What Happens in Summer

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Carlo rolled his eyes. “Definitely hundreds, and you think that they’ll get easier, but each one seems to have its own drama.”

  “Like Tracy wanting to make Bill a eunuch at her wedding?” Owen asked.

  “For real? I didn’t notice that,” Jonathan said, earning a loud laugh from his brother and another punch on the arm. This time, Dudley shot to his feet, growled at Owen, and bared his teeth.

  “Wow, Jonathan. You’ve got quite a little guard dog there,” Owen teased.

  Jonathan smile and rubbed the pup’s head. “He’s just playing, dude.”

  “Right, just playing,” Owen said to the little terrier, who cocked his head at Owen but finally seemed to understand and settled back down at Jonathan’s feet.

  Owen quickly continued their earlier conversation. “You didn’t notice Tracy’s craziness ’cause you were too busy ogling Connie.”

  Jonathan thought that Owen had obviously had enough alcohol to loosen lips that should have stayed shut. He didn’t need even more people wondering what was up with him and Connie.

  After a chug of beer, Carlo considered him in light of Owen’s slip. “I guess I didn’t mistake the vibes I’ve detected the last few weeks.”

  Damn, Jonathan thought. “A long time ago, dude. There’s nothing happening there now. What do you expect for Maggie and Owen’s big day tomorrow?” he said, trying to deflect attention away from himself.

  Carlo inclined his head in a noble kind of way and pensively drank his beer. With another little dip of his head in Owen’s direction, he finally said, “I see a perfect day for two people who are thoroughly in love.”

  Owen smacked the oak table and shouted, “That’s my man. That’s what I want to hear.” He pinned his gaze on Jonathan. “Maybe you should do the catering and Carlo should be my best man. I’d have him walk Emma down the aisle like he’d like to do,” Owen teased, then he raised his glass and finished off the rest of his beer in one long chug.

  Jonathan shared a glance with Carlo, and the other man grabbed another beer from the bucket they had on the table next to the remains of the heroes they’d assembled earlier that night. Carlo had brought the ingredients with him after the rehearsal dinner along with the remainder of the food he’d prepped for Maggie and Owen’s stay at the home.

  “Like I said at the dinner, Emma is a hard nut, but I think that if anyone can crack that shell, it just might be our man Carlo here,” Jonathan said and squeezed the other man’s shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. He hadn’t realized Carlo’s interest earlier and had stuck his foot in his mouth. Maybe more than just his foot, come to think of it.

  Carlo handed Owen the beer and smiled. “I’m a patient man, Jon.”

  “You have to be, considering what you do for a living. All those bridezillas,” Owen said with a shudder and started in on the next beer. Since his brother wasn’t much of a drinker, Jonathan suspected this one would be enough to push him over the edge, which was what Owen needed, to just let go, because Jonathan knew that it wasn’t going to be as easy tomorrow as Carlo had suggested.

  “If you think the brides can be bad, the families can be worse. Arguing about who pays for what and who sits where,” Carlo said.

  It earned a very drunk “If they even bother to show up” from Owen.

  Their mother had departed long ago and was no longer a part of their lives. They didn’t even have any idea where she was, and in truth, neither of them wanted to know. Or at least that’s what Jonathan told himself. And his father had disowned Jonathan a decade earlier, but even though his father was bitter and angry and never acknowledged either of them in a positive way, Owen somehow had a relationship with him. A complicated and unrewarding one as far as Jonathan was concerned, but his dick of a father should have at least bothered to come to the rehearsal dinner. He hoped that the old man would do the right thing and come for the wedding tomorrow, but he doubted it.

  But he’d be there for his brother. He wrapped an arm around Owen’s shoulders and gave him an intense bro hug. “The only thing that matters is that Maggie doesn’t bail on you. Anything else is icing on the cake.”

  “Or beer in my belly,” Owen said and sucked down the rest of the bottle.

