Chapter 3
COLE
Either the sun, or too much whiskey, had gotten to me. Sitting on a corner of the deck off-limits to festival goers—this section of the inn being part of the old house and Mason and Pia’s private living space—I found myself watching Delaney’s friend.
Again.
“She’s something else, isn’t she?”
Parker had come from the kitchen, Yuengling in hand. I rose my brows, asking the silent question as he sat down beside me.
“Can’t do it. Just not a wine guy.”
“Don’t let Delaney see you with that. I distinctly remember you telling her that Parker 2.0 was going to become a wine drinker with her. And we are”—I waved my hand to the scene below—“at a wine festival.”
He grimaced. “Parker 2.0 has tried more wines this summer than are in all of Italy. Or Napa. Or wherever wine is from.”
I loved the guy, but sometimes I wondered about him.
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“What? How the hell do I know? I don’t drink the stuff,” he said, taking a long swig of whatever IPA Mason was into these days.
“Wine, like beer, doesn’t come from just one place,” I explained, slowly.
“Fuck off.”
I held back a smile. And inadvertently sought her out.
“You were a bit of an asshole to her.”
I averted my gaze toward the main wine tent.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
Apparently, I’d been too late.
“Delaney’s friend?”
“Yeah,” he said, exasperated. “Jules. Surprised you don’t know her name since you’ve met before and are usually pretty good at names. And I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about her—”
I got the point. “I wasn’t an asshole. Just busting your ass, which she apparently didn’t like very much.”
Taking a sip of my drink, letting the smooth liquid work its way down my chest, I allowed my gaze to linger on her since Juliette was our current topic of conversation.
“Well… I like her.”
Parker liked everyone.
“She’s brash,” I said. “And curses more than Mason.”
“So what? It’s not a problem when he does it.”
Juliette’s nearly pitch-black hair was falling just below her shoulders. Usually she wore a handkerchief holding it back, an interesting style choice that also, somehow, really worked. But not today.
“She’s chaos,” I tried again, since Parker was right. “Personified.”
Parker laughed. “I won’t argue with that.”
With fantastic tits and an ass I’d love to grab onto with both hands as I pumped into her from behind.
Fuck.
That was about as necessary a visual as the one I’d had when she topped into the rowboat. Maybe I’d snapped at her simply because I was annoyed with myself for noticing the perky brunette, off-limits as a one-night stand, being one of Delaney’s good friends.
Maybe? Who are you kidding?
“I really hope she’s a little more organized than Delaney. One of them needs to hang on to their passports. How she can run a successful business but forgets her purse at restaurants at least once a month is beyond me.”
“Worried your fiancée won’t get back for the wedding?”
Now that, if we were keeping track, did venture into asshole territory. I hadn’t intended on such a sharp tone.
Parker wasn’t pleased. And he was a hard guy to piss off.
“Ignore me.” I sighed heavily, considering how much else to add.
“This is more than the tenure?”
Usually, I wouldn’t entertain the truth. But the fact that he should have been calling me out, and instead was concerned about me, struck a chord.
“The tenure,” I hedged. “The city. My parents.” For starters. But I’d stop there. “Take your pick.”
“Commute,” he said. “If you hate it that much. Life’s too short to live somewhere you don’t like. Did you know that they say people who live near water are statistically happier?”
I was becoming less and less enamored with living in Manhattan, and if finding a new place was the only problem, I’d move out tomorrow.
“Makes sense,” I said.
“So what’s up with your parents?”
Juliette spun around in a circle, as if she were a ballerina, just before breaking down in a fit of laughter along with everyone around her.
As the white bulb lights illuminated, the scene before us transitioning from daytime to dusk, I imagined her like a firefly, flitting from one end of the yard to another.
Impossible not to watch, lighting up everywhere she went, making people smile.
Chaotic. But magnetic. That’s what it was about her that made it impossible to look away.
I realized Parker was waiting for an answer.
“You know how they get,” I said, noncommittally. “Same old bullshit. Dad complains about his long hours. Mom overcompensates, trying to make him happy, her mood dependent on his.” Which didn’t go very well most often. A never-ending cycle that should have ended in divorce years ago.
I took another sip, not wanting to dwell on something that would never be fixed.
“So what have you decided to do?”
While Delaney was in Italy, Parker planned on the four of us going to Lake Placid for a night. But Beck was trying to convince me that wasn’t enough of a bachelor party. He wanted to make it a weekend and invite more of Parker’s friends.
Beck was always good for a party, and this was a better reason than most.
Mason wouldn’t go too far, even though Pia wasn’t due for a while, though he had agreed to drive up to an hour away. Parker, trying to make everyone else happy, still hadn’t decided.
“Forget the guys,” I said, not for the first time. “What do you want to do?”
“What the hell are you two doing up there?” Mason yelled to us from below before Parker got a chance to answer.
“Jerking off.” Parker lifted his beer. “What do you think we’re doing?”
I sat back, listening to the familiar banter like other people might listen to their parents quietly, amicably, talking outside their bedroom as they lay in bed, about to fall asleep. It was as content as could be, given the circumstances.
She looked up at us.
No, not us.
Juliette looked at me.
I lifted my glass in a silent salute at which she spun away, pretending not to see.