Luke O’Neal stood on the balcony overlooking the lobby of the Notting Hill Resort, eyeing the trickle of guests entering the hotel. “We’re really doing this.”
“Yep.” Vijay, his best friend, bobbed his head in agreement. “We’re really doing this.”
“I can’t believe it’s finally starting!” Luke’s sister declared, her voice brimming with excitement.
“Calm down, Penelope. Things don’t kick off ’til tonight.” Luke glanced back at the activity below. He shook his head, smiling despite himself. His sister’s energy was infectious. “A year ago, if someone had told me this was what I’d be doing, I would have choked with laughter.”
“You were at my college graduation party a year ago,” Penelope reminded him. “And as I recall, you did choke with laughter about this job offer.”
“Can you blame him?” Vijay asked. “I thought it was a joke at first, too.”
Penelope bristled.
“Oh come on, Pen.” Vijay nudged her shoulder with his. “When you told us you’d found some lady who wanted to hire a team to create a romantic-comedy game for her resort—a resort in Wisconsin named Notting Hill—I did wonder if someone was pranking you.” Jay shook his head. “Especially when you mentioned how much she was willing to pay.”
Luke nodded. “The offer seemed too good to be real.”
“Too good to be true, you mean?” Penelope asked.
“No, I mean real,” Luke insisted. “As in not fake.”
Penelope rolled her eyes. Luke could hear his sister’s mental Whatever, big bro as clearly as if she’d said it out loud.
“As for Mrs. Weatherfork,” Luke continued, referring to their boss, “the jury is still out.” The owner of the resort, Mrs. Miranda Constance Eugenia Weatherfork, was—in a word—eccentric. Luke wasn’t sure how much of Mrs. W.’s wild reputation was based on actual exploits and how much was due to outrageous gossip, much of it likely started by the woman herself.
Vijay laughed. “The accent is definitely fake.”
“Yeah, but the money is definitely real,” Penelope added.
“No arguments there.” Despite seeming ridiculous, there were a few facts about his boss that Luke was confident weren’t fiction. Fact: she was ridiculously wealthy. Fact: she was spending a ridiculous amount of money on this project. Fact: she had offered them a ridiculously large bonus to be paid once she’d determined that the launch was successful.
In fact, the bonus was so ridiculous one might call it ludicrous. He certainly did. But as Penelope noted, their boss had deep pockets in those weird outfits of hers and could afford it. Luke was determined to earn that bonus. His portion of the funds would provide the seed money he needed to launch his own start-up game company, a dream he’d tucked away for so long that having it within reach now didn’t seem possible.
But it was real. If this first week proved a success. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I still think we should have scheduled a practice round first.”
“Dude, you gotta let it go.” Jay shook his head.
If Luke had been able to do things his way, this week would have been a soft opening with a much smaller guest list, made up of friends and family of the resort employees. A chance to work out any bugs. As a software developer, that’s how things were usually done. Teams always tested games and programs in simulation before launch. But his current employer had other plans. “That woman is as impatient as she is eccentric,” Luke muttered.
“She’s also your boss. This is her resort.” Penelope reached up and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “We need to give the lady what she wants.”
“Pen’s right,” Jay agreed. “Mrs. W. wanted to dive right in with the grand opening. So stop fretting and get ready to make a splash.”
Luke shrugged. “I’m just worried the grand opening isn’t going to be very … grand.”
Penelope eyeballed him, another mental Whatever stamped on her face. Luke knew she hated when he got pedantic with word choice.
“This is only the beginning,” his sister, ever the positive one, promised. “Once word gets out about how much fun this place is, the buzz will build and more people will register for the next session, and the next one, and so on.”
“All we’ve got to do is make sure this first group has a really great time,” Vijay added with a wink.
“Especially this first group,” Penelope winked back.
“All right, what’s going on?” Luke demanded.
“Nothing.” His sister blinked up at him, her gray eyes, so like his own, beguilingly innocent.
He’d thought she was acting suspicious before, but now he was sure. “I’m not falling for it, Pen.”
She blew out a breath. “Fine.” Penelope glanced at Vijay. “Tell him.”
“I’m not telling him.” Vijay shook his head. “You tell him.”
“Tell me what?”
They both started guiltily as he stared them down.
