I sneezed one more time, then headed for the shower.
After my shower I put on my robe and wrapped a towel around my hair, then curled up on the bed for a few minutes to collect my thoughts.
The idea of selling my company to my father had always felt like selling out. I’d created it, I managed it, I made a great living with it. On my own. But over the last year or so, I’d been longing to do something new. I couldn’t identify what that new thing was, just that it wasn’t in computers.
Now, my company was a means to an end. Not only that, it was the right means to an end. I knew it would be in good hands, and that it would give me the freedom to start my something new out there, whatever that meant. I had some ideas though, one in particular that was just starting to bubble away back there, hiding behind practical thoughts. I’d put a pin in it for now.
Curling my feet underneath me, I looked at my phone, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to this call. I scrolled through until I found Dad Office, and called my father. His secretary put me through.
“Peanut! How are you?”
“Hey, Dad,” I replied, rolling my eyes at the nickname as I always did. Secretly? I loved it. The nickname, no, but that I had a nickname.
“How’s it out there in granola land?”
“It’s pretty cool, actually. There’s a restaurant in town that has a cheesesteak on the menu—but on whole wheat bread!”
“Blasphemous,” he intoned gravely.
“That’s exactly what I said!” We both laughed. I filled him in on the details of my trip so far, knowing that my mother had already likely given him a full report, but also knowing that my dad liked to hear it directly from me. After a few minutes, he asked how long I was planning on staying.
“Well, actually, that’s what I was calling to talk to you about. I think I’m staying.”
He sighed. “You think so, huh?”
“I do.”
He sighed again. “And what are you planning on doing with your business?”
I took a deep breath. “Actually, that’s the reason I’m calling. Still interested in buying it?”
“Wow. You really are staying out there.”
We were both quiet. I swallowed hard around the surprising lump in my throat.
“Okay, let’s talk terms here, what were you thinking?” he said briskly, all business.
After twenty minutes or so we had the beginning of an agreement. Several stipulations of course, and pending an independent review of my books and balance sheets, but the initial number put forth was well in line not only to cover the changes I’d need to make to the property, but to help me really make a new life out here.
It was more of a relief than I thought it’d be. No one had signed on a dotted line yet of course, but all signs were leading that way. I’d be on my own, more money in the bank, and an entirely new life ahead of me.
Almost three thousand miles away from my family.
That dratted lump rose once more in my throat, making me cough a bit. My eyes were stinging a little as well. Fanning myself, I made to get off the call.
“So, let’s talk about this again in a few days, huh? Let this sit a bit,” he said, his own voice a little gruff.
“Good idea.”
“Your mother and I are talking about coming out there soon to see you. When might be a good time?”
“You guys can come out whenever you want, you know that.” I sniffed a bit. Argh.
“Well, I’ll let you and your mother plan those details. Be glad to see you, Peanut,” he said.
“You too, Dad.”
We hung up and I stayed on the bed for a few minutes. Almost thirty years old, a woman who’d owned her own business for years, and my father could still make me feel three feet tall in the very best of ways. I tugged the towel off my head, my now-dry hair sticking out in all directions like I’d been electrocuted. Wiping off my face, I looked at the time and realized I needed to kick it into high gear. I scrambled off the bed and went to get myself in some kind of order.
I had company coming.
I stood in the doorway, watching for Simon’s car. They were due any minute. Caroline had texted me when they hit the edge of town, and as I bounced from foot to foot I realized I was anxious. Anxious for them to get there, anxious for them to see my new house. It was a good feeling, welcoming someone into your home. And even though it had only been my home for a few days, with lots of work to be done, I was eager to show it off a bit.
Walking the length of the front porch and back again, I saw a twinkle of headlights down at the bottom of the driveway. And soon, an old Range Rover was parked in front of the house, with four of the best-looking people I’d ever seen spilling out onto the crushed gravel. Seriously, it was like watching the opening credits on a TV series.
