Count Your Lucky Stars: A Novel

Rain splattered against the windshield, evergreens blurring past as Olivia drove down I-90, heading east to Snoqualmie.

Annie and Brendon’s joint bachelor-bachelorette extravaganza—Brendon’s word, not Olivia’s (extravaganza made her think of the annual mattress sale at the furniture store off State Route 410)—was taking place at Salish Lodge & Spa, a resort getaway half an hour outside of Seattle, halfway between the city and the ski summit. They’d be spending two nights—Wednesday and Thursday—at the lodge, before heading back to the city in time for the rehearsal dinner on Friday night and the wedding the following day.

In the passenger seat of Olivia’s Subaru Outback—it had all-wheel drive, unlike Margot’s Toyota Camry—Margot stared at her phone, rattling off facts about the lodge where they’d be staying. “Ooh, get this. Every guest room has a gas fireplace—fancy—a shower with dual heads, and an oversized soaking tub. And there’s an on-site herb garden and . . . ooh, there’s an apiary that provides honey for both of the lodge’s restaurants and the spa.”

“Mm.” Olivia sped up, passing a minivan going ten below the speed limit.

“Let’s see . . . award-winning spa . . . steam room, sauna, soaking pools are available by appointment,” Margot read from the site. “Fitness massage, tranquility massage, hot stone massage . . .”

That all sounded fantastic, but Olivia had too much to do to simply send the next two days relaxing in a spa. She needed to follow up with the vendors, make sure the final payments had been received by the suppliers, and deliver the final head count to the caterer for the rehearsal dinner and the reception. All of which she could do from the lodge, but she’d packed her laptop and double-checked the resort had reliable Wi-Fi for a reason.

“Hey.” Margot waved her fingers, frowning softly. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry.” Olivia smiled and shook her head. “I’m just thinking about everything I still have to do with vendors and suppliers and . . . I don’t know. I—maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to come. There’s just so much and—”

“Hey, whoa.” Margot swiveled in her seat the best she could with the seat belt strapped across her body. “Brendon and Annie invited you.”

“Right, and relaxing right now should be their number one priority,” Olivia said, eyes flitting between the road and her rearview mirror as she changed lanes. “My priority is making sure their wedding goes off without a hitch.”

“And you totally will,” Margot said. “But I’m pretty sure you can squeeze in a massage, too.”

Olivia hummed under her breath and rolled out her shoulders. “A massage does sound nice.”

Margot looked over at her and smiled. “If you needed a massage, you could’ve just asked.” Her brows wiggled. “I’m good with my hands.”

Olivia’s face heated at the memory of Margot using her hands to edge Olivia for what felt like an hour, driving her to the point of babbling and begging until finally Margot had wrung four orgasms from Olivia before relenting, leaving her a puddle of goo.

“That you are,” Olivia agreed, voice a touch breathless.

Margot’s smirked and turned her attention back to her screen.

Olivia reached for her bottle of water, suddenly parched. She flipped the rubbery straw up on her CamelBak and took a long drink, eyes flitting away from the road briefly to return the bottle to the cup holder.

On the center console, Margot’s hand rested, slightly cupped, fingers curled toward her palm, facing up. Olivia had a sudden, jarring flashback to seventh grade, when she’d gone out on her first date to the movies with Michael Louis, a boy who’d had a sweet smile and an unfortunate floppy bowl cut that made him look like a cute mushroom, or Jim Halpert circa season one of The Office. They’d gone to see some cheesy action movie and sat dead center in the theater. He’d rested his hand on the armrest and stared, not at the screen, but at Olivia, until she’d gotten the hint and slipped her hand into his, his palm damp and warm and oddly sticky.

It wasn’t a question that Margot was good with her hands or that she had clever, talented fingers that could drive Olivia to new heights of pleasure. It was a question of whether Olivia could hold Margot’s hand.

Was that . . . something they did now? If Olivia slipped her hand inside Margot’s, would she be pushing her luck?

