Sips & Strokes: Love wasn't part of the deal

by Sarah Skye

  When we pull onto the country lane, she turns in her seat. I feel her gaze as I avoid a muddy hole in the gravel road. “You look like an ad for some kind of rugged outdoors store. Model-slash-lumberjack chic.”

  I chuckle and glance at my plaid shirt. “This is the clan Ross hunting tartan, thank you very much.”

  “Oh, sorry, I meant it as a compliment. Not—”

  I reach across the console and lightly grasp her fingers. My thumb runs along her palm, and she stops spluttering. “Stop apologizing all the time, love. To be fair, Oak and Thistle did have it custom made for me, so you’re not at all wrong.”

  “Wow, how nice of them.” She giggles at the name-drop of the high-end men’s fashion store.

  “I thought so. Wore it on a photo shoot for a novel—in an apple orchard, actually. That’s quite literally my only experience with farms of any sort.”

  “I have to assume it wasn’t buttoned then?”

  “Not in the least. Why? Would you like your boyfriend to show up with his shirt open, maybe hanging off one shoulder? Because we can make that happen. Here, take the wheel and I’ll—”

  “Calder, stop.” Her musical laugh rings in my ears and fuels my grin as I park in an open field parking lot. A couple walking past turns at the noise. I can tell they recognize Lily, but she’s too busy laughing to notice.

  She grabs my wrist to stop my undressing process. “You’re so silly. One button open is the proper vibe for this event.”

  “Just let me know if you change your mind. I am at your service today, Professor Lily.”

  “Lucky me.” The soft murmur of her voice makes me cock a brow. Lily flushes a light pink, but she doesn’t blink. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and my cock stirs.

  Keep it PG. Best behavior. Right.

  “Shall we apple pick?” I ask.

  She blinks and nods, the intense look in her eyes dissipating. Shame, really. There was something singularly sexy about this sweet creature worked up, whimpering in my lap as she clawed at my clothes like she—

  PG, Cal. Fake boyfriend. Play your role.

  I wait till Lily opens her door and steps out of the car before giving myself a quick adjustment and rising to join her. We walk across the field and follow the signs that say, “To the orchard!” A little dirt path is leading us toward a barn, but I notice a paved driveway snaking toward a large house off to the right.

  Lily gestures to the house, then the barn. “Normally this place is packed from dawn until dusk every weekend in the fall. Today is the day the Sawyers close for a private event for friends and family. To give you an overview, there will be about forty people total, children included. The major players you have to remember are Marilyn and Edward Maldonado—my parents. Then there’s Marco and Harmony. Harmony’s best friend is—”

  “Brittany.”

  “Oh, right. Of course you’d remember that.”

  I hear the subtext and roll my eyes. “Hell yes I do. Harmony was so drunk she said everyone’s names at least six times in a row, including as she shouted across the pub.”

  Lily laughs softly. “Yeah, it was a lot. So there are going to be a ton of others, but those are the big ones. We’ll have lunch, pick apples, and spend the afternoon drinking cider, etc. Dinner, then hayrides and music, but we can probably make an excuse and get out as soon as dinner is over.”

  “Whatever your pleasure.”

  “Really going to need you to stop making comments like that,” she says between clenched teeth, but I just laugh and take her hand as we approach the cluster of people by the barn.

  They’re chatting and laughing, glasses of club soda and white wine in hand as cater waiters buzz in and out of the building. Most of the men are dressed in khaki with cable knit jumpers tied around their necks. The ladies sport jeans, skirts, and a variety of plaid and wool tops. Lily’s wine-colored skirt and pale blue chambray top are a touch casual, but her knee-high boots ensure she fits right in.

  Her grip on my hand tightens when an older couple turns toward us. Their wide eyes make it clear these are her parents, but I don’t need the hint. Lily is a perfect split of the two of them. She has her mother’s complexion and eye color and her father’s face shape.

  “Anakko!” Her mother’s cry causes a few people to look our way. She thrusts her glass into her husband’s hand and steps forward to place her palms on Lily’s cheeks. Air kisses follow, and then she looks her daughter over. “I’m so happy you made it. And you brought a friend!”

