by Elsie James
JUNI
Peony Pointe Series
Book 3
By Elsie James
Copyright © 2020 by Elsie James
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Ella Barnard
authorelsiejames.com
Table of Contents
Copyright © 2020 by Elsie James
Chapter 1: Hunter
Chapter 2: Juni
Chapter 3: Hunter
Chapter 4: Juni
Chapter 5: Hunter
Chapter 6: Juni
Epilogue: Juni One Year Later
THANK YOU
Chapter 1: Rachel
Chapter 1: Hunter
“Thanks, man.” Ben has been at my townhouse all afternoon making last minute alterations on my tux for tonight’s big event. Ben has been fitting me for years. I’d guess that we are around the same age, but he’s always uncomfortably formal around me. I understand why. Hell, the monotony of my life makes me uncomfortable too.
“Sit, dude. Have a beer with me.” Opening the fridge, I hold a beer in Ben’s direction.
He hesitates before taking the beer. “Thanks.” He places it directly onto the end table next to his seam ripper and scissors. “Are you ready for tonight? It’s finally happening.” Ben talks through pursed lips that hold straight pins.
“Yeah,” I say casually. “It’s just another party to impress the right people, if you ask me. But I’m a company man. I’ll put on the tux and get through it.” I inhale my entire beer in one long drink and grab myself another.
“Hey, it's not every day your old man retires from such an impressive career.” Ben rigidly takes a sip of his beer. If we had met in a normal way, on a baseball field or at a bar, he and I probably would have been friends. But, we didn’t. Ben works for my family just like half the population of Peony Pointe. Our would-be friendship is just another casualty of being a Romano.
I continue. “You’re right. I’m happy for him. He deserves an epic send off. But this party seems like alot, even for us. 2000 people? Ice sculptures? A firework display? It’s unnecessary. But, that’s family for you. We aren’t known for passing up any opportunity to remind people of our status.”
Ben makes a barely audible chuckle at my last sentence. I wonder if he’s afraid to acknowledge that it’s true or if he’s surprised that I know it’s true. A professional, just trying to get through his workday, Ben’s fingers fly across the fabric of my suit jacket as he talks. I can’t hold that against him. After all, he’s not being paid to hang out with me.
“Will you just show up then? Aren’t you giving the toast?”
“Yeah, my sisters made sure of that. I’ll say the right things, impress the right people. But that doesn’t mean I am looking forward to it.”
The thought of addressing the crowd tonight makes me want to drink another beer. A daunting realization crosses my mind. This is the rest of my life. No more making music. No more spontaneity. Just putting on a tux and saying the right thing.
“You’re a pro.” Ben holds his still full bottle up, angling the neck of his beer toward mine. “To your dad, one hell of man.”
I clink my bottle with Ben’s. “To one hell of a man.”
Chapter 2: Juni
Jessa and I walk into the ballroom at Bellissima Vineyards. I’m normally not one to be impressed by an overdone event, but even I have to admit, this is stunning. The mood is equally elegant and warm. This is a ballroom fit for the best among us.
Candlelight bounces from every surface. The massive, vaulted ceiling is illuminated with string lights between cream panels of tulle. A stage is bordered by tables draped with linens, each one encircled by rustic cross back chairs. The enormous dance floor makes a promise of the night to come. Each seat designates it’s owner with a hand lettered name written in gold on a tiny piece of slate. Ornately designed five-piece place settings include gold chargers and cream linens. A marble slab in the center of each table holds the place for a beautiful floral centerpiece. Our delivery truck is outside with 250 arrangements waiting to be placed.
Ainsley approaches us wearing a headset and in full event planner mode.
“Ladies.” Anisley kisses us each on our cheeks. “You look amazing. I just saw the flowers; they’re perfect. I knew you two would pull it off.”
Jessa and I grin at each other. We worked tirelessly on the floral for this event. Ainsley had a vision, but as her best friends, it was up to Jessa and I to turn that lavish dream into a reality. Lucky for Ainsley, Jessa owns our local flower shop and I live to create beautiful things.
“Better change.” Ainsley looks us up and down. “We are on in thirty.”
Three giant floral arrangements that will flank the stage are transported to their locations. Our crew begins the meticulous process of placing centerpieces onto each table. An exceptional amount of care is required when handling our exotic blooms.
When that’s done, I head to the ballroom’s back office where my dress is waiting. I pull on the bright blue Chiffon dress that compliments my currently mahogany colored hair. It’s tight on top, flaring just underneath my bust and stopping halfway down my thighs. I wear it proudly on my curvy body. I pair it with the tallest nude heels I could find, bringing my 5’3 frame up to 5’7 for the evening. My full lips painted with a bright red lipstick completes my look.
Stepping out of the office, I walk confidently to the ballroom. Growing up wealthy in this town meant that there were expectations of conformity at every turn. Leaving that life behind for a life of creativity on my own dime is the best decision I’ve ever made. But tonight, I’m glad to be here as a guest.
