“It’s about time you got here. I thought I’d have to stand in for you this weekend, and you know how much I hate public speaking.”
I glanced up from the trunk of my rental car, my overweight suitcase landing on the ground with a loud thump. A brilliant smile tugged on my lips as my gaze fell on the loud-mouthed woman who never seemed to care what anyone thought of her. Who lived life according to her own rules.
Who I admired because of that.
“Hey, Em.” I wrapped my arms around her.
“Good to see you, Cora. It’s been too long.”
“It sure has.” I squeezed her before pulling back, her nearly jet black hair the perfect juxtaposition to her fair skin. She was a living replica of Snow White.
If Snow White wore ripped jeans, Metallica t-shirts, and had tattooed sleeves on her arms.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the shower.”
I brushed her off, grabbing the handle of my suitcase and dragging it up the cobblestone driveway toward the sprawling two-story stucco house, although calling it a house seemed grossly inadequate. Situated amongst acres of vines in beautiful Napa Valley, this was more like an estate.
“You live in Chicago. That’s a long way to travel for a bridal shower. Speaking of which… How is the bride-to-be?”
“Surprisingly calm, considering in a few days, she’ll be restricted to one penis for the rest of her life,” she responded as we approached the front door.
“You make it sound like it’s a death sentence.”
“One penis for the rest of my life? Honey, that’s a fate worse than death. But to each their own.” She smirked, then opened the door for me, allowing my to enter in front of her.
As I crossed the threshold, I couldn’t help but be completely mesmerized by my surroundings, no words doing it justice.
When I drove up the meandering dirt path and saw the exterior of this place, I knew it would be amazing. Not to mention, Mackenna had shown me photos of the interior no less than once a week since she and Jacob had decided on this spot for their wedding. But even the most amazing photos couldn’t do this place justice.
High ceilings and expansive windows allowed natural light to flood the open space. The mixture of Florentine tile and stone made me feel like I was at a winery, not a private residence. And this was just the foyer.
“Here you go.” Emily’s voice forced my eyes back to hers. I took the envelope she handed me. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Room key. Itinerary. Map of the property.”
I opened it, noting I was in room five. A pang of guilt squeezed my chest that Mackenna put this all together herself. As Maid of Honor, I should have helped. But she’d insisted I’d already done enough, although I’d barely done anything other than plan her bridal shower and the Bachelorette Party scheduled for later this week.
“Everyone’s already out back, so come down when you’re settled.
“Great. See you in a few.” I gave her one last hug, then followed the map through the open living areas and up the west stairwell.
After lugging my bags down a long corridor, I came to a stop outside a door with a number five on the nameplate beside it. I found my key and brought it up to the door, unlocking it. As I entered my home for the next week, serenity enveloped me at the sight of my surroundings. Beige walls with well-appointed artwork. Restored wood furniture. Exposed wood beams running along the ceiling. Stunning view of the grape fields set against a mountain backdrop. And a four-poster bed with sheer drapes surrounding it, a luxurious comforter on top of it. I already didn’t want the week to end, especially if this was where I’d be sleeping.
The day of travel catching up to me, I tore my attention away from the bed and rushed toward the bathroom. My hand on the knob, I was about to turn when it opened on its own. I inhaled sharply, every muscle in my body stiffening as I came face-to-face with the reason for the door moving of its own volition.
Then again, that wasn’t completely true. It didn’t move of its own volition. It was opened by another body.
A wet, towel-clad body.
A muscular, chiseled body.
A body that also happened to belong to the best man… And my best friend.
Always the flirt, Owen smirked, taking advantage of my momentary embarrassment. “Like what you see, love?” he asked in his subtle Irish accent. It wasn’t as strong as those I’d heard when I’d been in Ireland, but there was still a hint. Evidence of his childhood in the motherland, as he called it.
“Check your ego, Macallan,” I playfully retorted, calling him by his last name as I always did when he irritated me. “This is my room.” I stalked toward the entryway table where I’d left my key. Grabbing it, I shoved it at him. “See. That tag says Room Five.”
“So does mine.”
Gripping the towel to keep it in place, he strode toward the nightstand. As my gaze followed him, I noticed the familiar suitcase and backpack that was designed to hold his camera and other photography equipment, things I should have seen during my initial inspection, but was too mesmerized to notice.
