The great thing about cocktail hour was that there were cocktails.
Delicious, distracting cocktails.
Slightly past tipsy but still a long way from drunk, Julia nursed what was left of her second espresso martini in one hand while she tried to smooth the curling edge of her name tag down with the other. All while dutifully ignoring the tall guy in the corner.
Thanks to his height, Luke had been impossible to miss since the second he’d entered the room. Their eyes had locked, and Julia had one of those moments she always laughed at when reading it in a book or watching it on a screen. The kind where a character is so caught up in her feelings that she forgets how to breathe.
She didn’t forget how to breathe, exactly. She knew how, she just forgot to do it. It was as if every bit of her brain was so focused on him, it didn’t have the energy or attention span left to maintain the most basic of bodily functions, even though they weren’t supposed to require thought in the first place.
Julia had been sure he’d walk over to her. She’d even begun to imagine it happening in slow motion, picturing his long legs devouring the space between them.
Instead, his long legs had carried him in the opposite direction as far and as fast as possible. Ouch.
So she’d done what any self-respecting woman who’d just been dissed would do: she ordered another drink and huddled closer to her friends. For a while, the three of them had stuck together like a trio of nesting dolls, one on top of the other, as they inched through the crowd, introducing themselves—that is, the character version of themselves—to the other players. It wasn’t long before a very good-looking guy with striking blue eyes and a perfect shadow-beard had swept Kat, er Bridget, off to a quiet corner.
“Our Bridget sure is having a good time,” Andie observed.
“To be honest,” Julia confessed, “I’m a little jealous.”
“Don’t be. He’s an NPC.”
“A what?”
“It’s a LARPing thing.” Andie twirled the cocktail stirrer in her drink. In her role of NYC fashion designer Carrie, she’d been ordering cosmos all evening.
“Spell that out please, nerd girl.” The affection in Julia’s tone turned the word into more of a compliment than a tease.
“NPCs are nonplaying characters. In this case, actors the resort hired to help create the immersive world for the guests. Mr. Blue Eyes is definitely one of them.”
“How can you tell?”
“Besides the perfection of his jawline?” Andie jerked her chin in the couple’s direction. “See that little button he’s wearing?”
Julia glanced back over at the guy Kat was with, trying to be discreet as she examined him. Bingo. “I see it.” Over one firm pec perfectly showcased inside a tight black V-neck T-shirt was a little blue button. “Is there something significant about it?”
“For a game to feel immersive, the actors will blend in with the players. But it’s protocol for nonplaying characters to indicate their status with some kind of token. Something simple like a wristband, or a scarf…” Andie fixed her gaze. “Or a button.”
“Interesting.” Julia observed the room for a moment, and sure enough, she began to spot buttons on several other guests chatting and laughing. Of the fifty or so people in the room, she estimated around a dozen were wearing the blue buttons. “Think anyone would notice if I got out my notepad again and wrote all this down? It would be great background info for the ‘Take Me!’ piece.”
“And risk blowing your cover?” Andie teased. “Maybe you can convince Kat to walk around with it for you.” She turned back to the couple. “Though she is a little busy at the moment.” Andie whistled. “That man is almost too pretty. He’s got that I’m not a doctor but I play one on TV vibe.”
Julia laughed. Andie was right. He was a very specific, almost too perfect, brand of gorgeous. A thought occurred to her. “I think this is further proof that the powers that be definitely think Kat is the TrendList reporter.”
“How do you figure?” Andie asked.
“Well, look at Dr. Hottie. They’ve obviously assigned their top … What did you call it?”
“NPC.”
“Top NPC to keep her entertained.” Julia paused. “Not that Kat couldn’t attract the attention on her own.” It was true. Her friend was funny and easygoing and gorgeous.
“If they did, it seems to be working. She looks pretty entertained right now.” Andie chuckled. “And she’s gotten really into character.”
Julia eyeballed Andie’s cosmo. “As have you.”
