Never Fall for Your Back-Up Guy by Kate O’Keeffe

Chapter 6

Along with my friends—well, the girls, not Asher—I do a last-minute hair and makeup check in my floor-length mirror. I flick my hair behind one shoulder, allowing my long tresses to fall over one side.

“Perfect,” Lottie coos behind me. “She’s ready for her close up, Mr. DeMille. I wish I had your hair. Or your face. Or your body.”

I let out a giggle. “There’d be nothing of me left. And besides, you’re beautiful, Lottie.”

Her cheeks colour. “Thanks.”

“Enough preening, women,” Asher says from his position by the window. “There are tons of people arriving now, and they’ll want to see the birthday girl.”

“You do realise every member of my crazy family is going to be here tonight.”

“Your family is simply wonderful, especially your hot older brother. Even if he is as uptight as Mr. Darcy,” Tabitha says.

I harrumph. Ever since Sebastian posed as Mr. Darcy on a reality TV show called Dating Mr. Darcy (see what they did there?), he’s had women lusting over him left, right, and centre. Sadly for them, he met Emma on the show and fell head over heels in love, married her, and is now the proud father of a little girl, my darling niece.

As I’m about to follow my girlfriends from the room, Asher places his hand gently on my forearm. “I almost forgot. I got you a present.”

“You did? Aw, thanks, hubby.”

Lottie pauses at the door and looks back at us. “You two coming?”

“We’ll be right down. I’m just giving the birthday gal a present.”

“Okay, but don’t be long. Your public awaits!” She flashes us her smile before she leaves the room.

“I can’t top Scarlett’s present, you know.”

“We don’t even know if she did get me a blind date. And if she did, it’s a weird gift. I mean, is it even legal to gift a person to someone?”

He laughs. “I’d say that’s a hard no.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a red box tied up with a hot pink ribbon. “Here, I got you this.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did.” I take it from him, untie the ribbon, and pop the box open. Inside is the most gorgeous blue, pink, and purple glass perfume bottle. It’s small enough to nestle in my palm, and I gaze at it as I take in its sheer beauty. “Asher. I don’t know what to say.”

“I was going to give you something else, but when you told me about your weird perfume bottle obsession, I figured I should get you one of those.”

I look up at him and grin. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday. It’s not an antique, like the one you showed me that time, but it is made of Murano glass.”

“Are you serious? It’s Murano?” I wrap my arms around him and give him a quick hug, breathing in his fresh scent. “You’re the best.”

He shrugs, his eyes bright. “Personally, I don’t get the whole perfume bottle thing, but you do so…”

The word “so” lingers in the air.

“Zara! You’re missing your party!” Scarlett is standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Wearing a silver, pleated dress that hugs her curves, her hair in soft curls around her shoulders, she looks like an up-to-date Marilyn Monroe. “Oh, hi, Asher.”

“Hello, Scarlett,” he replies.

I hold the perfume bottle up. “Look at what Asher gave me. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

She waltzes over and takes it from me. “So pretty. Now, come with me.” She hands the bottle to Asher before she hooks her arm through mine and begins to steer me from the room. “I’ve got someone you must meet, and he’s very keen to meet you.”

“You did bring me a blind date!” I say as she bustles me down the hallway towards the grand staircase. I can hear music and voices and laughter floating up the from the ground floor.

“What can I say, darling? It’s your birthday, and you’ve told me you’re looking for Mr. Right. The least I can do is save you from having to marry Asher.”

I look over my shoulder, expecting Asher to be following us, but there’s no sign of him.

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

“No time for that. You’re the star of the night and your handsome prince awaits.”

I giggle. I like the idea of a handsome prince, even if it is a little bit fairy-tale for my tastes. “Who is he? Tabitha hopes he’s a cowboy.”

“He’s Harry’s cousin. His name is George Honeydew, he’s loaded, single, straight, and utterly hot. You’re going to die.”

A fluttery feeling rolls through my belly. “Oh.”