Vijay broke first. “A reporter is coming,”
“What, like from a local newspaper?” Luke asked. Why would they be afraid to tell him about that? Publicity was Jay’s job.
“Not exactly,” his friend hedged, gaze shifting to Penelope again.
“Well, then, what exactly?” Luke wondered, his voice taking on an edge. Their evasive behavior was making him uneasy.
Jay clasped his hands together and rocked back on his heels. “It’s just that, I might have encouraged Mrs. W. to agree to have someone from a website come out and review the resort.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, still not seeing how this was worrisome. “What site?”
“TrendList,” Vijay said. “The new ‘Take Me!’ segment.”
“Oh. Wow.” His sister sometimes accused Luke of living in a cave, but even he’d heard of the pop culture giant. In fact, he’d recently read an article analyzing the impact of the website’s new segment on the travel industry. “Oh, wow,” he repeated.
“Don’t freak out.”
Luke turned to his sister. “Why would I freak out?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because, when things aren’t in your control you freak out.”
“It’s fine. A big website with international reach is coming to do a story. No problem. We’ll show them around, answer their questions.” Luke waved his hand dismissively. “Boom. Done.”
Again, Vijay and Penelope exchanged glances.
Luke gripped the polished oak balustrade lining the balcony. Despite his assurances to his friend and sister, he felt the twinges of a freak-out starting. “What else aren’t you two telling me?”
“They’re not here to do a story.”
“But Jay just said—”
“They’re here to be the story.”
“Huh?” Luke wasn’t being passive-aggressive about word choice this time. He really didn’t understand what his sister was saying.
“Let me try, Pen.” Vijay stepped between them. “What your sister means is the ‘Take Me!’ reporter isn’t stopping by for a quick interview. They’re staying for the week and are going to be part of the game.”
“Ah.” Luke swallowed.
“Are you freaking out now?” Penelope prodded.
“Maybe.” Luke shoved a hand through his hair. “How long have you known about this?”
“Um, a week,” Penelope said.
“More like two,” Jay admitted sheepishly.
Not this round. Any other round but this one. This first week, he wanted to keep things controlled. Luke pulled his notebook out of the back pocket of his jeans.
“Is he pulling out the notebook?” Vijay asked.
“He’s pulling out the notebook,” Penelope confirmed with a sigh.
Luke ignored them. Both his sister and his best friend liked to tease him about his ever-present notebook. Vijay said it was Luke’s version of a pocket protector, while Penelope insisted it was a security blanket.
They could make fun of him all they wanted. He liked—no, needed—to have a place to write his thoughts down.
“I’m going to take a walk,” Luke announced. Heading for the door to the terrace, he paused and glanced back at his sister. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“I’m twenty-three, not three,” Penelope reminded him. “When are you going to trust me to handle things?”
“I do trust you, Pen,” Luke protested, but even he heard the lack of conviction in his voice. “I just wish you’d be a little less … impulsive.”
“And I wish you were a little less controlling.” She shooed him off. “Go. Make your lists. But don’t take too long.”
Luke nodded and slipped out the door, hurrying across the terrace and down the stone stairway that led to the beach. He needed some air, a few minutes to breathe, to think. To prepare. At the bottom of the steps, he took the path toward the lake, the sound of crashing waves acting as a salve for his jangled thoughts. After a couple of calming moments, he flipped open his notebook and started a checklist of things he wanted to go over.
They should have told him about the reviewer before. Weatherfork should have told him as soon as she’d arranged it. If his boss had any hope of this project being a success, she needed to give him time to prepare. It was bad enough she’d forced the grand opening.
In his old job, Luke dealt with this sort of thing all the time—stockholders with unrealistic deadline expectations who demanded the product they’d funded be released for sale, whether it was ready or not. As long they kept paying him to fix the inevitable bugs, Luke didn’t care. He didn’t like it, and he certainly didn’t enjoy it, but it didn’t bother him.
This, however, bothered him. Luke needed the launch of this project to be perfect. Or at least as perfect as was possible when dealing with the incredibly unpredictable human element. He’d always found code much easier to work with than people, but now this reviewer was thrown into the mix. He’d have to find out who the person was so he could make sure they were having the best time possible, to ensure they would give the best review possible.
