by Melody Grace
“When you could be clear across the country, doing sunrise yoga, surfing and sipping on cocktails with movie stars,” Jules said. Reeve laughed. “Shh,” she protested. “It’s what I imagine all Californians do in their free time.”
“OK, I won’t kill the illusion.” Reeve paused by one of the refreshment carts and picked up a soda. “What about you?” he asked. “Are your parents in Boston, too?”
“Wait a minute,” Jules paused, glancing over at him. “I didn’t tell you where I lived. Have you been checking up on me?” she asked, teasing.
“No!” Reeve protested. He cleared his throat, looking bashful. “Someone must have said something... You know. Small towns.”
“I do know.” She grinned. So he’d been asking about her? “And no, they don’t. My mum bailed when I was young, and my dad lives in Chicago now. I moved to Boston for college, and stuck around.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About your mom, I mean.”
“I’m not.” She gave a defiant shrug. “She’s the one who missed out. Your dad, too. Ooh, boysenberry!” Jules sensed the conversation had turned too serious, so she stopped at the next stand and made a show of tasting some jam: this time, spread on a cracker with some soft cheese. “This one’s a keeper,” she said, devouring the sample. “I’ll take a jar.”
Reeve looked at her with amusement. “You’re going to be stuck carrying a dozen jars, at this rate.”
“Don’t you mean, you will be?” Jules pretended to bat her lashes at him, and he laughed.
“Now I see why you wanted me along for this jam-tasting quest.”
“That and your sunny disposition. Come on, I spy a raspberry compote with our names on it.”
* * *
As darkness fell, the festival turned into a full-on party. Hundreds of lights twinkled, strung between the trees, and the makeshift dance floor filled with laughter. Evie and Noah arrived, and introduced Jules to pretty much everyone in town, and she was soon swept up in the buzz of new faces and easy chat.
She could see why Evie liked it here. Only a few months after arriving, her friend already seemed a permanent fixture, trading inside jokes and making plans to host the next book group meeting. “Since when do you read thick historical biographies?” Jules asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music as they all spun around the dancefloor.
“Since never.” Evie grinned, shimmying to the beat. “Debra always suggests something worthy and intellectual, but we don’t actually get around to reading it. Book group is basically just an excuse to gossip and try out all of Summer’s new cake recipes.”
“Sounds like my kind of group.” Jules said with a laugh, just as the music switched to a slow song. Noah materialized, and held out his hand to Evie, and suddenly, Jules found herself surrounded by a sea of swaying couples.
And there was her cue.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she gestured.
“Are you sure?” Evie asked. “You have plenty of willing partners… ” she nodded to where, sure enough, some of the single guys looked like they were about to make their approach.
Jules shook her head. “Thanks, but the only hot date I care about is with the churros stall!”
She grabbed a drink, and a portion of fried dough sticks, and was looking around for some place to sit when she saw Reeve at one of the picnic tables surrounding the dancefloor.
It would be rude not to go say ‘hi’, she told herself. They were friends now, after all. Jam tasting, non-kissing, totally platonic friends.
“Did you get them all?” he asked with a smile, when he saw her approaching. He nodded at the ribbons pinned to her shirt.
“I gave up counting after fifteen,” she admitted, sitting beside him on the bench.
“I can’t believe you’re still going.” Reeve’s voice was admiring, as Jules dunked one of the churros in a small container of jam.
“Me either.” Jules took a bite. “But then, I never do know when to quit. Remind me to gulp some Pepto-Bismol before bed.” She realized too late how that sounded. “Not that you’ll be there,” she blurted, her cheeks burning. “When I go to bed, I mean. I was just saying—”
“I know.” Reeve mercifully cut off her babbling. “Here, take one of mine.”
He pulled a pack of antacids from his pocket, and offered one. Jules took one, smiling in surprise. “You came prepared.”
“I’m a regular Boy Scout,” Reeve agreed. “With terrible heartburn,” he added with a grin. “I’m getting old.”