When he turned back toward me, he revealed a key identical to mine, right down to the room number. “See. I’m also in room five.”
“It’s probably just a mixup. I’ll go talk to Mackenna and sort this out.” Although this kind of thing was unlike her. She was usually meticulous. Then again, she did have a lot on her plate.
“I’ll go,” he offered.
I arched a single brow, briefly floating my gaze to his towel. “And give Mackenna’s grandmother another reason to flirt with you. You go down there in just a towel and she’ll really think you’re a dancer in one of those all-male reviews in Vegas. I’ll go. At least I have clothes on.”
I spun from him and hurried into the hallway, my steps quick as I made my way down the winding staircase. I wasn’t sure this was well thought-out. I had a feeling this staircase may be the location of quite a few injuries, particularly after a day at the wineries.
“Cora, wait up!” Owen called out as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I paused, looking up as he made his way toward me, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white linen shirt rolled up to just below his elbows.
“That was quick.”
“What can I say?” He flashed me a breathtaking smile that, had it been from anyone else, might have made me weak in the knees, his teeth brilliant against his sun-kissed skin. “I’m low maintenance. You should know that about me.” Placing his hand on my lower back, he led me through the living room and past a U-shaped bar, racks of wine filling the space from the floor to the top of the fifteen-foot ceiling.
“I certainly do.”
“How was your flight anyway?” he asked after a brief silence.
“Short.”
“And the drive?”
“Once I got out of Oakland, not too bad. What’s there to complain about? Especially with this scenery.”
“You’re quite right.”
“By the way…” I stole a glimpse at him. “I’m glad you’re home. Or at least closer to home.”
While we lived within walking distance from each other in Santa Monica, often getting together every morning at Palisades Park overlooking the ocean to have coffee, he’d just spent the past month in Paris on a shoot for one of the top fashion magazines in the industry.
He leaned toward me, kissing my cheek. “I’m glad to be home, too.” He pulled back, his gaze locking with mine for a beat before he glanced away, clearing his throat. “Kenna and Jacob are probably out back. I believe the itinerary says tonight is the Wine and Cheese Welcome.”
“Doesn’t she realize it’s only the wedding party staying here? We all know each other.”
“You know how she is. The perpetual party planner.”
“That I do,” I replied with feigned annoyance.
It was a miracle she’d allowed me to help with anything for her wedding. As one of the premier event planners in the LA area, Mackenna Grayson could have arranged this week blindfolded with two hands tied behind her back. An intimate wedding with a guest list that didn’t exceed forty was a walk in the park compared to the extravagant galas she’d arranged for a living. Most people were surprised when they heard her plans for her own nuptials, assuming she’d put on the wedding to put all other weddings to shame.
But that wasn’t Mackenna. She wasn’t getting married to put on a show. She was doing so because she found someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. It wasn’t about the wedding. It was about the marriage.
Something I wished I’d figured out before my failure of a marriage.
“You made it!” an excited voice exclaimed when I stepped onto the back patio, a few dozen familiar faces sitting around a stone fire pit, sipping wine and enjoying cheese in the temperate June air. Jazz music played in the background, everything about the scene calm and relaxed.
“Mackenna…” I walked into her outstretched arms.
Despite being days away from her wedding, she was the picture of composure. Her blonde hair sported loose beach waves, her skin tanned, a healthy glow about her. She was the opposite of the Bride-zillas she catered to on a daily basis.
“How are you? I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get here.”
“Are you kidding me? We’re in wine country!” I waved at our surroundings, rolling green hills covered in vines, the sun setting in the distance turning the sky a beautiful shade of orange and pink. “Any amount of traveling is worth it to be here. And to celebrate your wedding.” I glanced at Owen. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“You’d better not,” Jacob said, sauntering up to Mackenna and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “After all, we never would have gotten together if it weren’t for you two.”
I smiled at the memory of our failed double date. Owen had tried to set me up with Jacob, and I thought Mackenna was perfect for Owen. After all, her stunning appearance rivaled that of the models he often photographed.
But less than five minutes into the date, it was readily apparent there was no chemistry between Jacob and me. And any attraction between Owen and Mackenna could be described as lukewarm at best. But between Mackenna and Jacob?
Let’s just say I didn’t believe in love at first sight…
Until that night.
“A week is wine country is a wonderful way to repay us.” I winked.