  Jonathan and Carlo shared a look, but with a shrug, Carlo snared another bottle from the bucket and started to pass it down, but Jonathan held up his hand to stop him. Carlo nodded in understanding. A hungover groom was never a good thing.

  Owen tried to set his bottle on the table, but as it tipped over, it occurred to Jonathan that maybe it was a little too late to avoid a hungover groom. He righted the bottle and said, “How about we get you some water and an aspirin.”

  Carlo jumped up from the table to find the items, leaving the two brothers alone.

  Owen unsteadily grabbed hold of Jonathan’s shoulder, and with a sniffle in his voice, he said, “He’s not going to come, is he?”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Bro. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got your six, and you have Maggie. That’s all that counts, you know,” Jonathan said, his own voice wavering with emotion. “That’s all that counts.”

  Chapter 10

  Connie sat on the dais that had been set up on the great lawn parallel to the privet hedges that separated the Pierce and Sinclair mansions. Ironic, since this wedding united the scions of the two warring families, although Maggie’s dad was here and had given his blessing. The only one still fighting apparently was Owen and Jonathan’s dad.

  The sharp squeal of feedback on a microphone warned it was time for the start of the speeches. The master of ceremonies was the female singer from the live band Emma had hired for the wedding. She walked over to the dais and introduced Jonathan, who stood, took the mike, and faced Maggie and his brother.

  “It seems like so long ago that the three of us used to hang out on this beach. Building epic sand castles. Chasing each other in the surf. My bro and I always hated leaving Sea Kiss and having to wait months until we could come back, but I think Owen hated it more, because it meant being away from Maggie.” He stopped to draw a ragged breath before he continued. “There was something special between the two of you. Something strong and yet malleable enough not to break when things get gnarly, but I hope you will have only joy. As I see the love and respect between you, it makes me think that if there really is a secret to a happy marriage, the two of you have discovered that secret.”

  He paused again, a sheen of tears in his eyes, picked up his glass of champagne from the table, and held it high. “Maggie. Like summer, you bring warmth and joy and lightness to my brother. May you share that eternal summer with him for the rest of your lives.”

  Connie raised her glass and took a sip. She sucked in a deep breath to contain the emotions Jonathan’s speech had roused and prepared to give her toast in honor of the groom. As the applause died down from Jonathan’s speech, he walked over and held out his hand to help her from the chair. She slipped her hand in his, rose, and accepted the microphone as he handed it to her. He stayed beside her, his hand at the small of her back as if sensing that she needed support.

  She gifted him a smile and faced the wedding guests. “When I met Maggie in freshman year, I didn’t just get a best friend. I got a sister.” She glanced at her friend and smiled, fighting the threat of tears. “We’ve shared so much over the years, and I know I will share many more joyful times in the future with you and Owen, because I see how happy he makes you. I see that he understands you and will support you in whatever you do. That’s a rare gift and one you totally deserve.”

  As her throat choked up, she hesitated to gather herself. Jonathan ran his hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture, and after a moment, she continued, buoyed by his presence. “Owen. From the first day you kissed Maggie on a long ago summer night, I knew that there was something special between you. I hoped it was just a matter of time before you found each other and your love,
and you have. May you never say goodbye again. May you always keep the magic of that one summer night in your hearts.”

  She raised her glass and sipped the champagne. The chill of it slipped down her throat, soothing the rawness of the emotions she’d kept bottled up. Turning, she offered Jonathan another smile, and he grinned, nodded, and took the microphone. As she sat, he walked away from the dais and to the table with Maggie’s father. He handed him the microphone and then returned to the dais, but not before sharing another smile and friendly nod with her.

  While she appreciated his caring, she wasn’t sure she could deal with him tonight on top of all the feelings that Maggie’s wedding was creating. But she had to handle it for her friend’s sake and for her own. She was so engrossed with her thoughts that it took Emma’s poke in her ribs to realize Maggie’s dad had finished his toast. She raised her glass and sipped again. Unfortunately, there would be no toast from the groom’s father, since the old bastard had not shown up for his son’s wedding.