Closing his eyes, Luke imagined his problems as a row of dominoes. If he lined them up, he could control how they fell. One after another in a tidy procession. Click, click, click.
Eyes still closed, he kept walking. Over the past year, he’d been up and down this path hundreds upon hundreds of times. It was his favorite place on the whole resort. He could walk it blindfolded. Backward. In his sleep. He inhaled the fresh lake breeze, a little calmer now. The dominoes tumbled more slowly. Click. Click. Cli—
“Ouch!” A voice, surprised and feminine, collided with Luke’s thoughts as his shin made contact with something hard.
What the—
Mental dominoes scattered as Luke stumbled backward, a warm solid weight falling with him, landing on top of him in the sand.
“Oof.”
Had he made that sound? He opened his eyes, his view of the sky above marred by a tangle of bright hair. Not red, not blond, not brown either, but some mix of all three. The strangely colored locks blowing across his face smelled rich and inviting. Like that first breath of freshly brewed coffee when you step inside a café. And it was soft, so silky soft against his cheek.
These details skipped across the surface of his thoughts in rapid succession, like pebbles skipping across a lake, leaving ripples in their wake. Just as things began to settle down, an elbow caught him square in the ribs and sent his thoughts flying again.
“Oof!”
This time Luke was sure he’d been the one making that sound. The woman was struggling to get up, and as she tried to stand, she continued to poke and jab him in uncomfortable places. For someone who was so soft, she sure had a lot of sharp, pointy angles. Luke rolled sideways, depositing her in the sand next to him. He stood and offered her his hand.
For a moment, she didn’t move, glaring up at him through her veil of not-red-not-brown-not-blond hair. Then she huffed and grabbed on to his hand. If the brush of her hair on his cheek had been soft, the brush of her skin against his was softer still. He was still processing these sensory details when she pulled away from him and began shaking sand from her clothes.
“Do you always walk around with your eyes closed?”
Luke followed suit, brushing off his jeans. “Only when I know where I’m going.”
Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. She blinked at him. Like her hair, the color of her eyes was mercurial, hard to pin down. Green. Brown. Intelligent. Wary. More pebbles skittered across his thoughts. Who was she? He’d never seen her on this beach before. Was she a guest at the resort? His brain whirred, and he instinctively reached for his notebook.
But it wasn’t there. His back pocket was empty. He’d been holding it when he was walking. Holding it when they collided …
Luke turned, searching the path. A moment later, he spotted the gleam of the metal spiral in a flash of sunlight, and a moment after that, a seagull swooped down and snatched it up.
“Hey!” Luke yelled, shaking his fist and running after the bird.
Loops of the spiral clipped between its beak, the bird flapped its wings, propelling away from him.
“Give that back you feathered felon!”
“Um, I don’t think the bird can speak English,” the woman said from behind him, voice dry.
And, if he was not mistaken, amused. At him.
Because he was acting like an imbecile.
Luke glared up at the bird, shaking his fist one more time.
“You better watch out,” the woman warned. “Or that seagull is going to—”
Something wet and slimy splattered down the front of Luke’s shirt.
“Poop on you,” she finished.
Now there was no mistaking it. She was definitely laughing at him. He scowled and dipped his chin, assessing the damage. A zigzag of bird crap decorated his chest. Awesome. And oh, God, the smell. What the heck had that bird been eating for its excrement to smell so bad?
The woman wrinkled her nose.
“It’s not me,” Luke began. “Well, it is me, but it’s not … It’s the bird…”
She took a step back.
“Shit,” he finished weakly, and attempted to maneuver out of his shirt. He refused to wear what was now basically a seagull diaper. The problem was that Luke also wanted to avoid making contact with the wretched contents of the flying jerk’s rectum. Which meant he had to be strategic about where he touched the shirt and how he pulled it off.
“Do you want some help?” the woman offered.
“Do you want to help?” he asked, gripping the ends of his shirt between his fingertips and folding the worst of the damage over onto itself.
“Not really.”
“Then why did you offer?” Luke grunted, tugging the fabric over his head gingerly, stretching the collar so it didn’t touch his face.
“Obligation,” she said. “Instinct, maybe.”
Luke tossed the shirt on the ground and stared down at her. “Your instinct is to offer help you don’t intend to give?”