“Don’t say that!” she groaned. “If you’re old, I’m well on my way.” Jules exhaled, looking out at the festival. “I’m nearly thirty, you know,” she added. “I really thought I’d have my life together by now.”
“You seem pretty together to me.” Reeve commented, and Jules gave a snort of disbelief.
“How?” she exclaimed. “Every time we’ve met, I’ve been a disaster zone: drenched, or covered in coffee, or trying to clean fifty years of junk out of an outbuilding because that’s my home now, a glorified shed!”
“But those are just bumps in the road.” Reeve gave a sideways glance. “You know exactly who you are and what you want. I have absolutely no doubt that you’ll figure something out, and be a huge success.”
Jules blinked. He said it so matter-of-factly, like he had total faith in things working out.
In her.
She felt an unfamiliar swell of emotion. “You too,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “With the vineyard, I mean. You’ll fix whatever mess it’s in.”
He cracked a smile. “You don’t even know me.”
“Hey, if you can believe in my abilities to pull my life together… ” Jules said, only half-joking. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“You already did,” Reeve replied. “Getting me that bachelorette party.”
Jules stopped. “You mean, you’re going ahead with the booking?” she exclaimed, delighted.
Reeve gave her a look. “Is this the part where you say you told me so?”
“No,” Jules lied, biting back her cheer. “That would be immature. I’m above such petty gloating.”
“Of course you are.” Reeve grinned. “And, yes. It shouldn’t be too much trouble, right? They just need the venue and some wine, they’ll take care of everything else.”
She paused. Was he serious?
But Reeve seemed to be. And although they had a deal about his business being, well, his business, Jules couldn’t stop herself from speaking up.
“You mean, you’re not going to spring clean the place?” she asked. “Or hire some help? Because the bachelorette is only one event, you could be booked solid all the way through summer with just a few teeny tiny updates. There’s room for live bands to play, you could have family picnics, and movie nights, and—”
“Jules.” He cut her off, looking amused. “We have a deal, remember?”
She exhaled in frustration. Clearly, Reeve had a massive block on seeing sense when it came to the vineyard, and she was guessing it had something to do with that difficult relationship with his father. She was just going to have to be subtle about this.
“Well, speaking as a woman who’s seen her share of bachelorette parties, spiders are not on the guest list,” she declared. “Will you at least let me help you get the place in shape so that Natalie doesn’t run screaming from one of the happiest days of her life? I can’t just sit around, waiting for recruiters not to call me back,” she added.
“Fine,” he agreed. “But just the party. None of that other stuff.”
“Mmmhmm,” Jules murmured, hiding a smile. Sure, he said that now… But she would convince him eventually. She took another bite of her churros to hide her secret planning, but when she finally looked up, she found Reeve’s gaze fixed on hers.
She flushed.
“You have something… ” he said, gesturing, and her cheeks burned hotter.
Of course. He wasn’t staring at her, dumbstruck
by her beauty. No, she was making a mess of things. As usual.
Jules swiped at her cheek, embarrassed, but Reeve chuckled. “Let me.”
He reached over and gently brushed against the side of her mouth. Then, his eyes still locked on hers, he brought his thumb to his lips and licked. “Sweet,” he murmured, and was Jules imagining things, or had his voice dropped to a new husky register?
She swallowed hard, her heart suddenly pounding. The air sizzled between them, and the rest of the party seemed to fade away. All that was left was the two of them, and Reeve’s gaze on hers, hotly intent. She couldn’t look away.
Suddenly, Jules needed to go home. To be far, far away from Reeve Hastings before she did something stupid.
Like kissed him.
“I have to go,” she blurted, getting to her feet. She overjudged the distance to the ground, and landed unsteadily.
In an instant, Reeve was there to take her arm. “Do you have a ride?”
She shook her head. “I’ll walk. It’s a lovely night.”
