by Lacey Black
Mrs. Gibson will come over each evening I’m away and check on Annabelle. She’ll also collect my mail and water my flowers and houseplants too. As far as neighbors go, she’s perfect. She barely makes a peep and likes to bake, which means I randomly receive fresh baked goods, like muffins, breads, and pies. Her apple pie with caramel drizzle is my favorite.
I walk to the house on my left and knock on the bright blue door. “Come in, dear!” Mrs. Gibson bellows from her glider in the living room.
Stepping inside, I’m instantly assaulted by the scent of homemade cookies. “Something smells amazing,” I comment, shutting the door behind me.
“I made you a little goodie bag for the trip,” the older woman states with a smile.
“You didn’t have to do that. I’m only going to Seattle.”
She tsks and waves off my comment. “Even a two-hour road trip requires a good snack, dear.”
I can’t argue with her there. “Well, I appreciate it. You have my key, right?”
“Of course I do. It’s on my key holder in the utility room. I’ll be sure to check on your Annabelle each night,” Mrs. Gibson replies as she gets up from her chair and walks to the kitchen. I follow, mostly because I know what she’s getting.
“I hope you kept some of the cookies for yourself,” I state when I spy the small container of fresh cookies.
“I did, dear. Plus, I took a dozen to the women’s group at the church just a bit ago. We enjoyed them with our morning Bible class.”
I can’t help but grin. Mrs. Gibson participates in two different church groups, one that organizes several bake sales throughout the year. “I’m sure they loved them, as will I. I appreciate the cookies and your help with Annabelle.”
She waves off my comment and reaches for the teakettle. “I don’t mind at all. I might even take some of the extra cookies over to that nice young man on the other side of you. He’s such a looker, you know.” She glances over her shoulder and winks.
A familiar blush creeps up my neck, causing me to turn away. “I should probably get on the road. Thank you again for the treats for the trip,” I say, completely ignoring her comment about Theo.
Mrs. Gibson just gives me a knowing smile and holds out the container. “You be safe. We’ll see you Sunday.”
She follows me to her front door. “You know, I wish you would have let me set you up with my grandson, Doug. Weddings are such a wonderful, romantic event. You shouldn’t go alone.”
I reach for the handle and pull open the door. “I don’t mind. I’m going to be so busy as a bridesmaid. I would just have to leave a date to his own accord most of the time,” I reason, pasting on a bright smile. One that hopefully hides the bolt of longing that sweeps through my veins.
“But the dancing,” she says, her eyes misting with unshed tears. “That’s the best part of weddings, dear. Emmitt was a brilliant dancer.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I wish I could have met him.”
She quickly sniffles and straightens her back. “He would have loved you. That nice young man on the other side of you too. Did you know he helped me last week when my cabinet door fell off the hinges? Doug was on call at the hospital and unable to come help right away, so I phoned that strapping man two doors down. I tried to pay him for his time, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I sent him home with a fresh blueberry pie instead.”
Even though Theo drives me bonkers most days, I’m grateful he was able to help Mrs. Gibson when she needed it. At least the noisemaking, cat-stealer isn’t mean to old ladies too.
Okay, fine.
I know he didn’t really steal my cat.
I very well could have left the screened door slightly ajar, allowing her just enough room to slip out undetected.
“I should hit the road. How about we have tea and catch up when I return?”
Mrs. Gibson holds the door open for me. “That would be lovely, dear. Have a wonderful trip. Make sure you find a strapping young man there and dance at least once, for me.”
I flash her an appeasing smile. “I will.”
Nodding, she steps back and allows me to exit. I throw her a quick wave and head for my driveway, fresh cookies in hand. I do admit I can’t wait to dive into the container. As soon as my butt hits the seat, I buckle the seat belt and reach for a cookie.
Just one for the road, right?
Right.
***
I pull up to the hotel and smile. The location of Trevor and Teagan’s wedding reception is stunning, with lush flower gardens and ornate sculptures. I stop beneath the canopy and slip from the driver’s seat, stretching my back. I retrieve my purse from the passenger seat and step inside the gorgeous hotel.
There’s a short line at the check-in counter, so I take the opportunity to review my messages. The first text is from Teagan, wishing me a safe trip and reminding me to text when I arrive. I fire off a quick reply before checking my second message. This one’s from Shannon.
Shannon: Do you know how long a two-hour car ride feels like it takes when you have three four-year-olds and a mother who won’t shut up the entire trip?
A giggle slips from my mouth. Shannon and Aaron decided to bring their triplets with them for the weekend, as well as her mother to help watch them. To say this is going to be interesting is an understatement. It’s also the reason I didn’t ride with them to Seattle. It would have been too cramped in Shannon’s minivan, with not enough space for all the luggage.
Me: I bet it feels like an eternity. But just think, in just a few short hours, we’ll be having margaritas and playing putt-putt golf.
Shannon: I can’t wait. It’s been too long since we’ve had all eight of us together.
A ping of nostalgia sweeps in. The last time all eight of us were together was two years ago when Elle and Jordan got married. Over the years, our group of friends has spread out for work or relationships, getting married in different parts of the country and establishing homes. Having families.
