Page 5 of Picture This

“Okay,” I drawled. “What’s up?”

Emily ran her hands up and down her forearms. “Don’t come camping.”

So much for hanging with Delylah. “Why not?”

“Luca invited his friend Jake, and I’m hoping that he and Delylah will hit it off. If you’re there, she’ll be shy.”

Well, that answered my question about Delylah being single. Was she into this Jake guy? Or was Emily just playing matchmaker? “Why would she be shy? I’ve known her since she was five.”

“Not shy to you. She’ll be shy about flirting with Jake. You’re practically her brother. No one wants to flirt with their brother watching.”

Oh, fuck no. “I’m not her brother.” Not even close.

A brother wouldn’t have noticed how long Delylah’s legs looked in her jeans and wondered how they’d feel wrapped around his hips. A brother wouldn’t have drooled over the way her white tank top molded to her torso and imagined dragging it up and over her head.

Definitely not her brother.

“Not literally.” Emily flicked her wrist. “You know what I mean. I just need you to skip camping. Besides, you’ll hate it anyway. We’re not having hot dogs or s’mores. We’re sleeping in beds, not on the ground. And I bet they won’t even bring beer.”

The resort might cater to the wealthy and rich, but this was still Montana. They had beer and hot dogs.

I opened my mouth to remind her that I’d spent plenty of time at that campsite when I’d worked here but stopped myself from arguing. Wedding weekend. What Emily wants, Emily gets.

“Fine.” I wouldn’t tell her no. Not that I ever told her no.

Dad said I spoiled her. Maybe he was right. But he wasn’t the one who’d given her the scars on her forearms. He wasn’t the person who’d been driving the day of the accident.

“Thank you.” Emily smiled and lifted up on her toes to kiss my cheek. She spun, about to climb the stairs, but stopped and turned back. “There’s still a lot that needs to get done. Mom is meeting with the wedding planner at eight tomorrow morning. Can you and Dad go with her? Help them with whatever they need?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Great. When is your date getting here?”

“What date?”

She blinked. “You RSVP’d for a plus-one.”

Yes, but that was six months ago, when I’d been optimistic that I’d meet someone I’d want to bring to this fiasco. “No date. I was seeing a woman this spring, but it fizzled after a few weeks. She wore a lot of lipstick.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No. Just not my thing.” I didn’t like the idea of smearing red or pink or a purple so dark it was nearly black all over her face and mine if I went in for a kiss.

“Well then, since you won’t have a date, I need you to sit with Luca’s parents at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

“Why?” There was a good chance that after this wedding, I wouldn’t see them again for a decade. The last thing I wanted to do was make small talk with her future in-laws.

“Please, Noah. I need them to be happy, and you’re really good at making people happy. I need them to have the best weekend of their lives.”

“This is supposed to be the best weekend of your life.”

“And it will be as long as they keep smiling.”

“Even if that means you don’t?”

She shrugged. “Will you just sit with them at dinner?”

I gritted my teeth. “Sure.”