Olivia held her breath, hand hovering above the cup holder, and—

A horn blared from the next lane over, the one Olivia had accidentally floated into. She gripped the wheel with both hands, careful not to overcorrect, and kept her eyes locked on the road, willing away her flush when Margot studied her from the passenger seat.

“They offer facials, too,” Margot added.

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. “That’s nice.”

A heavy electronic dance beat filled the car, and Margot groaned, chuckling at the same time.

Olivia only let go of the wheel for a brief second to crank up the volume until the bass thumped, shaking her seat. “Come on. You know you love this song.”

“No.” Margot shouted over the music. “I don’t. And I still don’t understand how you thought they were saying like a cheese stick.”

“Excuse me for not knowing what a G6 was when I was seventeen.”

“How does cheese stick make even a modicum of sense? I think you need to get your ears checked.” Margot turned the volume down until they could speak without shouting. “Maybe if you didn’t listen to your music this loud, you wouldn’t be constantly hearing the lyrics wrong.”

“Constantly?” Olivia scoffed.

Margot spared her a quick glance, brows flicking upward. “You thought Madonna said like a virgin, touched for the thirty-first time.” Margot snickered. “How the fuck does that even work?”

“Shut up.” Olivia flicked her turn signal, taking the next exit. “I was nine when I thought that! I didn’t even know what that song meant.”

“Mm-hmm, sure.”

“I mean it, I didn’t—”

The song cut off abruptly and a soft chime came from the speakers, her phone connected to the speakers via Bluetooth.

Olivia glanced at the display screen. Dad was calling.

She glanced briefly over at Margot. “Do you mind if I take this? I’ll be quick.”

Ever since his heart attack, she made a point of answering when Dad called. Not that she hadn’t before, but . . . she didn’t want to risk sending him to voicemail if he needed her. Especially since she was usually the one reaching out, the one calling and checking in.

From the corner of Olivia’s eye, Margot shrugged. “No worries. Don’t rush on my account.”

“Thanks.” Olivia pressed her thumb into the button on the wheel to answer the call. “Hey, Dad. I hope that it’s okay you’re on speaker. I’m driving.” Olivia licked her lips. “I’m in the car with Margot.”

The line crackled for a second before Dad said, “Speaker’s fine, Livvy. Hi, Margot.”

Margot sat up straighter. “Hi, Mr. Grant. It’s been a while. How are you doing?”

Her voice changed subtly, the pitch rising. Olivia’s eyes flickered over briefly to discover Margot nibbling on her bottom lip, looking nervous.

“Hanging in there. Keeping busy.”

“Hopefully not too busy,” Olivia interjected.

Dad’s sigh was exaggerated, heavily put upon. “Do you hear what I deal with, Margot? You don’t hassle your folks like this, do you?”

Margot laughed. “They’re usually the ones hassling me, sir.”

Dad chuckled. “The way it’s supposed to be. Livvy here worries too much.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “What’s up, Dad?”

“Not much,” Dad said. “Just hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”

A few days? That couldn’t be possible. She’d last talked to Dad on . . . Oh God, it really had been a few days. At least four, whereas normally she tried to call every other day, if not daily, for at least a quick check-in.

“The wedding’s been keeping me pretty busy, actually,” she said. That and Margot, but Dad absolutely did not require details there. “The singer in the band we hired for the reception was rushed to the hospital yesterday with a ruptured appendix. He’s fine, but we’re obviously out a band, so I had to make a few calls to find a suitable DJ—”

“Livvy,” Dad interjected. “It’s fine. I just thought I’d check in with you for once. Make sure Margot’s not getting you into too much trouble.”

Margot snickered. “Only the best kind of trouble, sir.”

Dad barked out a laugh, and if Olivia weren’t driving she’d have slumped down in her seat, mortified. She reached for the air vent, aiming it directly at her face.

“Good, good. That’s what I like to hear,” Dad said. “Livvy could use a little fun in her life.”

“Oh, geez,” she muttered under her breath, still loud enough for Dad to hear through the speakers, apparently, because he only laughed harder.

