Later that week, after I had worked nonstop on both Loading Zone and Invitation Only planning and Hannah had been slammed with the growing orders at her bakery, Kristen dragged us all out for “field research” for our upcoming dual event. Even though this was a sedate lunch at a nearby country club, my guard was up. No suspicious activity had happened since the flower mix-up, but I didn’t think for a second our saboteur had given up. Silent often meant scheming in the business world.
A waiter walked by with mint juleps on his tray. Mint fucking juleps. Stately columns lined the patio where we sat. Little sandwiches—food no grown man would touch unless nothing else existed—were arranged on a tower of connected silver platters.
And I thought our country club screamed pretentious old-money.
When we strolled through the front doors of Lakemont Country Club, we’d been transported straight to the South. On the surface of Mars. In an alternate universe. I blinked at a teenage girl who walked by on the grass beyond the patio, tennis racket resting on her far shoulder, bright-pink streaks in her hair. And not one uptight head on the patio turned.
Toto, we aren’t on planet Earth anymore.
“Explain to me why we’re here again?” On a hard sigh, I glanced around the table. My sisters and Hannah seemed just fine with tiny cucumber sandwiches. Cucumber.
Kristen stirred her mint julep. The drink was a club special or some ridiculous shit. “The client demanded we hold the bar mitzvahs in their club. They’re new members. We’re doing reconnaissance, plus a tour.”
At least Kiki sipped a hot green tea. Daring Kendall had ordered something stronger: iced tea, of the Long Island variety. And thank fuck for Hannah, who’d shown solidarity by ordering the same as me: beer, of the all-is-right-in-the-world variety.
I leaned over to my comrade in normalcy. “Wanna see if they have a supply closet?”
Hannah’s shoulders shook in silent laughter at our private joke. (We’d rounded second base for first time in a church supply closet, our mild claustrophobic issues had been trumped by our pent-up sexual frustration.)
She dropped her gaze down to the folded napkin in her lap and blushed spectacularly. I loved putting naughty thoughts into her head, flushing that pink onto her beautiful face.
I nudged her with my shoulder, lightening the mood as I took a pull from my bottle. “You realize you’re gonna need to feed me later, right? Those sad little triangles do not qualify as food.”
Kiki grabbed another miniature sandwich. It was her fourth; I’d been counting. And still, when you added them all together, it didn’t equal a whole sandwich. “Cade, you don’t know what you’re missing. These are delicious.”
I grunted. “Bet they cost north of twenty bucks too.”
Kristen smirked, pretending to read the prospectus of the room rental and add-on costs she’d been emailed by the country club. “Twenty-seven.”
Shaking my head, I set my nearly empty bottle down. “Captive audience, outrageous rates, and low nutrition. Keep the members brain-dead, and they’ll keep spending money.”
Kendall drew another sip of her long island through her straw, sucking up the last inch of the potent liquid from the bottom, her cheeks rosy from a healthy buzz. “You could’ve ordered a salad. Or a burger.”
I coughed, swearing under my breath. “Those weren’t burgers; they were sliders. Three paltry excuses for burgers, designed to give you more bread and less meat. What do their salads look like? Are they served in a pudding cup?”
The table burst out laughing.
That’s right. Tip your event coordinator. He’ll be here all week.
And truly, making fun of the über-rich was the only way I knew how to survive being on the grounds without requiring an oxygen tank. And a keg.
Nothing personal against this country club, just the uptight establishment as a whole. Sure, a few members sought to make a difference with the power of their membership and their wealth; however, the majority sadly belonged solely to gossip and jockey for social standing. And I could think of far better places to have lunch for the day, like a sports bar or a backyard barbeque. But the members around us put on easily recognizable airs. And the bullshit made me cynical just being exposed to it longer than necessary—without the distractions of music and an open bar.
An attractive redhead stepped into my line of sight, making eye contact with me as she approached our table. “The Michaelson party?”
I nodded, watching a smile flirt across her face. She held my gaze a few beats longer than necessary before acknowledging the rest of the group. I dropped my head and stared to my right, sending a pointed look at Kristen with an unspoken request, one I knew she heard loud and clear with her imperceptible nod. Hannah was here. And even if she wasn’t, I had no interest in any other woman on the planet. We needed to douse Little Miss Redhead’s interest with an ice-cold bucket of water.
“I’m Suzanne Bradshaw. I understand you want a tour of the facilities.”
Kristen gathered her paperwork into a pile, tapped the stack onto the table, and stood, extending her hand. “I’m Kristen Michaelson. These are my sisters, Kiki and Kendall.” She pointed at each of us as she said our names. “This is my brother, Cade, and his girlfriend, Hannah.”
We nodded at our introductions except for Kiki, who gave a friendly single-handed wave.
When we began to stand, Suzanne seemed to take the “girlfriend” clue to heart, gravitating toward Kristen, who’d agreed to pilot this meeting. I’d promised to coordinate the actual event. But a frou-frou luncheon with a boring tour? All hers.
I stood and pulled Hannah’s chair away as my sisters followed Suzanne. I tugged Hannah’s elbow, holding her back, until we had a good fifteen-foot gap between us and the tour caravan. “I’ll keep on the lookout for potential closets. You scope out promising dark corners.”