“I’m hoping it leads to some sex in the city.” Andie raised her glass and clinked it against Julia’s. “Figuratively speaking. About the city, I mean. I’m being totally literal about the sex.”
“Understood, Carrie.” Julia laughed. “Meet any potential Mr. Bigs yet?”
“Nah.” Andie shook her head. “A lot of the people here came as couples. I don’t get it. They’re married. They’ve already found their one. What are they doing at a place like this?”
“Maybe marriage doesn’t always mean you’ve found the one,” Julia said, thinking of her parents. “Maybe they’re here to relight the spark. Or maybe they just really like rom-coms.”
“Maybe.” Andie shrugged. “How about you, Meg? How are you holding up?”
“Honestly? I suck at this,” Julia admitted. “I have to keep pausing to remember to introduce myself as Meg. And more than once, when someone asked me what I liked best about where I was from, I caught myself talking about my favorite places in Chicago. What do I know about stuff in Seattle?” Amazingly, it was one of the few places in the contiguous forty-eight states where she hadn’t lived.
“There’s that tower thing—the needle? And Starbucks,” Andie suggested. “You love Starbucks. Stick to the truth as much as possible. Stop overthinking things.” She tipped her head back and finished off her drink. “Ready for another?”
“Why not.” Julia downed the rest and handed her glass to Andie. “Nothing too bizarre, please,” she warned. Andie’s mixology interests extended to ordering creative drinks as well as making them.
“No promises.” Andie winked.
As she watched her friend disappear into the crowd, Julia considered Andie’s advice. Stick to the truth. Ha. Easier said than done when she was already pretending to be a character—on top of pretending to be somebody else even before the game even got started.
Well, not somebody else. Just not herself. Not the reporter who was here to do a story on the resort. She turned to check on Kat and Dr. Five O’Clock Shadow. They appeared deep in conversation, foreheads almost touching as they stared into each other’s eyes, fingers entwined over the top of the little table where they stood. Julia frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Andie asked as she returned with their drinks. She passed one to Julia and took a sip of the other, following her gaze to the corner. “Oh, now you regret asking Kat to take your place.” Andie laughed. “I see how it is.”
“It’s not that,” Julia mumbled into her glass. “I just hope she’s careful.”
“Something worrying you?”
“If we’re right and that guy is an actor, one the resort has purposely told to pay attention to Kat, I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.” Her friend was so hungry for love, she often jumped into relationships that weren’t good for her. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“As long as she remembers it’s a game, she’ll be fine. Kat can take care of herself.” Andie squeezed Julia’s shoulder. “She’s doing what she’s supposed to be doing—meeting and mingling. Which is what we should be doing, too. You know what? I’m going to spend the rest of the evening with the next guy that flirts with me.”
“What, like all night?” Julia wondered.
“Slow down, you fast woman!” Andie gasped in mock outrage. “I know what I said about sex earlier, but let’s start with dinner first.” She crossed her arms. “I want you to promise to do the same.”
“No way. I’m not promising to pick up the next guy who tries to talk to me.” Not that many guys had tried this evening. There’d been a few friendly exchanges, but as Andie had said, a lot of people were here as couples. That limited her options.
“What if I pick him for you?” Andie smiled sweetly. “I promise to choose a good one.”
“Fine.” Julia sighed. What did she have to lose? It was just dinner. In a group. “But only if you hold up your end of the deal first.”
“You’re on.”
No sooner had the words left Andie’s mouth than a standard-issue Midwestern dude-bro appeared before them, beer in hand. “Evening, ladies.”
“Good evening.” Andie smiled invitingly.
Julia had to hand it to her friend. When Andie decided to do something, she committed.
The guy took a sip of his beer while giving Andie the once-over. “Usually when I see a pretty girl like you, I wanna ask for her number.”
Not the sexiest opening in the history of pickup lines, Julia thought, wondering where he was heading with this.
“But can you believe they took our cell phones for the week?”
“I think not having phones is a great idea,” Andie said. “It allows us to get to know each other better…” She paused and leaned closer to check out his name tag. “Burt.”