Despite what I would have said had you asked me when I was growing up, the Romano family is special. Different from all the other families I grew up around. Some of my favorite memories of the Romano family involve the youngest son, Hunter. We went to school together. Bonded like two peas in a pod, together we took on the world. Neither of us was charmed by the flashy things money can buy. After I left for a new life with my ex, Hunter and I drifted apart. After all, it’s hard to have two leading men in your life. Even though Hunter and I were only ever friends, my romantic relationships were always crowded by his presence. I still get a birthday card from him every year, mailed the old fashioned way and delivered to my parent’s ranch. In turn, I mail a hand painted postcard. I never write a message, but I hope it makes him smile. I do miss our friendship, but at the same time, it seems like a lifetime ago.
My eyes fill with pride when I see my design prominently displayed at the center of each table. Dark green foliage accentuated with fluorescent buds in every shade of pink.
Out of the corner of my eye, a large figure makes its way towards me. A tall, broad shouldered man in a navy tux expertly weaves through the crowd. I can’t look away. His dark hair and olive skin hold me captive. A familiar face on a body I don’t recognize. As he comes into focus, we lock eyes and goosebumps run over my body. His slim, juvenile frame has been replaced with bulky muscles, but it’s unmistakably him. Hunter.
Without the boyish hesitation of the Hunter I once knew, he grins at me.
“Hunter.”
I can’t help but smile as he wraps his arms around me. With my feet dangling off the ground, he kisses my shoulder.
“Juni. God, I’ve missed you.” He put
s me down and keeps his arms around me. The top of my head stopping at his chest, he breathes into my hair. “You’re here. Nobody told me you were coming. You look beautiful.”
I blush. Throughout our friendship, Hunter has always had that effect on me. It didn’t go unnoticed by my boyfriends of the past either. Even though Hunter and I have never been more than friends, every guy I've dated has felt threatened by him. I can understand it. Hunter has always been rich and charming with a short fuse even before his body transformed into the masterpiece I see before me.
“You’re back in town. Are you back at your parents place? I drive by their ranch everyday on my way down the hill.” His questions rapid fire out of his mouth while his smoldering brown eyes burn into mine. Intense feelings of belonging flow through me like waves. He and I have always been connected. Hunter’s intensity hasn’t changed in the ten years since I've seen him, and that makes me so happy.
“I’m back. I’ve been back for a few weeks. But not with my parents. I have a place downtown. You know the little window right above the Blue Moon Bakery on Main Street? That’s my apartment.”
“You live there with the boyfriend, I assume.” He scoffs as he says the word boyfriend, and I can’t blame him. My last boyfriend was wildly jealous. He told me to distance myself from Hunter. And I did it. It was unfair of me.
“No. We broke up. That’s how I got back here.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” Hunter gives me a sarcastic grin that I have come to know all too well over the years. “I hate the thought of you ever having been with him. I can’t think about it.”
“I’m working as a floral designer now. We did the flowers for tonight, and Ainsley invited us to stay for the event. You know we all love your dad.” I watch Hunter’s face watch mine. I feel his stare on every curve of my body.
“You’re still living off of your creativity. That’s incredible. I’ve always loved that about you.” When his mesmerising eyes draw me in, I get lost, just for a second. Hunter is here, standing in front me again. And now he’s sexy.
“What about you? Have you booked any gigs lately?”
“I haven’t. You know how it is. You put it down at some point and then you can’t find a reason to pick it back up.” He shrugs casually. Hunter has forgotten that I know him too well to fall for this. I press him for more.
“Hunter, you should. You’re brilliant. You know, I still remember some of the songs you wrote. How could I forget all the hours we spent in high school? Me, lying on your floor, sketching in my notebook. You, writing the most beautiful music. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to the days when the most important thing was spending time with my best friend and creating art.”
“We can. Come on.” He grabs my hand, pulling me toward him again. Electricity shoots through me. “I’ll grab my guitar and we will leave now,” he remarks, jokingly.
I let my hand linger, entangled with his for a few seconds. He is as charming as I remember. I smile at him. “Don’t you have a pretty important speech to give?”
Hunter looks at me with a seriousness that surprises me. “Nothing is more important than having you back in my world.”
◆◆◆
The energy in the room continues to build. A multi-course menu is served by waiters in all black. Drinks flow as the band covers the classics. Hunter is busy, completely in his element. He shakes hands and works the room like a seasoned pro. But he never loses sight of me. I feel his heavy gaze on me all night.
Ainsley takes the stage, thanking everyone in attendance. Mr. Romano is honored with a slide show highlighting all of the charity work he completed throughout his successful career. Hunter was undoubtedly raised by a good man.
I take my seat near the back of the room and listen intently. Business partners and employees alike take turns recognizing the upstanding character of Mr. Romano. He sits, humbly nodding in appreciation.
My stomach turns as Hunter takes the microphone. Standing on a stage in front of 2,000 of the most privileged people in California’s wine country and not a nerve on his face. He was made for this.
“Many of you know my father,” he begins. “Otherwise security will be seeing you out now.”
The room erupts with laughter. Hunter is a natural.
