Page 14 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

“Don’t worry, Chunk,” Tom said reassuringly. “Could be just a dislocation. They’ll snap it back into place and we’ll have you out on the stream in no time. Might even improve your casting.”

Ranney mouthed, “ Chunk? ” as Charlie winced.

“Childhood nickname,” Tom answered. “He went through a bit of a chubby stage around twelve or thirteen.”

Charlie groaned, either from pain or embarrassment.

Ranney tried in vain to use any WiFi possible to contact Nilly and Claire, so they could pivot, but short of climbing on top of the plane and standing on tiptoes to get a better signal, she just had to wait for descent.

Instead, she opened her laptop, waiting until she was certain that others closer to Charlie ( Chunk?

Really? British schoolboys were a cold species ) were tending to him.

They'd literally just met, and receiving comfort from a stranger wouldn't help.

Then, with nothing else to do, she began making lists.

Contact Nilly

Let Freestone know

Assure Ani

Ask Mame for a bottle of 2012 Bollinger for my birthday

The last was unlikely, but you can't fault a woman for trying.

In nineteen minutes, they were on the tarmac and Charlie was being loaded onto the waiting stretcher, covered in a cold sweat, muttering about the lack of good painkillers on board. "Go find some strippers and have fun!" he called out to the gang. "Make a go of this city while I suffer!"

“I’ll go with him,” Jack said. Jack was Charlie’s full brother, and Ranney knew this because she had spent the early part of the flight memorizing photos from the files. The mistaken-identity problem she’d had with Tom wasn’t going to happen twice.

"Please let me know how he's doing," she asked, receiving a curt nod from Jack in return. All of their phone numbers were in her work files, so no need to delay him as they departed.

The rest of the bachelor party crowd stood in awkward poses, looking at each other, waiting for a leader to emerge.

Ranney was it.

"Jack can let me know Charlie's status, and we'll plan to meet back here once we know what the medical experts say," she announced, much to everyone's relief. Mutters of confirmation, more a murmur than distinct words, greeted her.

With mutters of agreement, more a murmur than distinct words, the men paired off in twos and fours and slowly drifted away, looking at phones, faces morphing into expressions that said, If we're stuck in Vegas, might as well enjoy it.

“Keep in touch,” Tom shouted, and he nodded. As the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing, Tom turned to Ranney. "Well. No one saw that coming."

“I should have. It's my job to anticipate problems."

"Surely you don't think you could have predicted a broken arm from turbulence?"

"No. But I'll remember this and add protocols to protect future grooms during private jet excursions."

A good-natured smile was his reply. "You are quite the optimizer."

"Thank you."

"I see why you do the job that you do. It takes a very special kind of person."

"I don’t think of myself as special at work, but I'll take the compliment.

" Ranney looked around, uncertain now, and typed a quick text to Nilly about the unplanned detour and medical emergency.

Would the rest of them need to go to Idaho?

Was the entire party staying in Las Vegas until Chunk - er, Charlie - was cleared to fly?

Would she need to let Nilly know to reschedule everything?

So many unknowns.

Tom cleared his throat.

“I know you're on the clock, and this is a mess, but Jack's with Chunk and we have no idea what's happening next. Emergency rooms take hours, so we have some time. What would you like to do? Are you hungry? Shall we get some dinner? I’ve never seen Las Vegas before. Shall we take a look around?”

“From what I’ve seen of your work, I don’t think you’re going to like the aesthetic here very much.

” Ranney had only been there once before, with Carmine, for some sort of packaging expo.

She’d spent most of her time by the hotel pool and therefore avoided the stereotypical Vegas experience.

The desert weather had been lovely, the hotel food was exceptional, and she never set foot in a casino or even pulled a slot machine handle.

“But it’s iconic! Come on, I can’t be here on the ground and not see it, I may never be back!”

“Tom, what about the wedding party? You’re supposed to be hanging out with them!”

“I already explained that. They’re my relatives and a bunch of future in laws of Charlie’s. I can be with them anytime. I can’t be with you anytime. And certainly not in Las Vegas, Nevada.”

And that was the moment when she realized just how much she wanted to go with him.

She wanted to see Las Vegas–with him. She wanted to sit next to him in the back of an Uber and listen to him talk.

Lean against him, close enough to breathe the scent of his skin.

Hear everything that had ever happened to him before they met, even if he told her in that annoying British accent–which was becoming less annoying and more charming by the minute.

Dear God, was this some unanticipated perimenopausal side effect? In all the articles that she’d read on the subject, had this ever been mentioned? Intense and inappropriate lust for a virtual stranger?

Speaking of inappropriate, what exactly was his age, anyway?

She needed another look at his profile and she needed it now.

Because if he was anywhere near her daughter’s age–if he was young enough, say, to have attended one of Nessa’s childhood birthday parties–she was going to fake stomach flu and get on the next plane home.

Claire could have this entire field all to herself, whether she was capable or not.

“Are you all right?” Tom asked. “You’re looking a bit… shaken up. I thought emergencies were your specialty?”

“It’s not really an emergen–oh, you mean Charlie!”

“Yes, is there another?” He looked puzzled.

“No! I’m sure he’ll be fine, and yes, we have medical emergencies all the time. Par for the course. Although I’ve never had one mid-flight before.”

“Old Chunk will look very dashing at the wedding with an empty tuxedo sleeve and his arm in a sling. We’ll invent a good story, how he dove into the river to rescue a drowning bear cub, slipped on a rock, something like that.

A fall on a private jet while holding a glass of Champagne in one hand and a good Cuban cigar in the other is probably not what we want out there on social media these days. ”

“His fiancée is not going to be happy.” Ranney’s observation was based more on general experience than any acquaintance with the bride.

“Oh, Ani’s a good sport,” Tom reassured her. “And for some inexplicable reason, she seems to love him. Probably because they don’t speak each other’s languages all that well.”

Ranney looked at him in mild horror, and he laughed.

“I’m kidding. Sort of.”

Without really thinking about it, Ranney had been walking slowly next to Tom, and now they’d reached the entrance to the FBO, the small terminal building for private flights.

It wasn’t a luxury club, like the one at LAX–this was more like a standard airline gate, but smaller and in its own separate building.

She’d passed through quite a number of these during her work travels.

Instead of entering, though, Tom stopped outside the doors and looked at his phone. “Our Uber is one minute away, pink RAV4. Pink? ”

“Welcome to Vegas.”

"At least, we don’t have to wonder if we’re getting into the right vehicle.”

And when, as predicted, the pink RAV4 pulled up, Ranney slid obediently into the back seat. Not without a second thought–she was pretty clear that this wasn’t the wisest choice–but her normally strong willpower seemed to have deserted her.

She was still with the wedding party–or at least some of it–right? It’s not like she abandoned her post to go off sightseeing by herself… right? And this was clearly a pause in the schedule, while they waited for Charlie’s medical needs to be met?

Nope.

Her job, which Katie and Kari trusted her to do and for which she was paid a good salary plus benefits, was back on the tarmac.

What this was, was temporary insanity.

“Off we go!” Tom told the driver.