By now, we’re halfway down the large, sweeping staircase and the music and chatter have increased in volume.

“I showed him a few shots of you from your Instagram on the way here, and he nearly had an aneurism. He’s keen.”

“Right. Game on.”

“Game on,” she confirms.

We round the corner and are met with a sea of people, all sparkling in their evening-dress-best. Several heads turn to look up at us.

“There she is. My daughter, the birthday girl,” Mum calls out, and everyone in the room bursts into spontaneous applause.

With Scarlett still clutching onto my arm, I grin out at everyone and take a little bow. Growing up in a social, aristocratic British family, it’s impossible to be a wallflower. There are always garden parties in the summer and cocktail parties and luncheons and trips to the opera. The Huntington-Rosses are not hermits, that’s for sure. So, I’m more than used to having to perform in public—even if I’d prefer my party to be with a few close friends at my local pub rather than this grand affair.

But it makes Mum happy, and I know she’ll be feeling dad’s absence today, just as much as I am.

“Speech!” someone calls out, and I’m pretty sure it comes from Tabitha.

When I look her way, she hides behind Lottie.

I burst instantly into Huntington-Ross mode, extracting myself from Scarlett’s grasp and saying, “I am absolutely thrilled to have you all here to celebrate me reaching a milestone that moves me officially into ‘old.’”

The older party go-ers titter while my friends nod in grim agreement.

“You know, I’ve been told that I’m having my mid-life crisis right now, and although I’m not exactly middle aged, I guess I am going through something. I’m growing up. So, I’ve made a decision and I want to share it with you.”

“You’re getting married?” Mum calls out, ever hopeful her only daughter will take that joyful skip down the aisle.

I let out a laugh. “No, Mum. Sorry. It’s actually more exciting than that.” I pause for dramatic effect and then announce, “I’m getting a puppy! Well, if Penelope says so, that is.” I look out at the assembled upturned faces and await their reaction.

It’s fizzled at best.

My friends applaud and whoop, my Mum’s friends wait for the next, more important part of my announcement—newsflash: this is it—and my brother Sebastian shoots me an encouraging but confused look.

Undeterred, I continue. “Her name is Stevie and she’s a Jack Russell, and she’s just divine.” I beam out at everyone. Realising this is the sum total of my announcement, Mum’s and Granny’s friends applaud politely while my friends call, “Woot! Zara’s getting a puppy!” and, “We love you, Zee!”

“Thanks. I’m excited. I hope you have a fabulous time tonight.” I offer everyone another smile before I make my way down the stairs with Scarlett in tow. Someone hands me a glass of champagne, and I take a sip. The bubbles tickle my nose and work their magic, my spirits lifting.

The party has officially begun.

Twenty minutes and three glasses of champagne later, the band is playing my favourite tunes and the party is in full swing. I’ve been diligently doing the rounds of all the guests, most of whom seem to be Mum’s and Granny’s friends who are intent on delivering one message to me and one message only.

When are you going to settle down?

Actually, not all the questions peppered at me have been the same. There have been some variants. They range from What? You’re still single? But you’re 30 years old! to A dog is all very well, but are there any promising boyfriends on the horizon? to It would be such a comfort to your dear mother to see her only daughter happily married.

The last one was from Mum.

My mother, subtle? Hmmm, not so much.

“You know you really should listen to your mother, Zara,” Granny says to me when I complain to her about it. “When I was your age, I had been married for twelve years,” Granny says as she leans on her old wooden walking stick. “Twelve years.”

“I know, Granny. You told me at Sunday lunch last week in front of half the family. Oh, and the week before that, and the week before that.”

“And why do you think I told you, young lady?”

I open my mouth to respond, but it becomes clear it was a rhetorical question.

“Because you can’t dilly-dally with these things anymore, wasting your time on chaps not worthy of you or, worse yet, not even stepping out with anyone.”