She raised her chin and met his gaze. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, just that I didn’t want to help.”
Luke bit his cheek. He could see why this sort of word game annoyed his sister.
A gust of wind blew in from the lake and the woman’s mouth quirked, her attention shifting to his chest. “That’s a stiff breeze, huh?”
Heat flushed his skin, and Luke fought the urge to cover himself. “Stop looking at my nipples.” Tall, lanky, and more than a tad on the pale side, he’d never been one of those walk-around-shirtless kind of dudes. He was a programmer for chrissake.
“Wow, you’re grumpy,” she observed.
“You would be too if some woman ran into you, an asshole bird stole your notebook before deciding to take a heinous-smelling dump on you, and then the same woman who knocked you over is now standing there ogling your naked torso.”
“I am not ogling!”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest, forcing her gaze up to his.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I was ogling. A little,” she admitted. “But it’s not my fault. You’re a giant and it’s all, like, right there in my face. How tall are you?” she wondered.
“Six four.” He cocked his head. “How short are you?”
“Five four.”
Luke narrowed his eyes.
She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Okay, you got me. I’m five three and three-quarters.”
His gaze narrowed some more.
“Five three and a half. Almost.”
He grinned. Whoever she was, he liked her. All five foot three and almost a half inches of her. Luke was about to ask for her name when a screech assaulted his ears. They both winced. The winged menace had returned. He glanced up, bracing for another poop bomb, and realized his notebook was still in the asshole’s beak. What the hell was the bird planning to do with it? Write a manifesto?
“Now do you want my help?” the woman asked.
Luke spread his arms as if to say Be my guest.
Jutting her chin in a silent Okay, buddy, watch me, she stepped forward and pulled a bag of crackers from her pocket. Shaking the bag, the woman waited until she’d caught the bird’s attention.
Luke watched as the airborne weasel circled back.
Once the seagull was close, she tossed the contents of the bag, scattering crackers across the beach. Squawking in excitement, the bird dove, the book dropping from its mouth and landing with a plop in the sand, forgotten as its abductor foraged for the crackers. In a whoosh, several other seagulls joined the fray, beaks snapping in a snacking frenzy.
Luke took advantage of the distraction to scoop up his notebook. He tucked it in his back pocket. “Come on.” He reached for her hand and pulled her toward the path. “Now’s our chance to escape.”
“What about your shirt?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“Leave it,” he said, again preoccupied by the sensation of her hand in his. “I’ll come back and burn it later.”
She laughed.
The bright sound caught him off guard, and he stumbled, sneakers slipping over the sand and pebbles.
Her fingers tightened, warm and soft where they curled against his palm, as she helped him keep his balance.
“Thank you,” he muttered, wondering how else he could embarrass himself in the next thirty seconds.
“You weren’t walking with your eyes closed again, were you?”
“No, I…” he stopped.
She was smiling at him.
That smile. Luke’s train of thought derailed, attention rerouting to her mouth. It was a lush mouth, full lips promising to be as warm and soft as everything else.
“Now who’s ogling?”
“Huh?” Luke blinked.
“You’re staring at my mouth.”
“I’m not staring.”
Slowly, she licked her lips.
Luke fought the urge to lick his own lips. Or worse, chase the path her tongue just took with his. “Fine.” He forced his gaze back to hers. “I’m staring.”
At his confession, her smile widened, pulling him in.
He leaned closer.
“Jules!” The voice, deep yet feminine, bounded across the beach, loud enough to rise above the screeching seagulls and crashing waves.
Luke froze. He was bent over his notebook savior, mouth hovering a breath away from hers. If he were an inch shorter, or if she were an inch taller …
She stepped back, and he realized she must have been standing on her tiptoes. As he’d been leaning into her, she’d been leaning into him. They’d been about to kiss. And he didn’t even know her na—
“Jules!” the voice called again, louder this time.
The woman he’d almost kissed jerked her head in the direction of the sound.
Whoever was calling wasn’t visible from where they stood on the beach. But the person sure could yell. “Looking for you?” Luke asked.
“Yeah,” she confirmed absently.
“Your name is Jules?”
“Julia, actually.”
Jules—Julia—was staring at him with a shell-shocked expression similar to the one he’d bet was stamped on his face.