A couple I guessed to be Mimi and Ryan came from the backseat. She was shorter than I was, and I was used to being the shortest in most rooms. Tiny and petite, she had flawless golden skin and shiny black hair. She held hands with Ryan, who was tall and lean with curly blond hair. It was longish, pushed behind his ears, and green eyes danced behind horn-rim glasses. It did not escape my attention that when Mimi dashed in front of him, he clearly checked out her ass.
That right there said a lot about this couple. Even if you missed the enormous sparkly ring on her left hand.
And climbing out of the front of the Range Rover was one of my favorite people on the planet, Simon Parker. Dark hair, chiseled jaw, he was the kind of handsome everyone agreed on. No matter your type, no matter your preference, Simon had that generally agreed upon kind of good looks. And charm. A charm I was immune to romantically speaking, and always had been. But even though we had only ever been good friends, I could still appreciate a gorgeous guy. And speaking of gorgeous, his girlfriend was tall and slim and blond and stunning. The kind of girl you wanted to dislike on sight, but then she opened her mouth and she won you over. Funny, a girl’s girl, she could hold her own with Handsome over there, and that was something most women couldn’t do. Points for that in my book.
“Hey, Parker.”
“Hey, Franklin,” he said, catching me into a close hug. I patted his backside and winked at Caroline over his shoulder. I saw Mimi shoot her a glance, and Caroline just waved her off. More points. She knew she had nothing to worry about.
“Quite the spread you’ve got here, Viv,” he said, setting me down and taking in the view.
“Speaking of spread, what’s up, homeboy?” I laughed, patting his stomach. He smoothed his T-shirt over his still very flat tummy.
“It’s my girl. She bakes me pie. All the time.” He winked at Caroline, and she blushed.
“I hear you, there’s a pizza in this town that’s as good as Tony’s back home. I’ve been eating it way too much,” I said, pulling up my own shirt and smacking my still-flat tummy. “Want to run tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great. I brought my bike too. There’s supposed to be some great trails near here. Have you had a chance to check any of them out?”
“Nah, don’t have my bike out here yet, I need to—Christ, where are my manners?” I asked, turning around as Simon and I were halfway up the steps. Caroline, Ryan, and Mimi were standing in a semicircle in the driveway, grinning up at our retreat toward the house. I ran back down the steps, reaching out to hug Caroline.
“Girl, I’m a terrible host. How the hell are you?”
“Great, now that I’m here. I’m dying to see this house! And of course, you know, you too.” She smiled, swatting me on the butt as she caught up to Simon.
“And you must be Mimi and Ryan, nice to meet you!” I said, shaking both their hands. Ryan started to say something, but Mimi was nearly bursting out of her skin.
“I heard a rumor that when you inherited this house, it was filled with all kinds of things! Things and stuff and
very unorganized, is that right?” she asked, dancing from one foot to the other.
“Um, well, yeah, that’s true. I’ve gotten some of the bedrooms upstairs started but there’s still junk everywhere and—”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she chanted, pumping her fist in the air and skipping up the steps, almost plowing Caroline over in her haste to get inside the house.
“She on the crack?” I asked her fiancé, who laughed out loud.
“She’s a professional organizer. Your house will be like crack to her.”
“Then she’s going to need rehab after this,” I warned, leading him and the rest of his friends inside. Where Mimi had already gone. Where she was turning circles, cheeks already pink with excitement over the stacks and piles crying out for attention. And someone with a tool belt full of labels and black Sharpies.
Once inside, I had this sudden sense of . . . unease? Shame? I saw the house the way I did that first day, so full of clutter and crap. And now that there were people in it, my default reaction was almost embarrassment, like I was the one who had done this. I could only imagine how Aunt Maude had felt, if she was overwhelmed with all this stuff and had no clue where to start.
But they all seemed to take everything in stride. The guys went immediately to the back window, looking out at the view and exclaiming over the height of the waves. But the girls were staring, wonder apparent in their expressions. That made me happy.