“Who’s Burt?” he wondered.
“I keep forgetting too,” Julia admitted, taking pity on him and pointing at the label stuck to his Green Bay Packers jersey.
“Oh, yeah.” He glanced at it. “But that’s not my real name.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I bet you can’t guess what is.”
“Ernie?” Andie suggested.
“Huh? No.” Burt shook his head. “Wait.” He huffed out a laugh. “I get it. Burt. Ernie.” He grinned at Andie and sidled up to her. “That’s good. You’re very funny.”
“I’m a riot,” Andie agreed, deadpan.
“I’ll give you a clue,” he continued, either missing or ignoring Andie’s sarcasm. “My real name rhymes with my fake name.”
“Ooh, a brain teaser,” Andie said, still poker-faced. “Is it Dirt?”
“Why would someone name their kid Dirt?” Not-Burt seemed exceedingly concerned at the prospect.
“They really love the earth?” Julia offered.
Andie snorted with laughter. “I give up. What’s your name, Rhymes with Burt?”
“It’s Curt. Actually, it’s Curtis, but only my mom calls me that.” He put a hand up to his mouth and pretended to yell in what Julia assumed was a shrill imitation of his mother. “Curtis! Turn off that video game and come take the garbage out!”
“You still live at home, huh?” Andie asked, smile plastered to her face.
“Temporary situation only,” Burt-actually-Curt-only-my-mom-calls-me-Curtis assured her.
“If you’ll excuse us one moment.” Andie grabbed Julia’s arm and stepped away.
“What’s the matter?” Julia whispered. “Do you want to abandon the Curtis ship? I won’t blame you if you do.”
“Nah.” Andie shook her head. “I’ll ride this one out.” A gleam appeared in her dark eyes. “Which means it’s your turn.” She flicked her chin at someone behind Julia. “I pick him.”
Instinctively, Julia knew exactly who her friend had chosen. She glanced over her shoulder for confirmation. Yep. It was Luke. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he surveyed the room. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Julia hissed.
“And if it was? A deal is a deal. Now pull up your big girl britches and go talk to him already,” Andie ordered.
“Excuse me?”
“You and your guy from the beach have been making eyes at each other ever since he walked in tonight.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Julia lied.
“Uh-huh,” Andie drawled, dragging the word out in a way that emphasized her mountain of doubt. “Did you really think I didn’t notice you notice him?”
“Fine,” Julia admitted in a rush. “I noticed him. But it doesn’t matter, since he’s been ignoring me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Andie rolled her eyes heavenward. “He’s been checking you out whenever he thinks you’re not looking. I swear, it’s like a junior high dance up in here.” Andie nudged Julia forward. “Now stop being a ninny and go talk to him.”
This was just like junior high. A flashback to a school dance, sixth grade. Julia had been wearing a peach sweater. She remembered because she’d associated the color with shame ever since. The boy she liked, Jimmy, was wearing a striped button-down shirt. He’d been leaning against the wall too. Slouching in the back of the gym with some of his friends, hands in his pockets, too cool to join in dancing.
And that’s how he’d always seemed to Julia. Cool. Definitely too cool for someone like her. But in a moment of weakness, probably brought on by hair spray fumes and the sugar high from too much cheap fruit punch, Julia had made the mistake of telling her friends that she thought Jimmy was cute. And before she knew it, she was getting pushed across the gym floor. A crowd of people seemed to grow around her, the closer she got to Jimmy.
By this point, his friends had picked up on the situation, dropping their veil of indifference long enough to join in the fun, grabbing Jimmy’s arms and yanking him toward her. They met in the middle of the dance floor, still more people crowding around, forming a circle. Jimmy glanced at his friends, shrugging them off before turning to face her.
In that moment, the music changed. A slow song came on. Oh, God, was the DJ in on this too?
And even as she stood there, hot and itchy in her peach sweater and wishing she was anywhere else, Julia couldn’t help hoping it would happen. That Jimmy would notice her. Notice her. See her in that magical way it happened in the movies. He’d see the real Julia hiding inside this horrible peach sweater, recognize her as the one meant for him, and then he’d ask her to dance.