“Stepping out? Granny, this isn’t the 1950s. We don’t ‘step out’ anymore.” I feel someone’s eyes on me. I glance up and notice my blind date, George, watching me with a small smile teasing at the edges of his mouth. With his sandy blonde hair, square jaw, and cheeky grin, the guy looks like Captain America, only without the suit and shield. Although by the looks of him, he’d look amazing with the suit and shield.

But I digress.

I shoot him a quick smile.

“What do you do then?” Granny asks me.

I drag my eyes from Captain America back to Granny. “I’m sorry?”

“What do you call it if it’s not ‘stepping out?’”

I steal another look at George. He’s still got his eyes on me with that sexy grin on his face, and my belly does a little flip. “I don’t know. Date? Hang out? Hook up?”

Granny makes a face. “Hooking up sounds absolutely vile. Why can’t you find a nice man to settle down with? You’ll be on the shelf before you know it.”

“Being ‘on the shelf’ isn’t a thing anymore, Granny. Women have choices. I’ve got a career and a wonderful group of friends.”

“Friends,” she scoffs, just as Tabitha screeches with laughter and promptly slips and lands on her butt on the ballroom floor. “Perhaps it may be time to choose a little more wisely on that front, too.” She eyes Tabitha as Lottie tries to pull her to her feet, but her skinny legs splay over the floor like a newborn deer trying to stand, and both of my friends end up clutching their sides with laughter as Asher grins down at them. A moment later, he’s got them both safely back on their feet, but the damage is done in Granny’s eyes.

“I adore my friends, Granny, and I have no interest in replacing them, even if they can be a little…exuberant.”

She purses her skinny lips. “Hmmm.”

“They’re like family to me.”

She harrumphs. “We’re your family.”

I lean down and kiss her on her gaunt, lined cheek. “And I love you so much.”

“Don’t you even want to get married?”

I’m in a tricky spot. If I tell her the truth—that I’m more than ready to meet Mr. Right, marry him, and make babies—she’ll burst into a high-spirited dance, right here in front of everyone at my party. Although that would be quite an incredible vision, I don’t want to get her hopes up. I mean, I haven’t even met a guy I would consider marrying, let alone following through with it.

“Someday,” I reply elusively as I notice Scarlett, Henry, and Captain America George talking and laughing with Tabitha and Lottie close by. They look like they’re having a great time, and I’m meant to be having fun with them and maybe even flirting with George—not getting questioned on my life choices by my family.

“Granny, let’s talk about it later, okay? Right now, I’m going to go over to see my friends. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Do you want to end up a lonely old crow like your poor aunt Cecily, Zara? Because that is precisely where you’re heading,” she warns.

“Great chat, Granny,” I reply in a bright tone. I spot a couple of her old cronies sitting down over the by the wall. “Oh, look, Granny. There’s Lord Wistern. I’ll invite him and his wife over, shall I?” I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I weave through the group of people, saying hello and telling them I’ll chat to them later, until I reach my target.

“Hello, Lord and Lady Wistern. How lovely it is to see you both. I wondered if you’d had the chance to say hello to my granny yet? I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“Who?” Lord Wistern asks in a booming voice.

“My granny,” I reply. “Geraldine.”

Realisation dawns on his craggy face. “Oh, Geraldine. Doesn’t she owe me money?” he asks his wife.

“No, that’s Gerald, your cousin, dearest.”

“Gerald owes me money? The scoundrel!”

“Yes, dearest. A rather sizeable sum.”

Lord Wistern looks scandalized. “How much?”

“Dearest, we don’t speak of money in society. It’s unseemly.”

“I don’t care about all that. How much does he owe me? I’ve a good mind to get it back.”

“Dearest—”

“How much?”

“It’s about a hundred thousand pounds at last count,” she says under her breath.

I pretend I don’t hear. “So anyway, would you like—” I begin only to be cut off.

“How much?” he booms in outrage, his already rosy cheeks turning Rudolph the Reindeer red. “This is preposterous. Where is he? Take me to him immediately.”

Lady Wistern throws me an apologetic look. “Dearest, there’s no need to get agitated. He’s owed you the money for thirty years.”

