by Jenn Sable
“Well, Grove has always been a real standup guy like that. Maybe what you need to do is get to know him better, get in on his good side,” I teased.
Scott shook his head and gulped his beer. “Yeah, fuck that.”
He sat his beer glass, crossed his arms, and eyed me curiously. "So, don’t hold out. How did the drive go with Miss Next Door? Did you admit your undying love to your middle-school-to-manhood crush yet, or do I have to hear some more bullshit about her when we're three beers deep?"
I frowned. "I wouldn’t call it undying love.”
Scott slapped both hands down onto the bar, tilted his head back, and laughed. "Nope, just fifteen years of you sneaking glances at the girl next door and then pretending like you're not obsessed with her. Melissa Monroe." Scott picked a drink menu from the bar and used it like a pretend fence to peek over.
I sat down on the barstool beside him and eyed the man I'd been best friends with since the first day of middle school. "If you don’t stop saying her name so loud, I think I might have to kick your ass."
Scott took a swallow of his draft and shrugged. "You can try, but you'll end up embarrassing yourself."
"More embarrassed than from your shouting out how pathetic I am to still be crushing on the same girl since middle school?"
Scott frowned thoughtfully. "That's tough to say. I'm going to go with a maybe."
I chuckled and shook my head. "Why is it within five minutes of being around you, I feel fourteen again?"
Scott grinned mischievously. "You're feeling the effects of being around my energy of eternal youth. My chi, my aura, my masculinity." He held up his beer to clink with mine. "Cheers to being forever young, my friend. It's so good to see you back home for a change. Each time I visited you in frigid-ass Alaska, it took my balls two weeks to fully descend and hang normally."
I nearly choked on my beer.
We both took long gulps, the beer was ice cold, and the atmosphere was relaxed. I miss this. I miss Scott's antics, randomly running into my dad, knowing Mom's just a short drive down the road, turning our house into a fall shrine. And . . . Melissa Monroe.
I set down my beer. "I have to ask you for a solid."
Scott peered over the rim of his beer. "Sure, anything."
"I have to go meet an old rockstar that Sherm Porter sold one of those luxury cabins to at the edge of the forest. Come with me."
Scott glanced over in the direction I'd nodded toward and caught sight of the men. "No fucking way."
I arched my brow. "What happened to sure, anything? It’s a rockstar, come on."
“Because you failed to mention that the damn mayor of Greendale is with them.”
My brows furrowed.
Scott’s eyes slanted back over to the far corner of the restaurant. “Michael Grove, Melissa’s ex-fiancé, is sitting next to your dad.”
*****
Robby Lennox was one hundred percent a rockstar, and Michael Grove was one hundred percent a pompous ass. I’d dragged Scott over to the table with me, and as an act of defiance, he sat farthest away from Grove, which forced me to sit in front of the jerk.
Grove picked up a pitcher of beer, filled up his glass for the third time, and then nodded toward my near-empty glass. “Want a nipple for that beer, or do you want a refill? You’ve been nursing that one beer since you sat down.”
I tried to chuckle, but it ended up sounding like a growl instead. “Thanks, but I’m driving later.”
Grove smirked. “It’s Friday afternoon, you’re home visiting, you’re sitting in a bar with a rockstar and the mayor, and you’re worried about driving later? Good Lord, you’ve been away from society too long to know a good time when it’s staring you in the face.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. How are things going now that you’re mayor?”
Grove smiled and sat his beer onto the table and cracked his knuckles. He loved talking about himself. “It’s great. I mean, it doesn’t pay me shit, not that I don’t have family wealth, but the connections are the real prize.”
“Ah, right. I heard that you were getting on well with some well-to-dos in Greenvale and being highly supportive of their business ventures.”