But he didn’t. He just stood there.
Seconds ticked by. People began to whisper.
Unable to handle the awkwardness a moment longer, Julia cleared the gravel from her throat and decided to do the unthinkable. She’d ask him to dance. She’d be the rebel girl who flouted tradition and wowed him with her confidence and daring. And then he’d see her. Really see her.
She did it. In front of everyone. She asked Jimmy to dance.
And he said no.
“No thanks,” were his actual words. The casual, offhand politeness was somehow worse than open disdain. As if she wasn’t worth that much energy.
And Julia had known with a searing certainty that the movies she loved were full of lies. Nothing but empty promises woven by Hollywood myths.
The memory of that moment on the dance floor with Jimmy in sixth grade played out in Julia’s mind in a flash, humiliation churning in her gut as if it had happened yesterday rather than more than half her lifetime ago. She tried to remind herself that it had been a long time ago. This wasn’t junior high, and she wasn’t an embarrassed preteen who was more sweating in peach than pretty in pink.
Pushing the memories aside, she glanced behind her. Andie had already returned to Not-Burt/Curt. In front of Julia, he still hadn’t moved from his spot against the wall. She stepped forward slowly. Giving Luke time to bolt. There were no sidekicks here to grab his arms and force him to talk to her.
Too much of a coward to keep her eyes on his face while she moved closer, her attention shifted, and Julia swallowed hard when she caught sight of rolled sleeves revealing long lean forearms dusted with hair. He wasn’t bulging with muscle—far from it—but there was something very masculine about the way he stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
She took a deep breath and stepped closer, shifting her gaze back to his. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Okay, so far so good. It was only a monosyllabic exchange, but he hadn’t tried to escape. Wasn’t desperately looking around for the nearest exit. She moved to lean against the wall next to him. “I see you found a new shirt.”
“Uh, yeah.” He glanced down in surprise, as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing.
“It looks nice.” She let her gaze travel over the soft gray fabric. “It matches your eyes.”
“Thanks.”
“As a bonus, there’s no bird crap on it.” Julia cringed. Had that been too much?
He cracked a smile, little crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes, which made Julia’s insides go all warm and mushy.
Great. He smiled at her, and she turned into oatmeal.
“You look nice too.” He eyed her up and down. “Very nice.”
Julia flushed. Not because of what he said, but how he said it. Like he wasn’t just politely returning the compliment but really thought it. And suddenly the word nice had never felt so, well … nice.
She turned her attention to the other guests milling around and chatting, introducing themselves. “I’m not sure how this is supposed to work,” she admitted. “Seeing as how we’ve kind of met already.”
Now it was his turn to cringe. “We could pretend that never happened,” he suggested.
“And miss out on one of the most entertaining moments I’ve had in recent memory?”
He grimaced.
She grinned. It was fun to tease him. From the corner of her eye, she inspected his shirt again, searching for a blue button like the one on Kat’s guy. Nope. But he wasn’t wearing a name tag, either, so what did that mean? “If it makes you feel better, we can pretend to start over,” Julia offered.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s all supposed to be pretend anyways, right?” she said, as much a reminder to herself as anyone else.
“Right,” he agreed. “Pretend.” He pushed off the wall and held his hand out to her.
Julia shook his hand, her skin tingling at the contact.
“I’m Lance.”
“Lance?” She made a face. “Really?”
“You don’t like the name?”
“Luke fits you much better.”
“Guess that’s a good thing.” He grinned.
Oh, there were those little eye crinkles again.
And now she was tingling in other places. Julia guessed he was a few years older than her. Around thirty. “Can I just call you Luke?”
“That isn’t part of the game.”
“It can be our little secret,” she whispered. For some reason, it was important to her to be able to call him by his real name.
“What should I call you, then?” He raised one sandy brow. “Jules?”
“Julia is fine.” She tried to ignore the tickle of pleasure at hearing him use her nickname. She should be annoyed, not pleased. There were very few people in her life she allowed to call her Jules.