  Lily steps closer to me, so I put my hand on the small of her back. “I said I was, remember? Mom, this is Calder Ross. Calder, meet Marilyn and Edward.”

  “A pleasure.” I kiss Mrs. Maldonado’s knuckles when she offers her hand, and then reach to shake with her dad.

  Marilyn’s gaze appraises me from top to bottom before perfectly-drawn-on eyebrows arch. “My, my. Good to meet you, Calder. Yes, Lily, you said you were bringing someone, but I didn’t know if that was for sure or not.”

  Wow. Way to accuse your daughter of lying without actually saying it.

  Lily flinches. A long blink and deep breath later, she pastes on a smile. “I wouldn’t just make a boyfriend up, Mom. Come on.”

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I didn’t say you made him up! I just wasn’t sure if he would be available today.”

  Smooth, lady.

  Her eyes flick over me again as her smile turns warmer. “But we are just so very happy to have you with us. Do you like picking apples, Calder?”

  “Have very limited experience in it, to tell the truth.”

  Beside me, Lily coughs to hide a laugh. A bell rings, and the crowd begins to drift into the barn. Long tables are decorated in gingham, with a buffet of sandwiches and picnic foods in the corner. We fill our plates and find our seats. As lunch progresses, the Maldonados interrogate me about being a model, about Scotland, and about how Lily and I met. I give them the stories we sorted out via text yesterday while my arm remains draped around Lily’s shoulders. We’re doing much better with the couple vibe today, I’m pretty sure, but Lily is quiet yet again.

  As Edward is telling me about his years in corporate law, a flurry at the door catches everyone’s attention. Two people, a dark-haired bloke and a blonde I instantly recognize as Harmony, appear and, I swear, the room applauds. They laugh and wave at everyone as they hurry to the two empty chairs a few seats away from us. I take a deep breath and put my gaze on my plate. Everyone else in the room is staring at the flushed and smiling couple, but I give not one fuck. Lily’s shoulders stiffen under my arm, so I give her a reassuring squeeze.

  “Sorry we’re late, everyone,” the guy who must be Marco says.

  “Yeah, we, um… slept late this morning.” Harmony giggles, and a chorus of indulgent laughter ensues.

  “Those two.” Marilyn chuckles, trying to catch my eye.

  I arch a brow and shrug. I will not wink and nod about the fact that they practically smell of sex, especially not with Lily frozen in her seat.

  Take your cue, mate. I turn to her and narrow my eyes playfully. “I’m glad you put on a double alarm this morning so we didn’t have to make a scene, too. I know I was hard to drag out of bed, but much better than showing up late, hmm?”

  Relief floods her eyes, but she nods and smiles. “You were so grumpy, I didn’t know if you’d forgive me.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll forgive you good and proper next weekend.”

  I wink, but Lily cringes. Across the table, her mom murmurs an, “oh, my!”

  Too far. “Breakfast in bed it’ll be,” I amend, and Lily bites her lips to keep from laughing.

  She leans forward and dusts a kiss on my lips. “Sounds great.”

  When I glance back at the Maldonados, they’re both beaming at us. I take it as a win, especially since the rest of the table is laser-focused on Marco and Harmony.

  “Oh, my god, Lily hi!” Harmony waves suddenly, drawing her fiancé’s attention toward us as well. “
You brought your boyfriend! Hi again—sorry, I don’t remember your name. I’m Harmony.”

  “Yes, I remember. It’s Calder.”

  She eyes me and shakes her head once. “Damn,” she breathes before addressing Lily again. “I’m so happy you came today! I was hoping to see you. Will you be able to come to the pregame party the night before the rehearsal dinner? Both of you, of course.”

  “Thursday night? Um, we’ll see. I teach class that day, so maybe not.”

  Harmony pouts. “Try to, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Marco has been eyeing me the whole time. “Hey, sorry bro, what was your name?”

  “Calder. Yours?” Bro.

  “Marco Woodruff.”