Mimi was back to bouncing, her eyes lighting on every pile, every stack, every opportunity to restore order and balance. Caroline was taking in every detail, every spindly thingie, every woodwork dealio. Every knickknack that looked old and original, she’d zeroed in on it immediately.
“Viv, this house is incredible,” she breathed, running her fingers down the intricately carved bannister.
“Right? I spent a summer out here when I was a kid, and I never forgot it,” I replied, scooping up an errant tube sock and putting it back into the bag it’d jumped from. “The house isn’t quite how I remember it, but it still has the feel, you know?”
“Can I see the rest?” she asked, and Mimi popped her head around the corner from the dining room.
“Yeah, can we see the rest?” she echoed, holding one of the Johnny Mathis records.
“Of course, come on,” I replied, waving the boys forward as we headed into the kitchen. And as I walked them through the house, they all reacted differently to different things.
Caroline almost had to be hosed down when she saw the stove. “There’s a vintage Magic Chef stove? Are you kidding me?”
Mimi almost bounced her little feet right off when she saw the stacks and stacks of old Life magazines. “These go back to the forties, like the 1940s!”
They all had the standard response to the legless knight—“weird”—and the claw-foot tub—“awesome!” The girls were reduced to dreamy sighs when they saw my bedroom and the view I woke up to every morning. The breeze was blowing off the Pacific today, the water calm and the bluest blue. Lacy curtains flapped in the window, freshly laundered and white as snow. All this room needed now was a coat of paint and—
“We should do a creamy ivory on the walls, accented by this stunning woodwork, which will need to be restored of course. We can pick up the deep green from this quilt and create some custom throw pillows, and I’m thinking a deep plush rug, the kind you lose your slippers in. And then over the bed we can—”
“Babe, easy,” Simon said, slipping his arms around Caroline’s waist as she spun every which way in the room, clearly seeing an entirely new room in her head. She turned beet red, looking my way.
“I’m so sorry, it’s just a house like this, with this much natural beauty, it’s amazing, Viv. Truly amazing,” she said, smiling genuinely at me.
“It is amazing, I’m glad you think so. But it needs a shit ton of work or it will literally fall down around my ears,” I replied. “You should see how much the roof leaks, or the rotten wood on the porch, or the world of scary that’s in the basement. I’m scared to death to turn the boiler on once it gets chilly at night. It’s like The Shining down there! And wait till you see how bad the—”
“Yeah yeah yeah, we’ll get to all that. That’s what I’m here for. For now, we just want to enjoy the weekend and your new house. This is so exciting!” Caroline said, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. She had a strong grip. Simon must be happy. “And I want to hear all about this librarian.”
I laughed, escorted everyone back down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I had cold beer, wine, and snacks waiting. We all grabbed something to drink and nibble on, and ended up on the back porch, each nestled into our own rocking chairs. Watching the breakers roll in and the chickens scratch around, I entertained my first guests.
After having a few drinks, we decided to walk into town rather than drive to get some dinner. It was a gorgeous night out, the sunset a perfect backdrop for a stroll. And as we walked, two couples plus me, I was struck with a sudden sense of longing. Not for a roll in the hay; not for a quickie up against a barn door, although those thoughts were tantalizing I’ll admit. No, tonight I was longing to be part of a couple out for a stroll.
I wanted to have the easy comfort of a lingering hand on my waist, a gentle touch on the back of my neck, a whispered word. A hand to hold. I loved my romance novels, loved the passion and the chase. But the part I loved the most? Was when the hero took his woman into his arms and kissed her reverently.
Sigh.
I kicked absently at the gravel as we walked into town, the group’s easy laughter bringing me back to the present. Where I had new friends and one old, albeit three hours away. I saw the lights of John’s twinkling in the distance, and my mouth watered. Pizza.
As it turns out, Mimi’s parents have a house in Mendocino, so she was familiar not only with John’s the restaurant, but with John himself.