Me: Agreed. See you in a bit.
Shannon: We haven’t been on the road long and already have had to stop. Text me your room number. Let’s hope we’re close.
I want to reply that I doubt it. I booked a regular room, while Shannon and her family opted for a two-bedroom suite with an extra pull-out couch to fit their small clan.
The line slowly moves forward, so I take a quick moment to check my email. The first email I see is the digital version of Teagan’s agenda. First up is the girls’ putt-putt night, complete with pre-golf dinner at a local restaurant. According to the email, we’re meeting in the hotel lobby at five fifteen. That gives me right around three hours to unpack, hang my dress to let the wrinkles fall, and rest before the evening.
I’m actually really looking forward to a little calm before the impending storm.
Not that I expect anything to go wrong, but because I know we’ll be busy the entire time.
“Excuse me, but the line is moving forward.”
My eyes glance up from the phone screen, and I realize, yes, the line has moved up and it’s now my turn to check in but that’s not what really grabs my attention. It’s the voice. The deep, smooth voice I’m all too familiar with.
I whip around and come face-to-face with Theo, my neighbor.
“What are you doing here?”
Theo flashes me that sexy smile I’ve become accustomed to as he answers, “I’m here for a wedding.”
“A wedding?” What are the odds of there being two weddings this weekend at this very hotel?
“Yeah, my brother is getting married on Saturday,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking way too yummy in a long-sleeved T-shirt and worn, dark jeans.
“Your brother?”
He chuckles. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
My mind is reeling.
Emerson?
As in the Emerson-Walters wedding?
The same wedding
I’m here for. Theo’s related to the groom? Holy shit, how did I not realize this beforehand?
A voice clears in front of me. “If you’re ready, miss, we’ll get you checked in,” the pleasant man with the name Mario on his nametag says with a small smile.
I step forward, my mind spinning, and set my purse on the counter. “Penelope Shaw. I have a reservation for the Emerson-Walters wedding.”
The man clicks on the keyboard before replying, “Ah, yes, Miss Shaw. I have you in a room with a king-sized bed.”
“That’s perfect,” I reply automatically, pulling my credit card from my wallet, yet still trying to process this new twist.
“Your card and receipt.” Mario slides both across the counter for me. “Your room is number 614. The elevators over there will take you up to the sixth floor. You can use the large parking lot in the back, the exit door with the big two over it will get you closest to the elevators. You’ll need the keycard to access all doors except the front.”
“Thank you, Mario,” I reply, taking the single keycard from the counter and slipping it into my purse.
“Enjoy your stay.”
I flash him a quick smile and step back, allowing Theo to step forward.
“Good afternoon, sir. Checking in?”
“I am. Theo Emerson,” he starts, holding me gaze as he adds, “Here for the Emerson-Walters wedding.”
I still can’t believe it. My friend Teagan is marrying Theo’s brother. My annoying, frustrating, albeit completely gorgeous, neighbor is here. Staying at the same hotel.
My trip just got a whole lot more complicated.
Chapter Ten
Theo
Well, talk about a plot twist I didn’t see coming.
I can feel Penelope’s gaze on me as I hand over my credit card to the clerk. He swipes it and slides it back to me, along with a receipt and keycard. He goes through the same speech he just gave Penelope and sends me on my way.
When I turn, I’m saddened not to see my sexy neighbor standing there. I move my truck from the front entrance to the larger lot in back, already smiling as I spot Penelope’s car. I back into a spot, two spaces down from where she is, and hop out.
“I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I announce as I open my back door and grab my suitcase and suit.
As I turn, she’s standing in the empty space between our vehicles, her green eyes narrowed slightly. “Your brother is Trevor?”
“Yep.”
She starts to walk toward the entrance we’ll be using, but it looks more like a stumble. Her arms are loaded with bags, plus the wheeled suitcase she’s pulling. My long legs eat the distance between us quickly as I move in to help. “Here,” I say, grabbing the duffle-like bag on her shoulder.
“You don’t have to,” she argues, not releasing her hold on the bag.
“You have way more stuff than I do. I don’t mind helping. Besides, we’re heading to the same place.”
Penelope stands there for a few seconds before slowly releasing her hold on her bag. Once I have it securely positioned on top of my rolling suitcase, I take her garment bag too. She opens her mouth, most likely to argue, but clamps it shut without a word, as she watches me carefully drape it over my shoulder with my suit.
“Thank you,” she says as we start to walk once more. As we reach the door, she slides her keycard into the slot and holds the door open widely for me. When we reach the elevators, she turns and asks, “What did you mean by heading to the same place?”
I throw her a wide grin. “I overheard Mario telling you you’re in 614. I’m 616. We’re neighbors. Still.”
The elevator car arrives with a happy ding, but it’s the hint of surprise in her eyes that catches my attention. While she appears a little shocked our rooms are right beside each other, she doesn’t seem upset. And believe me, I’m all too familiar with her aggravated face.
We slip onto the empty car, carefully juggling our luggage, and press the button for our floor. Once it starts ascending, I ask, “So, you must be one of Teagan’s friends?”