  Just a few minutes later, the MC announced that it was time for the bride and groom’s first dance. Maggie and Owen shared a smile and a kiss before heading to the floor. They stepped into each other’s arms, and Connie’s heart skipped a beat at the love and joy on their faces as they danced to the band’s cover of Lifehouse’s “You and Me.”

  Emma grabbed both her hand and Tracy’s, and the three friends shared a moment, fingers intertwined, celebrating their friend’s happiness as well as the bond that they hoped would last beyond this marriage.

  As the song neared the halfway point, the band finished one chorus and then began a longer rendition. The singer invited people to join the happy couple on the makeshift dance floor on the great lawn. Various couples joined Maggie and Owen in their dance. A second later, Jonathan sauntered over to Connie and held out his hand.

  She stared at it in surprise and sat there, but then Emma elbowed her forcefully, leaned close, and whispered, “Go for it.”

  Go for what? she wanted to say, but with another jab from her friend, she slowly stood and eased her hand into Jonathan’s.

  * * *

  Her hand was smooth but icy cold with nerves. Jonathan laced his fingers with hers, and with a playful shake, he said, “We can do this for Maggie and Owen.”

  Her head did a wobbly bobble, and she repeated, “For Maggie and Owen.”

  Together, they walked onto the dance floor, and he smiled at Maggie and his brother as they passed by, not that he thought that Owen noticed. His brother was totally enraptured with his new wife.

  His heart filled with joy at his brother’s happiness, but as he drew Connie close, that joy morphed to longing for the woman in his arms. A woman who refused to believe that such happiness was possible for them. A woman who was tense as a high wire in his arms as they moved on the dance floor.

  He tucked his head against hers, rousing the smell of the orange blossoms woven into the fancy braid of her dark-brown hair. The skin of her temple was smooth against his jaw, since the heels she wore made her almost his height. With a slight shift of his head, he brushed a kiss across her temple and whispered, “Relax.”

  She did, her body softening against his, allowing all those luscious, womanly curves to come into contact with his body. Her full breasts pressed against his chest while the soft flatness of her belly cradled him. As his body reacted, he shifted away slightly and met her knowing gaze. He couldn’t avoid seeing the soft swells of her breasts above the edge of her bodice. He hardened even more and stiffened in her arms, fighting the need rising in him.

  “Relax,” she said with a Mona Lisa smile and the ring of amusement in her voice.

  With a nod and a strangled sigh, he settled her back against him, closed his eyes, and drummed up what little restraint he could. Think golf, he told himself. Dull. Boring. Nothing at all like the vibrant woman in his arms. As passion rose up again, he thought, Think paint drying. Mowing the lawn. Taking out the trash. All things he hated to do, and somehow, he managed to survive the dance without totally embarrassing himself.

  As the song wound down and the band leader invited Maggie’s dad to come up for the traditional father-daughter dance, Jonathan led Connie back to the dais and then took his spot on the groom’s side but not before sharing a glance with her that said that she knew just how much she still affected him. As a blush blossomed on her cheeks, it was clear he wasn’t the only one feeling the desire.

  The question was: What did he want to do about that?

  The answer eluded him through the courses of the amazing dinner Carlo had whipped up for the Victorian-themed wedding. There had been some kind of fruity soup to start the meal. He wasn’t normally a fan of fowl, but the duck breast that had come next was delicious. The duck had been seared and served in a red wine demi-glace. It was followed by one of his favorites, a grilled foie gras. Meat had been the next course in the meal, and he was definitely a steak kind of guy. A fork-tender filet mignon, roasted fingerling potatoes, and asparagus delicately drizzled with hollandaise sauce had been delicious. In between each of those courses, a chill lemon ice had helped to clear the palate.

