Chapter One

“Sweet Jesus, this is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in weeks.”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow at her best friend’s declaration and barely bit back a snort. “Keepin’ it classy there, Brown,” she teased, even as she took a huge bite of the chocolate, marshmallow and graham cracker concoction oozing in her hand and let out her own soft moan of pleasure.

Brandt Brown swallowed, and then laughed. “Considering the massive crashing and burning of my last relationship, thus necessitating this particular s’more fest, I think it’s a fairly accurate statement. Tasteless, perhaps, but accurate.”

Lucy had to agree. Her (flamingly gay) best friend Brandt seemed to make a habit of leaping into intense relationships with deceptively shallow men, burning hot for a few weeks, then seeing it all evaporate when he got too serious or intense too quickly. She knew it had been fun for Brandt to flit from boy to boy when they were in college, but now that they were a bit older, she sensed that Brandt secretly wanted to find that perfect guy, settle down in a fabulously decorated home and go on fantastic trips to exotic locations with his lover.

Instead, what seemed to be happening was a series of not-nice guys, short relationships, devastating breakouts, and not a fabulously decorated abode in sight.

Although, their house certainly wasn’t anything to sniff at, she thought with a smile.

“Extremely tasteless,” Lucy agreed. “But this is an excellent consolation prize,” she said, holding her next s’more aloft. They were ensconced on the front porch of their house on Ocean View Boulevard in downtown Monterey, California, with a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean across the street and the sun slowly sinking into the blue water. The two story home behind them glowed in the evening sun, each room with a better ocean view than the last.

Granted, they were making their s’mores on a less than stellar hibachi grill (neither one of them was brave enough to buy a “grown up grill” and learn how to actually use it), but it provided just enough fire to toast the marshmallows and satisfy the soul.

“This was an excellent suggestion,” Brandt agreed. “It’s hard to be bitter when you have s’mores, a bestie, a glass of wine and that view.”

Lucy Hilderbrand had to agree. She and Brandt had become fast friends in high school, he the wanna be drag queen and she the nerdy newspaper editor, but they seemed to find common ground along the way and had laughed their way through high school and college. Growing up in Carmel, near Monterey, this whole area of the coast had been their hangout and their home, and the two of them had almost always been inseparable. It nearly broke Lucy’s heart when she had had to move to San Diego to be an “army wife” to her husband Ryan.

And now she was back, still laughing away with Brandt, but nonetheless wishing things had turned out differently in the grand scheme of her life.

“I know I’ve said it a million times and everything,” Lucy said, licking marshmallow off her pinky finger. “But thank you again for letting me, you know, move in with you and basically sponge off your generosity when it comes to home ownership. I hope I don’t cramp your marvelous lifestyle.”

“Girl, you just add to the fabulosity of my lifestyle,” Brandt said with a grin and a playful toss of his collar length hair. “You know it, and I know it. And it’s been nearly a year – stop being so damn grateful and get used to the fact that I’m not tossing you out on the street corner anytime soon.”

Lucy grinned in reply, though still deeply grateful. “Good to know. I’d have to stuff everything in your Louis Vuitton luggage on the way out, just to spite you.”

Brandt assumed an expression of bemused horror. “The Vuitton does not leave this house in anyone’s hand but mine. Or the Chanel. It’s like… it’s like art. You’re an art thief. And not nearly as cute as Pierce Brosnan was in that movie.”

“Best keep me around, then.”

“That’s the plan, darling girl. You are good for my soul – and my sanity. But clearly, not my waistline,” Brandt said with a self deprecating laugh as he finished his last s’more.

Lucy cringed inwardly. Brandt knew how sensitive she was about her weight, but sometimes he would said something and just…

“Well, clearly, it’s not good for my anywhere,” Lucy shot back, stuffing her mouth full of chocolate and trying not to think about the size of her thighs – or the rest of her. “And yet, I’m indulging. Lovesick friend comforting has no calories. I’m sure I read that in a magazine.”

“Nope, it absolutely doesn’t,” Brandt agreed, sounding supportive, though Lucy knew deep down that Brandt worried not about her weight, but about her health. At only twenty eight years old, he hated to hear about her morning aches and pains.

And probably wasn’t crazy about that wheezing noise she made when they walked on the beach, she mused. Still, she’d certainly had had a good reason to gain a few pounds…

Her phone pinged with a new text message, and she cleaned her fingers as best she could before reaching over to unlock the screen and read the message.

“Oh crap,” she said tonelessly, dropping the phone back on the table between them.

“What happened?” Brandt asked, sipping from his wine glass and looking at her worriedly.

“It’s from my brother,” Lucy said with a slight eye roll. “They have finally decided on a destination.”

“Knowing Lionel, I’m guessing it’s not Saint Bart’s?” Brandt said with a hint of sarcasm. “Because we might actually all enjoy that?”

“What? And potentially damage the ecosystem of a tropical island? Never!” Lucy shot back. “No, the wedding is going to be…” She picked up her phone again and read from the screen. “Lucy, the wedding will be held on the peak of Kilimanjaro promptly at sunrise,” she read.

“Well, obviously at sunrise. I mean, why hike up there to catch it any other time of the day?” Brandt said, the sarcasm now on full display. “I thought a few weeks ago they had decided on Machu Picchu?”

Lucy dropped her phone again and picked up her wine glass and took a large slug. “Wendy decided it would be too damaging to the ecology of the area, and didn’t want to contribute to the tourist culture that was benefitting from an ancient burial site, nor did she want the happiest day of her life to take place where ritual sacrafices had taken place. Never mind that it was five hundred years ago, of course. I’m paraphrasing, naturally.”

Lionel, Lucy’s older brother, and his pleasant but uptight fiancée, Wendy, were dedicated conservationists, and spent most of their time and money traveling around the world, trying to restore clean water and earth-friendly practices to all areas of the globe. Lucy was incredibly proud and impressed by her brother, but sometimes he could be so sanctimonious about it. The time he had urged her to switch to washable “feminine hygiene products” was pretty much the line in the sand for Lucy. She loved and supported him, but that was too much green warrior schtick for her.

But, Lionel and Wendy had waited a long time to get married, and were insisting that their nearest and dearest be part of the ceremony.

Even if that ceremony was on a mountaintop in Africa.

Lucy wasn’t worried about the money to get there, it was more the fact…

“Brandt,” Lucy said, her voice small and embarrassed now. “How the holy hell am I going to get to the top of Kilimanjaro?”

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