Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  Brie’s eyes glare at me. “Whistling? Extremely good mood? You slept with him again last night, didn’t you?”

  I nod. And grin, adding, “And again this morning.”

  “Ew – did you do it right in the room next to me while I was sleeping?”

  “No!” I quickly answer. “We did it on the couch downstairs and then in the upstairs shower.” She whips her head around to look at me with feigned disgust. “But not until after you left.”

  “Oh, good. That makes it so much better,” she teases. “So would it be okay with you if I brought Joe back to the house tonight?”

  “Joe?” I repeat.

  She smiles. “Yup.”

  “As in the delicious waiter from the Tiki Bar?”

  “That would be the one. We’re going out tonight.” I’m really glad for her, but I’m surprised she’s not joining Cait up at Declan’s. This is the first time in years the four of us won’t be together for the Fourth of July. “You’re not the only one who knows gorgeous men with boats. He’s taking me out with his friends on the Manasquan River to watch the fireworks.”

  “Brie, we live at the shore now. You can’t throw a rock without hitting someone who owns a boat,” I tease. “But just be careful, please. You hardly know him.”

  “I know. I will.”

  “I’ll ask Cole if we can crash at his house tonight. You can have the whole place to yourself. Unless you’d rather not.”

  “No, that sounds great. Perfect, actually. Thank you, Kenny. Love you, girl.”

  Brie’s eyes grow wide as she spots something or someone that draws her attention. She elbows me and points towards the boardwalk. I turn to see what’s in her sights, and walking purposefully towards us is my big brother. Only he doesn’t look the least bit happy.

  He’s not in his usual shirt and tie. Today, he’s wearing khakis, a blue polo with the official police department logo on the left breast, his shield around his neck hung on a chain, and handcuffs swinging from his belt loop. It’s the police department’s version of casual Friday.

  Brie sees right past the tough guy exterior and all she sees is my big brother. “Hi, Philip. It’s great to see you. What’ll it be today? Latte? Macchiato? Frappuccino?”

  He smiles at her kindly, but I can see the spark does not quite reach his eyes. “No thanks, Brie. Maybe next time.” Turning to me he asks, “Can we go talk in your office? Privately?”

  “Um, sure.” I lead Philip out of the coffee shop, through the bookstore, and into my back office.

  He closes the door tightly behind him and motions for me to sit down. “I want to talk to you about McGuire.”

  I’m confused. Cole spoke to him before making plans with me. What could he possibly have to be concerned about? “Is something wrong?”

  “You could say that.” He scrutinizes me carefully before saying more. Slowly, he walks over and takes a seat at the table across from me. “I’m having second thoughts about this whole thing,” he confesses. “This guy makes me nervous as hell.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?” I ask. “You told me to go ahead. You said . . .”

  “I know what I said,” he interrupts abruptly. “But things have . . . changed.” He taps his fingers on the table and exhales. “I don’t want you to get too attached. You’re moving fast and I don’t want to see you get hurt. That’s all.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s changed?”

  He shrugs. “Let me worry about that. Just trust me. Please. Promise me you won’t do anything foolish right now.”

  “Foolish? Like what? I don’t follow.”

  “Don’t make me spell it out. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Philip, for argument’s sake, let’s just say I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Humor me.”

  He shakes his head. “Fine. You want me to say it, then I will. Don’t be a booty call. You deserve better than that.”

  “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

  “God dammit, Ken, you heard me alright. Last night when I got off duty at midnight, yours was the only car in the driveway. This morning, on my way into the station, I drive by your place to check and see his truck there. Booty. Call.”

  “Listen to me very carefully, Philip. I’m only going to tell you this once. Just because he got to my place so late at night does not, I repeat, does not, mean that he was out having fun with other women. He works crazy hours. Extra innings. Team meetings. He wanted to come see me instead of going home and you know it. Don’t you dare try to ruin this for me.”

  He stops his pacing and looks at me. “You’re right.”