“That’s all I want,” Mackenna stated. “To give you the same gift you gave us.” She smiled, but there was something in her expression that caught me off guard. Something…conniving almost. “How’s your room. Gorgeous, right?”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to speak to you about.”
Her brows scrunched together. “Is there something wrong? I made sure you both had the best rooms.”
“And it’s a beautiful room. Unfortunately, it’s the same room.”
“Same room?”
“Yes. We’re both in room five.”
“That’s not possible. I double checked everything myself.” She shook her head, retrieving her phone out of her jean pocket and tapping at it. “Granted, I did have to shift a few things around today at the last minute when Jacob’s mother all but pleaded with us to include his cousin, Teagan, since her divorce was recently finalized, but…” She trailed off, a slight scowl crossing her lips. “Well, shit. I guess I did double book that room.”
She looked up, her eyes apologetic, but she didn’t peer directly at me. Or Owen, for that matter.
“You have your hands full. I’ll just stay in a different room. Doesn’t need to be as glamorous as the one you’d originally given me. I’ll barely be in it, anyway.”
When her smile turned into a grimace, I knew I wouldn’t like her next statement. “All the rooms are already full, Cora. Double-booked, actually, since everyone except for you two brought a date. Even Emily brought one, although I’m pretty sure he’s just a friend with benefits. Oh, well I guess Teagen didn’t bring a plus-one. I’m not sure how you feel about bunking with someone you don’t know, but I—”
“Or we could trade,” Jacob interrupted. “We’ll take your room, and you two could stay in the pool house.” He nodded toward what looked like a miniature version of the main house. “There’s still just one bedroom, but there’s also a pullout couch in the living room so you’ll have separate spaces.”
“And force the entire wedding party to be subjected to listening to you guys going at it all week?” Owen scoffed. “I don’t need to remind you of that time we went to Cora’s place in Big Bear. Do I?”
I groaned from the memory. I loved Mackenna and Jacob, and was so glad they found their happily ever after with each other, even after they’d turned forty. But I would have loved to erase that Big Bear trip from my memory. Things weren’t bad the first half of the week. But at the mid-point, they’d gotten into a fight and nearly broke up.
Thankfully, Owen and I were there to help them realize how much they cared for each other, and they eventually reconciled. Unfortunately, we had to listen to them reconcile for three days and three very long nights.
“Definitely not,” I said in agreement.
“And I’m not sure you want to share a room with Teagan,” Jacob offered. “According to her, she’s using this week to catch up on all the sex she’s missed out on during her marriage.”
“That’s settled then,” Owen stated firmly. “We’ll room together.”
I whipped my eyes to his. “Are you sure? There’s only one bed.”
One very romantic four-poster bed.
He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You’d have to be blind not to notice his biceps bulge against the fabric. “We’ve shared a goddamn tent before, Cora. This is no different. And like you said, we’ll barely be in the room anyway.”
“See? Problem solved.” Mackenna stated excitedly. A little too excitedly.
My eyes narrowing on her, I wondered if perhaps this little room assignment mishap was intentional on her part. And the more she avoided eye contact, coupled with the fact that her attention to detail is unmatched by anyone, the more I couldn’t shake the feeling she planned it this way.
“Now come over and join the party.” She started in the direction of everyone else.
“Actually, I need a minute to freshen up. And unpack. I should hang up my dress before it gets too wrinkled.”
“Of course. You go do what you need to do.”
“I’ll be back down soon.” I brushed past Owen and hurried into the house, doing my best to navigate back to my — our room.
What was the big deal? Like Owen said, we’d shared a tent before, one that was even smaller than a typical king-sized bed. That was camping, though. There was nothing remotely romantic about camping, at least in my mind.
But when I stepped into the room once more, my eyes falling on the bed that all but begged for its occupants to have hot, kinky sex on it, I came to the realization that this was nothing like camping.
The room was romance personified. It was the type of room you’d lock yourself and your loved one in for days, then come out walking bow-legged.
Pushing down the thought, I focused my attention on unpacking my things, lifting my suitcase and placing it on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.
The bed I was supposed to share with my best friend for the next week.
I wouldn’t put it past Owen to offer to sleep on one of the couches in the living areas. Or even on the accent chair in the corner of the room. But that sounded ridiculous. I wasn’t going to make him suffer through that.
