Summer had returned. The nightlife lit up the coastal town of Sea Breeze, Alabama with scantily clad sun-kissed bodies, live music, the smell of fresh cooked seafood.
Taking it all in, he wondered if coming back had been the best thing. He wasn’t the same man who had driven out of town a year ago on the motorcycle he’d bought after his best friend’s wedding. From the messy blonde curls he’d let grow out, to the tattoos now covering his arms, part of his chest and even the side of his neck, it all represented a part of his journey.
Eli Hardy was back, but he didn’t plan on staying for long.
THE WATCH ON my wrist said it was 2:15PM.
The flask tucked in my pocket wasn’t half empty because I was broken-hearted about my best friend getting married. I’d come to terms with Bliss marrying Nate Finlay. Hell, I’d fallen in love or I had thought I had with someone else. I still couldn’t be sure on that one. It had ended before it even started. The months had gone by and I was over losing her too.
I had decided I was the perpetual good guy. The guy girls know as steady, dependable, forgiving, blah motherfuckingblah. I took another swig from my flask at that thought. The rim was cool on my lips surprising me. It wasn’t summer yet, but in South Alabama, it might as well be. If they’d chosen to have this thing on the beach, we’d at least have had a good breeze.
Since we were kids, Bliss always said she’d get married here, on her parents’ farm just like they had years ago. She thought it was romantic and shit. I thought it was too damn hot and out of the way but I was also drinking and a bit callous on love, at the moment.
“You want to share that?” I recognized that sultry female voice. Once you heard Ophelia Finlay speak, you never forgot how she sounded. The first time I’d met her she’d been the new roommate of the girl I was almost but not quite dating, Lila Carter. Sure, Lila had been the instrument that got me over loving my best friend. But she’d moved right on over me in a blink to a Rosemary Beach rich ass bad boy too.
I handed the flask to Ophelia. I had noticed her earlier, but everyone noticed her. She was hard to miss. Pale blonde hair, blue eyes that I swear looked like they had silver in them, and exceptionally nice tits. I was a drunk man and in that strapless dress, it was hard to ignore. I doubted many females could hold a dress up with their rack the way Ophelia was doing. Ophelia and I didn’t really know each other well but she would be my best friend’s sister-in-law before the sun set.
I handed her the flask.
“It’s whiskey,” I told her as she took the flask from me.
I let myself appreciate the view up close. And damn what a view it was.
She cut her eyes at me sharply and underneath her heavy lashes, I saw the gleam of amusement there. “I can handle it.”
I’d heard a few stories about her from Bliss. She wasn’t the wildest of Nate Finlay’s two younger sisters. That title went to Phoenix Finlay. Her red hair was the only warning one got that she was trouble. She looked like an angel. The first time I met her I wondered if they’d made up the stories about her. Then at a birthday party for Bliss that Nate had held at his house, Phoenix had stripped off her clothing all except for a pair of tiny panties and jumped into the pool. Nate had cursed a fucking blue streak while the rest of the males in attendance watched.
“Single malt, mmmm. Thanks, I needed that,” Ophelia’s voice was so damn warm and raspy. I’d forgotten how much I liked hearing her talk.
“Wedding joy stressing you out?” I asked, taking one more drink before closing it back up and tucking it into my suit coat jacket.
She shrugged then sighed a bit. “Bliss is sweet. If I didn’t know she had my brother so wrapped around her finger, I’d worry about her. The women in our family aren’t sweet. If this was Phoenix’s wedding, I’d need a whole bottle of whiskey. But Bliss isn’t Bridezilla. Which is a relief. I just don’t like getting all dressed up and taking pictures, and having to let my mom fuss over my hair, and wearing all this makeup.”
Maybe it was the whiskey, but I smirked at her rambling explanation. “You look hot as fuck. So there’s that.”
I don’t think I’d ever told a female they looked hot as fuck. It was definitely the whiskey talking.
She broke into a grin then she laughed. It was a soft, surprised laugh and it was as intoxicating as her voice. “Eli Hardy, I do believe you’re drunk.”