Chasing Julia (Rhode Island Romance #2)
Read Chasing Julia (Rhode Island Romance #2) Online
Authors: Sophia Renny
Chasing Julia
Sophia Renny
Copyright © 2015 Sophia Renny
All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or
transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of
the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For
permission requests, contact the author via
www.sophiarenny.com
Publisher’s
Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a
product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes
used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead,
or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely
coincidental.
Cover
Art Credit: ©iStock.com
Cover
design: © 2015 Sophia Renny
Chasing
Julia/ Sophia Renny -- 1st ed.
DEDICATION
For all my Rhode Island friends.
You are true blue.
Something
was licking her foot.
Some
one
was
licking her foot?
It was alive,
whatever it was. But it didn’t feel like a human tongue. It was a very small
tongue. Very warm. Very sandpapery. Very into whatever was on the sole of her
foot. That tongue was lapping at her skin at a frenzied pace, like her foot was
a double scoop of Chunky Monkey that needed to be devoured before it melted
under a blazing summer sun.
Maybe this was a
dream.
Julia cracked one
eye open. The eye that wasn’t scrunched against her pillow. She winced as a ray
of sunlight streaming in from the bedroom window struck her eyeball like a
fiery hot dagger. She squeezed her eye shut. Tiny, sharp points of light
pricked through her eyelid. They pulsed with the beat of her heart.
“Oh, God.”
Her mouth was so
dry that the words came out as a raspy whisper.
Her head throbbed.
Her eyes throbbed. Even her hair seemed to be throbbing.
What in the world
had she done?
She was lying on
her stomach. The bed sheet beneath her scratched her skin. Something hard
pressed uncomfortably into her rib cage, just below her breasts. She snaked one
hand under her stomach and felt around. It wasn’t the bed sheet that was
causing discomfort.
What the hell was
she wearing?
Was that a bustier?
She slid her hand
lower.
She was still
wearing panties. Satin, by the feel of them and not very substantial. Okay,
that was definitely a thong. Her butt cheeks were bare.
Why was she wearing
a thong? She hadn’t worn those since she’d turned thirty; hipsters were more
her style.
And what the
hell
was licking her foot?
Her feet were
uncovered; one foot was hanging over the side of the bed. She jerked that foot
inward and kicked the other foot out, connecting with what felt like a ball of
fur.
“
Yip
!”
Four paws pounced
on her lower back, nails digging through the bedspread.
“What the—”
“Looks like Max
wants to play.”
The weight of
whatever creature that had tackled her was lifted away.
Julia’s eyes flew
open.
That was a male
voice. A very recognizable male voice. Warm and deep with a little bit of
gravel. Bourbon on the rocks. It poured over her skin and flowed through her
veins, igniting fires deep in her belly.
But she’d never
heard that voice right next to her in bed before.
This wasn’t her
bed.
Her eyes tracked
anxiously around the room.
This was a hotel
room.
The window curtains
were open. In the distance she glimpsed what appeared to be the Eiffel Tower.
How did she get to
Paris?
Her heart thundered
in her ears as fuzzy memories infiltrated her alcohol-soaked brain.
This wasn’t Paris.
This was Las Vegas.
Oh, oh, God.
What
had she done?
Slowly, painfully,
she flipped over to her side to face the man lying on his side inches away from
her.
Her wide eyes
landed on his naked torso, followed the dark hairs of his happy trail down to
where it disappeared beneath the bedcovers. He was lean, sleek and muscular;
his olive-toned skin had a healthy glow. He was using one arm to prop up his
head; the other held a wriggling, motley-furred, grinning little dog tucked
against his chest.
She slowly lifted her
eyes to his face.
His teeth flashed
white; his cheeks dimpled. His toffee-colored eyes sparkled.
“Good afternoon,
wife,” he said. “Sleep well?”
Six
weeks earlier
“This
is a mistake. You’re just going to torture yourself watching this.”
Julia gave her best
friend, Hannah, a belligerent look. “I
have
to watch it. It’ll eat me up
inside if I don’t. I need to see how it was when they first met. This will help
with closure.”
“Okay. But don’t
tell me later that I didn’t warn you. Do you want vodka now? Or later?”
“Both.”
“Chunky Monkey now?
Or later?”
“Now.”
“As your best
friend I confess I do feel guilty for aiding and abetting your ten pound weight
gain. Promise me you’ll start a diet with me tomorrow? I can’t find anything in
my closet that fits right anymore. I’ve been wearing yoga pants for the last
week. Sam is starting to get a little concerned.”
Julia cracked a
smile. “Promise.” She gave Hannah a hug that she’d intended to be quick, but it
ended up lasting much longer. She shared several deep, restorative breaths with
her friend before pulling away. “In case I haven’t said it enough already,
thanks for being there for me, Han. Love you.”
Hannah beamed her
signature, quirky smile. “Love you back, babe. Just hope you never have to
return the favor.”
“Not going to
happen. Sam is true blue.”
Hannah retrieved
two empty bowls from Julia’s kitchen cupboard. “It’s good to hear you mention
his name. It’s been hard for me to talk about my fiancé much considering…”
“I know. I’m
sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Hannah
said as she doled out generous scoops of ice cream in each bowl. “You have
absolutely nothing to be sorry for. It’s Joe who should be sorry.”
Julia leaned
against the kitchen counter. She sighed heavily. “He
was
sorry, Han. He
said over and over how sorry he was. He was honest and sincere, just like he’s
always been. He said he had never wanted to hurt me.” Her voice cracked a
little.
