Page 38 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“Look at you two,” Juliet says, sidling up to us. “Is this a bromance in the making?”

“I’m smitten,” Jamie tells her. “We talked whiskey; he answered all my esoteric questions. I’ve learnedsomuch about their aging process. Of course, I fell hard and fast. Will, however, might need to take things slower.”

“You kidding? Talking whiskey is my love language. I’m a goner.”

Juliet smiles up at us. “Well, that’s adorable.”

Juliet’s twin sister Bea, whom Juliet introduced me to when I walked in, darts past us and opens the apartment door.

“Thanks, BeeBee!” Juliet calls.

When I saw Bea at first, it was a bit shocking to meet someone who looked so much like Juliet. But then I saw all the differences, and not just the obvious ones like her thick bangs, the blond tips of her hair, the many tattoos covering her body. I glance at Juliet, cataloging those differences I noticed, her heart-shaped face as opposed to Bea’s oval, her wider mouth and deeper dimples.

Juliet gives me a smile but her eyes are big with warning. I get the hint. I’ve been staring, and I might give us away. Then again, even if wewerenew friends, I’d be staring at her. I’ve got eyeballs in my head and she’s beautiful.

“Hi!” The shorter of the two women who just walked in, with tight dark curls and a bright smile, yanks me in for a hug. “I’m Margo. You’re Will! I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

I blink down at her, taken aback. I had no idea Petruchio talked about me this much. “Uh. Hi. Good to meet you, too, Margo.”

“Nice to meet you, Will,” the taller woman says, giving Margo a dryly amused look. She’s got buzzed hair dyed hot pink and a feisty smile on her face. She offers me a firm handshake, which I take. “I’m Sula.”

“Good to meet you, Sula.”

“Okay,” Margo says, looping her arm through mine, walking me toward the kitchen. “I’ve been so excited to meet you, because you’retheOrsino whiskey guy, and I’m a mixologist.” She pulls back just enough to look at me. “I’m going to make you my famous custom cocktail that uses your spirits! That is, if you don’t mind.”

Sula rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’ve made it real easy for him to say no, dear.”

Margo waves her away. “He’ll tell me no if he wants. He’s a big boy.” Her gaze travels up me. “Arealbig boy. My goodness. And oh so cute. You single?”

I turn bright pink.

“Not for me,” she says, jerking her head back toward Sula. “I’m hitched to that one.”

“Oh. I’m, uh…” I glance at Juliet, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, turning to her for guidance. She’s smiling still, though it seems a little tight as she gives me an encouraging nod. I glance back down at Margo. “I’m single, yes.”

“Not local, though, right?” Margo presses.

“Upstate,” I tell her.

“God, I love it up there,” Sula says, walking past us to the kitchen. She cracks open a can of beer and takes a sip. “It’s so gorgeous, so idyllic. I want a little house in the middle of nowhere upstate someday. That’s my retirement dream. A house in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, until then,” Jamie says, “you’re always welcome at the cottage. Bea and I barely get up there these days.”

I turn toward him. “You own a place there?”

He nods. “My aunt left it to me. Been in the family for a long time. I have good memories there.”

“Where at, exactly?” I ask.

“It’s in Illyria.”

I grin. “That’s where I am.”

“Oooh,” Margo squeals. She claps her hands together. “I just love a good small-world connection.”

Conversation carries easily through the topic of life upstate, more questions about the distillery, the farm, and then it moves on to Petruchio telling some of our tamer college stories. It gets a bit loud, but not to the point that I want my earplugs. Juliet was right: they are fun people. Talking with them doesn’t feel so hard.

Margo’s custom drink is a spritzer riffing on the classic penicillin cocktail—she added ginger beer, lots of ice, a splash of Cointreau, a twist of lemon and orange—and it isincredible. I sip it slowly, savoring the drink almost as much as I’m savoring Juliet and her sisters animatedly telling us the story of when Petruchio got his top half stuck under his house’s crawl space during a rainstorm in an effort to save Puck—that animal really does seem to have a mischievous streak—and how it took all five Wilmots to yank him out. Just as they’ve finished, Jamie jogs past us toward the door and opens it for two new people who step in, one with a tight dark beard and short hair, the other with dark hair tugged into a ponytail at the nape of their neck.

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