by Tara Sheets
Molly smoothed her dark hair. “That has to be Mirage, the Victoria’s Secret model.”
“Yeah, you can tell because of her smoldering pout,” Gertie said. “I think it’s a job requirement. Must be proficient in all aspects of pout management.”
“Hold up, who is that?” Molly demanded.
Juliette looked in the direction Molly was pointing. She squinted her eyes as a tall figure strode toward the boardwalk. Unlike the swaggering Brock, this man walked with purpose. He moved with an easy grace that made it clear he was completely comfortable with who he was, and where he was going. This man walked like he owned the world. A jolt of recognition slammed into her.
“I think I saw him on that Ninja Cop show,” Molly said excitedly. “He’s got that whole rugged, hard body look.”
Gertie picked up the binoculars to get a closer view. “Holy crap of glorious things. Where’s he from?”
Juliette sighed. She knew exactly where he was from. “The army.”
“Ninja Cop warriors aren’t from the army,” Molly informed her. “They’re from a different dimension. That’s where they get those helmets that shoot laser beams.”
“That’s Logan O’Connor,” Juliette said. “He went to my high school and just got back from the army.”
Molly gaped at her. “You went to high school with that guy?” She turned her attention back to Logan. “How did you manage to graduate? I’d have spent all my time stalking him.”
“I barely noticed him,” Juliette lied. “Anyway, he just moved back here. And before you get all worked up, know this: he’s Romeo’s nephew and he’s going to be doing the remodel at the florist shop.”
Molly and Gertie gawked at her as if she’d just won the triple jackpot lottery.
“No.” Juliette shook her head. “It’s not like that, at all.”
“Why not?” Molly said, frowning.
“Because he’s my boss’s nephew,” she said in exasperation. “And even if he wasn’t, I’m just not interested. He bothers me.”
“Well, prepare to get hot and bothered,” Gertie said under her breath. “Because he’s headed in our direction.”
Juliette tried to ignore the fluttering in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Logan coming toward her with long, easy strides. Today he wore jeans and a navy T-shirt, which was just annoying. Considering the way the clothes clung to his body in a blatant display of muscular, male perfection, he had to know he looked good. Therefore, he was flaunting it. Therefore, annoying.
She turned her attention to the very important task of brushing crumbs off the picnic blanket. Pesky little crumbs. Just everywhere. What to do, what to do?
“Hey.” He stopped a few feet in front of her.
She looked up reluctantly.
“I was just heading over to the shop to find you,” he said.
Juliette made an effort to keep her expression neutral. “I’m not there.”
“I see that.” The smile he gave her was too familiar. Full lips tilted up at one corner, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. It was the kind of smile people give when they know each other well. When they share secrets.
She gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders. They shared nothing but a common interest in Romeo’s Florist Shop. If he assumed familiarity just because they grew up near each other, he was in for a big surprise. She was no longer that girl. Every interaction with him from this point on was going to be purely professional.
Molly thrust her hand out, beaming like a Ninja cop laser helmet. “You must be Logan.”
“Juliette tells us you’ll be working on the shop remodel,” Gertie added.
Juliette only half listened as her friends introduced themselves, offering drinks and cookies and probably their firstborn children.
Logan politely declined.
“What were you doing out on the pier with the houseboat crew?” Gertie asked.
He looked back at the wave of people on the sidewalk. “I wasn’t with them. I docked my boat and got stuck at the tail end of their parade.”
Juliette gestured to the houseboat group. “Don’t you want to check out the celebrities?”
“Not really.”
Of course he wouldn’t be interested. The great Logan O’Connor probably believed the world revolved around him. If people weren’t in his orbit, they weren’t worth his time. Well, someone needed to show him he wasn’t all that.
“I think it’s great the celebrities are here,” Juliette said with forced enthusiasm. “They’re exactly what this island needs. Fun. And I look forward to having some. Molly says I should sweep Brock Templeton off his feet and fly off into the sunset with him.”