  “Did you just say I’m right?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Good.” I pat the empty chair next to me and he hesitantly sits. “Then sit down and let me tell you all about the best first date of my life.”

  CHAPTER 18

  I OFFER TO DRIVE THIS TIME, but one look at my car and we both know that Cole would not be able to fold himself inside my BMW GT comfortably. It’s a shame, really. I absolutely love my little car. It’s fully loaded with a leather covered dash, hand-stitched leather seats, and all kinds of techy toys like Active Driving Assistant and Active Blind Spot Detection, not to mention the Bang & Olufsen surround sound system. This car practically drives itself.

  Resigned to the fact that I have no choice but to leave my luxury vehicle in the driveway, I climb into Cole’s truck and make myself comfortable on the short drive to meet up with his cousin. I peek behind the seat while Cole is scurrying around to his side and notice all our gear is still there from two nights ago. It makes me smile. Maybe we’ll spend another night under the stars again soon. Perhaps even tonight. After all, what could be better than lying beneath the stars watching the fireworks together?

  Actually, I could think of one or two things.

  The normally quick drive from Point Pleasant to Asbury Park is slow going, thanks to the holiday traffic. And of course, there’s nowhere to park on the street outside the restaurant, especially since Cole’s truck is the size of a big green dinosaur.

  Cole holds my hand as we make the long trek from the public parking lot to the restaurant a few blocks away. This part of Asbury Park has gone through a dramatic revitalization over the past few years. I spot Evan’s restaurant the moment we turn the corner. Settled in the middle of graceful, historic buildings from the Victorian era, Rush exudes that sense of solid, urban, all-American charm.

  Manning the door is a very intimidating man that no one in their right mind would ever challenge. But the moment he spots Cole walking in, his eyes soften and he smiles with his whole face. Cole introduces him as Marcus Chase and he quickly wraps me up in his big brown arms and welcomes me warmly. I instantly like this man.

  As the two take a moment to catch up, I scan the room trying to find my equilibrium in this new and unfamiliar situation. I make quick note of the emergency exits and search for familiar faces.

  The restaurant is deceptively spacious. The front bar has been turned into a buffet, teeming with all kinds of delectable treats. The back bar seems to be unmanned at the moment and as I watch, one guest slips behind the bar, pours himself a few draft beers, and rejoins his group. I guess it’s a self-service bar tonight.

  And, of course, there’s a large screen television playing nothing but Sports Center.

  On the main floor of the restaurant, a group of tables have been pulled together to create one long banquet table where a large group has gathered around. I immediately recognize Derek and Shea, along with the hosts of today’s soiree, Evan and Juliette McGuire.

  Cole spots them, too. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he leads us right over to the table. Everyone looks up from what they’re doing and smiles while I just stand here and look about in awe. It looks like some sort of beautiful people convention. Seriously.

  Cole grins down at me, links his fingers with mine reassuringly, and begins making introductions, starting with Evan. I would kno
w his face anywhere – it’s impossible not to. He’s got commercials, billboards, and all kinds of sponsorships. And at one time, not that long ago, he was the playboy of the western world, constantly in the news and under the media’s spotlight. But now that he’s married, most (if not all) of that attention seems to have died down considerably.

  “You already know Shea.” She smiles and nods.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Shea.”

  Sitting beside her is Evan’s wife, Juliette. I remember seeing her many times on television, but she is even lovelier in person. She has straight dark hair, high cheekbones, and the type of smile that’s infectious. I believe she’s only a year or two older than I am. We’re about the same height and close to the same size, too. “You must be Juliette. Brie wants me to thank you for the oatmeal craisin cookies and the scones. They’re a big hit at the coffee shop.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” she grins and shakes my hand.

  Cole smiles and continues the introductions.

  “This big unattractive guy is my much older cousin Evan and the ugly mug sitting next to him belongs to Adam Cooke, my . . . my . . . hell, I’m not sure what to call him.”