And Margot, traitor that she was, joined in, laughing brightly and chiming in with, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Margot slipped her hand off the center console and squeezed Olivia’s thigh. She kept her hand there, casual as could be, like it was perfectly normal to rest her hand atop Olivia’s leg while Olivia drove. Olivia still questioned her reality, that this was her life now, that Margot was in it and touching her. Maybe it was different for Margot, but Olivia had yet to build up a tolerance to Margot’s touch. She wasn’t certain she wanted to.

Olivia cleared her throat. “You had your appointment, right? With your cardiologist? How’d that go?”

“Everything’s fine. My cholesterol, my blood pressure, all of it.”

Fine. Her nose scrunched. “What does fine mean? And what about your triglycerides, those were still—”

Dad cut her off with a laugh. “Livvy, relax. The doctor says I’m healthy as a horse.”

She pursed her lips. “Are we talking Seabiscuit, or the Red Pony?”

Margot clapped her free hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter.

“Jesus, kid.” Dad huffed. “You are something. I’m fine. I would tell you if I weren’t.”

Olivia loosened her death grip on the steering wheel, working to swallow past the knot constricting her throat. “Promise?”

Margot’s grip tightened, squeezing her thigh.

“Promise,” Dad said, sounding sincere enough that Olivia was able to breathe again. “Look, I called to see how you were doing and also to let you know that a few of the guys from work and I are heading up to Nolan Creek in Forks to go fly-fishing. We’re driving up on Friday, won’t be back until Wednesday. I don’t know how my reception’s going to be, and I won’t have my phone on me when I’m out on the water. Just wanted to let you know so you don’t worry.”

“Be safe,” she said. “And have fun.”

Dad chuckled. “Thanks. Good luck with the wedding. I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Good talking to you, Margot. Make sure Livvy doesn’t work too hard.”

Margot grinned. “Will do, Mr. Grant. Have fun fishing!”

“Bye, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid. Talk soon.”

Olivia ended the call with a press of her thumb against the wheel.

“It sounds like he’s doing good,” Margot said.

Olivia blew out her breath and nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Margot’s thumb swept against the side seam of Olivia’s jeans, warmth from her palm seeping through the denim. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just me or maybe it’s the way you’re driving fifteen over the speed limit, but I’m getting a vibe that you’re not totally at ease.”

“Shit.” Olivia eased off the gas. “Sorry.”

Margot shrugged. “You want to talk about it?”

Olivia puffed out her cheeks. “I just feel bad that I didn’t check in. I normally do, but with everything going on, I spaced.”

“It sounds like he’s doing fine,” Margot said. “He definitely didn’t sound upset.”

“No, but—”

“No buts. Your dad wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for living your life, Liv.” Margot plucked Olivia’s phone out of the change holder. She shook it pointedly. “Pretty sure he specifically tasked me with making sure you have a good time. So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a great time this week, celebrating Annie and Brendon, and you are going to relax. Okay?”

Olivia breathed deep and smiled. “I can try.”

*  *  *

An hour later, Brendon met them in the lobby of the lodge with a warm smile. “You guys made it.”

“We hit traffic a few exits back,” Margot said. “Bumper-to-bumper.”

“I think there might have been an accident,” Olivia added, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag so it wouldn’t cut off circulation to her arm. “We saw flashing lights.”

“It’s all this extra snow,” Brendon said, gesturing for them to follow as he led the way through the lobby and down a long hall. “I’m glad Luke’s got snow chains, otherwise I don’t think they’d let us on Snoqualmie Pass.”

“Luke? Who’s Luke?” Margot frowned. “Do I even know a Luke?”

Brendon laughed. “My friend from college, Luke. I’ve mentioned him before.”

Margot’s nose wrinkled adorably, and she adjusted her grip on the case of beer she’d brought, her contribution for the weekend, courtesy of the brewery Oh My Stars was partnering with. “Hmm.”

“I know I’ve mentioned him.” Brendon’s expression faltered. “Wait, didn’t I?”