  “Cheers.”

  “He’s English,” Harmony explains to her fiancé.

  “Scottish, actually,” Lily jumps in. She lays a hand on my arm. “There’s a difference.”

  “My bad!” Harmony giggles.

  “No worries.” I shrug.

  A waiter brings the couple a pair of plates, and Lily and I sink back in our chairs. We trade a glance that I think is a shared “ugh,” but she may be thinking something entirely different. Ugh best sums up my thoughts, but I’m certain that has a lot to do with finally having a face to her ex’s name. The prick is too oily and smug for Lily. That much I could tell just by looking at him. He’s all about the image, calling me bro and wearing those designer sunglasses on his head. No way does creative, funny Lily belong with a wanker who—

  “Apple time. Come on.” Lily tugs my sleeve and crashes me out of my mental tirade.

  She rises, but I just turn in my chair and face her. I need to see her smile, so I quirk a brow and reach for my shirt buttons. “Apple picking? Right, I know how to do this part. Just let me—”

  Harmony, Marco, and the rest of the table turn and stare when Lily bursts out laughing. Can’t blame them—it really is a fucking musical sound. She claps a hand over her mouth and then drags me out of the seat. I happily let her make a scene as I obediently follow her out of the barn.

  “That was a brilliant show,” she says once I’m holding a basket and we’re wandering in the orchard, away from anyone’s earshot. “I mean, you almost made me blush so hard my face melted with that ‘I’ll forgive you’ part, but otherwise well done. Good recovery, too, by the way.”

  I indulge in a brief fantasy of rolling across my bed with Lily as the morning sun streams in the windows, then file it away for later and grin. “Our farce coupledom is definitely stronger today, innit? Sorry about that line, I’ll be more careful about the PG rating for the rest, I swear. I tend to forget since my family has practically made bawdy jokes an art form.”

  Her smile stops showing her teeth, but Lily nods quickly. She swallows hard and drifts toward a tree. “We’re really in the act today, I’d say. So, do you have a big family?”

  Her question is meant to distract me, I can tell. It doesn’t work, but I oblige the chit chat and tell her a bit about Mum, Dad, and Lucy. She’s curious and envious that I have a sister. I laugh and make it sound far more like a burden than being a brother actually is, and by then Lily’s shoulders are lowered and her real smile has returned.

  Several hours of the afternoon pass in the orchard. We interact with people here and there, but a lot of the time we’re on our own, filling a basket and just talking. Art dominates our chat; I’m fascinated by what she knows and what she’s studied. I ask a lot of questions about her creative process. She talks freely, lighting up the more she describes sculpting and teaching. By the time we’re headed out of the orchard with an overflowing basket, I’m grinning as she describes her first art class. The model fell asleep halfway through the hour, and she had a room full of students and no clue what to do.

  But then, up ahead of us, is a too-familiar pair. Marco has the apple basket on one arm while he checks his phone. Harmony is talking, but I don’t get the impression from their body language that she’s expecting him to really listen. They both look up as we approach.

  Lily cuts off her story. “Hey, guys,” she murmurs.

  “Hey, how are you guys? Lily, I meant to say, I love your boots, and that skirt is too cute!” Harmony flashes a wide smile that seems to be completely genuine, then keeps gushing over Lily’s clothes, the beautiful weather, the apples, etc.

  But it’s Marco I have my eye on. He too eyes Lily’s clothes, and the way he does it makes me clench my fist. I’m a guy; I know the difference between a curious glance and a leery appraisal. He’s quick and artfully subtle, clearly well-practiced, but the way he looks at her is anything but neutral.

  Marco puts his arm around Harmony and gives her shoulder a little squeeze. She instantly stops talking as he fixes a little smile on his face. “Get a good haul?” he asks.

  I hold up the basket and nod. We fall into step with them as we head back to the barn.

  “Lily says you’re a model, is that right? Would I know any of your work?” Marco’s question to me is, again, well-practiced. His tone is casual, but the undercurrent of challenge is there, no doubt.

