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Chapter 1
Hope shifted uncomfortably on the high barstool, feeling the beads of sweat slithering down the center of her back, under her sage green, chiffon dress. The Californian summer sun hit her freckled skin through the gaps in the shade that the large oak tree supplied. The ocean breeze was too light to be of any help, and she hoped she didn’t have wet circles showing under her arms. Her cheeks flushed deeper as she looked at the bartender.
His toothpaste ad smile made him look approachable, yet she could almost feel him eye roll when her mouth kept going all by itself, as if she had lost control over her tongue, despite having only one drink.
“You can also try reverse spherification. The long molecules in the surfactants won’t be attracted by the water, so they’ll …” Shut up,she rebuked herself, but her mouth kept going. “You’ll get a really nice, festive foam sitting on top of the cocktail.” Shut. Up. “It’s not as pretty as the spheres, but … Of course, you don’t have to use either; these cocktails are really good as they are. It’s just that spherification, or any chemical … Anyway … yeah …” She finally managed to stop.
“Interesting. Thanks. I might try it,” Josh said with another smile while smoothing a cloth over the bar’s spotless, shiny surface.
Hope could tell it was a fake one.
She didn’t know if he had even heard her over the music that played in the background and the chatter of the wedding guests that accumulated on the lawn. What she knew for sure was that, by now, Josh, who had given her a cute smirk when she had first sat down at this long beach bar built especially for the Delaneys’ backyard wedding, reacted to her as if she was the water and he the molecules that would never be attracted to it.
She shifted on her seat again, feeling the weight of another set of eyes—those of the man two bar stools to her left. She had side-eyed him a couple of times before and had noticed the amused little grin on his face as he eavesdropped on her one-sided flirt with the bartender while pretending to be engulfed in his phone.
If one could call her going on endlessly about chemistry “flirting.”
She slid off the chair to stand up, the heels of her beige pumps penetrating the flawless lawn. “Anyway, thanks for the mimosa. If you ever do want to try it, surfactants can be produced from egg whites, or soy lecithin, if you’re worried about vegans or aftertaste, and you can also—”
“Can I get another one, please?” the man to her left cut her off, addressing Josh and pointing at his empty glass.
Hope used the opportunity to look at him and wished she hadn’t. Catching the full sight of him made her swallow.
He returned her gaze with a little smirk. His light brown hair was short on the sides and slightly wavier on top, making him look like a Hemsworth sibling. From where she stood, his eyes were the color of bourbon, and his white, button-down shirt, that was cuffed at his elbows, accentuated his tan, as well as the broad shoulders and biceps that filled it and seemed to cord under the fabric. Even sitting down, he looked tall, big.
“Sure thing,” Josh replied, grabbing an amber bottle. “Have a good one,” he addressed her nonchalantly with a half-hearted nod.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning to leave and go look for Libby, surreptitiously pulling her heels out of the grass.
What was she thinking? First of all, Josh was probably ten years younger than her. And she wasn’t keen anymore, as her younger self used to be, on that hot, surfer look of his with that long, sandy blond hair. Reluctantly, she had to admit that that otherman, who looked about her age—she could tell from the lines around his eyes—was even hotter.
Secondly, she had always been flirting-illiterate, and now especially. She hadn’t gone out or flirted with anyone in years. Even with Eric, he had done all the flirting, and that had been over a decade ago. He was remarried now, and here she was, trying to flex a muscle that she rarely practiced.
Hope tugged at the waistline of her dress, pretty sure the liner of her body shaper, which felt more like sausage casing in this heat, was detectable through the fabric.
A few steps away from the bar, she felt a soft hand on her arm and lifted her head.
“Libby!”
“Hey, sweetie. Having a good time?”
“Lib, do you think virginity can just grow back after you haven’t … you know?”
Libby laughed as they crossed the lawn. “Why? What happened?”
Hope sighed, relieved to be with her best friend. “It’s all your fault, really. You got that idea into my head that Josh was cute and single, and there he was, tending bar, and I went to get a drink, and … you know how you know you should shut up, but you just can’t stop yourself from speaking, because you’re already embarrassed about talking so much, so you try to cover it up by talking even more? Yeah, that was me now. And the worst part was that this guy was sitting there, looking all amused about it. It made me go on and on even more.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. Luke’s family kept me and since it’s his sister’s wedding—”
“No, no, don’t be. I’m so happy for you!” They were heading toward the rows of white wooden chairs that were facing the flower-covered canopy, and Hope stopped and turned to face Libby. “Luke is amazing and, of course, the Delaneys wanted to welcome you after all this time apart. I’m so happy for you!”
They hugged, careful not to smudge their dresses with makeup.
“Don’t mind me,” Hope continued when they let go of each other. “I was just kidding when I said it was your fault. I’m just not ready yet.”
Libby smiled. “I think you’re more ready now than you’ve been in the last two years. So, baby steps?”
“Baby steps, hoping I won’t crash on my ass.”