“The name sounds vaguely familiar . . .”

“We were roommates freshman year,” Brendon tacked on. “I think I told you the story about the time he accidentally shrunk all his pants in the wash and went to class wearing a three-piece suit?”

A flicker of recognition passed over Margot’s face, her eyes widening slightly behind her glasses. “Oh, that Luke. Okay, yeah, you’ve mentioned him.”

At least Olivia wasn’t going to be the only new addition on this trip, the odd man out, everyone already closely acquainted with one another. “He’s a groomsman, right?”

Margot did a double take. “Hold the phone. Groomsman? I thought it was just me and your coworker Jian?”

Brendon gripped the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Shoot. Don’t tell me I forgot to tell you.”

Margot’s hair swished against the sides of her neck when she gave a sharp shake of her head. “This is the first I’m hearing of there being another groomsman.”

“I wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it to the wedding. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it. He’s been in Minsk for the past few months treating patients with drug-resistant TB.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Doctors Without Borders.”

Olivia’s brows rose. “Impressive.”

“Right?” Brendon nodded, stopping in front of a bank of elevators. “Anyway, he managed to swing the time off and let me know a couple weeks ago. I guess with the fire at the first venue and having to make all of these new plans, it slipped my mind. Even then, he didn’t think he was going to be able to fly in until Friday, but he found an earlier flight and managed to make it to town last night.”

Margot gave a thoughtful hum. “How long is he in town for?”

“A week,” Brendon said, thumbing the up button. “He’s got to go back to Belarus for a couple weeks to finish up his rotation, then he flies back home for good. It’ll be nice to have him back.” His gaze flickered between the two of them, his smile broadening, lingering curiously on Olivia. “I think you’ll really like him.”

Wait. Olivia looked at Margot then back at Brendon, pointing at her chest. “Me?”

Brendon held his hand against the open elevator door, allowing the passengers departing to step out first before gesturing for her and Margot to step inside. “Yeah. He’s great. Funny, caring, loyal.” His smile went crooked. “Single.”

Olivia’s stomach lurched, and it had nothing to do with the elevator rising. She looked over at Margot for help, but Margot was staring at her phone, scrolling, expression giving not even a single clue as to what was going on inside her head. Olivia swallowed. “Um.”

It was one thing to keep their relationship—she didn’t know what else to call it; arrangement sounded sleazy and friendship didn’t fully encompass the scope of what they were doing. A situationship, maybe? It was all a little fuzzy and undefined—under wraps. She didn’t like it, wasn’t a fan of having to pretend like she didn’t want to kiss Margot or hold her hand, to curtail any of her impulses. But she could understand where Margot was coming from, not wanting her friends, Brendon in particular, butting in.

But here he was, doing it anyway . . . just not the way either of them had anticipated.

And Margot was no help. Did she even care that Brendon was trying to set Olivia up? Olivia clutched at the elevator’s stainless steel handrail, head swimming, suddenly dizzy.

Was this situationship so casual that it wasn’t even exclusive?

“No pressure,” Brendon added, rocking back on his heels, hands tucked in the front pocket of his sweats, the picture of nonchalance. “I promise this isn’t a setup. I just think you two might hit it off, that’s all.”

The elevator opened on the fifth floor. Margot was the first to step out, slipping through the doors as soon as she could fit through them. Olivia frowned and followed, itching to ask Margot what was going on inside her head.

But she couldn’t. Now wasn’t the right time, with Brendon beside them, footsteps slowing in front of the suite at the end of the hall.

He fished around inside his back pocket, pulling out the card to the room. The sensor on the door flashed green when he held the card to it, the lock making a soft whirring noise followed by a click.