  “You might, if you shop high end. Or if you wear Max Weller underwear.”

  “I do both, actually,” he says before I’m done speaking.

  “Or if you read romance novels.”

  All three of us look at Lily. She blinks but then smirks. “Cal’s been on the cover of practically every bestseller for the past three years.”

  “OMG, for real? Like what?” Harmony’s eyes are huge.

  She literally just said omg. I rattle off a few titles that pop into my head. Her jaw unhinges.

  “I have, like, every one of those books in my house. Oh my god, I have to go look at them as soon as I get home! That’s you?”

  Marco clearly isn’t enjoying this conversation. He drops his arm from her shoulders and eyes me again. “Lily said you were into art. I was going to ask if you’ve ever gone to an auction or own any—”

  “Auction? Sure. I’m particular to Ansel Adams-style photography, the stark black and white aesthetic. But then again, art is everywhere, right? Cars are a special medium for me. I like the art deco Italian models from the post-war era.”

  He quirks a brow. The bloke is transparent as glass; he wants to pin me as a sham, and he can’t. He has two choices: keep up the dick measuring contest, or let it go.

  “We’ll have to talk about cars sometime, then. I’m always curious about good investments.”

  “No shit.” Only I hear Lily’s breathed reply, but it’s so icy that I jolt toward her.

  “You alright, love?” I bend down and peck her cheek. Marco turns away and leads Harmony on toward the barn.

  She shrugs. “Fine.”

  Well, that’s a clear lie. I set my jaw and let her guide us back to the party, several paces behind the other couple.

  On our walk, the sound of a car engine revving captures my attention. I turn around and see a Mini Cooper speed into the parking lot and slide into an open slot. A petite woman with curly black hair and thick-rimmed glasses, wearing what looks like a knit blanket as a shirt, pops out. She trots over in our direction, talking loudly on the phone.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lily perk up. She rushes over to the noisy, tiny lady. “Auntie Mayla!” she squeals.

  The woman frowns with her phone still at her ear, but when she spots Lily, she beams. “Never mind, call me later with this nonsense. I just saw my favorite niece and I need to hug her.”

  “Nakkong!” She shoves the phone in the giant purse she’s carrying in the crook of her elbow and holds her arms wide, pulling Lily into an embrace. It’s a few seconds before they part. I hang back. This is a sweet moment, and I don’t want to interrupt.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Lily says, grinning wide.

  “My mahjong game got canceled, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello. Your mom’s going to be so mad.” Her head falls back as she laughs, which makes me chuckle.

  As she and Lily
chat, I notice that she’s got the same physical features as Lily’s mom, minus the pinched expression. With her comfy style and loud laugh, she’s a more relaxed version of uptight Marilyn. I like her instantly.

  Lily turns and starts to introduce me, but before she can, Marylin marches over.

  “Manang Mayla. What are you doing here?”

  Even though her tone is pleasant, I can tell by her pursed lips and crossed arms she’s not happy to see her. Mayla pulls her into a hug. Marilyn keeps her arms straight at her sides, almost like she’s resisting the embrace. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh.

  Marilyn pulls away and starts to grumble something about having to change the seating arrangement for dinner to accommodate Mayla’s unexpected appearance, but Mayla waves a hand in the air.

  “For god’s sake, this isn’t the royal wedding. It’s dinner in a barn.” She pats Marilyn on the arm and then walks toward said barn. A group of people waves at her. “Where’s the hard cider?” Mayla hollers.

  Lily turns to me. “That’s my mom’s older sister, Mayla. She’s the exact opposite of her in every way. Fun-loving. Outspoken. Nonjudgmental. While Mom is all about status and image and high-end everything, Auntie Mayla lives happily and modestly so she can travel all over the world after she retired from working as a nurse practitioner. Promise I’ll introduce you to her later,” she says.

  “Can’t wait.”

  Dinner is a more formal affair. The barn has been lit with fairy lights, the gingham replaced by white linen tablecloths. We’re served a plated dinner. Meanwhile, the side dish is Marilyn’s ideas for Lily’s outfit for the wedding.