by Lucy Lennox
Jumping Jude - Made Marian Book 3 - is in your hot little hands.
Untitled - Made Marian Book 4 - coming January 2017.
Be sure to sign up for the newsletter for release news!
www.LucyLennox.com
Read an Excerpt from Borrowing Blue
Book One in the Made Marian Series
About Borrowing Blue
Blue: When my ex walks into the resort bar with his new husband on his arm, I want nothing more than to prove to him that I’ve moved on. Thankfully, the sexy stranger sitting next to me is more than willing to share a few kisses in the name of revenge. It gets even better when those scorching kisses turn into a night of fiery passion. The only problem? Turns out the stranger’s brother is marrying my sister later this week.
Tristan: I have one rule: no messing with the guests at my vineyard resort. Of course the one exception I make turns out to be the brother of the woman my brother’s about to marry. Now we’re stuck together for a week of wedding activities, and there’s no avoiding the heat burning between us. So fine, we make a deal: one week. One week to enjoy each other’s bodies and get it out of our system. Once the bride and groom say I do and we become family, it’ll all be over between us. Right?
1
Blue
I didn’t sit down at that bar intending to tell a perfect stranger my sorry-ass breakup story, and I sure as hell didn’t expect to tongue-fuck said stranger before the night was over. But when my ex came into the bar all lovey-dovey with a damned twink, I couldn’t help it. Three beers already sloshed in my empty stomach and I was feeling maudlin. There Jeremy sat, holding hands and staring moon-eyed at a young man who can only be described as a Gap model. One of those exotic red-haired ones with freckles that demanded to be highlighted in black-and-white photography. Jeremy himself was as handsome as ever and had a definite sparkle in his eye for the kid who was practically sitting on his lap. Fuck it. Whatever.
I had just arrived at the Alexander Vineyard for my sister’s wedding. A full week of activities that seemed hell-bent on torturing my still-tender heart with romancey shit. After getting my room key, I had made a beeline to the bar to get a buzz on. It was no secret Jeremy would be there since he had been family friends of ours for years even before we started dating. I hadn’t been prepared for him to bring a plus-one though, and when I saw them enter the bar two hours later, I was caught off guard.
Shortly after finishing my first beer, a man sat next to me and ordered a glass of wine. Caught up in my own pity party, I didn’t notice him at first. But when I heard him call the bartender by name, I was intrigued. Who knows a bartender by his first name out here in the middle of the California wine country where the only thing for miles is the winery and attached lodge?
The man next to me was stunning. Probably in his early thirties like I was, maybe a few years older. He had dark hair and a dark shadow of a beard. He had almond-shaped eyes that were a striking light gray, contrasting against his dark coloring in a way that made him look otherworldly. My heart skipped a beat when he turned those eyes on me and raised an eyebrow.
When he opened his mouth to speak, a husky tone came out. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
It was so strange to have those light gray laser beams pointed at me that I almost, for a brief moment, turned to see if he could be talking to someone behind me.
“Not really,” I answered, surprising myself with rude honesty.
The man barked out a laugh and the smoky sound surrounded me, plucking at all my tender spots and leaving them vibrating with a feeling I couldn’t quite describe. I looked at my beer glass as if maybe it contained a stimulant instead of the local IPA I’d ordered.
“If you keep frowning like that, beer is going to start dribbling out of your mouth. Want to talk about it?” the stranger asked in a low voice. He looked a little bit like Stuart Reardon, an English fitness model I knew from work.
I sighed. “I just spotted my ex in the parking lot, so I came in here to drown my sorrows. Typical, pathetic, crying-into-my-beer scenario.”
“Ah. I see. Sorry, man. That sucks.”
“Yes, well, I’m mostly over it, but I just wish we didn’t have to be under the same roof.”
“That makes sense. I’ve been divorced for a few years but any time I run into my ex-wife around my family, I feel everyone’s eyes on us. Even when you’re over it, there are still plenty of shared memories that will always have a hold on you. How long were you together?”
“Three years. Been apart for six months now. I think it’ll be fine, but who knows, really? We haven’t seen each other since the breakup.” I shrugged. “The stupid, immature side of me wishes I’d brought someone so I didn’t feel so lame. I’ve dated a little but haven’t met anyone I liked enough to bring around family.” And now I’m even more depressed because the sexy man at the bar is straight. It figures.