Grove’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he glanced toward Scott’s end of the table. “Yes, well. The wealthy people are my constituents, too, remember. You know, I was recently introduced to Brian Simms, the CEO of Lyons Medical Works. He's expanding his operation here in Greenvale and needs engineers. See, if you had a few more years of experience, I could have introduced you to him. Maybe if you ever come back this way, I'll be able to help you get a high-paying job because that’s what good connections get you—hookups."
Lyons Medical was expanding?
"How many years of experience are they looking for?"
Grove shrugged. "That operation is top-of-the-line medical equipment, and they don't even look at anybody without at least five to seven years of experience. How many do you have?"
I frowned. "Technically, I have two years of full-time work with the Department of Defense. Before that, I spent four years in active duty for the army and earned an engineering degree from Penn State.”
Grove shook his head. "Yeah, that's not going to cut it. You’d need a few more years of full-time engineering experience. Talk with you again in a few years. Anyway, you’ll get a kick out of this. One of the perks of being mayor is that you become a local celebrity. The Socialite magazine wants me on their next cover; that’s some crazy shit. But the best part isn’t even the exposure; it’s the photographer. Guess who is going to come to do my shoot?”
I placed my hands on my thighs in an attempt to keep from reaching out and choking Grove. “The only photographer I know is Melissa Monroe.”
A slimy smile slid across Grove’s face. “Bingo. My ex, of all people! I figured that you’d guess correctly, growing up on the same street and all.”
“I grew up next door to Melissa.”
Grove nodded, then glanced around. “Right. Anyway, it figures that she’d sprout a decent pair of tits and get an ass after I break up with her.”
I clenched my fists when Grove leaned forward, oblivious that his bullshit didn’t amuse me. I imagined reaching out and taking him by his puny throat to shut him up.
“When I first heard that Melissa worked at the Socialite, I got ready to fire off an email to their editor to say, ‘Don’t you dare send my ex to run my photoshoot.’ Then, I saw her. I was wrapping up a luncheon with some business owners, and Melissa walked out of the Socialite’s building. My fucking jaw hit the pavement. She’s gorgeous!”
I nodded silently. A part of me wanted to shut him up, and another wanted to see Grove for exactly who he was.
Grove tapped the table with his pointer finger. "Anyway, I didn't fire off that email, but I did call the editor. I made sure that Melissa Monroe was going to run my photoshoot."
"Why?"
Grove’s brows shot up, and he opened his arms wide. "Come on, man. I heard she hasn't gone on more than a handful of dates since we broke up. It's obvious that she's not over me."
I gritted my teeth together. It wasn't fair that Melissa had ended up getting hurt by this asshole. What did she ever see in this guy? More importantly, was she over him?
I cracked my neck on both sides. "I don't know about that. I heard she was taking some time to focus on her career. It paid off for her; she's the lead portrait photographer at an up-and-coming magazine."
Grove snickered. "I know that you've been dancing with polar bears for the last two years, dude, but let me fill you in on something. Anytime a woman says that she's focusing on her career after a breakup is complete and utter bullshit. It means that she's secretly pining for her ex to take her back and pick up where they left off."
"So, what are you going to do about it?"
Grove smiled. "Give the woman what she wants."
My brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"
Grove looked exasperated. "I'm going to tell her that we can pick up where
we left off."
I swallowed. "Aren't you engaged and planning to get married in the spring?"
Grove shrugged. "Yeah. It doesn't matter. Kimberly grew up in a household like mine."
I arched a brow. "Meaning?"
Grove slid his fingers up and down his beer glass but failed to meet my eyes. "She knows what to expect. Kimmy wasn't raised by man-hating, old biddies like Melissa. Jesus, Leona and Eve put some fucked-up notions in that girl's head. They confused her by putting too many thoughts and aspirations in her head about her career. Did you know that Melissa wanted to build a photo studio in the backyard of my lakeside property? Give me a fucking break. That’s half a million-dollar view! I’m not sharing that with no-name families and their snot-nosed kids."
