“Who?” I ask, even though I know who she’s talking about.
“She brought Aunt Bea. Do me a favor and be nice tonight, okay?” She turns back around to the rest of my brothers and says to Michael, “He convince you to go to that sex club yet?”
They all start laughing. Michael shakes his head and catches up to me. “I’m helping you inside. They’re relentless.”
25
Giselle
“Ash,I love this place. Any time you need a house sitter, I’m your woman,” Bea says.
Ash laughs and gives me a big hug. “Hey, kid. You look great.”
“Thanks, Ash.” I breathe him in. He smells like a campfire, and it cozies my senses. He’ll never know how much I bask in it. The safeness of being welcomed into his family. “Okay, ya fox, what kind of drink did you make me?” I say as he wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding us into the bar area of his ranch. The house is buzzing with more than the typical Sunday or holiday crowd. Asher is always one to entertain, but it already looks like full capacity. My skin starts to itch a bit. It’s a lot of people.
“You okay?” Bea asks quietly as she leans into me. She knows that big crowds make me anxious. Too many faces to catalog and the ever-present worry that I’ll recognize someone I don’t want to see. From before.
“I’m good,” I lie.
We shimmy our way through a few people I recognize.
Tildy from the diner; I wonder who’s covering for her if she’s not there. That woman is always there. I suppose when town royalty has a mini-wedding weekend, people put aside their norms and show up. Barney, from the town council with his wife, who always looks like she’s chewing on something. Then, there’s Merriam. She likes to knit booties for the hospital and the new babies born there. Too nice. I bet they have some distractingly kinky fetish. I can relate to that. The booties, not so much.
“I made a special drink in honor of the bride,” Asher says to us from behind the bar.
“Nothing for the groom?” I ask with a smile.
“Of course. I love him like he’s my own.” Asher leans closer and says, “He’s not a big fan of anything that deviates from Scotch or Bourbon, so I kept it simple and did a Scotch and birch beer. The birch beer was tapped from some of the trees on my property. Obviously.”
I laugh. “Obviously. You know there’s nothing simple about that?” He waves a hand at me dismissively. Gosh, I love this family. This silver fox especially. Always a little extra, but filled with so much love.
“There’s Lenny. I need to ask her a few things about the fishing trip I’m planning this summer. I’m going to mingle,” Bea says.
I look at her, a little surprised.
“What? I get a vacation too.” She leans over the bar and snags a sparkling water.
“Nothing stronger, Bea?” Ash asks.
“This is good.” She brushes off the question as she walks away. She’ll never have a drink, always on the clock when she’s here with me.
I watch her give Lenny a big-watted smile and they start chatting. As I look around, I notice there’s a handful of Everly’s staff in from New York’s Aprés Eve office. All high-strung, but a damn good time after they warm up. They’ll be the rowdy bunch I bet at the end of the night. I continue to scan the space. My current count is fifty-four people, minus the three Riggs boys and Jack. That’ll make sixty people in total, if you add in me and Bea. Less than there will be tomorrow night, but still a full house. Even this massive place looks smaller with this crew and the fact there are long tables set up around the living room and dining space.
“Okay, here you go.” Asher brings my attention back to his curated drink menu. “I decided it was only natural to do something with Everly’s favorites, so I went for a cinnamon infused vodka, shaken with a maple apple cider and a champagne floater topped with a candied orange peel,” Ash says proudly as he finishes straining the cocktail he just shook into a classic champagne glass. He tops it with the sparkling champagne and a twirled candied orange peel that’s wrapped around a black pick.
“I appreciate your glass choice,” I say as he pushes the drink toward me.
“Oh, please, I’ve listened to you two talk about the ridiculous design of martini glasses for years. I’ve caught on.” He laughs, then proclaims, “No martini shall ever be poured into a martini glass in this house.”
“They really are the worst. It’s an instant spill,” I say matter-of-factly.
Then, as I say it, someone catches my eye and I spill slightly anyway. The drink only coats my finger and thank goodness didn’t dribble down my chin and onto my dress. My very expensive and probably way too over-the-top outfit. I look at Ash, who already has a cocktail napkin waiting for me. “Ninja reflexes for an older dude,” I tell him.
“I’m notthatold, G. And the other thing I’ve learned”—he moves from behind the bar and starts walking away, but before he does, he finishes his sentence—“brace for the spill whenever you two are in the same room.” He nods toward the someone. Henry.
Goddess, he’s stupidly hot. And he’s walking in the room with slabs of meat, which should make me want to throw up, but I’m about a minute away from breaking out in a trundle-sweat from looking at him for mere moments. Navy blue dress pants that are filled out with thick thighs and a bubble butt ass that I have far too many fantasies about biting. The light pink, crisply pressed dress shirt is probably one size too small, because his arms and the way they’re bent holding the tray of meat are practically begging to be set free. His scruff is perfectly manicured. As usual. And the sprinkling of silver around his temples looks like frosting on a decadent, dick-swinging dessert.Nom Nom.
The crowd starts catching on that it’s time to eat and everyone moves toward the long dining tables set throughout the oversized room. This is the only time that this house has felt small. So many people.