“All our rooms are on the same floor, same hall, all adjoining,” he said, opening the door and, with a wave of his hand, gestured them through into his and Annie’s larger suite. They stopped inside a small entryway where several pairs of shoes lay heaped, as if kicked off and forgotten. Two coats hung in the closet, the sliding door left open. To the immediate right was a bathroom and to the left, another door left slightly cracked. Brendon nodded at the closed door and fished two more keys out of his pocket, glancing at each briefly before passing one to Margot and the other to Olivia. “Obviously feel free to keep your door closed, but for now we have them all open. Figured it would be convenient while we’re all still up. Darcy and Elle are right through there, then Margot, Olivia, Luke, and last we’ve got Katie and Jian.”

Margot blew the hair out of her face, lips remaining pursed even after her hair had settled. “Cool.”

“Katie?” Olivia asked, not recognizing the name.

“She and Jian got married last year,” Brendon explained. “They both work with me at OTP.”

Olivia nodded, filing all away the names and relationships. “Got it.”

Laughter carried from further in the suite. Brendon jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone’s out on the patio. We’ve got the fireplace going and are about to roast marshmallows. Here, I can take those off your hands.” He reached out, grabbing the case of beer from Margot, who gave him an appreciative smile. “We’ve got a bottle of champagne open, and Elle and Darcy brought wine, so this rounds our assortment of beverages out nicely.”

“Please tell me there’s food.” Margot pressed her hand against her stomach. “Other than marshmallows.”

“Oh, totally.” Brendon backed away slowly. “We’ve got graham crackers and chocolate, too.”

Margot frowned and Olivia felt her pain. Traffic had caused them to miss dinner. They’d done a number on the cookies they’d baked last night, but it wasn’t real food.

“Kidding.” Brendon grinned. “There’s plenty of chips and finger foods, and if you guys want, you can always order room service.” He nodded to their bags. “You guys can either drop your things here for now, if you want, or you can settle in first. We all got comfortable after dinner, but either way.”

Brendon disappeared around the corner, leaving them alone in the entryway of the suite.

Olivia hiked the strap of her duffel higher on her shoulder and glanced down at what she was wearing. “I think I’m going to get out of these jeans.”

Margot’s lips twitched, and she cast a quick glance toward the hall before stepping closer, into Olivia’s space, her body a line of heat against Olivia’s side. “Need help?”

“Are you offering?” Olivia asked, heat wrapping around the sides of her jaw.

Margot hummed and hooked a finger under the waist of Olivia’s jeans, right by the button, pulling the denim taut. It bit softly into Olivia’s skin. Margot leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Olivia’s ear, hot breath sending a shiver down Olivia’s spine. “Maybe later.”

Ugh. Olivia shut her eyes and groaned quietly. “You’re so mean.”

Margot pecked her cheek, lips lingering, dragging down to the hinge of Olivia’s jaw. “Later,” she promised, sliding her finger out of Olivia’s pants.

Olivia opened her eyes and shook off the fog of lust that had made her head fuzzy in no time flat. She took a deep, cleansing breath and followed Margot through the door into the adjoining room, trying to ignore her sudden restless awareness of the space between her thighs.

Margot dropped her bag beside the queen-sized bed in her room and stretched, arms lifted over her head, the bottom of her sweater riding up, revealing a strip of her stomach. She smirked when she saw Olivia staring, then shamelessly grabbed the bottom of her top, drawing it over her head, leaving her in a sheer black bra that cupped her breasts and lifted them high, the lace pattern accentuating her curves and leaving little to the imagination.

Margot lifted her eyes, brows rising, a knowing little smirk curving her lips as she slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders before reaching back for the clasp. The fabric sagged in front of her body, her breasts falling subtly. There was a bruise in the shape of Olivia’s mouth on Margot’s left breast, right beside her nipple, put there last night.

Olivia almost swallowed her tongue. The noise that escaped her mouth was next-level mortifying, half gasp and half groan, one hundred percent reminiscent of a dying animal. Her eyes darted to the open door.

“Meet you in the other room?” Margot asked, digging through her duffel for a change of clothes.

Olivia tripped over her feet as she stepped backward. “You’re terrible.”

“The worst,” Margot agreed with a smile. “Now go.”