“Okay, Julia. We can use our real names, but only when it’s just the two of us. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” She nodded, enjoying the sound of her name on his lips and the idea of this little shared secret between them way too much.
“But when we’re around the other players, what am I supposed to call you?” he asked, bending down so he could speak quietly in her ear.
“Oh, um…” Julia inhaled, mind going blank. He was so close. And he smelled so good. She’d noted it briefly on the beach earlier when she’d face-planted on top of him. It had been subtle, hidden within all the outdoor scents of the lake. But even then, she’d wanted to bury her face into his neck and breathe him in.
“My name?” She exhaled, letting out a shaky laugh, her brain still on hiatus. “Shit.”
“That’s the name they gave you?” He stepped back, mouth curved in a teasing grin. “No wonder you want to use your real name.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” She pointed to her name tag. “Meg. Meg Bryant.”
“I think your tag’s coming off, Meg.” He reached out and smoothed the corner with the tip of his finger. “That’s better.”
“Thanks,” she croaked.
“No problem.”
Was it her imagination or did his voice seem a bit huskier?
“So.” He cleared his throat. “Meg Bryant, huh? That makes sense.”
“What do you mean?” She cocked her head at him.
“It’s just, uh, obvious what they were going for.” He spoke quickly, almost nervously. “It’s a good movie reference.”
Was he embarrassed about being into romantic comedies? “Why are you here?” she asked abruptly. The question had tumbled out of her mouth as soon as it popped into her head. Ah, alcohol. She shouldn’t have agreed to that third cocktail, especially since she was supposed to be working.
But it was out there now, so she might as well forge ahead. Besides, discovering why a single guy would choose to spend a week at a rom-com resort would be great for her article. “Why did you sign up for this”—she waved her hand, indicating the room at large—“game, or whatever you want to call it?”
“Why did you?” he countered.
“Hey, I asked first.” Julia stared at him. She knew that trick. Classic deflection; answer a question with a question. Again, she wondered if he was one of the actors. Julia thought back to when they met. Had Luke been wearing a button then? Possibly. She didn’t remember seeing one, though his shirt had been off during much of their conversation.
“Good evening, everyone!” A voice carried across the room, derailing her thoughts. Julia turned toward the sound. Penelope, the game master, was standing by the bar, wireless microphone in hand. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed getting to know each other.” Penelope glanced around the room, smiling as she paused, her attention on a couple in the corner. “Apparently some of us are getting to know each other a little more than others.”
Julia realized the comment was directed toward the spot where Kat was all but in Dr. Shadowbeard’s lap now.
Luke must have made the same connection. “They seem to be having fun.” He observed drily. “You know her, right?”
“What?” Julia was surprised at the irritable sensation prickling in her chest. Not jealousy, but perhaps a distant cousin to it. An urge to hoard his attention for herself.
“I saw you making the rounds together earlier, along with your other friend … the one I met this afternoon.”
“Oh, um, yeah.” Julia turned into oatmeal again. Warm, mushy oatmeal. Andie was right. He had been watching her.
“Just a quick announcement that dinner is about to begin,” Penelope continued.
“Has it really been an hour already?” Luke wondered.
“Apparently.” Julia shook her head, glad she wasn’t the only one who felt like the time had flown by.
“If everyone will please follow our gracious hostess…” Penelope stretched an arm out, indicating where the glowing pink orb of Mrs. Weatherwhatever stood waiting in front of a pair of French doors, a corgi in each arm. “You’ll all get a chance to continue your conversations at dinner.”
“Do you think the dogs get their own seats at the table?” Julia wondered.
“I think they probably get their own table.”
Julia laughed. But then Luke’s hand was at the small of her back, leading her forward, and she forgot about dogs and dinner and anything and everything else except how it felt to have him touch her like that, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin cotton of her dress, palm pressed against the base of her spine. Cocktail hour may have flown by, but Julia had a feeling this was going to be a very long week.