  Although he could typically eat anyone out of house and home, he was grateful for the break that came before the remaining courses. He took advantage of that time to walk around and greet the various guests to make sure they were all having a good time. As he crossed paths with his brother at one table, Owen gestured with his head to take him aside.

  Together, they walked over to the far side of the great lawn, and when they stopped, Owen shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his chin in the direction of their beach home. “You’d think, since he’s here, he’d bother to come down and watch his son get married.”

  Shock filled Jonathan at his brother’s words. He looked back toward the beach house and noticed the lights were on in the third-story rooms. A shadow crossed by one of the windows. His father had come down for the wedding. Or at least he’d watched the celebration from afar. It was surprising on various levels.

  Nearly twenty years earlier and right around the time that Maggie’s mom had died, his father had stopped visiting Sea Kiss. He’d forbidden his sons from coming down as well. It was only once they’d gotten into their teens and had been too much trouble to handle that his father had deigned to let them return to the beach house, but he had never returned. Until tonight.

  “He’s here to gloat. To think about you finally screwing the Sinclairs, figuratively and literally,” Jonathan said, holding out no hope that his father had changed his mind about why he thought Owen married Maggie Sinclair.

  “He’s going to be very disappointed,” Owen said without hesitation.

  Jonathan didn’t doubt that, but there had been worry niggling in his mind for weeks, ever since his brother had announced his plans and explained to him the reason for them.

  “You need to tell Maggie the truth, Owen. You need to explain to her what you did and why,” he urged, not wanting anything to taint the love his brother had for his newlywed wife.

  Owen nodded. “When the time is right, I’ll tell her.”

  “You need to do it before she finds out some other way,” he pressed, fearing the worst.

  His brother shot him a quick look from the corner of his eye and said, “And when are you going to tell Connie how you still feel about her? It’s obvious, you know.”

  “When the time is right,” he said and walked away, wanting no part of that discussion for the moment.

  He detoured on his way back to get another glass of champagne from an intricate fountain on the patio that burbled a copious shower of bubbly. He filled one glass and downed it. Topped off a second glass and debated what he’d do next as the servers brought out a fruit and cheese tray before the traditional cake cutting.

  Connie was still sitting on the dais with her friends, laughing and smiling. He recalled how they’d once shared such laugh
ter and joy. It made him realize how much he missed being with her. Draining his second glass, he refilled it and grabbed another champagne flute. Filling the empty glass, he headed over with both to the dais, but instead of resuming his original place, he sat beside Connie, since Maggie and Owen were still making the rounds of the guests and would soon be cutting the cake.

  He handed Connie the champagne, and she stared at him quizzically before accepting it. “Thanks,” she said.

  The server came around at that moment to place the fruit and cheese tray before them. As if that was her cue, Emma rose from her chair and said, “I have to check on something with Carlo.”

  Tracy likewise stood. “I need to connect with Bill. He’s been alone for too long,” she said about her new husband who had already strayed from his vows months earlier.

  As her two friends hurried away, Connie hissed beneath her breath, “Traitors.”

  Jonathan grinned. “To smart women,” he said and raised his glass in a toast.

  * * *

  Smart women, foolish choices, she thought, since it was something she and her friends discussed often, but to keep the peace, she clinked her glass to his and took a sip. Only a sip, because she needed to keep her wits about her, since Jonathan was totally a foolish choice. Beyond foolish, downright crazy, she thought but couldn’t control the skitter of desire that raced down her spine as he grinned at her lopsidedly. The dimple to the right of those delicious lips tempted her to run her finger along that indent and then over to those very masculine, very capable lips.

  She snared her glass and cooled her lust with a less-than-ladylike chug of the champagne. The chill and bubbles caused an ache in the middle of her chest. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she pressed her hand there. Another mistake, as he followed the movement with his summer-sky gaze and lovingly ran it all along the exposed swells of her breasts.

  Beneath the heavily beaded bodice of the gown, her nipples tightened and rubbed against the fabric. Each tiny movement sent a tug of need to parts south.