Page 12 of Best Man (Close Proximity #1)

He glares at me, and for a second he looks like he’s contemplating chucking me on the fire, but then, to my amazement, he starts to laugh.

I smile at the contagious, merry sound and when I look over, a few people are staring and their mouths are turned up.

It’s impossible not to smile at Zeb when he’s like this.

I catch sight of an older woman with grey hair cut into a severe bob who is glaring at my boss. Okay, not impossible, then .

At that point there’s a disturbance at the door, and I look up to see a tall, wide-shouldered man with wavy black hair come in. He’s followed by a very beautiful young man with waist-length blond hair and a very sulky expression who has his hand firmly cemented to the dark-haired man’s bum.

The dark-haired man looks up and, seeing Zeb, his face lights up. “Zeb,” he exclaims, coming forward and drawing my boss into a fierce embrace. I eye him dubiously, feeling something turn in my stomach. Must be hunger pains.

The two men draw away from each other. “What are you doing here, Max?” my boss says. He lowers his voice. “You hate Patrick.”

Max shrugs. “Free food,” he says succinctly.

Zeb shakes his head, a wry look on his face. “You came to see how I was, didn’t you?”

Max appears to attempt to look guileless.

“Of course not. I’m just here out of a desire to see Patrick safely within the bounds of matrimony where he can’t inflict himself on any more unsuspecting men.

” I laugh, and he turns to me, his expression kindling into interest. “Well, hello,” he says in a slightly rough but very warm voice.

I blink. He’s quite potent close up. His wavy black hair showcases a beautiful face with very high cheekbones, lazy-looking dark eyes, and a full mouth which is emphasised by his grey-flecked beard. He’s tall and slim with broad shoulders and very long legs.

“I’m Max,” he says throatily. The blond man rouses, and, with a glare for me, he plasters himself against Max’s side.

Zeb stirs. “No,” he says succinctly to Max.

Max blinks. “I’m not doing anything,” he says innocently. He winks at me. “Yet.”

Zeb shakes his head. “No, keep away from Jesse. He’s with me this week.”

I try hard not to pay attention to the surge of pleasure I feel at those words. Max looks delighted. “Excellent,” he says heartily.

The blond boy huffs. “I’m going to get a drink,” he says haughtily in well-rounded vowels. We all watch as he saunters away, moving sinuously.

Zeb looks at Max. “And who’s that? ”

Max shrugs. “Fucked if I know. I picked him up last night at a club in Cheltenham and shagged him. I never got a name, and it’s a teeny bit awkward to ask now.”

I laugh, and Zeb shakes his head. “What would the etiquette books say?” he says in a disappointed tone.

Max laughs. He has a raffish sort of charm and an air of being on the verge of doing something either very funny or very inappropriate. Or both. He turns to me. “Zeb and I knew each other when we were kids.”

Zeb shakes his head. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Max looks me up and down slowly. “Wish you’d been around then too.”

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have wanted that,” I say sweetly. “I’ve watched Jurassic Park . Those dinosaurs were no joke.”

Max breaks into laughter. It’s rough and husky. “I like this one,” he says to Zeb, who shakes his head. “Keep him.”

“He’s only mine for the week,” Zeb says, and I grimace.

“I’m not a suit rental.”

The blond boy comes back holding a glass of champagne in his thin fingers. He slides next to Max, looking at him hungrily. “I’m very bored already,” he pronounces.

Zeb rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t feed this one after midnight,” he advises, and Max laughs.

“Mal is fine, aren’t you?” he says hesitantly.

The boy shakes his head. “It’s Xavier actually. You should really learn to listen, especially at your age. I mean, how long will you have your full hearing?”

Max stares at him, and I break into laughter. The blond boy winks at me.

At that point Patrick comes in, and when he sees Zeb his face lights up.

He makes a move as if to come over, and I watch as almost simultaneously Frances grabs his arm and the grey-haired lady who must be Patrick’s mother shoots Zeb a look that suggests if she had a spell to turn him into a potato, she’d use it.

Before the old lady can get on her broomstick or call her familiar, a waiter announces that dinner is ready and we all move towards the table.

“That was a lucky escape,” Max mutters. “A second longer and you’d have been bleeding on this very expensive rug. I hope you haven’t given a damage deposit for this week. Nina looks like she’s contemplating disembowelling you before she really gets around to torture.”

Zeb shakes his head repressively and takes my arm gently to steer me down the table.

There are cards stuck at the place settings, and I’m relieved to see that Zeb and I are together, and that Frances and Patrick are at the far end of the table.

I’m less relieved to find that Max and Xavier are sitting at the other end and sitting opposite us is the homicidal old lady and her husband who looks like he’s contemplating throwing himself under a bus.

I sneak a look at the old lady again. I wouldn’t blame him, really.

Amidst the bustle as everyone sits and snaps their napkins out, I lean closer to Zeb. “Is that Patrick’s mum?” I ask.

He blanches slightly. “That’s her. Nina and Victor.”

“And you were with Patrick for five years? Weren’t you afraid that as the offspring of a witch he’d eat you in your sleep?”

He shakes his head and fights a smile. “Be nice,” he warns me. He looks at her, and at that point she looks up and catches his glance.

“Zebadiah,” she says in a glacial voice.

He nods at her. “Nina.”

She sniffs haughtily. “I’d like to say this is a pleasure, but I’m afraid it’s not. I’m amazed you have the nerve to attend this joyous occasion.”

I open my mouth to speak but Zeb grabs my knee under the table and squeezes. Hard.

“Ouch,” I mutter.

“Behave,” he says tightly.