“Thirty years?” he questions.

Okay, the Wisterns perhaps weren’t the best choice.

I back away from the bickering couple only to step up against someone. I turn to apologise and come face to face with the man himself, George. “Hi,” I say in a breathy voice.

“Happy birthday,” he replies with a smile. His voice is velvety soft and deep, and it sends electricity through me. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring the birthday girl a gift.”

“No problem. I bet you didn’t even know you were coming to this tonight.”

“No, but I’m glad I did. Your family home is stunning.”

“Thanks.” We smile shyly at one another for a moment.

“My parents are also here at this party tonight, actually. Isn’t that weird?”

I blink at him, uncomprehending. “You brought your patents?”

He laughs. It’s warm and sexy and it brings a smile to my face. “They know your mother, apparently. I was as surprised as you to see them here.”

“Small world.” Although it’s not that small, especially not in the country “set” in which there’s been so much interbreeding over the years, it’s amazing any of us can function as normal human beings.

Okay, that’s a total exaggeration, but you get the point. We all know one another.

“So, you’re Henry’s cousin, right?” I ask.

“George Honeydew at your service.” He inclines his head in a little bow. It’s old fashioned and endearing and oh-so cute.

#Swoon

“I came down for the weekend and Scarlett suggested coming tonight. I hope it’s okay that I’m here.” He looks around at the party goers. “It seems like a pretty formal deal.”

“That’s how my family rolls. This isn’t my everyday life, you know. I live in a flat in London with my friend Lottie. I’m really quite normal and boring.”

“You don’t strike me as ‘normal’ or ‘boring.’”

I press my lips together to stop a ridiculously huge grin from breaking out across my face.

Thank you, Scarlett!

“Where did you come down here from?”

“I live in Edinburgh these days, although I’m originally from Surrey. I must say, it’s nice to be back in the Home Counties. Although I do love living in Scotland, it’s not exactly tropically warm.”

“Ah, no, but then you do have Jamie Fraser.”

“Jamie Who?”

“From Outlander? You know, the whole time travel Jamie and Claire love story?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, sorry.”

“It’s a TV show. But then you’re a guy so it’s probably not your thing. My friends and I love it. Hashtag obsessed.”

“I’ll be sure to check it out, since you recommend it. Maybe I’ll let you know what I think of it once I’ve watched an episode or two.”

I smile at him. This guy is nice and sweet and funny! And hot. Definitely hot. “Okay.”

“So, I might need your number to do that,” he says.

“My number. Right.”

He pulls out his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and I tap in my name and number. As he takes the phone from me, his finger brushes mine and as I lift my eyes, our gazes lock.

“There you are, Zara. Your mom sent me. You’re needed for the birthday cake,” a voice says beside me.

With reluctance, I tear my eyes away from George to see Kennedy looking at me.

“Zara? You okay?” she questions when I don’t respond.

“What? Oh, yes. Fine. The cake, you say? Sure. Let’s do it.”

She looks from me to George and back again. Realisation dawns on her face. “So, you met each other, huh?”

“Yup.” Heat begins to burn my cheeks. I steal a glance at George. He looks awkward, too, which only makes me like him more.

“Blind dates can be super awkward,” Kennedy says.

“Oh, this isn’t—”

“We’re not—”

We stop and regard one another before we both smile.

“I’m happy to call it a blind date if you are,” George says.

“Sure. It’s a blind date.”

Charlie Cavendish arrives at our group and immediately kisses me on each cheek, saying, “Happy birthday, Zara. You’re looking stunning tonight.” His eyes drift to Kennedy. “Hello, Kennedy,” he says coolly.

“Charles,” she replies with a healthy dose of contempt in her voice.

It’s my turn to dart looks between two people. What is with these two?

Charlie greets George with a handshake. “Hello, George. I didn’t know you knew Zara.”

“Oh, we go way back. Don’t we?” he replies as he gives me a wink.

“Waaaay back. It’s been, what, three minutes?”

