Champagne Charade by Leighton Greene

Author:Leighton Greene [Greene, Leighton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leighton Greene

I was more right than I knew, although at first I started to think I might have been overreacting.

The Doms—meaning Cooper, Seth, Sebastian Fox, Just-an-Earl Elliot, and me—were heading one way through the woods, while the subs were heading another. “You sure you’re going to be okay out there?” I asked Tyler, who grinned at me.

“You sure you’re going to be okay out there? I live and work here. I know these woods.”

I gave a glance out into the thick treeline and shivered. “Do you also happen to know if there’s some serial killer running around in them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tyler said with a straight face. “I probably should’ve mentioned that before. Make sure you avoid him.” He paused, looking my face over. “You’re not really worried, are you?”

“About a serial killer?”

“About not having me there to cover your ass if you say anything non-Shane aligned.”

I paused a moment too long.

“Damon,” he said in a low voice. “If—”

“Shane,” I muttered back. “No, it’s all good. I just don’t know how much fun it’ll be sitting on a snow-covered log out there.”

“You really think Jonny would accept that either?” Tyler asked in a whisper. “It’s not a campfire, it’s a glampfire. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

And when we got there, after a reasonable ten-minute trek, Tyler was right. It wasn’t just some pile of sticks in a stone circle, it was the kind of glamorous fire pit my older sister liked to send Pinterest links of to the family group text. The gas fitting on the campfire meant we didn’t need to worry about putting more wood on the fire—it could turn up or down or off at the twirl of a dial. There were curved wooden seats arranged around the fire, made comfortable and warm with cushions and soft wool rugs piled up on them. On the edge of the fire pit was a selection of upmarket ingredients which, Cooper told us, were supposed to be for making s’mores. Milk, white and dark Swiss chocolate, handmade peanut butter cups, crushed macadamia nuts, lemon curd, mini pretzels, chestnut purée, glacé fruits…and five different flavors of marshmallow.

“Elevated s’mores,” Cooper added, and then, by way of explanation, “Jon.”

We all nodded. After clarifying the s’mores concept to Sebastian Fox, he offered to make them—“An adventure in American cuisine!” he enthused—and no one objected. There was a portable bar, too, with coffee and hot chocolate in urns, as well as soft and hard drinks. None of us went for the alcohol, except Cooper, who was spending the night before the wedding alone.

“Tradition,” he’d groaned, when Seth joked about it. “Mostly my mother’s tradition. But then Jon went along with it, so it was two against one.”

I took a white chocolate, pretzel and chestnut s’more from Sebastian when it was offered. It was pretty good. I caught Cooper’s eye while I was swallowing, and had to make small talk. The weather had already been thoroughly discussed, so I asked about his medical practice back in LA. He

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