  Adam stands up and finishes the introduction for him. “Well, I guess I’d call myself one of Cole’s advisors on the team.” He reaches over to shake my hand. “And this little lady here is my fiancée, Emmy.”

  Emmy has beautifully golden blonde hair with several well-placed streaks of pink peeking out from beneath and stunning tattoos decorating one arm – flowers, angel wings, and a wheel of some sort. I’ll have to ask her about them later.

  She struggles to get up to shake my hand and I can’t help but notice that she’s about to give birth at any moment. “Please, sit down,” I tell her as I walk over to shake her hand. “You look like you’re ready to pop.”

  “Well, today is my due date, so anything can happen.”

  Shea jumps in on the conversation. “Oh – if that little firecracker of yours makes her debut today, you should totally name her Independence.”

  “Or Liberty,” a beautiful redhead interjects.

  “Don’t forget Freedom and Starr,” the young woman next to her adds, turns her attention to me, and introduces herself. “Hi. I’m Camilla Chase. You probably met my husband Marcus at the door. It’s nice to meet you, Kenny. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I smile.

  Camilla kindly introduces her friend sitting next to her. “This is Reese Barrett, the head cook here at Rush.”

  Reese eyes me carefully, and I can tell she’s going to be a tough one to win over. “So, would it be alright if we call you Houdini, or do you prefer to go by Kenny?” the fiery redhead questions tentatively, clearly testing my mettle.

  Her comment is punctuated by an audible cacophony of gasps of horror and giggles of amusement from all the women gathered around the table.

  “You can call me Houdini if you like, but personally I think it says more about you than it does about me,” I retort with a sickly sweet smile.

  “Daaaamn!” I hear one of the men roar and perhaps even the undertone of an “Oh, Snap!” is muttered nearby.

  Shea stands up and proudly announces to all in attendance, “See? I told you.” Then she turns to Cole and declares, “We’re keeping her.”

  She drags me away from Cole and has me sit in the empty seat beside her. Just as she is about to introduce me to the handsome man seated to my right, recognition ignites and I blurt out, “Auggie? Is that you? What a small world!”

  He pops up from his seat, pulling me back up to my feet for a friendly hug and kiss. He holds me at arm’s length and adds, “Well, look at you, girl. I knew I was meeting Houdini tonight, but I didn’t realize it was you. You’ve certainly done well for yourself since I last saw you.” He gives Cole the once over, obviously appreciating the same qualities in him that I enjoy.

  Cole looks at me oddly, and I quickly explain. “Auggie was my real estate agent. He brokered my lease for TitleWave and he found me my beach house. We spent every day together for weeks searching. Just as I thought he was ready to give up on me, he found my dream home. He’s amazing.”

  “Oh, stop – you’re making me blush,” he amuses. He reaches over and pulls up an equally handsome young man dressed in bright blue skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with a deep V. “And this handsome man right here is my better half, Lucas – ”

  “Luu,” I finish for him. I step closer and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. You’ve been in some of my favorite movies – The ‘Zenith Saga’, ‘Rochelle, Rochelle’, and my personal favorite, ‘Mountain High’. And I can’t wait to see ‘CyberCOPS’. Labor Day release, right?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?” he asks. “They haven’t dropped the trailers yet.”

  “I know one of the screenwriters. Marcie Bradley helped with the film adaptation. She and I have the same . . .”

  Auggie subtly shakes his head, warning me not to finish that sentence – he knows my secret. I confided in him early on, and he promised not to tell anyone about my writing credentials.

  Shit! I almost said we have the same literary agent. Gail Walters was splitting her time equally between the two of us for quite a while. Until I dropped out of the game, that is.

  Think fast. Think fast.

  “. . . hairdresser. We go to the same salon.”

  Derek stands up. “I think Houdini could use a drink.”

  “Yes, Houdini could,” I agree.