It wasn’t until Olivia was in her room that she cursed softly. She’d had every intention of talking to Margot about Brendon’s none too subtle attempt at matchmaking, but then she’d gotten distracted by Margot and her breasts and her flirting and her—everything.

Later, then. Unless there was nothing to talk about? She’d have to play it by ear.

Olivia dug out a change of clothes and set them aside while she wiggled out of her jeans. She tossed them on the bed and frowned. There was paper poking out of her back pocket. Paper. She couldn’t for the life of her remember—

Wait. Olivia pressed her fingers to her lips and reached for the—yup, a folded envelope. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand with room to spare, a little crumpled from her having sat on it, but it was in the shape of a heart.

She turned it over before unfolding it. There was no note, nothing written on it, but Olivia was far from disappointed. The note didn’t need to say anything. The very fact that Margot had played along, that she’d thought to tuck it inside Olivia’s pocket, said enough.

Enough for now.

Olivia spared a final glance at herself in the mirror after changing quickly, shoving the sleeves of her oversized burgundy Henley up her arms. The sweater fell down to her thighs, a good thing because the leggings she’d packed were a little on the thin side, less opaque than she’d have preferred. Feeling like she’d struck the right balance of cozy and cute, she left the bathroom, padding out of her room and through the adjoining rooms on socked feet, following the sound of voices until she came to a sliding glass door someone had left open. She stepped out onto the patio, where the group of eight were gathered around the fire, one large U-shaped sectional eating up most of the patio.

“Olivia!”

All eyes turned to her. Okay, awkward. She smiled and waved. “Hey.”

Brendon hopped off the couch and crossed the patio, stopping beside her. “Everyone, this is Olivia, Margot’s friend and our wedding planner. Aka, the person responsible for keeping Annie and I from losing it over the last two weeks.”

“Speak for yourself.” Annie winked at him from her spot beside the fire. “I would’ve been fine with eloping.”

Brendon groaned. “Annie, baby, we don’t use that word.”

She threw a marshmallow at his head, hitting him dead between the eyes, and laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” He reached down and snagged the marshmallow off the deck, tossing it back at her. Annie wrinkled her nose at the leaf stuck to it, ultimately tossing it in the fire. “Olivia, you’ve met most everyone.” He pointed at a man and woman cuddled up on the far end of the sectional beside Annie. “That’s Katie and Jian; they both work at OTP.” They waved. “And this is my friend I was telling you about, Luke.”

Brendon’s friend stood. He was attractive in a clean-cut way, blue eyes and dark blond hair closely cropped on the sides of his head, slightly longer on top. He smiled, all blindingly white teeth, and offered her his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Brendon’s told me you’re quite the miracle worker.”

She shook his hand, which was, thankfully, dry. There was nothing worse than a handshake that left you wondering why the other person’s hand was mysteriously damp. “That’s a bit excessive. I mean, God, you’re a—a doctor. I plan parties and you save lives. If anyone’s a miracle worker . . .”

Luke had yet to let go of her hand.

“You make dreams come true,” Brendon said, with an air of gentle correction. “I’m pretty sure Annie and I owe you our firstborn for the magic you’ve pulled off, putting everything together last-minute.”

“Firstborn?” Yikes. “Unless I read it wrong, that wasn’t in our contract.”

Across the patio, on one end of the sectional, Margot snorted.

“Point being, this wedding wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for you,” Brendon said.

Luke finally released her hand and dropped back into his seat with an easy smile.

“It’s nothing. It’s what I do.” Olivia fiddled with the hem of her Henley. She’d far surpassed her quota of time spent in the spotlight for one day. “Speaking of, there is supposed to be in-room Wi-Fi, right?

“No working tonight,” Margot said, brows rising. “Remember?”

Right. Relaxing.

“Margot’s right. Absolutely no working.” Brendon practically herded her toward the sectional.

“But I really need to make sure the new DJ has that list you—”

“You can check in the morning. For now, you sit right here”—he led her to the empty cushion beside Luke—“and I’ll get you a drink.”