Chapter Seventeen
“HI, MR. HARRINGTON. IS LOLA home?” It surprised me that Lola’s dad had answered the door. I was supposed to meet her there for our double date. We were going to hang out at the Harringtons’ pool and have a cookout.
It was especially unnerving because Mr. Harrington appeared to be on edge again. He gripped the door so hard, I could see the whites of his knuckles. Seriously, was he just like this, or was it me? Maybe my family background bothered him?
“You can call me Maxwell,” he said uneasily.
“Okay, Maxwell,” I said, with a hint of amusement, waiting for him to let me in.
It garnered me a half smile.
“Is Lola home?” I asked again when he didn’t invite me in.
“Oh, yes. She and the guys are out by the pool. Come on in.”
I shifted my beach bag on my shoulder and walked in. It still felt like entering a different world. An expensive one.
“Well, thanks, it was nice to see you again,” I half lied. While there was something familiar about him, he made me nervous. It was almost as if he looked at me like I was going to give him a disease or something. I didn’t think being middle class or having a father who wanted nothing to do with you were contagious.
“Would you mind if I had a word with you first?” Maxwell asked before I could escape .
Uh ... yes. Yes, I minded. I had a bad feeling, like it might be one of those moments where he told me he didn’t want me hanging around his daughter, fearing I wasn’t part of the “right” crowd. Did that kind of thing still happen? I’d only seen it in the movies.
“Um, sure,” I said, anything but sure.
He let out a huge breath, and I gripped my bag, waiting for him to let me have it and then kick me out.
Maxwell’s countenance softened. “I wanted to let you know I listened to several of your podcast episodes. You’re talented. Quite talented.”
Say what? I wasn’t expecting that.
“We seem to be fans of the same music,” he added.
“Oh. Wow. Well, thank you.” I figured that was all, so I took a step toward the back door, but apparently, he had more to say.
“I was just wondering what your plans were for the future of your show. You mentioned you were currently applying for jobs, but I’m curious to know if you have plans to monetize your podcast.”
His curiosity puzzled me. Maybe he didn’t want his daughter hanging out with someone who was unemployed and blowing through her lump sum of child support payments. I would be the first to admit, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but this summer wasn’t about making logical decisions. If it were, I would never see Logan again. Seriously, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
But despite the angst he was causing me, I had zero plans to stop our adventures. I was willing to endure an entire summer of unrequited feelings just so we could hang out. Again, not the brightest idea, but I knew he was supposed to be my lifelong friend. Eventually, I would get over my crush on him. Right?
“Well, I don’t really have enough followers to monetize or attract corporate sponsors. For now, I’m just focused on sharing my love for music and giving unsolicited advice.” I laughed nervously, wondering if he thought I was a loser.
I probably hadn’t been as ambitious as I should have been, but it was because, for most of my adult life, I’d been taking care of my mother. Career goals had taken a back seat. Despite that, I was a hard worker. You know, except for when I quit my job to play all summer, but that didn’t count. At least I hoped not.
Maxwell smiled and almost looked endeared. It reminded me of someone I couldn’t quite place, and I tilted my head, studying him.
My gaze seemed to disconcert him. He cleared his throat and wiped any emotion from his face. “If you need some business advice, I’d be happy to help. And I have connections that might be of some value to you. You have a lot of potential.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I waited for him to say, “Don’t waste it,” but he didn’t. “Um, okay,” was all I could think to say to this very unexpected conversation.
“Brooke,” he said my name like it was strangling him. “I’m in earnest; I would like to help you if I can.”
“I really appreciate that. Let me think about it.” And I would, but mostly because it was weird. Like, so bizarre.
“Good. Good. You know, you really do look like your mother.” He strode off without another word.
I watched him go for a moment, feeling confused, wondering what had just happened.
Lola burst through the back door, interrupting my dazed state. “There you are, chica! Look how good you look.”
I stared down at the floral maxi dress I wore to cover my swimsuit, then repaid the compliment. “You look amazing.” And she did, in her gauzy white swimsuit cover-up that barely concealed her bikini.
“Roman is so excited to meet you.”
With that, she brought me back to reality. I was there for a blind date. I should have been eager, but I was consumed with memories of Logan and me sailing through the trees, discussing our favorite movies and TV shows, and wondering who we’d swap places with if we could. Logan wanted to be James Bond or Indiana Jones. He had, after all, dressed as both characters for Halloween parties over the years.
I admitted my pick was Penelope from Penelope . The girl with a pig nose. I’d always wanted to break a family curse and date James McAvoy, even if that meant having a pig nose. Logan had laughed—like, really laughed. It was the most lighthearted I’d ever seen him. And it made him even more attractive. Dang him .
I put on a happy face for Lola and said, “I’m looking forward to it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I was looking forward to being with Lola and meeting her boyfriend. And even hanging out in the sun and water all day. I just wished Logan were there too.