“I don’t know, the road to the inn is pretty isolated… ” Reeve hesitated, and Jules stomach did another flip. All that, and he was a gentleman, too.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. At least, as soon as she was out of kissing distance, she would be.
But Reeve’s hand lingered on her arm. “I’ll walk you back,” he said. “I could use the activity, after the amount of donuts we’ve eaten.”
Jules heart sank. A moonlit walk by the ocean? Starlight overhead? The famous town punch still shimmering in her blood stream, mingling with the intoxicating rush of pure desire?
There was no way she would be able to resist inviting him in. And Lord knows what they’d wind up doing, all alone in her new bed. So Jules did the only thing she could think of.
She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him, right then and there.
Somehow, it made sense in her mixed-up brain, the lesser of two pleasures, and then her lips pressed against his, and there was no room left for sense and reason, just the feel of his body against her and the hot slide of his tongue roving deep in her mouth.
Jules knew, she’d just made the most delicious mistake of her life. But even as she surrendered to the rush of sensation, a tiny voice in the back of her mind wondered… How was this going to help keep her clothes on?
She pulled back. “Dammit,” she groaned, her heart still pounding in her chest. “I wasn’t going to do that!” She backed up a safe distance from Reeve’s tempting mouth and slow, sliding hands. “So… I didn’t. Forget it ever happened.”
Reeve drew in a ragged breath, looking just about as disoriented as she felt. “I’m not so sure I can.”
“You have to!” she exclaimed. “It was the punch. And the jam. And... ” She fumbled for another reason aside from the fact it had seemed inevitable. And still did. The way he was staring at her seemed to draw her closer… Closer…
“Nope!” she yelped, recoiling. What the hell was she thinking? She’d made a pact. “No boys allowed!”
And then she turned on her heel and fled, before she could see just how crazy Reeve thought she was.
5
Jules woke the next morning, flushed and breathless from a night of torrid dreams. The kiss had lingered, replaying over and over in her mind until she lost track of where reality ended and her fevered fantasies began. Reeve’s eyes, dark in the moonlight, his hands sliding over her body… His mouth, kissing…
Lower.
She fled for the tiny bathroom in the back of the studio, glad that the cold water was icy enough to cool her burning skin. What had she been thinking? She’d made a vow. A plan, to finally stop being distracted by the nearest hot man and focus on her own future for a change. And already, she was ready to throw caution—and her panties—to the wind?
She could do better than this. She had to.
Jules emerged from the shower and went to go dig some clean clothes out of a duffel bag in the corner. If she ever needed a reminder of why she was having a romance-free summer, she just needed to take a look around at her current living quarters. All her hard work, all her accomplishments, and she was reduced to living in a glorified shed around the back of her best friend’s house.
Jules stifled a sigh. Her big clear-out had gotten rid of the junk and grime, and Evie had helped her set up a comfy bed and some cute pieces of furniture from the inn, but there was still no disguising the fact she was living out of her suitcase, a long way from home.
Until she got her life together—enough for curtains, and a matching towel set, anyway—she had no business kissing Reeve, or anyone else.
No matter how tempting his mouth may be.
So, for the rest of the week, she kept her promise. Jules busied herself with her job hunt, and fired off a dozen brisk texts to Reeve about the bachelorette event with no mention of their hot makeouts or sizzling chemistry. Just perfectly pleasant and friendly. Business-like. Reeve had pretended like they’d never kissed, hadn’t he? Now it was her turn to do the same thing. From now on, their relationship would be strictly professional.
Unlike her dreams…
But by the time the day of the bachelorette rolled around, Jules was used to her ice-cold morning shower routine—and more frustrated than ever.
“Uuuughh!” she let out a growl of annoyance, reading yet another one of Reeve’s curt texts as she arrived in town with Evie. “I can’t believe this guy!”
“Let me guess, Reeve. Again.” Evie looked amused.
“He’s being impossible.” Jules tucked her phone away, driving slow through the square. “The party is in an hour, and he cancelled the extra waitstaff I hired. And the cleaning crew. It’s a good thing I didn’t tell him I hired Rose to do the flowers, or he would have called and cancelled her, too!”