  “We have two house drinks tonight. Planter’s Punch, which is really just a fancy rum punch, and Lynchburg Lemonade made with some of the best Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey. Name your poison.”

  “Hmm . . . that Lynchburg Lemonade sounds great.”

  “Come sit back down with us,” Shea offers.

  I look at Cole to see what he wants me to do. “Go, sit with the girls. I’m going to take a walk with Derek and grab myself a beer.”

  I wink at Cole and turn to sit down, but he grabs a hold of my hand, pulls me against him, and kisses me long and slow in front of all of these people.

  “Get a fucking room!” Derek calls out.

  “What was that for?” I ask him.

  “Because I can.” He winks back and walks away.

  Adam and Evan join the boys at the bar, settling themselves comfortably in front of Sports Center. Cole returns with my drink and then quickly disappears back to the bar.

  Emmy is the center of discussion today. It seems that she’s the first of her friends to have a baby. “So, do you have any names picked out?” I ask.

  Emmy rubs her swollen belly. “I won’t know for sure until I see her face, but we have it narrowed down to two names – Scarlett, which is Adam’s favorite and Hartley, which is mine. It’s an old family name I’d like to resurrect.”

  “So Independence and Freedom are off the list?” Reese teases.

  “For now,” Emmy chuckles.

  “How are you feeling?” Juliette asks. “Are you getting any sleep?”

  “Some.” She sits up straight in her chair and bubbles over. “Oh, my God! I almost forgot. Last night I dreamt that I gave birth to a pocket-sized hotdog baby with flippers, and then forgot her in the Macy’s fitting room. If this is any indication of my future parenting skills, Child Protective Services is going to take my newborn upon delivery and put me in a straight jacket.”

  Emmy is a hoot. She regales us with stories about her roller derby career and how she can’t wait to get back on the track. I can just imagine this little bitty thing whipping around the track and slipping past her opponents. Emmy plays in the Jersey Shore Roller Girls League, which explains the wheel tattoo.

  “Do you have a derby name?” I ask.

  “Of course I do. Picking out the right name is a very important part of the experience.”

  “Is it a badass name?”

  “Well, I’m pretty badass, so yes, I think it is. My name is Pinky and the Pain. I always try
to wear a little pink somewhere, so it totally fits.”

  I think the name suits her perfectly. Pink is very girlie, but in derby you need to bring the pain, too.

  In fact, all these girls are pretty badass, even Reese. Once I passed her little initiation, she warmed up quite a lot. It turns out she’s from a big family in Wisconsin and she’s out here without her family. At least I have my brother. All she has are her friends and she’s wildly protective of them all.

  That is something I can completely understand.

  Reese gets up to refill her drink. “I’m getting another lemonade. Anyone else want anything while I’m up?” She looks around the table. “Camilla – how about you? You ready to turn in that ice water for a cocktail?”

  “No, thanks – I’m good,” she counters.

  “I could have Derek make you something special if you want,” Shea offers. “I know how much you like his classic margarita.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll pass.”

  Reese doesn’t seem satisfied. “Camilla, are you feeling okay? You never pass on a margarita.”

  A slow smile sweeps across Camilla’s lovely face.

  “No!” Reese lurches onto the table, almost spilling her drink.

  “Are you . . .” Juliette just about shoots out of her chair.

  “You are!” Emmy announces.

  In a flash, all the girls are up and out of their seats giving congratulatory hugs to Camilla. She is being pelted with questions.

  “When did you find out?”

  “How far along are you?”

  “When is the baby due?”

  “Who have you told?”

  Marcus comes sauntering over when he hears the ruckus. Unable to get anywhere near his wife, he turns to me and asks, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag?”

  I never truly understood that particular turn of phrase. As a lover of words and language in general, I can’t help but wonder when in our cultural past did people once keep cats in bags?

  I smile and say, “Looks like it. Congratulations, by the way.”

  Evan and Adam come over and sweep Marcus away with hardy slaps on the back and promises of shots and beer.