Molly stopped eating her cookie midbite, staring at Juliette as if she’d sprouted an extra head. “I don’t remember saying that.”
Logan raised a brow. “Don’t you mean ride off into the sunset?”
Heat crept up Juliette’s cheeks. Typical of him to correct her in something so insignificant.
“Not if I flap my wings,” she blurted. Okay, that was bad. “You know. Like those superheroes? With the wings . . .” Yeah, that was worse.
She snagged the last bite of cookie from Molly’s hand and popped it into her mouth. Must. Stop. Talking.
Molly scowled at her, watching in resentment as Juliette ate the last of her cookie. “She-demons have wings, too.”
“They do,” Gertie said with authority. “The red, leathery kind. Vespa had a pair in Attack of the Succubus.”
“I remember that movie,” Logan mused. “That was a classic.”
Gertie tilted her head and regarded Logan thoughtfully. “You know, you’re not just another pretty face. I like you.” She patted the grass next to her. “Come sit with us and tell us your whole life story.”
He grinned. “I’d love to, but I have to make a run to the lumberyard. I’m replacing the hardwood floors in my house.”
“Nice.” Gertie gave Juliette the side eye. “Hard wood is always nice.”
That’s it. Gertie needed to die a slow death. Preferably something involving zombies.
“I just wanted to relay a message from my uncle,” Logan said to Juliette. “He’s having a dinner at his house on Sunday night before he and Caleb leave on their trip. He wanted me to ask if you’d come.”
Juliette felt a prickle of annoyance. Romeo could have asked her himself. They texted each other often enough. She knew he was probably running around trying to get some last minute things done before his Florida vacation. It was no big deal, really. It’s just that for the past three years she’d been Romeo’s right hand. They worked well together. But now that Logan was in the picture, Juliette felt a little like an outcast. She didn’t like it.
“I don’t know,” she found herself saying. “I might be busy that night. I’ll have to check my calendar.”
Logan looked slightly amused, as if he knew the only thing she had planned for Sunday night was curling up with her cat and watching old Firefly episodes with a pint of butter pecan ice cream.
“It’s at five o’clock, if you can make it,” he said. “Otherwise I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yup.”
He said good-bye and walked away.
She braced herself for impact. Three . . . two . . . one . . .
“Sweet sugary balls of—”
“That man is sooo—”
Juliette held up her hand. “I already know what you guys are going to say and the answer is, I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” Gertie demanded. “He’s gorgeous, and seems really nice. And he’s got great taste in movies, so you know he’s smart. Besides, you’ve been single now for how many years?”
Juliette frowned. “I date guys all the time.”
“Yeah, date and then undate, as soon as they start asking you personal questions. Like what’s your middle name.”
“That’s not why I broke up with Drummer Guy, and you know it,” Juliette said. “Come on, what normal guy shaves his head into an
eighties mullet?”
“All right,” Gertie said. “What about that lifeguard over at the community center?”
Juliette made a face. “He wore a Speedo to the beach on our first date. That’s just way too much information up front.”
Gertie lifted an eyebrow. “Good information?”
Juliette paused. “Let’s just say, it was hard to decipher.”
“The bank guy didn’t wear a banana hammock,” Molly said, crossing her arms.
“No, the bank guy wore a Rolex,” Juliette said. “His idea of a fun date was taking me to the mall so he could”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“dress me right.”
“Well, I still think you should consider Logan O’Connor,” Gertie said. “He can’t be any worse than that biker guy. Remember him? Always angry and broke.”
Juliette shrugged. “He had a lot of financial commitments.”
“Yeah, Gertie. Don’t be so judgmental,” Molly said sweetly. “Beer and sawed-off shotguns don’t just grow on trees, you know.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “I hate you guys. You know that, right?”
“We know,” Gertie sang back. “We love you, too.”