We walked outside, and it was like entering paradise. A stunning infinity pool stretched out before me, lined with smooth tiles and surrounded by lush gardens. Pathways made of natural stone wound through the landscaping, leading to a private dock that extended over the lake. To one side of the pool was a cozy firepit; to the other was a seating area with designer patio furniture. Basically, it was heaven.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
Lola grabbed my hand and pulled me along. “Come on, I want to introduce you to Roman and Alejandro.”
As if the moment couldn’t be more surreal, two impossibly good-looking men—sculpted like Greek gods, with smoldering smiles that practically whispered, Do you like what you see? —emerged from the pool in unison. It was so cinematic, I half expected dramatic music to start playing, like I’d stumbled straight into an angsty YA drama on Netflix.
I tried not to stare at the bronzed men, but the way they swaggered toward us with their swim trunks plastered to them made it almost impossible not to. They deliberately ignored the towels within reach and let the water slick down their toned bodies. They obviously wanted the attention and were probably used to it. Still, when I finally dared to steal a proper look, their dark eyes sparkled with a mischievous charm that felt surprisingly disarming.
Lola tugged on my hand to meet the men halfway, near a grouping of lounge chairs. “Hey, guys, look who’s here. I want you to meet my friend Brooke. She’s super fun and knows everything about music.”
I wouldn’t say that, but I did have a weird affinity for music trivia.
“I’m Roman.” The man on the right held out his masculine hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said sincerely.
I slipped my hand into his, silently willing an electric spark to appear—the one that would scream, This is it. This is the summer fling you’ve been dreaming of ... or the one your mom dreamed for you. Yikes, that sounded a little off-putting. Anyway, I was hoping beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, Roman would be able to erase those pesky, ill-timed fantasies I’d had about my neighbor. But as his warm grip closed around mine, I found myself holding my breath before letting it out slowly, disappointed that it was only a nice handshake. Dang it.
“Hi, I’m Brooke,” I said, injecting as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could muster.
“Are you ready to have some fun, Brooke?” Roman asked, his grin as bold as his tone.
“Hold on,” Lola interrupted with a playful scold. “I want Brooke to meet Alejandro.” She slid closer to her on-again, off-again boyfriend, her hand resting possessively on his bare chest. “Brooke, this is Alejandro. Sometimes, I think I love him.”
Alejandro’s fingers traced a lazy path down her arm. “She’s madly in love with me. She’s just too stubborn to admit it.”
I couldn’t help but smile, caught up in their teasing banter and the undeniable chemistry crackling between them. But then Alejandro’s gaze darted between Lola and me, his expression shifting as if something had just clicked.
“What’s wrong?” Lola asked, her brow furrowing.
“You two,” Alejandro said, his voice tinged with curiosity. “You have the same smile.”
“We do?” I asked. I didn’t think that was a thing. Not even my friends who were identical twins had the same smile.
“There’s just something about them,” Alejandro responded.
“I think I see it,” Roman added his two cents. “They both have pouty pink lips.”
“Enough about our smiles. Let’s go play.” With an impish grin, Lola took off, peeling off her swimsuit cover-up as she sprinted toward the pool. Alejandro was right behind her, catching her just before she could dive in.
With an effortless sweep, he scooped her up and leaped into the water, both of them vanishing beneath the splash. Lola’s scream turned into laughter as they surfaced, and Alejandro pulled her close, sealing the moment with a kiss .
“Those two,” Roman muttered, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“They seem happy together,” I said, watching their playful antics.
“That’s their problem.”
“What?” I laughed, glancing at him as we strolled toward the pool. I couldn’t help but feel relieved that Roman didn’t seem like the type to toss me in after them.
“I think it scares them. If they could actually admit it, they would probably be booking a church.”
“Oh, wow. You think they’ll get married?” I asked, recalling how Lola had told me she’d known Alejandro since they were fifteen.
“Eventually.” Roman smiled. “But I think Alejandro’s waiting until he can prove himself to Mr. Harrington.”
“In what way?”
Roman waved his hand around, gesturing vaguely. “Alejandro and I grew up in Aspen Lake, but not like this. We’re from the other side of the lake.”
“The other side?”
“You don’t know about the other side?” He waggled his brows with mock scandal. “What we lack in money, we make up for in fun.”
“So, you don’t think the Harringtons want them to be together?”
Roman shrugged, but the question lingered.
Meanwhile, my earlier conversation with Mr. Harrington—Maxwell, as he’d asked me to call him—suddenly made a lot more sense. Just as I’d suspected, he was worried about me. Specifically, my lack of a proper job and the fact that I was spending so much time with his daughter. Wow. Talk about an inflated sense of importance. Still, I hoped he wouldn’t get in the way of Lola and Alejandro.
“You ready for some fun?” Roman asked, nodding toward the pool.
“Definitely.” I dropped my bag onto a nearby lounge chair and slipped off my cover-up.
Roman’s gaze lingered for a moment before he averted it. “There really is something similar about you and Lola. It’s almost like you’re cousins.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, believe me, my family is definitely not related to the Harringtons.” Thank goodness for that.