“Oh, at least four.”

We share another smile, a bunch of cheerleaders doing flips in my belly.

This guy is perfect!

“They’re on a blind date,” Kennedy says.

“Is that so?” Charlie questions, shooting Kennedy a look that could freeze a hot coffee.

“It is, actually,” she replies.

“Well, that’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It is. For them.”

Done with glaring at Kennedy for the time being, Charlie returns his attention to me. “Tell me, Zara, how does it feel to hit the big 3-0?”

“It’s totally great. It’s just like in that movie 13 Going on 30. I’m thirty, flirty, and thriving.”

Both men look at me with blank expressions.

“It’s a Jennifer Garner movie,” Kennedy explains for me.

“Right. A chick flick,” Charlie says.

Kennedy throws her hands onto her hips. “Oh, that’s so typical. You would say that, wouldn’t you, Charles? Guys watch rom coms too, you know.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. My cousin, Cyril has watched every rom com ever made.”

“See?”

“Of course, he’s a fashion designer with immaculate dress sense whose tastes run to the, uh, male end of the spectrum, but still.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes. “So only women and gay men watch chick flicks? Such a stereotype.”

“I tell you what. Since it’s so important to you, I’ll watch this Jennifer Lawrence movie—”

“Garner. Jennifer Garner. It’s not TheHunger Games.”

“Now that’s a good movie,” George interjects.

“Absolutely. Action, intrigue, a punitive totalitarian government, not to mention Katniss looking hot in black leather.” Charlie taps his chin. “I wonder, can a movie about turning 30 give you all that?”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, her arms now crossed over her chest. “I’ll have you know that 13 Going on 30 is a classic.”

“I’m sure it is.”

It’s time to intervene in this little movie sparring match. I don’t need bickering friends at my birthday party.

“Okay, you two. We get it. You love to fight. But you know what? This is my birthday party, so you,” I point at Charlie, “go and talk to Sebastian and Emma over there. And you,” I point to Kennedy, “go and dance with Lottie and Tabitha.”

“Yes, miss,” Charlie says with a small salute, which wins a fresh eyeroll from Kennedy. “Catch you later.” He turns and leaves.

Once he’s out of earshot, I ask, “What is it that bothers you about him?”

“Everything,” Kennedy replies simply, and I believe her.

The lights are dimmed, and I know what’s coming next. This is a birthday party, after all. Sebastian appears holding a huge cake, literally covered in burning candles. The band bursts into Happy Birthday, and everyone sings along as I stand there, feeling like an idiot—but a happy one at least.

By the time I’ve made a wish and blown out my candles, George is nowhere to be seen. I scan the room, but instead of spotting him, I’m met by a grinning Asher, who makes his way through the crowd to me, carrying a plate with a half-eaten piece of cake on it.

“This is delicious. I knew you’d choose strawberry shortcake with vanilla icing. You having some?”

“Oh, sure. I will,” I reply distractedly.

“The birthday babe needs to eat cake.”

“Sure. Have you seen George?”

“George, the guy who came with Scarlett and Henry?”

“Yup.”

“I think he left.”

I blink at him. “He left?”

“I think so. Why? Didn’t the blind date go well?”

I suppress a smile. “It did, actually.”

He studies my face for a beat before he says, “You know you just barely decided to find Mr. Right. You don’t have to jump at the first guy you meet.”

“I’m not jumping. I’m walking at a leisurely but confident pace towards him.”

Asher lets out a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yes. He asked for my number.”

“You know the guy’s an idiot. Right?”

“He’s not an idiot.”

“Oh, he is.”

“You’re just jealous because Scarlett didn’t bring you a blind date.”

“I’m fairly certain I never want Scarlett to bring me a blind date.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think. When George calls me—and he will call me—I’ll go out with him and have an amazing time. We had a connection.”

Asher shoots me a look that tells me I’m totally delusional, but I don’t care. I had a connection with George Captain America Honeydew and I cannot wait to hear from him.