Page 1

A breeze off the Pacific blew Lydia Alexander’s shoulder-length, deep mahogany hair into her face as she leaned forward to set her glass on the small, black iron table topped with blue and white tile so she could tuck her hair behind her ears. Her dark eyes drifted over the modest crowd milling about the sweeping, terra cotta-tiled balcony that harkened to Santa Barbara’s missionary past as she reclaimed her glass and settled back against the comfortable, overstuffed cushions of the outdoor sofa, a quiet joy blooming in her chest as she soaked in the relaxed, cheerful vibe.

It was exactly what a weeklong wedding celebration deserved.

Movement in her periphery drew her attention from the view, and she smiled when her eyes landed on the women who were the reason she was going to be spending the second week of March enjoying California’s temperate climate instead of suffering through the early-spring blizzard that was currently pummeling New York.

She had honestly given up on the idea of finding her own happily ever after, but seeing the unadulterated happiness radiating from Eve and Aspen as they made their way hand-in-hand around the balcony, greeting their wedding guests, made the quiet optimist inside her hope that, someday, she might be so lucky.

After witnessing the birth of Eve and Aspen’s whirlwind romance, she hadn’t been at all surprised when Eve had called from London at the end of last April to tell her that Aspen had proposed. Hell, with the way they’d fallen for each other so hard and so, so quickly, she had been more surprised that Aspen’d had the patience to wait that long before she put a ring on it.

She had half-expected them to come home from Europe already married, and when that didn’t happen, she thought for sure they’d go for a short engagement before tying the knot in a small ceremony somewhere closer to home. She’d been wrong on both counts, but she had to admit that an intimate, early-spring destination wedding was perfect for them.

They both loved the outdoors—Aspen, especially—and Southern California was particularly beautiful in the spring.

And the location?

Breathtaking.

Stirling Ranch occupied twenty-two acres along the coast just south of Santa Barbara, with private access to Monarch Beach, miles of hiking trails, and a multi-million-dollar view. The resort had been an iconic retreat for Hollywood elites since it’d opened its doors in the mid-1930s, and the property’s thirty-two guest cottages that were tucked into intimate groves of palms, sage, and banana plants booked out years in advance.

She lifted her wine glass in a silent toast when Eve’s eyes found hers from across the balcony, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Aspen positively melted when Eve dropped a tender kiss to her lips before leaving her to chat with the posh, stylish couple they’d been talking to while she headed her way.

God, they’re adorable.

She held her glass to the side as she stood to greet Eve with a light hug and a kiss to the cheek. “You look radiant.”

Eve smiled as she gestured for her to sit. “I’m exhausted. But thank you.”

“Everything okay?” Lydia asked, cradling her half-empty glass in front of her chest as she sat, tucking her right leg under herself and half-turned in her seat to face her friend. “When we spoke last week, it sounded like the wedding planner had everything sorted?”

“Yeah. No. She does.” Eve shook her head. “It’s ridiculous how organized she is. It’s just been a lot of running around and getting things sorted to basically fuck off from our lives for like a month.”

Lydia nodded. She had secretly worried that Eve and Aspen’s plan to spend the week leading up to their nuptials celebrating with their friends before promptly leaving for a three-week honeymoon in New Zealand had been a tad ambitious, but had written those concerns off as her being too enmeshed in the corporate world. Eve and Aspen’s careers allowed them the freedom to take months off at a time if they wanted, after all, so why shouldn’t they? Plus, they were still dealing with a metric fuckton of shit from Eve’s parents, who had returned the wedding invitation they’d been sent unopened, and she hadn’t wanted to do or say anything that would cast another shadow over their big day.

She reached out and gave Eve’s wrist a light squeeze. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” Eve sighed. “Thank you. It’s fine. I just need to sleep.”

“Sleep?” Lydia nudged Eve with her elbow and waggled her eyebrows. “Personally, I find that a good fuck helps so much more. Y’know, work out all that tension.”

The speed at which Eve’s expression shifted from tired to shocked to affectionately amused was honestly impressive, and she shook her head as she muttered, “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Lydia cackled. “You do that.” She patted Eve’s leg and, in a bid to keep their conversation light, gestured toward their surroundings with her glass. “For real, though. How in the world were you able to reserve this place?”

Eve chuckled and turned to rest her arm on the back of the loveseat. Her entire posture relaxed as she took a moment to let her gaze sweep over the view. “You really like it?”

“God no.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “I mean, it’s only fucking spectacular.”

“Right?” Eve smiled. “Aspen’s great-great-grandfather went to Yale with Augustus Stirling, who built this place, so the Stirlings are old family friends.” She pointed to where Aspen was still chatting with the same people Eve had slipped away from. “She grew up with Stella and Steven, who run the place now, and when they heard that we wanted an early-spring wedding but were looking to do it someplace warmer than Colorado, they pretty much insisted we do it here.”

So, not a couple, Lydia thought as she reappraised the pretty brunette talking to Aspen. It’d been far too long since she’d last gotten laid, and tall, beautiful brunettes were her precise brand of catnip. “That’s one hell of a connection.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

Lydia sipped at her wine as she nodded, and then nearly choked on her drink when a stunning woman with long, dark hair in a pair of sinfully tight jeans and a black leather jacket over a fitted white tee stopped in the doorway to the balcony. Backlit by the lights of the house behind her, the woman looked like a fucking goddess surveying her domain.

Forget Stella; she needed to meet this gorgeous creature.

Like, immediately.