Tempted Hearts (Bachelor Pact #4)

Chapter 1

COLE

The scent of grilled peaches and wine drifted across the lake, and Mason still managed to sound like a drill sergeant.

“Do me a favor and try not to be an uptight prick this weekend.”

Instead of responding to him, I leaned into the persona my friends had given me, raising my brows as condescendingly as a colleague who’d just got tenure and won’t let you forget it.

I waited for him to continue.

“I hate when you do that.”

Precisely the reason I do it Mason. You had to know that by now.

But he was too busy running himself ragged preparing for the first annual Heritage Hill/Casa di Vino Summer Wine Fest that kicked off less than an hour ago.

“Anything else I can do to help?” I asked. Having come in two days earlier to help him and his very pregnant wife, I’d spent two days hauling boxes, hanging string lights, and pretending I knew a damn thing about floral arrangements. For Mason, though, I’d do a hell of a lot more.

“Yes,” he said, spotting Pia across the lawn. “Don’t be an uptight prick.”

Spoken like a former cop and Army Ranger who never minced words. Lifting my glass of whiskey in a silent salute, the only indication I’d give that maybe, possibly, I’d take his words to heart, I turned toward the lake.

Mason and Pia, along with a small army of helpers, had transformed the grounds into an Italian palazzo-themed gathering worthy of a Medici.

From the get-go, Pia’s vision of Heritage Hill had been less simply bed and breakfast and more part lodging and part festival venue.

Her and Mason’s lakeside inn was the perfect setting for it, and I had to give it to them…

they’d hit this one out of the park. They’d partnered with a local winery, and the weekend promised to combine wine tastings and live music, lake views and more rosé than sense.

“Whiskey? At a wine festival?”

“Says the guy holding a beer,” I quipped back to Beck.

We stood in compatible silence, the gathering crowd behind us and nothing but lakeside serenity in front. I could see why Mason had a hard time giving up this place when his dad died.

“If I can ever make back the investment,” Beck said, “this is next on my list.”

Having bought a bar back in the spring, and stubbornly refusing to take any of his parents’ money, Beck would probably spend the next few years climbing out of debt.

“A lake house?”

“Yeah.”

“For how much time you spend here, do you really need one?”

He shrugged. “It’s different when it’s yours.”

True. Not to mention that, even though there was a section of the lakefront property off-limits to guests, a bed and breakfast wasn’t exactly the most private place in the world.

“So how long you here for?” Beck asked.

Of the four of us, he was the least comfortable with too much silence. But none of us minded him filling in the gaps. Beck could be a hilariously funny guy. It was the reason we became friends in kindergarten. Who didn’t want to hang out with the class clown?

“At least a week. Maybe more. It depends on if I hear back from the committee. They should be reviewing my file anytime.”

“And then what?”

As the chatter increased around us, our private swatch of property was beginning to fill up with guests who’d been invited to today’s event.

Unlike the kick-off dinner and Sunday festival, today was an invite-only affair.

In less than a year of running Heritage Hill, Mason and Pia had accumulated more new acquaintances than I’d want to make in a lifetime.

“And then, if all goes well, I get tenure.”

“I mean… after that?”

Good question. I’d been working so hard to get to this point, I wasn’t really sure. “More of the same. Teaching classes. Writing papers. Getting published.”

Beck snorted. “Sounds like a blast.”

“Mason instructed me not to be an insufferable prick this weekend, so I’ll hold back my comment.”

“There’s a first for everything, I guess.”

That from Parker, who’d walked up behind us. Even more good-natured than Beck, if such a thing were possible, Parker hardly had a bad word to say about anybody. The only exception? One of the three of us.

But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

These three guys were like brothers… only a quarter as fucked up as my real family.

“Like Beck no longer trying to get laid at every social event,” I responded dryly.

“Hate to pile on.” Beck was a boldfaced liar. That’s exactly what he was about to do. “But you have been even more ornery than usual.”

I was self-aware enough not to argue.

“Is it the tenure thing?” Parker asked with enough concern that I felt compelled to respond.

“Partially.”

Beck and Parker exchanged a look that neither even tried to hide. Here came the psychoanalysis.

“The Pact?” Beck guessed.

“Partially.” I took a sip of whiskey.

“So what part are we missing?” Parker asked.

The part I wouldn’t talk about.

“That about covers it.”

Better them thinking I was worried about my job and bitter that all three of them broke our college pact to stay single.

“Speaking of, we owe you some money,” Beck said.

“Ahh, not so fast.” Mason joined us. “We never talked about a timeframe. How long until he cashes in?”

“Does it matter?” Beck took a swig of beer before clarifying. “He’s never breaking down.”

And I wouldn’t. I was happy to leave the commitment thing to the three of them. I’d seen what it did to people… starting with my parents.

“Agreed,” Parker said. “Might as well give it to him now.”

They looked at Mason, who clearly wasn’t convinced. He watched me, a little too closely.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “None of us expected to fall so soon. Maybe we should hold out a bit.”

“Until the end of the summer?” Parker asked.

“Sure.” Parker lifted his glass. “To the last of us, holding strong.”

I would gladly drink to that. All four of us clinked glasses. This was enough for me. Good friends and a good fuck here and there were all I needed.

“Cheers,” I said, smiling for the first time that day.