Lana patted her limp, hungover foot. “You remember. We were in Greece.”
“Nope. I have been to zero polo matches with you, and I most definitely have never been to polo matches in Greece. That’s one of your other post-inebriated friends.”
“Are you so miserable?” Offering a true look of sympathy, Lana patted her again.
“I don’t even remember my own name right now.” Zoey unscrewed the water bottle top, wincing at her breath as she tore into the worn aspirin package with her teeth, then popped the pills. “Did I make an idiot of myself last night?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. Something tall, dark, and handsome brought you home.” Lana waggled her eyebrows. At Zoey’s horrified expression, she laughed. “It wasn’t like that. Graham Barnett would rather sit naked on a lake in winter than have a one-night stand with a tourist.” She emphasized the word as if she’d said Zoey was a pile of moose poop. “Although the hotel is positively dying with the gossip of it.”
Which was exactly what Zoey needed. She already felt entirely outclassed by the other clientele, and being the drunk moose poop girl was not on her dream list of Alaskan experiences.
“So, brunch?” Lana nudged the Bloody Mary closer with her manicured fingernails.
“You’re serious.” Zoey hid her face back in the pillow, where it was dark and nothing spun or stared at her with shrimpy eyes. “She’s serious,” she muttered to no one specific.
Lana’s phone chirped and she reached for it, quickly scanning her incoming messages. “Meatball in my party in an hour? What?”
Zoey’s dull brain couldn’t help working through that puzzle. “Sounds like his phone doesn’t like his voice,” she grumbled into the pillow. “That must translate to ‘meet me in the lobby in an hour.’”
“I can’t believe he’s texting through dictation. Yes, I will be there when I’m ready. You have fingers, Killian. Text like a human being.” Setting her phone aside, she turned her bright, disgustingly cheerfulness Zoey’s way. “You’re coming to brunch, right?”
“With your crazy rich cousin and his friends still on Rome time? Oh no. Not a chance.”
“But, Zoey—”
“Nope. I am too…what’s your word for it? Peaked. I’m too peaked for brunch with the whosits.”
“Oh, these are definitely not the whosits. Haleigh and Enzo are firmly in whatsits territory. New money is always about what they are, not who. Don’t worry. You’ll perk right up. A little smoked trout and toast and you’ll be right as rain. The brunch here is absolutely divine.”
Now, for the record, Zoey wasn’t the pickiest of eaters. But in the last twenty-four hours, she’d only consumed a gummy bear drowning in alcohol and a hot dog made of Dasher or Dancer.
There would be no smoked trout and toast. Not over Zoey’s dead body.
“Give the whatsits my regards. I’m going to go barf for a while.”
“Oh, love. You really are unwell, aren’t you?”
“Not really. Just dramatic and embarrassed.”
Smiling with sympathy, Lana scooted closer and smoothed her hand over Zoey’s head. “Graham’s drinks can drop a tank. If you hadn’t gotten tipsy, I’d be shocked. Drink your Bloody Mary.”
“Lana? Why did Graham bring me home?”
“Because he lit up like a Christmas tree when he set eyes on you. And since you’re on vacation and haven’t been on a date since—what was his name?”
“We don’t say his name.”
“Since no-name, I thought it might be fun to see what he’d do about it.”
“And that didn’t seem like…I don’t know…a potentially dangerous situation to you?”
“With Graham Barnett? That boy is as sweet as they come. Besides, I was watching you through the diner windows the entire time.” She waggled her eyebrows again. “And then I followed him to the hotel. It was tons of fun, all sneaking about like a Hamburglar, watching him sweep you up in those masculine, rugged arms. Would you like to see the pictures?”
“I don’t want to hear any more.” Zoey covered her face with the pillow. “There’s too much wrong with all of this.”
“I’ve been with you all night. I came in right after he and the manager brought you to the room, so there’s no need to be concerned.”
“Things happen in cars.”
“Yes, but I would have arranged to have him murdered if he tried. See? All’s good.”
Zoey quit arguing. It was her own darn fault she’d gotten drunk, and things could have been worse. Lana could have flitted off into the night in another stranger’s car, leaving her completely alone. Hamburgling it was Lana’s way of taking care of her. Just like more alcohol in the morning, her friend’s intentions were good, even if her methods were…questionable.
Pulling the pillow down a couple of inches to peer at Lana, she asked with morbid curiosity. “Lana? Do you know people?”
A smug expression was not the answer Zoey was hoping for.
“Okeydokey. I might take that drink now.”
It was sweet how Lana seemed to find such pleasure in Zoey’s attempts to consume her Montgomery Bloody Mary, watching her with hopeful eyes. Zoey almost felt bad about crawling to the bathroom and gagging Lana’s handiwork back up again. As she draped herself on the couch this time, Zoey rubbed her forehead.
“I actually feel a little better now.” Narrowing her eyes at Lana, Zoey frowned. “You made me drink that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Well, now I know you’re alive, I need to get down to the spa for a quick spiff before finding Killian. There’s no time to go afterward. I have an important meeting this afternoon, then finalizing details for my event with the catering director, and after that, I’m meeting someone for drinks. And you know Killian will drag out brunch forever.”
“Mm-hmm.”
A hum of acknowledgment was her standard response when Lana started talking about places and people Zoey didn’t know. Trying to convince her friend she didn’t run in the same circles Lana did was far too time-consuming on a good day.
But something Lana said finally registered. “Wait.” Zoey narrowed her eyes. “What event? Lana, please don’t tell me you planned this vacation around a party.”
“It’s a bit more important than a simple party, love,” Lana told her. “The proper term is a gala, and I didn’t bring it up before you flew in because I know how avoidant you get of my friends.”