AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chill enough that no one would suspect. But also intimate and conspiratorial enough, she knows I’m not ignoring her or acting like a douche or pretending last night didn’t happen.
Perfect.
Still, Summer has gone all stiff on me and is glaring harder than ever. Her taut lips open only to mutter a strained, “See you around.” And then she’s off walking toward the resort, leaving me with a nice view of her indignant behind strolling away. Aaand… strike three on things I shouldn’t think about while wearing yoga pants.
Ah, the woman is a real riddle. I thought we’d broken the ice last night, hell, melted a whole glacier. First with her opening up to me about her past, and then with the mind-bending sex that followed.
But it looks like I still have some work cut out for me. And where would the fun be otherwise? I’ve always enjoyed a challenge. But not on an empty stomach, as a loud grumble kindly reminds me. Ready to hit that buffet, I hop off the three wooden steps of the cabana and head inside.
The breakfast hall is wide and airy; the far-back wall is entirely made of floor-to-ceiling windows and overlooks the vineyards. In the morning light, the view is stunning. Orderly rows of vines stretch beyond the horizon and disappear behind a hill to reappear over the next crest. Roses blossom at the head of each row. And the sky is a glorious blue without a cloud in sight.
Someone shoulder-bumps into me. “Nice, huh?”
I turn to find my best friend and groom extraordinaire standing next to me, a plate filled to the brim with French toast in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Logan is rocking the nerdy-but-hot professor look: messy dark hair, green eyes hidden behind black-rimmed computer glasses he doesn’t need but insists on wearing when not on a trip, a white dress shirt, and chinos. If this weren’t his wedding, he’d be a great wingman, as he’s proved on many past occasions. Good thing I’m already all set in the women’s department for the week.
“Logie Bear.” I give him a friendly slap on the shoulder.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Are you coming wine tasting dressed like this?”
Ah, yes, I’d forgotten about the week of meticulously planned “fun” the wedding party is supposed to have.
“No worries, man. I’ll grab a quick breakfast and then I’ll go get changed.”
“Why don’t you join me and Winter? We snatched a window table and there’s still room.”
“Great, let me get some food first and I’ll be right there.”
In a corner of the room, long, rectangular wooden tables covered by white cloths offer a vast assortment of breakfast treats both sweet and savory. I keep it simple and opt for a classic, piling a plate with blueberry pancakes. To complete the meal, I order a cappuccino at the bar and go join Winter and Logan at their table.
The soon-to-be Mrs. Spencer salutes me with a scowl frighteningly similar to that of her twin, even if the differences between the two sisters couldn’t be more staggering. A short but intense acquaintance with Summer and a long friendship with Winter make me enough of an expert to pick them apart with my eyes blindfolded.
Winter is all about casual clothes, messy curls, and chewed-up nails. Whereas Summer keeps her hair straightened to death, is primpy to the bone even while wearing gym sweats, and has perfectly manicured nails. I shiver as I feel the phantom of their scratch running down my back.
Note to self: never wear yoga pants on this trip again. I quickly take the chair next to Winter to avoid a scandal.
“Oh, look who decided to show up,” she greets me.
Guess I deserved this jab.
“Come on, Snowflake.” I make doe-y eyes at her. “You know you can’t stay mad at me.”
The bride-to-be pouts.
“If you smile, I’ll tell you about that time Logan and I went to Jordan.”
“Man, not that story.” Logan groans and gets up, saying, “I want some extra cinnamon; you guys need anything?”
We both shake our heads, so Logan goes.
Once he’s a few steps away, I bat my lashes at Winter. “Are you still mad?”
She’s about to crack, when Tucker joins the table, showing an even more pronounced sour-pussy attitude and ruining all my hard work in mollifying the bride-to-be.
“Good to see you aren’t dead,” he says in place of hello.
I study him. Curly brown hair, big brown eyes, trustworthy face. Dressed in a polo shirt and short cargo pants, he’s the personification of a good boy. Guess he could do as a replacement wingman now that Logan is permanently out of the fray. We’ll see.
“Guys, relax,” I say, defending myself. “I missedonemeeting, you don’t need to get all touchy-feely on me.”
