Page 13 of Haunted Hearts
She lifts up one of the glass jars, inspecting the contents. Dried lime rind, several sprigs of fresh mint, a scattering of bright pink flower petals. “It’s a mojito in a jar! You only have to add rum.”
Her enthusiasm makes me chuckle. “Yeah, since we all have rum sitting around at home.”
“Lydia, babe. Not everyone’s as square as you are.” Autumn feigns a scoff and shoots me a playful wink. “Anyway, drinking at home is boring. If I want a cocktail, I’m heading to the bar.”
I shake my head, laughing. This is what I love about Autumn. She may have married crazy rich, but she’s not too above the rest of us to put on a mini skirt and strut her way into a dive bar. She’ll have every head there turning, too.
“Hey.”
My heart jumps into my throat as a deep voice startles me out of my thoughts and I catch a whiff of spicy, sweet cologne. You have got to bekiddingme.
“Uh, hi,” I stammer, turning around to see exactly who I thought I would. “What are you doing here?”
Will laughs, blue eyes crinkling. The top button of his red flannel shirt is undone, and I catch a glimpse of chest hair as he brushes his tousled hair out of his eyes. He looks even better than I remember. I hate it. “You do know I live in Hawthorne Bay, right?”
“Who’re you?” Autumn asks before I can answer, looking Will up and down. Her eyes narrow for a second, and then an absolutely wicked grin spreads across her face. “Oh, you must be the architect.”
Will’s eyes flit to mine, and I feel my face grow hot. I unlink my arm from Autumn’s and give her a sharp jab in the ribs with my elbow. Will’s mouth twitches.
He reaches out to shake Autumn’s hand. “Will Holloway. And yes, I do happen to be an architect.”
Just then, a tall, lanky guy with white-blond hair strides up to Will and punches him on the shoulder. “Yo. You are one lucky bastard, not having to see that gnarly dude with the missing nose hanging out by the Jack-o-lantern booth. Every time I look over there I—” The guy stops, seeing Autumn and me, and a slow, dazzling smile creeps almost imperceptibly onto his face. He’s got the same chiseled jawline as Will, but there’s something about this guy that’s way more smooth. “Hey, ladies.”
Curious, I glance toward the booth selling freshly carved Jack-o-lanterns. There are quite a few people milling around near it, none of them with missing noses. I have no clue what this scarily suave kid is talking about, but I’m sure as hell not going to ask.
Will just snorts. “Don’t you ever turn that charming shit off?”
The guy doesn’t take his eyes off me and Autumn. “Not a chance.”
“Well, at least you’re your own red flag,” Will says, giving the younger, lanky guy a playful shove. He looks at Autumn and me, his eyes almost apologetic. “My brother, Zeke, folks.”
“Red flag is right,” Autumn mutters, but she looks more amused than anything. Her eyes snap back to Will’s. “You’ve got your hands full.”
“You’re telling me. He’s supposed to be getting a job, but, funny story, he hasn’t gotten any interviews.” Will casts an irritated look at his brother.
“Don’t blame me, man,” Zeke says, shrugging. “You’re the one who helped me write my resume. If you don’t know how to write a resume that doesn’t suck, you should just own up.”
Will just grunts in reply.
“Yeah, whatever,” Autumn says, waving a hand. “Anyway. Will. You’re the one redoing the library?”
Will nods. “It’s going to be a beautiful building.”
“It alreadyisa beautiful building,” I snap.
“Also true.”
Suddenly, Will’s brother whistles. He steps away from us to gaze across the harbor, shielding his eyes with a smooth, tan hand. “Damn. Nowthatis one beautiful piece of ass.”
Will groans, looking to Autumn and me like we’re going to give him some kind of sympathy. I follow Zeke’s gaze. I’m grossed out by his vulgar objectification, but I’m also wondering what kind of woman would draw such an immediate reaction from this guy who’s clearly used to getting whatever female attention he wants.
But as soon as I look, I wish I hadn’t. There’s only one couple on the other side of the harbor, and when my gaze lands on them, my stomach plummets.
Because there’s Dylan. And he’s got his arm around some blond, Barbie-looking bombshell.
Apparently, I didn’t respond to his text fast enough.
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