Page 51 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

Fee leans in and says, “Indeed I did, and you’re welcome.” She straightens, dragging a couple of empties off the bar beside me. “In the same summer, no less. Trying to think. I hadn’t yet introduced your parents to each other at my pub, Juliet. That came later on. August, I want to say? Your mother and I were still roommates, living over the pub, single as could be. When I told her I was headed upstate for a networking event—really, it was more of a giant party of like-minded folks, but it was organized by a bunch of hippies in the area wanting to commit to sustainable land cultivation, sohardly surprising—she decided to tag along, enjoy a weekend out of the city.

“I was planning to poke around at the event, see if I could form some connections with local farmers to source the pub, and I was going to meet up with a friend from college—Will’s mother, Isla—who had just moved there after inheriting a pretty piece of land she had dreams of using for sustainable farming. Her land was right up against a distillery, owned by the manIintroduced her to at the event, Grant Orsino.”

Juliet glances my way, then back to Fee. “So our moms met, then?”

She nods. “Maureen and I stayed with Isla in the place she was renting in town—there wasn’t a property to stay at on her land.” She sighs wistfully. “We had a hell of a weekend, the three of us.”

“Isla.” Juliet frowns, thinking. “I don’t think Mom’s ever mentioned her. Why is that?”

“They got on great,” Fee says, “but then Maureen came back to the city and met your dad shortly after, fell into her whirlwind romance with him; Isla and Grant were upstate, busy putting their lands and lives together.” She shrugs. “Wasn’t really a reason for your mothers to stay in touch outside of spending time with me. They’re both my friends, primarily. But I’ve rounded them up every once in a while over the years, when I want to get together with my gal pals. They still get on great. The three of us met up in Ireland, just a few months ago, actually.”

Juliet’s mouth drops open. “Wait, when Mom went on her girls’ trip, Will’s mom was with you?”

“She was.” Fee grins. “So, you see, it’s quite a delightfully small-world moment, seeing you two here. Now, let’s have an Orsino whiskey to celebrate this serendipity, shall we?” She winks. “On the house, of course.”

—

Juliet sits back in her seat and smiles. “My belly is a happy place.”

I make a noise of agreement into my glass of ice water. I keep chugging it, hoping it’ll cool me down. Fee’s refilled my glass so many times, she told me after the last round to just grab the damn water gun and handle it myself.

The ice water isn’t working. I’m burning up. And not because it’s warm in the pub. My body’s been on fire the whole meal, while I’ve been listening to Juliet’s sweet little noises of pleasure in the back of her throat between bites, the breathy sigh of satisfaction after she sips my family’s whiskey, my favorite batch our distillery’s ever made.

I set down my water glass and catch her watching me. “What is it?”

She shrugs, a soft smile on her face as she twists her whiskey glass on its coaster, back and forth. “I just can’t get over this. Our moms knew each other. Our parents met the same summer, all because of this battle-axe—”

“I heard that!” Fee calls.

Juliet ducks her head, grinning sheepishly. “A term of endearment!” she calls back.

She swivels her barstool chair back toward me. I turn mine to face her, too. Our knees brush. Her ankle nudges mine. I’m half-hard already in my jeans, and these incidental touches are not helping, but I’m too greedy for how good they feel to be sensible.

“And then,” she says, “you and I meet on the other side of the world, then again in my backyard. Right at a moment when we both…”

“Needed to,” I say quietly.

She nods, shaking her head. “Isn’t it just…incredible? It’s incredible, right?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. It is.”

She smiles up at me and shrugs again, a happy little jump of her shoulders, then drags the menu toward us and flips it open. “I think I want dessert. I need something sweet in my mouth.”

“Me, too.” It comes out rough and suggestive.

Juliet does a double take, eyes wide.

I shut my eyes and groan. “That was a—”

“Thinking thought,” she says, snapping the menu shut. “That became a talking thought.”

I hazard opening one eye. My cheeks are beet red. “Sorry ’bout that.”

“I’ll allow the occasional innuendo,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Ifyou try to flirt with me, too.”

Nerves tighten my stomach. “Must I?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Come on, workout buddy, this is me adding…” She frowns. “One of those disc thingies on your bar to make it heavier.”

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