“I can’t promise anything if you happen to move that hand a couple of inches up.”

“A couple of inches ? You’ve got a comfortable self-image.”

I shrug. “I work with what I’ve got.”

A waiter inserts himself between us to position tiny plates before us.

Each plate has a piece of meat on it with an inch of sauce curled round it.

Zeb’s hand falls away. I look down at the plate gloomily.

“Is this it?” I ask sadly, and the waiter snorts before resuming his stately procession down the table.

Zeb looks at me and his mouth quirks. “I’d say that was a mouthful,” he mutters. “For someone who hasn’t got a mouth the size of yours.”

“Zeb, I am a growing boy. I’m hoping they serve more food than this over the next few days or you’ll have to take me to hospital for a drip.”

“You’re exceedingly dramatic,” he intones. “I’m guessing it’s because you’re the youngest of eight children. You must have had to work very hard for your voice to be heard.”

“Not really,” I mutter, downing my starter in one sad bite. “It was never a problem.”

“Quelle surprise.”

I nudge him. “I like a man who’s lingual.”

He stares at me. “I have never met anyone who manages to turn such an innocent sentence so dirty.”

“So.” Nina’s voice cuts through our quiet talk. “This is your latest, then, Zebadiah?”

He turns to her, and my heart clenches as he smiles kindly at her. “He is. This is Jesse.”

She grimaces. “Of course it is.”

My eyes narrow at her. Old cow .

She looks me up and down as if I’m a piece of dog shit he’s managed to bring in with him. “He’s very young. But I don’t know why that should surprise me. You obviously like them that way.”

“But surely the whole world is younger than you,” I mutter. Zeb lowers that hand to my knee and squeezes again, but I ignore him in favour of smiling coldly at the woman.

“I beg your pardon,” she says in a low voice.

I lean forward. “I said how young you look,” I say in a clear, loud voice, like I’m talking to someone deaf.

She glares at me but turns back to Zeb. “Did I say how glad I was that you and Patrick split up?”

“Quite a few times,” Zeb says wryly, and I snort .

She looks at me again. “This man is a serial predator. I’d get away from him if I were you.”

I inhale sharply, feeling rage sear me as Zeb stiffens all over.

“Nina,” her husband says in a resigned voice.

I lean forward and smile sweetly at her.

“Predator, eh? The last time I heard that used was on Planet Earth .” I tap my finger on the table.

“Is this a dinner-party game? Are we naming the animal that’s most like us as people?

If we are, I’m trying to think what animal is most like a rude and excessively bad-mannered woman. ”

She breathes in sharply, rage clouding her face. “I have never been so insulted.”

“You do surprise me,” I say sweetly.

I think it’s only the fact that the waiters start to clear the table that saves me from total annihilation.

I shoot a quick glance at Zeb who is staring hard at me with an inscrutable look on his face that doesn’t promise good things.

Something to look forward to, I muse gloomily.

My gloom intensifies as a plate with more small food is placed before me.

I turn slightly desperately to the woman on my other side in an attempt to avoid Nina. “So, what do you do?” she asks cheerfully.

Why do people like this always ask that question? Why don’t they ask someone’s favourite colour or what music they’re listening to at the moment?

“I’m an architect,” I say brightly. Zeb jerks and gives a desperate sort of groan, but the woman immediately sits forward.

“ Really ? My son wants to do that. Do you have any career advice for him?”

“ No ,” Zeb says in a very loud voice and we slowly turn to face him. He looks slightly panicked. “I mean no,” he says in a lower voice. “Oh no, not … trifle. It’s trifle for dessert,” he finishes somewhat lamely, and I bite my lip.

“He’s very passionate about his food,” I confide in the woman. “But it’s nice to have strong feelings about things.” I catch Nina’s eye. “Unless they’re homicidal ones, of course,” I finish robustly.

“Career advice for my son?” the woman reminds me.

“He should be very enthusiastic about buttresses,” I say seriously.

Zeb leans forward. “I’m so sorry,” he says very charmingly to the woman. “Could I just borrow Jesse for a minute? ”

He then forces me to listen to a conversation he’s having with an old man about stocks and shares.

I muse rather sadly on the fact that I wasn’t able to spin my architect story.

It would have been a hell of a lot more interesting than what the city closed at today, which I’m pretty sure has nothing to do with when they all clocked off and went to the pub.

Towards the end of dessert, which is basically one mouthful of peach juice and a bit of cream smeared on the plate, Nina leans forward again. Her expression doesn’t bode well.

“I was very sad to see your eye.”

“My eye?” I stare at her and then realise that she’s gesturing at the remnants of my black eye. “Oh, thank you,” I offer.

“I have the number of the domestic-abuse hotline if you’d like it,” she says in a very sweet but carrying voice.

“ Mother ,” Patrick says in a loud voice, but she just smiles at me, widening it to include Zeb.

A startled silence falls over the table. I stare at her. What a fucking horrible bitch . “Oh, there’s no need,” I say loudly. “Zeb didn’t punch me, if that’s what you’re thinking. That is what you’re trying to imply, isn’t it?”

“Jesse,” Zeb mutters. I smile at him before reaching over and pressing my lips to his. It’s a soft kiss, and, to my regret, I have to pull back immediately before I really have time to register the soft plushness of those lips under mine. I turn back to Nina.

“They can get you help,” she says smugly, raising her glass to take a sip of wine.

I wait until she’s taken a sip. “No need,” I say cheerfully. “Well, not unless they employ an exorcist or the Most Haunted team. A dead woman did this when she hit me in the face with her shoe.”

To my satisfaction, that sort of kills the conversation around us for the rest of the meal.