“A wine empire was built within the walls of this ballroom…” He continues his toast. He compliments his dad and talks about all of the accolades he has earned over the years. Hunter is gorgeous and charming as ever. Every girl in the room just fell in love with him, I’m sure of it.
Fifteen minutes pass as he rounds out his speech. “Dad, I am honored to be your son, to be a part of what you have built. As a father, you have been patient with me. For so many years, all I wanted to do was sit around and play the guitar every day. And look at me now.” Hunter gestures to his tux. Another roar of laughter sweeps the crowd. “I am proud to be carrying on the family business, so thank you for making me put down the guitar.” Hunter concludes his speech by hugging his dad as the audience stands in ovation.
Hunter stands on the stage between his two sisters, Ainsley and Amelia. The next generation of the wine dynasty is perfectly poised and ready to take the reins. And I am thankful for the reminder. Of course I’m not mad at Hunter for his speech. This world is his reality.
For a moment, I had let my guard down. I caught myself thinking that all his musical talent bound tightly by the requirements of the family he was born into is such a waste. That the world will never know his genius. But this image of him brings me back to reality. Hunter belongs here; these are his people. The time he spent devoted to his music was just a detour on his path to this stage.
Hunter is so much like my dad, each having grown up with enormous wealth, privilege, and expectation. The woman who ends up with Hunter will be a woman like my mom, destined for a life on Snob Hill. She’ll spend her days keeping up appearances with proper posture and a practiced smile.
The thought makes me shudder.
Mr. Romano takes the stage. He works the crowd just like his son had moments earlier. Thanking everyone in attendance, he officially brings the party to an end. The older crowd begins to trickle out. The band packs up as the DJ takes over. The Romano family knows how to throw an after party.
Ainsley, Jessa, and I celebrate being together like we are back in college. Drinks fuel our every move as we take over the dance floor. At 31, it's been awhile since we’ve had this kind of night together. We make the most of it. I laugh when a man makes his way toward me, dancing awkwardly. I decide to go with it and move my hips with his to the music.
“That’s enough.” Hunter’s voice roars over the music. Startled, I look around. The guy that was all smiles and dancing with me just seconds earlier stares at Hunter. Hunter's eyes go dark and his body swells with fury. Hunter steps between us, his back to me.
“You need to leave. Now.”
The guy backs away from me. “Chill, dude, we don’t have a problem here.”
My old friend Hunter, with the long gangly limbs, may have gotten a different response. But nobody in their right mind would want to confront this Hunter.
When the guy blends himself into the crowd, I turn and look up at him. “What was that? It’s fine. We were just dancing.”
“I hated the way he looked at you. He was all over you. Touching your body.”
“Hunter. You know you can’t chase them all away. I won’t have anyone to dance with.” I smile at him out of the corner of my mouth. This is not the first time Hunter has overreacted to the sight of me with another man.
He stands still, his eyes dark with envy.
I place a hand on his rock hard chest. “Dance with me,” I whisper. He softens with my touch. I have always known how to bring him back to me.
Hunter slides behind me. His hands dig into my hips as he pulls my body into his. We move with the music. Hunter leans over me. I feel him breathe into my ear. I reach back with both hands, running my fingers down the back of his ne
ck. His hands roam my body. I can feel a bulge twitch beneath his pants as my ass presses between his legs in rhythm with the song.
Hunter takes my hand and leads me into the courtyard. The booming music quiets as the glass doors of the ballroom close behind us.
“Come here.” He wraps me in his suit jacket. We sit together on the fountain’s edge. “You came back. I needed you back.” Hunter turns his body to face mine. His arms envelop me in a tight hug.
I never want him to let go. This is the Hunter I remember—passionate and thoughtful. Nothing like the apathetic man who can’t find a reason to pick up his guitar.
He looks at me and I see a familiar longing. I wonder if he sees it in my eyes too. Before I think myself out of wanting this, I press my lips to his. Adrenaline floods every inch of my body, every inch of me responding to him. A floodgate broken, Hunter devours me. His lips demand mine with a confidence built on years of memories. Time stands still for us. Hunter, leaving me breathless, leaves his mark on me after a lifetime of waiting.
Chapter 3: Hunter
I get into bed with thoughts of Juni. I wasn’t expecting to see her tonight, but once I did, nothing else mattered. Ten years of eroded memories were restored in a single touch of her hand. Ever since I can remember, I’ve wondered what it would be like to have her lips on mine. The taste of her mouth was better than anything I imagined.
She has always been mine, my friend, my partner, my muse. After spending time with her again, I’m wondering if she’s also my future. And if so, how can I convince her to stay?
I wake up the next morning still hard from the memory of her body against mine. Driving down the hill toward Main Street, I picture her cleavage peeking out from underneath her blue dress. The palpable chemistry between us. The fury that coursed through me when I saw another man dancing with her. Stopping in front of the bakery, my eyes find the little window above it. This is where she lives. Even from out here, with its hanging basket of flowers and colorful pinwheels, it looks like Juni.