“And because we love you, we want to see you happy,” Molly added. “Sometimes it seems like you don’t even want to find someone.”
“She’s right,” Gertie said. “You, my dear, are scared of commitment.”
Juliette drew her knees up and hugged herself. “No, I’m not. I’m just uninterested. There’s a difference.” When were her friends going to understand that she didn’t want the same things they did? “Look, I’m happy that you guys each have somebody, and I’m thrilled for Emma that she’s getting married, but I’ve got everything I need. I have plans for my future, none of which involve getting all tangled up in an emotional mess with someone. Especially someone like Logan O’Connor.”
Gertie looked skeptical. “You’re actually telling us, your two closest friends, that you don’t think he’s jump-your-bones sexy?”
“I mean . . .” Juliette hesitated. “He’s all right.” It was the understatement of the century. No one could argue that Logan wasn’t scorching hot. But he was also arrogant, overly judgmental, and part of a past she wanted to forget. There would be no jumping of bones. “I just don’t find him that attractive.”
It was clear from their expressions they didn’t buy it. Time to activate the deflector shields. “Besides,” Juliette said brightly, “I’d much rather focus on Brock Templeton.”
Gertie’s face lit up. “Good idea. And Brock’s a verified playboy, so he’s not going to try to trap you into a fate worse than death.”
“That’s for sure,” Molly agreed. “If you want no strings attached, Brock’s your guy.”
Gertie began gathering up the picnic supplies. “We need to all be at the barbeque on the beach tomorrow night. It’s a kick-off celebration for Hollywood Houseboat, and they’ve invited some locals to add authenticity to the filming.”
“It’s going to be filmed?” Molly tugged at the hem of her blouse. “I heard the camera adds ten pounds.”
“Oh, have some pity,” Gertie said. “You’re gorgeous, and you’ve got more boobs than you need. I have none. How is that fair?”
The two women chatted back and forth as Juliette helped pack up. She stood and stretched, staring at the small boat docked at the end of the pier. She remembered Logan’s grandfather only vaguely, but he always seemed so devoted to Logan. They used to go fishing on that boat. Juliette once stood at the edge of the woods when she was just a girl, watching them load up the truck with the boat on a trailer hitch. His grandpa ruffled his hair and told jokes. She was too far away to hear them, but she knew they were funny because Logan threw his head back and laughed. What must it have been like to have the attention of someone who loved you so unconditionally like that? Her own father had been so quiet after her mother died. They never did anything together.
“Juliette,” Gertie asked. “You in?”
She turned away from the waterfront. “For what?”
“Haven’t you been listening? The celebrity barbeque is tomorrow night. You want to go, or not?”
“Think of Brock and his sexy Australian accent,” Molly said dreamily. “And how much fun you’d have if you guys got together.”
“Considering how many eager female fans he has,” Juliette said, “it’s highly unlikely.”
“You never know,” Molly said. “Just think: you and Brock. Together. I mean, he might ask you to marry him, but you can rest assured he’d leave you at the altar before you could seal the deal. He’s done it twice before.”
Juliette slapped her hand over her heart in exaggerated glee. “Well, when you put it that way . . .” No commitment. No one to get in the way of her plans. No one to bother her. “How could I refuse?”
Chapter Six
The beach path leading down to the celebrity barbeque was buzzing with people. A thin sliver of moonlight reflected on the surface of the water, and Juliette’s body thrummed with a wild, restless energy. She adjusted the hem of her blue slip dress, loving the glint of mirrored embroidery. It was the dress she always wore when she felt adventurous.
A hum of excitement filled the air as a crowd of fans gathered behind a roped-off area in the sand.
“Everyone step back,” a huge man called. He looked like a bouncer at a nightclub, with a tight shirt and steroid-induced arm muscles. Beside him stood a gaunt woman holding a small clipboard. Her pinched lips and sour expression made it very clear this was not the job she wanted.