“Jules!”
They both jumped.
“There you are!” A woman with a trim cap of black hair appeared over the rise. In addition to being loud, she was fast, and in moments she’d reached them. “Feeling better?”
“Much, yeah.”
“You weren’t feeling well?” The question came out of his mouth before Luke even realized he was asking it.
“Oh.” She glanced back at him. The question seemed to surprise her too. “Just a bit of carsickness.”
“Ah. That explains the crackers.”
She nodded, mouth twitching.
Luke felt a tug in his chest, as if two little strings were tied to the corners of her mouth and had hooked to his heart. When she smiled, the strings pulled tighter.
The grating sound of a throat clearing abruptly clipped those strings, and Luke remembered they were no longer alone on the beach.
“Who’s your new friend, Jules?” the dark-haired woman asked. She was staring straight ahead, which meant, Luke realized, belatedly recalling the shirt he’d left in a crumpled, seagull-soiled pile on the sand, that she was staring at his nipples.
“Um, this is…” Jules—Julia—paused.
“Luke.” He reached out a hand in greeting, resisting the urge to cover his less than impressive Nothing to see here. Why are you staring? chest again.
“Hey, Luke. I’m Andie.” She shook his hand, at least having the decency to shift her gaze to his face.
“Nice to meet you,” he said automatically.
“Same.” The girl, Andie, reached into the back pocket of her jean shorts and pulled out a notepad. She held it out to Julia. “You left your precious notepad in Kat’s car.”
“Oh!” Julia reached for it quickly.
“Precious?” Luke repeated.
“Trust me, she doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Andie assured him.
“I can understand that,” he chuckled. He had to admit, it was rather endearing to discover they shared a habit.
Andie snorted. “I just assume it’s one of the hazards of being a r—”
“Writer,” Julia said abruptly.
“A writer?” he asked, unable to resist taking a peek at her notepad. “What kind of stuff do you write?”
“Poetry, mostly.” She clutched the pad to her chest, casting a cautious glance his way.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a poet before,” Luke said.
“Me neither,” her friend Andie added cryptically.
Julia elbowed her.
“Ow!” Andie rubbed her side. “What was that for?”
“For making fun of my poetry,” Julia said through clenched teeth. She moved to elbow Andie again, but the dark-haired girl jerked back, a set of keys flying out of her pocket.
Luke could sympathize. He knew from recent firsthand experience how sharp and painful a seemingly delicate elbow could be when thrust into one’s rib cage. He bent, digging the keys out of the sand. Something about the key chain caught his eye. He looked closer and realized why it seemed familiar. It was the “Take Me!” logo. He frowned. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Thanks.” Andie reached out to take the keys back. “For grabbing those,” she added, tugging gently when he didn’t let go.
Luke shook himself. “No problem.” He released his hold on the key chain. “Isn’t that from TrendList?”
“It is.” Julia slid between Luke and Andie and inserted herself into the conversation. “Those are our friend’s keys. She’s a big fan of all the Bachelorette quizzes they do.” Julia turned to Andie. “Did you need help bringing in our bags?”
Andie shook her head. “All done. Kat’s checking us in now.”
They were here for the rom-com week, of course. Questions gathered in the back of his mind. But before he could attempt an interrogation, Andie beat him to it with another question of her own. “Are you staying at Notting Hill, too?”
“Ah…” Luke frantically tried to think of a plausible explanation for his presence on the beach. He could lie, but it’s not like he could hide from them at the hotel forever. Besides, he was the game master. They’d be meeting him tonight at orientation.
Luke winced internally. He’d been worried about his sister causing trouble, but he was the one potentially screwing things up. Penelope was the event planner. She created the rom-com aesthetic and set the stage. As GM, he was the director. His job was to figure out where to place the characters on the stage, and when. His participation was limited to arranging the guests’ experiences, not experiencing them himself.
At least, that was how it was supposed to work.
Luke’s brain whirred. Options lined up like dominoes, possibilities spreading out before him in a network of potential scenarios. Swap one element and the web shifted, the path changing. Leading to new options, new possibilities. An idea took shape in his mind, and as Luke surveyed the formation of this new path, his plan clicked into place.
“Ah, yes.” He grinned down at them. “Yes, I am.”