“Mimi! How you doin’, kid?” John called out from behind the bar, waving us all over. “Your parents were up here a few weeks ago, they told me all about your wedding plans in San Francisco. Sounds like it’s going to be some kind of epic event.” He came out to greet us, exclaiming an “oof” when Mimi launched herself at the burly linebacker of a guy.
“John, this is Ryan, my fiancé,” she gushed, linking her arm through John’s and grinning at both of them. The two shook hands, and introductions were made all around.
“So how do you know this one?” he asked Mimi, jerking his thumb toward me.
“Just met her today actually, but these two go way back,” she answered, pointing at Simon and me.
“Viv, the usual?” John asked, leading us all to a corner table.
“I don’t know that I’ve been coming here long enough to have a usual, have I?” I asked, looking over the menu. “Although I am dreaming of pizza . . .”
“Butcher Block?” Mimi asked, and I nodded. “Yeah, let’s get two of those. Large. And a couple of pitchers of beer, whatever’s on tap tonight,” she instructed. Everyone looked at one another, and then nodded. Pizza and beer all around.
The jukebox was going, the place was packed, the food was amazing, and the beer flowed. Ryan was fascinating to talk to, both smart and funny. Simon told me stories all about his latest travels and Caroline described the renovation they had just completed on their new home in Sausalito. And the adventures of their new feline family they’d inherited. And Mimi? Mimi was a trip. She knew half the people in the bar, from family vacations over the years. And when Jessica stopped by after she closed down the restaurant she found herself at the table as well with a beer in hand after Mimi literally pulled her off her feet and sat her down with us.
After days of near solitude, I felt almost overwhelmed. Just a touch. I grabbed my purse and headed up to the jukebox to take a breather while I picked some new tunes. A dance floor opened up out back behind the restaurant, along with additional seating for when it
was this crowded. I studied the list of songs, made a few selections, and was just putting my quarters in when I felt a tickle in my nose. Turning, I spied one Mr. Hank Higgins perched on a barstool, the luckiest bottle of beer poised between his lips.
I watched as his tongue licked at his full lips, catching a drop. I watched as he ran his fingers up and down the long neck of the bottle, stroking it absently. I watched as his hand closed around the top, twisting ever so slightly before returning for the downstroke. And I watched as he cupped the nuts from below, holding them in his giant man hands.
Did I forget to mention they were cashews? From the bowl on the bar? Aw yeah.
“Pretty sure the jukebox won’t work when there’s drool in between the buttons,” someone said in my ear, and I whirled around. Jessica stood there, silently laughing.
“Ass,” I said, pushing past her and leaning against the other end of the bar. From this spot, I could still admire the cashews.
“He’s just a guy,” she urged. “Talk to him, don’t talk to him—he’s still just a guy.”
I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. Tonight for once I wasn’t wearing sneakers and covered in dust. I was clad in an oversized men’s black button-down with a piece of rope belting it in the middle; it was a short dress on me. And in place of my combat boots, I’d worn sandals tonight. Laced up to my knees, they showed off my short but powerful legs. And my black button-down was artfully unbuttoned. Was I showing off some cleave? Yes’m. Could you see the edge of my black lacy bra? Yes’m. Was I looking fairly fetching tonight? Fuck yes’m.
Perhaps this was the night, the night I’d make him notice me as more than just a sneezer. I peered down the bar; he was still there. With his nuts. I could do this.
I handed her my purse, which she took with a murmured “Get it, girl.”
I sauntered down toward him, putting an extra swish and sway into my hips. Something about leading with the hips makes a girl feel a little more sexy, a little more grrr. One of the songs I selected came on the jukebox, Al Green’s Can’t Get Next to You. I walked in time with the music, catching the eye of a bartender and tossing him a flirtatious and cheeky grin. He smiled back instantly, eyes appreciative of my perky perks. And was it me, or had the lighting changed? Darker, smokier, smudgier . . .
The Cocktail Collection Page 67