She’d brought along her half-full beer, and I took the bottle from her, shifting it to my other hand as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“You’re incorrigible.” Shaking her head, she looked left, then leaned back to look beyond me after we entered the main building through open French doors. “So how dark is dark enough?”
I choked out a laugh. “Really? Your hard limits don’t include exhibitionism?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should find out.”
As the rest of the group rounded the corner, I crowded her up against the nearest wall, in plain view of the dining patio guests twenty feet away. “Here? Now?”
She gasped as I pressed my mouth to her neck. Sliding a hand up a bare thigh, I lifted her short hem inches at a time. Thank fuck she’d decided to wear a sundress. She moaned her reply.
Yeah, we played a seductive game of chicken. Lust tried to overrule my brain, sending us full speed ahead. Yet there was only so far we could take indecency before a club member had us kicked out. A restraining order would make it impossible for us to hold the event here and cause us to lose a well-paying client.
Fuck. If only we’d crashed a random country club. Then I’d be down for all kinds of rule breaking and testing Hannah’s limits.
I sighed, dropping my forehead to hers. Her breathless pants matched mine until oxygen filtered back into our brains. “We are so scouting out a country club we never plan on doing business with.”
Confusion wrinkled her face. “What?”
“Are you two coming?” Kendall popped her head around the corner.
No. But we’d like to be.
Like good little event-planning teammates, we caught up and followed along with the group, feigning interest in the architectural details and coveted pieces of art as Suzanne pointed them out.
Yada. Yada. We know, Pilgrims on the Mayflower. Provenance back to Ben Franklin.
We get it. You’re important.
After the nickel tour of priceless artifacts ended, we finally got down to the nitty-gritty. Kristen flipped open her manila file folder, bending the cover back behind a yellow lined notepad. “When we spoke over the phone about room possibilities, you said we had a couple of options.”
Suzanne nodded, stepping down the hall. “You said you had two parties for a set of twins. We could do both in one room. This is our largest available that evening.” She opened double doors into a sizable space.
Scowling, I glanced at Kristen. “You want a battle of the bands? Heavy rock versus teen pop?”
Kristen shook her head at Suzanne. “No. What’s the other option?”
It had better be doable. From what Kristen had explained, the client wanted the event here. On that day and on their perfect time schedule.
“This way. We have neighboring rooms, both equal in size.”
Perfect.
After a quick check of each of the rooms, Kristen glanced at me, deferring to my judgment before agreeing. I gave her a nod, then shoved my hands into my front pockets and turned to leave. My work for the afternoon was essentially done.
The place would do. Although stuffier than most country clubs, my family’s club was only more tolerable by a matter of degree. They were all archaic establishments. But for the sake of serving as museums of times gone by, overflowing with fancy historical accessories to prove it, I supposed they served their purpose. Time capsules with ridiculous little sandwiches.
Plus, many events the bored wealthy members held were charitable functions to benefit the less fortunate. And I fully supported the means to that end.
Barbra Streisand once said at a concert I saw on TV, “Money is like manure; it’s not worth a thing unless you spread it around…” When I repeated the phrase later to my charitable mother, she’d informed me that Streisand first said the line in the musical Hello, Dolly!
I did not confirm that fact. The only musicals I agreed to tolerate were the future ones Hannah had committed me to. And said rare event would only take place because Hannah suggested we might have sex there. Damn. My mind kept guttering.
“Feel like attending any musicals in the near future?” I wondered if she remembered our discussion at my mom’s charity event all those months ago.
Her eyes glittered with amusement. “Sure. Why don’t I pick out the musical, and you can pick out the seats. Something in a dark corner, I’m guessing.”
Chasing her out into the hall, I wrapped my arms around her, growling low against her neck. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
She glanced at the ceiling as we walked along, pretending to think. “Nope. Not since right before lunch.”
“Well, I do. I fucking love you.”
The ostentatious airs of our surroundings must’ve affected her brain, because she lifted her nose a little into the air, pulling away from me. “Well, I should certainly hope so. I won’t ride just anybody during live musicals.”
I halted abruptly. “Fuck.”
Hannah broke away and turned, staring at me with a sly expression. Damned woman thoroughly enjoyed throwing me off-balance.
My sisters’ voices grew louder as they stepped into the hallway, scattering our naughty vibe into the stale air.
Something pricked at the back of my neck. I couldn’t put a definable reason to the change, but it had nothing to do with losing our moment of fun.
A woman rushed down the hall and entered a far door we hadn’t gone through. Then an older woman followed the first, scanning down a clipboard in her left hand as she stood in the entry to the unseen room. “Maddie, the mayor will be here at four.”
I frowned and stared toward the doorway. It couldn’t be. I shook my head, feeling like a paranoid idiot.
Fate wouldn’t be that twisted.
Hannah clasped my hand, and I stared into her joy-filled eyes.
In my peripheral vision, movement caught my attention, and I glanced back down the hall.
Out of the doorway walked the only “Maddie” I’d ever known: Madison Kensington.
Another coincidence? They were beginning to stack up.