in any future articles or books?’

Damn. ‘Well, do you blame me?’

Tom was quiet so long that she had to glance over to check that he hadn’t fallen asleep. When she looked, he was holding out his hand.

Eyebrows raised, she took it, biting her lip at the slight tingle she felt at his skin against hers. For heaven’s sake, it was a handshake! Had it really been so long since someone she wasn’t related to by blood or marriage had touched her that her body had forgotten what it felt like?

‘I’m Tom Buckley,’ he said with a half smile. ‘Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming to pick me up.’

‘Violet Huntingdon-Cross. Sorry I was an hour and a half late.’

He chuckled. ‘Let’s just blame Rose for everything, yeah?’

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last twenty-seven years,’ Violet said, and sighed. ‘Sadly, it never seems to stick.’

At Tom’s laugh, she slipped the car into gear and pulled out of the parking space. ‘Come on. Let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired after your long journey.’

‘Exhausted,’ Tom admitted, and when she looked she could see the dark circles under his eyes, even in the poor lighting of the airport car park. ‘That’s kind of my excuse, actually. For, well, everything. Sleep deprivation. It’s been a hell of a week.’

‘I’m sure. Rose said you were working out in Miami?’

He nodded. ‘For the last week. Then a flying visit home to New York to repack my bags, then straight here. I feel like I haven’t slept in a month. I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet, actually. Your dad told me that Huntingdon Hall is out in the middle of nowhere, right?’

‘Ye—es,’ Violet said, biting her lip as she remembered the party she’d left just a couple of hours before. It was long gone midnight. Surely everyone would have gone home by the time they arrived, right? Oh, who was she kidding? Rick and Sherry’s parties were legendary. They’d be lucky if they didn’t find anyone passed out on the tennis court in the morning, this time.

‘That sounds ominous,’ Tom said. ‘Do they have guests? Wait...’ Glancing over, she saw him frown, the moment it clicked into place for him. ‘Oh, hell. It’s their vow renewal today, right? You said you were missing it... That’s why you were so annoyed about having to come and fetch me?’

‘And why I’m wearing this fetching yet inappropriate dress,’ Violet confirmed. No need for him to know that, actually, she’d been happy to get out of there. ‘I’m afraid there’s a very real chance the party might still be ongoing.’ She glanced at the dashboard clock. ‘In fact, I think Dad and the boys will probably be taking the stage for their encore session right about now.’

Tom groaned and let his head fall back against the headrest. ‘So, no sleep tonight is what you’re telling me.’

‘Basically. Sorry! Maybe you can get some sleep in the car?’ She should feel worse about this. The guy was obviously exhausted to the point of losing all social niceties. She should feel bad that her parents and their friends were going to keep him up for another night.

She really, really didn’t, though.

* * *

It seemed to Tom that no sooner had he closed his eyes than a car door was slamming, then another opening, and cool night air flooded over his face. Followed swiftly by his ears being assaulted by one of The Screaming Lemons’ classic hits being played as an acoustic number.

Normally, he’d be up at the front of the stage, soaking in the moment, tucking the memories away for future articles, trying to find the right words to describe the perfection of that three and a half minutes.

Tonight—or rather this morning—he just wanted it all to go away. Including Violet Huntingdon-Cross.

‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,’ she said, in a voice far too jolly for someone who had recently glared at him with such loathing. ‘You’re missing the party.’

He cracked open one eyelid and waited for the yellow blur of her hair, the pale fuzz of her face and the purple blotch that was her dress to come into focus. Then he blinked; she was closer than he’d thought, and suddenly the only things in focus at all were her bright blue eyes, peering down at him.