“Only twenty people at a time,” he said. “We’ll rotate through every thirty minutes.” He paused to listen to the sour-faced woman, then said, “Either wait your turn, or go home.”
“Charming,” Juliette muttered under her breath. She shifted from one foot to the other, searching for her friends in the crowd. It was difficult to find them in the jostling sea of people. Maybe they’d already been admitted into the party.
“Stop it,” a female voice hissed from the bushes. “Get off me.”
Juliette whirled around, searching the lilacs on the path to her right.
“Go away,” the woman’s voice rose. “I already told you. No means no.”
There was a faint, scuffling sound on the other side of the bushes. Juliette felt a rush of alarm. Clearly, the woman needed help, and whoever was with her needed a swift kick to the root balls.
Juliette charged through the lilacs, grateful that she never had to worry about branches slapping her in the face or hindering her progress. Plants and trees always seemed to sway softly around her to make room. It was a perk of being connected with Mother Nature. She burst into the clearing on the other side and stopped short, blinking at the sight in front of her.
A woman with hair the color of fiery autumn leaves was arguing with what appeared to be . . . a crow? The large bird sat on a branch at face level, and she was wagging her finger at it.
Juliette lifted her brows. Maybe the woman had had one too many drinks at the bonfire.
“I told you, now’s not a good time,” the woman scolded. “You can’t keep following me. You need to leave.”
Juliette took a hesitant step forward. “You okay?”
The woman turned with an exasperated look on her pretty, heart-shaped face. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just trying to get him to go home, but he’s not listening.”
“I’ve never seen a pet crow before.” Juliette approached the bird with caution. He seemed pretty harmless, which was a far cry better than what she’d expected.
It flitted to another branch and cocked its head, fixing Juliette with a beady stare.
The woman sighed. “He’s not my pet. I made the mistake of feeding him some of my Cheetos yesterday, and now he thinks we’re besties.”
Juliette peered at the shiny black bird in fascination. “I can’t believe he’s not scared of you. Birds don’t usually do this, do they?”
“Sometimes.” The woman made a
face. “Especially if dumb people feed them.” She turned back to the crow. “Listen. If you be a good bird and get out of here, I’ll give you double Cheetos tomorrow.”
It cawed and edged its way closer.
“Double,” she repeated, putting her hands on her hips.
The bird ruffled its glossy feathers and tilted its head.
“It’s a good deal,” the woman reasoned. “And you’re obviously a smart bird. You should take it.”
After a long pause where Juliette half expected the bird to open its beak and argue, it finally spread its wings and disappeared into the night sky.
The woman watched him fly away, then turned to Juliette. “Thanks for trying to come to my rescue. Did you think I was being assaulted?”
“Well, I did hear you say ‘no means no.’”
There was a familiar warmth to the woman’s smile. Even though she had to be in her midtwenties, her dimples made her appear sweet and childlike. She held out a hand. “I’m Kat.”
Juliette clasped her hand and introduced herself, unable to shake the feeling of familiarity. “Have we met?”
“Doubt it. I just got here yesterday with the houseboat. I’m part of the entourage.” She drew the word out with mock importance, gesturing her hands wide. “Not the glamorous part though. I’m with the crew.”
Juliette fell into step with her as they headed back to the beach path. “That must be an interesting gig.”
Kat gave a huff of laughter. “If by ‘interesting’ you mean in the Chinese proverb sort of way? Then yes. I am living in very interesting times.” At the top of the path, she stopped. “I have to go check on someone. See you down at the bonfire.” She waved and marched toward the parking lot, her bright red hair billowing behind her.
Juliette made her way down the beach path. Odd woman, that one. Talks to birds. Has wild hair. Eats Cheetos. Clearly, she was good people. Juliette decided that she liked her on the spot.
A few minutes later, she found Emma and Molly standing in the crowd.
“There you are.” Emma gave her a quick hug. “We thought maybe you were already at the party.”