Chapter 17
“Shit,” I muttered, dragging my hand down my face. “Sorry. That sounded like — God, I don’t know what it sounded like.”
Juniper didn’t say anything. Just stood there clutching her drink, eyebrow quirked… and probably plotting my untimely demise.
I tried again, this time aiming for casual, like maybe I could outrun the disaster I’d just created. “I just meant if you were hot. Like, temperature-wise. Physically.” I winced. “Not physically, physically. I mean—”
She raised the brow higher, still completely silent.
I cleared my throat. “Right. Cool. So this is going great.”
A long beat passed. Then, with a sigh that felt like it had weight to it, she set her drink down, reached for the top button of her cover-up—
And undid it.
One by one.
Slow, steady, like she was doing me a favor or a dare or maybe both. Her eyes stayed locked on mine as she slowly unfastened each button. An eyebrow quirked, a dare, sitting right in front of me.
Then she peeled it off and—
I died.
Just fully perished on the spot.
The swimsuit was red. Not a soft, gentle red — a come-to-Jesus, kiss-your-morals-goodbye kind of red.
A deep wine red I would happily drink from forever.
It had a neckline deep enough to pray to and legs that went on for miles.
Vintage cut, maybe, but it wasn’t fooling anyone.
It clung to her like it had been tailored by the devil himself.
I forgot what my own name was.
“Oh,” I said. Out loud. Just that.
Juniper turned her head. “What?”
“Nothing,” I lied immediately, completely, stupidly. “Just. You know. Nice suit. Very… red.”
Her expression didn’t shift, but I knew she was trying not to smile. “Thanks. I bought it to feel like a woman with secrets and a grudge.”
“You nailed it,” I said before I could stop myself, mouth dry and my tongue heavy. “You look like you’re here to ruin lives and inherit a fortune.”
She tilted her head, lips twitching. “You’re staring.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, shaking my head. I was absolutely staring.
“Want to take a picture?”
“No,” I lied again, this time so fast it came out with a crack in my voice. “I mean, not for — personal use. Or any use. Jesus Christ.”
She snorted. Snorted. And then turned away to pick up her drink like she hadn’t just peeled the flesh from my bones with a single outfit choice.
I took a massive sip of mine. It tasted like regret and tequila.
God help me.
We ended up at the edge of the pool. Juniper sat with her knees hugged in front of her, toes dipping into the water, her damp hair pulled off her neck in a loose knot.
She looked so painfully out of place here.
Too real. Too sharp around the edges. Too her.
She’d left her glasses with our things, worried she’d get them wet or ruined.
I sat next to her, still fully clothed, still nursing my drink as though it could save me from the spiral I’d been in since she took off that damn cover-up.
She glanced sideways. “You gonna swim?”
“I’m too pale,” I said, gesturing uselessly to my legs. “If I take my shirt off, someone’s gonna throw a tarp over me and call FEMA.”
Juniper made a soft snorting noise that made my chest hurt.
Then a voice — too loud and too smug — cut through the music.
“Well, well. Look who finally crawled out of hiding.”
I didn’t even need to look to know who it was.
Miles fucking Devon.
He was in my last movie. Played a gritty detective. Couldn’t remember his lines for shit, but had abs sculpted by Greek gods and a jawline that could cut drywall. A producer’s dream and my personal hell.
“Miles,” I said flatly. “Didn’t realize you were still in the Northwest.”
“Didn’t realize you had company,” he said, eyes already all over Juniper like she was a part of the catering. My heart was beating harder, hands curling into fists at my side as he eye-fucked her. “You didn’t tell me you had a sister, man.”
Juniper blinked. “I’m not his sister.”
Miles grinned, like she’d said exactly what he wanted to hear. “Good. That would make this awkward.”
I opened my mouth, but Juniper beat me to it.
“I’m not interested.”
“Oh, come on,” Miles said, clearly not reading the room. “You’re way too hot to be stuck with this guy all night.” He gestured at me like I were a broken lawn chair.
Juniper leaned back slightly. “Actually, I’m this guy’s plus one. And if I look hot, it’s only because he picked out the swimsuit.” She laughed softly. “He insisted on this suit. I wanted to wear something plain.”
I choked on my drink. “Couldn’t have that.” I managed, trying not to swallow my tongue. “Not when you look like sin.” I felt my cheeks heat as she giggled.
Miles blinked. “Wait — you two? No way.”
“Way,” Juniper said, wrapping her arm around my bicep so suddenly I forgot how to breathe. “We’re tragically codependent. It’s a problem.”
I didn’t dare move. Or speak. I was still stuck on the feel of her fingers on my arm.
Miles made a face and turned away, muttering something about how he could “pull better in Vancouver.”
When he was gone, Juniper dropped her arm and turned back to the pool like it was nothing.
“Thanks,” I said, still reeling.
“Anytime,” she replied. “You looked like you were about to punch him.”
“I was.” I said too fast. Too quick.
“Which I’ll admit would’ve been hot. But probably not good for your press tour.”
I snorted. “Is that what you’re here for? Saving me from myself?”
“I’m here because you texted me like a sad puppy, and I didn’t have the heart to say no.”
“Ouch.”
“True though.”
Another beat. The music shifted to something low and thumpy. The party buzzed around us, but everything near Juniper always felt quieter. Calmer. Like there was no one else in the room.
Would’ve been hot.
Would’ve been hot.
Her flippant words settled in my stomach, burning warm.
A shriek came from across the pool, followed by a splash and a wave of laughter, pulling me from my lusty spiral.
Someone had just been shoved in fully clothed.
Classic Hollywood fun: everyone pretending they weren’t waiting for the right moment to get wet.
Juniper raised an eyebrow. “You thinking about going in?”
I scoffed. “Absolutely not. I told you. Pale.”
She smirked and leaned back on her hands, ankles swaying in the water. “You sure? Pool looks good. The water's warm. Crowd’s fake, but the floaties are charming.”
I eyed the nearest inflatable flamingo. “It’s mocking me.”
She turned to me again, and I should’ve known that look.
That look meant trouble.
“I bet I could get you in the pool in under sixty seconds,” she said with a grin, easing herself into the water. “Start counting, cowboy.”