She nods and glances over at me. “Teagan and I went to college together. There are eight of us total, all friends since school.”
“Wow, that’s impressive. I barely talk to anyone I went to school with. It wasn’t intentional or anything, but I think you just slowly move on with your lives. Everyone goes in a different direction, you know?”
The elevator dings before opening the door to the sixth floor. Silently, we walk toward our rooms. Penelope uses her keycard to open her door. I set my suitcase along the wall and follow her inside, depositing her duffle and garment bag on the bed.
My eyes immediately land on that large, king-sized piece of real estate, and inappropriate thoughts of what I’d love to do to her play out in my mind. Dirty things that involve my tongue. I can feel myself growing hard, so I quickly turn away and head for the exit, in desperate need of a little fresh air that doesn’t hold a hint of Penelope’s lotion.
“Well, I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” I say.
“Thank you, again, for helping me.”
“You’re welcome.” Turning at the threshold, I catch her gaze. There’s something else in those soulful green orbs. Something that calls to me like a siren’s song. It makes me want to stay. To close the door, pull her in my arms, and kiss her until we’re both breathless and begging for more.
Clearing my throat, I add, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
She chuckles, a sweet, sexy sound. “I’m sure you’re right.”
With a wave, I slip out of her room, grab my suitcase and suit, and head to my own, all while trying desperately not to think about the impossibly sexy woman next door. As I hang my suit in the closet, something hits me. Trevor said he maneuvered the seating arrangement around so I could sit next to the single bridesmaid.
The only single bridesmaid.
Holy shit, my brother’s trying to set me up with Penelope.
That realization hits me like a Mack truck.
I just don’t know yet if this is a good idea, or a very, very bad one.
***
“There he is!” my brother proclaims, throwing his arms around me and pulling me into a hug.
“Clearly, you did a little pregaming,” I quip, noting the slight glassiness to his eyes.
“Just a few beers,” Trevor insists.
“Sorry I’m late. You know how Mom and Dad are.” I stopped by the house to say hello to our parents, but it was harder to get out the door than expected. We visited until I was officially late to meet up with the guys, but not late enough that I missed any of the festivities.
Trevor laughed. “Oh, I’m sure they’re ecstatic to have their baby boy home.” Keeping his arm around my shoulder, my brother guides me toward his group of friends. “Hey, everyone, you all remember my brother, Theo.”
A group of about a dozen guys all offer greetings as I take one of the remaining empty seats. One of my brother’s oldest friends, Shane, slides a cold Bud Light from a cooler across the table, throwing me a head nod when I catch it. “Good to see ya, man. What’s it been? A year?”
“Probably,” I reply, popping the top and taking my first drink of cold beer. “Work’s been crazy.”
“Yeah? Business is going good in Appleton?” he asks, leaning back and taking his own drink.
“I’m swamped. I can’t keep up with the orders. I have some pushed out six to nine months. I hate to turn away work, but I’ve considered it. It’s not really the orders in Appleton, but the ones I’m still getting here in Seattle.”
My brother plops down on the chair beside me. “That’s because you’re talented as fuck.”
“And the furniture store is still giving out your information,” Shane adds with a contrite look.
Trevor reaches over and punches his friend in the arm.
“Why’d you do that?”
I hold up my hand bef
ore my brother can say anything. “I already know,” I insist, trying to stop any arguments before they can begin. “The callers usually tell me where they get the referral.”
Trevor holds my gaze. “It’s a little surprising they’re still recommending you, isn’t it?”
I shrug and take another long drink of my beer. “Maybe.”
The truth is, yes, I thought it was crazy they’d still give out my name. Not that I’m the one who really messed up my relationship with the owner’s daughter, but I am the ex, after all. I would have thought they’d forget all about me, much like their precious Rachel.
“Food’s ready!” someone hollers, as trays of appetizer-like food is delivered to our table.
Once Trevor’s friends gather around, he stands up. “Before we eat, I just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight and helping me celebrate one of my last nights as a single guy.” Everyone cheers, a few even tease him about strapping on the ball and chain, but Trevor takes it in stride and just smiles. “We have four driving ranges tonight, so let’s eat, drink some beers, and hit some balls!”
I hold up my beer in salute, and we all take a drink to honor Trevor. Our group takes a seat and starts passing around the food. There’s everything from wings to mini-burgers, deep fried options, and nachos. It’s a great spread, and everyone seems to be having an easy, fun time.
For the next hour, I share all the embarrassing stories of Trevor from our childhood, including the one where he took a foreign exchange student to homecoming and argued with her the entire time about answers on the history exam the day before.
“I wasn’t arguing. I was debating,” my brother reasons.
“Debating.” Shane laughs. “I think she left the dance in tears, and it wasn’t because of your killer moves on the dance floor.”
“Hey, I apologized the next day. Besides, I can’t help I was a born litigator, even back then.” Trevor just grins. “Come on, let’s go hit some balls.”
I follow my brother to one of the range stalls and take the driver he hands over. “I’m glad you came up today,” he says, positioning his ball on the tee and taking a swing, sending the golf ball flying with one satisfying thump.