Do I have enough time between now and my flight to Scotland to build Melissa’s photo studio? What does a photo studio even look like? Well, I guess I can ask her all about it over a bottle of wine.
Grove chuckled and stared out across the restaurant and shook his head. "Anyway, Kimmy knows that she'll have my last name, that I'll take care of her financially. In return, I expect to be given a long leash to play on. If I want to sniff some other trail around the block, quietly, respectfully, then I'm entitled to it."
I leaned back in my seat and rubbed a hand over my face. “It sounds like you have it all figured out.”
Grove smiled. “I do, Clay, and someday you will, too. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to introduce myself to the cute bartender.”
Chapter 3 – Melissa
Contract in hand, I slid the benefits packet across the desk of Roslyn Winter's secretary. "Hi, Bonnie, here's my completed paperwork and the contract."
Bonnie smirked, tilted back in her chair, and played with one of her hoop earrings. "Thank you, Melissa. People were beginning to wonder about you, even speculate if you were going to pass on the job completely. No one has ever kept Ros waiting this long, and you—"
The dark, walnut office door pulled open abruptly. Ros, dressed in a white designer silk blouse, high-waisted black pants, and bright-red stilettos, walked out. Bonnie sat up straight and immediately organized a stack of papers, but Ros zeroed in her ice-blue eyes on me.
Roz's British accent only accentuated her formal presence. "Melissa, I was just talking about you. Please step into my office and bring that contract with you."
Roz glanced at Bonnie. "Hold my calls until we're finished."
Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
Roz walked back into her office. "Oh, and Melissa, shut the door after you."
I rushed forward and briefly made eye contact with a sympathetic-looking Bonnie before I stepped into Roz's office and closed the door.
Roslyn leaned against her desk, arms crossed, and studied me carefully. "I know why it took you so long to sign this contract."
I coughed. It felt like my windpipe had collapsed in on itself. I thumped the middle of my chest with my closed fist. "Excuse me. Just a tickle in the back of my throat."
Roz pressed away from her desk and poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher that sat on the dry bar. She took my contract and pushed the glass into my hand. "Let's sit down."
Although she looked at me intently from behind her large, white, lacquered desk, I recognized the genuine concern in her eyes. I'd expected Roz to be direct. She was known for it, and assertiveness often served her well in this line of business. However, I wasn't prepared for her concern.
"Ms. Winters."
"Roz, call me Roz."
I smiled and started again. "Roz, I want to start by thanking you for this position. I'm very much looking forward to working with you and with the Socialite staff."
She arched a brow. "Is that so? I heard that you were on the fence about taking this position because of the new mayor."
My stomach twisted. Shit. Who told her?
Roz leaned forward and steepled her fingers. "Is Michael Grove your ex-fiancé, Melissa?
I cleared my throat. "Yes, Michael and I were engaged at one point in time. It was years ago."
She held up two fingers. "Two years ago, I heard. That's not that long ago. And you haven't developed a platonic friendship?"
I chewed at the corner of my mouth but immediately stopped when Roz noticed. "No, we have not. Michael just moved back into the area a few months ago, and we've managed to avoid one another."
"Until now."
I nodded. "Yes, until now."
"I see. Well, it shouldn't shock you that you’re expected to work with him since this magazine focuses on high-profile people in the area. Michael Grove is ripe material for our readership, and he will appear in the Socialite magazine many times over. Do you understand?"
I nervously tucked strands of hair behind my ear. "Yes, absolutely."
Roz tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "But do you know why?"
I sipped at my glass of water before I answered. "Because he's an elected official and a local high-profile person."
Roz laughed. "Because he's hot, Melissa! He's eye candy. I've met with him, and personally, I find him exhausting and his personality lacking. I don't think he knows a thing about his mayoral position, but state senator's sons are able to snatch roles they're not equipped for all of the time. But that doesn't matter; all I care about is what we need him for."
I sat back in my chair. "I'm not exactly following you."