“You wish you could make her squirm a little then? See what she’s been missing?” he said.
“He’s a he, not a she. And I don’t know about squirming. I guess maybe a little. But it’s more I want him to know I’m okay without him. That I’m not pining away and crying in my soup, you know? I get it. My family worries about me being alone. They want me to be happy. But it’s not like I can just produce a life partner out of thin air to make them feel better. I need to get through this week and then I’ll be out of the country for a while with a new job.” I had been given a huge promotion at work that necessitated me moving to London for a few years. My flight was scheduled to leave San Francisco the following Monday.
“I know exactly what you mean. After Sheila and I divorced, my family looked at me for a long time with those pity eyes. Can’t fucking stand that. My brother is the worst. He still keeps trying to set me up on dates. As if I won’t be happy or complete until I find someone like he has.”
I widened my eyes at him. “Exactly. God, your brother and my sister sound like the same person.”
He laughed that smoky laugh. “And my mother still actually tries to get me to reconcile with my ex-wife. As if that would ever happen. No matter how many times I explain to her things were never that great with Sheila to begin with, my mom just tsks and tells me there’s no such thing as a perfect woman. At this point, I really think she’d be happy to see me settle down with anyone. Just so she can stop thinking about it.”
We smiled at each other in understanding.
The stranger reached out a hand to shake mine. “I’m Tristan.”
“Blue. It’s nice to meet you, Tristan,” I said, shaking his hand. At the touch of his rough palm against mine, I felt that crazy fictional zing that people describe in novels. Was that shit for real? Nope, I’d probably been reading too much lately. Clearly it didn’t work since it happened to me with a straight guy.
“Blue? That’s an interesting name. Mind me asking how you came by it?” Tristan asked.
“Well, my name is Bartholomew but my oldest brother couldn’t pronounce it properly when he was little. He ended up calling me Blue. It stuck.”
“I like it. This sounds crazy, but it seems to fit you. Maybe it’s your eyes,” he said, studying my face. He shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Blue. Can I get you another beer?”
“Sure. I should probably eat something though. I came straight here from a crazy day at work in the city and haven’t eaten yet,” I said.
Tristan turned to the bartender. “Hey, Frank, would you get my friend here another beer and order us a couple of burgers with some of those homemade potato chips I like? Thanks,” he said before turning his attention back to me.
“You work in San Francisco?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m in charge of graphic design for some fitness magazines.”
“That sounds interesting. Do you like it?” he asked, looking interested in what I had to say.
“It’s okay. I’ve been feeling a little jaded about it lately, so my boss gave me a huge promotion. I move to London i
n a week. Not sure if it will get my creative juices flowing again, but I appreciate the fresh start.” Man, that sounded depressing. I tried to mitigate it with a smile, but it didn’t seem to work.
Tristan’s eyebrows came together in apparent interest. “What usually gets your creative juices flowing?”
I knew the answer immediately but I hadn’t spoken the words out loud in years. Why not tell this guy? He was a stranger in a bar for god’s sake.
“Sculpture,” I said. One word. One word that might as well have been “heart.”
Tristan’s eyes turned warm and the sides of his lips began to turn up. “Tell me more. What kind of sculpture?”
“Metal mostly. But I like all of it. Wood carving, glassblowing, stone chiseling. I’d probably try ice sculpture if I wasn’t deathly afraid of chainsaws.”
“Are you able to sculpt in the city?” he asked.
“Not really. I sculpted in high school and college but gave it up after Jeremy and I got together. I’ve been thinking about picking it back up and trying again. Not sure there will be space enough when I move to London though,” I confessed.
“Why did you give it up?”
I blew out a breath. “I listened to discouraging words from others. Unfortunately, I was young enough to take them to heart. It’s only been in recent weeks that I’ve looked at the situation through an adult lens. Why in the hell did I let anyone discourage me from expressing a passion?” I shook my head in frustration at the kid I had been ten years earlier.
“We all do that at some point, don’t we?” Tristan supplied, sounding as if he had specific knowledge. I wanted to ask him what passion he had that someone had tried to snuff out in him. Before I had a chance to get the words out, though, I saw Jeremy enter the bar with the twink on his arm.
Jeremy smiled and leaned over to kiss the young man on the mouth. After the kiss, the kid reached up to wipe Jeremy’s lips, and that was when I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. My entire body went cold.