Unfolding my garment bag from inside my suitcase, I headed toward the closet. As I hung it up, a knock sounded. I hurried toward it, growing hopeful it was Mackenna to tell me she’d found a room for me. Instead, when I pulled it open, Owen stood in the hallway.
“You know, this is your room, too. No need to knock.” I stepped back, allowing him to enter.
“I know. I just…” He ran his long fingers through his thick, dark hair. “I hope I didn’t overstep when I volunteered you to be my roommate.”
I pinched my lips together, placing a hand on my hip. “You do know she planned this, right? Those two have been trying to play matchmaker between us for, oh, ever since we inadvertently played matchmaker between them.”
“Of course I know she planned this. But I figured if we went along with it for the week, maybe they’d stop trying to set us up.”
I grabbed a few of my t-shirts and brought them to the dresser, opening the top drawer, but when I saw Owen’s things were already there, I moved onto the next drawer. At least that was one thing we had in common. We both liked to unpack the second we got to our hotel. I’d dated some men who preferred to live out of their suitcase for weeks while traveling. The disorganization drove me crazy.
“Those two won’t stop until they think we screwed.”
“You’re probably right about that.” He leaned against the bed frame.
Unless…,” I drew out, an idea percolating in my brain.
He straightened. “Unless what?”
I faced him. “We’re both in agreement that this was all part of Mackenna’s plan to get us to hook up, right?”
“Yes…”
“So, we go along with it. Make her think it’s working.”
“And how will that help?”
“Mackenna’s heart is in the right place. I think we can both agree on that point, as well. You heard her down there. She just wants both of us to find what she has with Jacob. And she’s convinced we already have that, despite us insisting we’re not interested in each other that way. So we’ll make her think we’re finally falling for each other. And then…”
“Yes?”
“Then we break up.”
The more I thought about it, the more the idea solidified in my mind. Darting to the entryway table, I grabbed my welcome packet, finding the itinerary. “This can work, Owen. Look.” I shoved the itinerary into his hands. “We have the little get together tonight, so we can start to set the tone. Maybe do a few touchy-feely things.”
“Touchy-feely?”
“Yeah. Nothing over-the-top, but a few things that will get Mackenna’s attention. Maybe a sly glance. A brush of the hand. Stuff like that.” The more I talked, the more excited I got. “Tomorrow is a day full of wine-tasting. She has us going to, like, five different vineyards. Including a private tasting and cellar tour at one of them. The next day is an optional trip to the Petrified Forrest. Then a relaxing day here on Wednesday. The Bachelor and Bachelorette parties are Thursday. Rehearsal dinner Friday. We have all this time with them to slowly ramp up the appearance of desire between us. So all week that’s what we’ll do. Ramp up to the main event.”
“And what will that be?” he asked guardedly, still seemingly unconvinced.
“Sex, of course.”
His eyes flew wide.
“Not for real,” I countered quickly. “We’ll just make everyone think we’re having sex.”
“And when would you suggest we have this fake sex?”
“Thursday night. It’s perfect. All you boys have your Bachelor Party plans, and we have the Bachelorette Party, but we’re supposed to meet up later that night at the jazz club. So we’ll make everyone think things are getting heated. Then we’ll leave early together, come back here and pop a bottle of Champagne to celebrate outsmarting Mackenna and Jacob at their own game.”
He stared at me, his reluctance apparent. “I don’t know. I think there’s too much…opportunity for something to go wrong. Not to mention, I feel like we’ll be deceiving our friends.”
“It’s not deceiving. We’ll let them draw their own conclusions.”
“And the breakup? How do you propose we handle that?”
“I think the best course of action is to simply tell them that the previous night made us learn that we’re better off as friends. That we gave it the old college try but realized it wasn’t worth it.”
“College try?” He chuckled. “Did you really just refer to pretending to have sex as ‘the old college try’?”
“Whatever.” I waved him off. “Who cares what I call it. You can’t ignore that this can work. They always argue that we don’t know we’ll be better off as friends because we refuse to even give it a shot. So that’s what we do. This week, we give it a shot. Or at least make them think we are. So what do you say, Owen?” I extended my hand toward him, waggling my brows. “Want to pretend to fall in love with me this week?”
He peered at my hand for a moment, his expression similar to the contemplative look he got whenever he was on a shoot and trying to figure out the best way to capture his subject. Finally, he heaved a sigh and placed his hand in mine, shaking it.
“What do we have to lose?”
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