"Michael Grove is going to cause a lot of women to buy our magazine, Melissa. Pictures engage people, which causes them to read our content, which causes advertisers to pay us."
Roz smiled and turned her palms up.
"And that's how this world goes round. So, I need you to photograph this man through the lens of how the people want to see him. They want to see him genuinely smiling and laughing. If there's a serious piece, they want to see the passion in his eyes.
I cleared my throat. "I see."
"Do you? Because I want to be very clear in my assignment to you. Can you work professionally with someone with who you had a personal history?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, I can. I'm not sure how Michael will feel about me taking his pictures, though."
Roz cracked a smile. "Quite well, I think. Once Grove heard I offered you the job, he requested you be his photographer."
I bit down on my bottom lip in order not to curse. "Oh, lovely."
Roz laughed. "Melissa, your work speaks for itself. Over the last few years, you've accumulated pieces that cut to the heart and soul, and that's exactly what I'm looking for. You're just like your mother. Marianne Monroe was able to photograph the hell out of someone."
I sat up taller in my seat. "Yes, yes, she was. She was my first and best photography teacher."
"That is evident." Roz laid her hands flat on her desk.
"Melissa, I'm known for my perfectionism, but that's not really what I'm about. I aim to surround myself with the best team of photographers, designers, and writers possible because that's what makes the best magazine. I believe that you are the best portrait photographer in the whole state. You should know that. Are you positive that you can work with Michael Grove and keep it a hundred percent professional?"
"Yes. I'm sure I can work with him in a professional capacity. No problem."
Roz smiled and smacked her desk. "Good. I'm counting on it." She picked up a thick and beautifully embossed envelope and extended it toward me.
"The county office sent this over yesterday. They were under the impression that you already started working here. I'm thrilled that you are. I'll scan and email you a copy of your signed contract, by the way, now that you finally decided to turn it in."
I smiled sheepishly. "What is this?" I slid my finger under the sealed envelope lid and gently tugged it open.
"That is an invitation to Greenvale's Community Talent Gala."
The yearly event highlighted the community's best businesses, talent, and high achievers. I was baffled and elated to have received an invitation. I had no
idea that Greenvale's people even paid attention to my work since I mostly shot for private clients in Pine Haven.
"You have been nominated in the artist category, which is thrilling and will be a feather in your cap. Any feathers in your cap turn into feathers in mine, too." Roz laughed and pretended to place an invisible feather in an invisible cap on her head.
I laughed, shaking my head. "I’m a little speechless. I had no idea that I was even being considered."
Roz's smile turned smug. "Your work might not be known by the masses, but it is by the wealthy circle you made look amazing. Plus, I'm pretty sure the mayor saw your name on the nomination list and then insisted you be amongst the finalists. You should be aware that if you win, Grove will be the one to present the award."
"Oh." Why the hell is Michael suddenly so interested in my career?
Roz leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. "If I were you, I would walk in on the arm of the hottest man I knew and show up looking like a damn goddess, so even if you don't win an award, you will still win the evening.”
I exhaled and laughed. “That’s actually an excellent idea.”
Roz’s eyes sparkled with fiery interest. “The Community Gala is the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I'll be in attendance as well. All you have to do is show up looking fabulous with your plus one."
"My plus one," I repeated slowly. An image of Clay McCade in a tux offering me one of his bulging arms as we walked into the event almost made me smile. Clay would turn heads. He looked like a refined gladiator with sex-me-silver eyes and a body so tight it made my mouth water. It wasn’t meant to be, though. Clay would already be in Scotland by then.
Maybe I can ask one of Tess’s brothers? She has three of them! Something will work out; it always does.
I shook Roz's hand and walked out, feeling steadier and more confident. I had a new home and an emerging career ahead of me, and I refuse to allow Michael Grove to hold me back one more minute of my life from enjoying every second of the bumpy and sometimes twisted ride.