“You know, you’re putting an awful lot of effort into this bachelorette,” Evie noted, giving her a sideways glance. “Considering that you’re not a party planner. And you’ve been friends with Natalie all of a week.”
“That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have an amazing party,” Jules argued weakly, but her best friend knew her too well for that. Jules let out a sigh of defeat. “You’re right, I’m fixating on all the wrong things right now,” she admitted, “but I can’t help it. Every day, I sent out dozens of resumés, and every day, I get nothing but automatic rejections back. ‘Thank you for your interest,’” she mimicked. “’We’ll keep your details on file.’ At least with this party, I can do something,” she added. “Even if it is just making sure Natalie doesn’t find dead flies floating in her wine.”
“First of all, ewww, and secondly, you’ll find a great job,” Evie reassured her. “Someone would be a fool not to snap you up. You’ve helped make the Beachcomber Inn the biggest draw in town.”
Jules smiled. She hoped Evie was right. The kind of jobs she was chasing all wanted stellar experience—and she had it. Just not from the big, fancy companies they all respected. What was she supposed to say? ‘I catapulted my ex-boyfriend to success, but sorry, he won’t admit how crucial I was to his business. Oh, and I’ve also created amazing social media brands… for all my closest friends.’ Sure, she dressed it up as best she could in resume-speak, listing her credentials as ‘social media manager’ with skills in ‘content creation’ and ‘brand strategy’, but it wasn’t the same as having a fancy pedigree with real references.
Which was why she was stuck in her current loop: sending hopeful emails to old friends and colleagues, while also doing battle with Reeve.
“This is me,” Evie said, and Jules pulled over by the town hall. “Franny wants to talk, which means I’m probably about to volunteer to run the Fall Festival. You need me to come by the vineyard after and help you set up?”
Jules shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You have guests to ply with iced tea,” she said, “And Reeve should have it handled. Unless he’s gone and called off the whole event.”
“Good luck,” Evie said, with a twinkle in
her eye. “Just don’t get so mad at him, you tear each other’s clothes off!”
“Don’t even say that!” Jules waved her off with a groan, but Evie’s words lingered. Clothes… She whipped out her phone and sent Reeve another text.
‘What are you wearing? Try to look smart. And did you hire in tableware like I said?’
Reeve’s reply came almost immediately:
‘No. NO.’
She started to reply, when another message from him popped up:
‘What part of that ‘no’ don’t you understand?’
Jules took a deep breath, and drove on. The whole reason she was ordering cupcakes and fretting over glassware was to help him out. But did the man give her even a word of thanks? Nope!
But it was too late to wash her hands of him now, and a crowd of rowdy bachelorettes were about to descend, so she put aside her growing frustrations, picked up some coffees, and headed to meet Rose at the vineyard. After finding out she was a florist, she had been the first person Jules thought of to help decorate for the party: She was nice, local, and already friends with Natalie, so she was donating her services as a gift. A triple threat, as far as Jules was concerned, and as soon as she pulled up and found Rose unloading her van of blooms, she knew she’d hit the jackpot.
“Oh, those are gorgeous,” she exclaimed, going to help her with the bouquets.
“I went with daisies and wildflowers for the party arrangements,” Rose explained. She was dressed in a bright yellow sundress that matched the bouquets. “They’re cheerful, fun… And you get way more bang for your buck than roses.”
“We need all the bangs we can get,” Jules said, and then laughed at how it sounded. “You know what I mean. And thanks for coming early to help set everything up,” she added, passing Rose a coffee. “I didn’t want to ruin all your hard work by putting them in the wrong vase, or something.”
Plus, she could use a chaperone if Reeve happened to be around. But leading Rose inside, Jules didn’t see him anywhere.
“This place is so cute,” Rose said, sounding surprised. “The way you were talking, I half-expected it to be a demolition zone.”