“But he did. So, when
do you think you’ll be able to talk to him again?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s been four
months. When was the last time he called?”
“Just yesterday,
actually. I forgot to tell you.”
“What did he say
this time?”
“He just asked me
to call him. That’s all.”
“Maybe he’s worried
about you watching the show tonight.”
“Maybe.”
Hannah slid the
bowls of ice cream across the counter toward Julia. “Go get cozy. I’ll grab the
shot glasses.”
Julia went into the
living room and sat down on the brown leather sofa facing a flat screen
television affixed to the opposite wall. She set the bowls on the knotty pine
coffee table.
Over the last four
months, she’d spent more time in this room than any other. It was still
difficult being in the bedroom, even though she’d purchased a new mattress and
changed the décor. Too many memories still lingered in that space. More often
than not, she ended up sleeping on the couch. It was wide, firm and
comfortable.
It was a gorgeous,
warm early-September evening, but she still drew a fleece-lined throw across
her lap. It had become a kind of security blanket.
Hannah entered the
room and set a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses on the coffee table. She
plopped down on the couch close to Julia, grabbed a corner of the throw and
tugged it across her legs. She gave Julia a shoulder bump. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever
be.”
Hannah reached for
the remote and turned the television on.
It was already set
on the HOME channel. That had always been Julia’s favorite channel, even before
Tony and Joe’s show had come to be.
She ate some ice
cream, one eye on the commercials leading up to the show.
Rossetti &
Rossetti—bold, burgundy letters on a cloudy gray background—appeared on the
screen. A male announcer’s voice filled Julia’s living room.
“Today on Rossetti
and Rossetti, the brothers will journey to the village of Conimicut, Rhode
Island where a young woman has recently inherited a cottage in need of a major
overhaul.”
Exterior shots of a
two-story 1920s era wood and brick bungalow appeared on the screen. As the
camera panned the surroundings and then showed images of Conimicut Point Park
and Narragansett Bay, the announcer continued: “Tony and Joe are about to meet
Willa for the first time to walk through her home. Willa was the lucky winner
of a total home makeover sponsored by the HOME network and the Rhode Island
Home Show.”
A spoonful of ice
cream lodged in Julia’s throat as she got her first glimpse of her ex-fiancé
since the awful, horrible day back in May when he’d broken their engagement
after confessing to her that he’d fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with
Willa Cochrane.
She swallowed down
the ice cream and the huge lump of pain that had swelled up from her heart as
the front door opened, framing a petite, brown-haired and beautiful young woman
with wide blue eyes. Then the view switched to a shot from behind the woman’s
back, zooming in on a grinning Tony and an unsmiling Joe.
“Hello there,” Tony
said, with his usual charm and enthusiasm. “You must be Willa. I’m Tony
Rossetti and this is my brother, Joe. It’s great to meet you. Congratulations
on winning the contest!”
Willa greeted them
and asked them to come inside. Julia noticed that she didn’t shake hands with
either of the brothers. She appeared to be nervous, avoiding Joe’s eyes as she
led the men into her living room and shared the history of the house with them.
“She talks funny,”
Hannah commented, sounding snide.
“Don’t be mean.
Tony shared some of her background with me. She was a child prodigy. She has
the I.Q. of a genius.”
“An intellectual?
One of those head in the clouds types, I bet.”
“
Shh
. I
can’t hear what Joe’s saying.”
Willa had led the
men into her dining room. Joe shoved aside the heavy velvet curtains, releasing
a visible cloud of dust. Tony made a comment about the room looking like it
hadn’t been used that often.
“Do you like to
entertain?” Joe asked Willa.
Julia was so
distracted by the unusually gruff tone of his voice that she didn’t hear
Willa’s reply.
“What do you do for
a living?” Joe asked Willa next.
Reasonable
questions from a contractor preparing to put together the ideal remodel plan
for a homeowner. But Julia sensed the undercurrent beneath Joe’s questions; his
curiosity was more than professional.
He’d confessed to
Julia that he’d felt drawn towards Willa the moment she’d opened that front
door.
Julia wished now
that he hadn’t shared so many intimate details with her. But that’s the way
he’d always been with her since they were children: open, direct, honest.
Except for those murky weeks prior to the break-up when he’d become
increasingly distant, and she’d been too consumed with her wedding plans to realize
something was very, very wrong.
Now everyone was in
the master bedroom.
“Is this where you
sleep?” Joe asked Willa, his voice low and intense.
“
Jesus
,”
Hannah murmured. “Can I please change the channel, Jules? This is just too
cruel.”
“No.”
Now they were
walking upstairs. Tony put his hand on Willa’s lower back and made a teasing
comment about how steep the stairs were. Julia was startled by a sharp bite of
resentment. Tony had always been a flirt. This wasn’t anything new. Why did it
bother her?
Joe was inspecting
the furniture. Then he reached up to touch the low ceiling. The camera shot was
a wide angle showing both him and Willa in the same frame. Willa had her eyes
glued to his chest. Julia couldn’t blame her. Joe looked so masculine and strong,
his tall, sleekly muscular build shown to its best advantage as he stretched
his arm to the ceiling.
“This can be opened
up to the beams,” he said. “We could put a couple of skylights up here. We
could even turn this space into one large master bedroom. Do you have children,
Willa?”
“No… No, I’m not
married.”
“Let me ask you
this, then. Do you see yourself living here for a long time? Raising a family
here, maybe? Or will this be a summer home?”
“Yes,” Willa
answered softly. “I’d like to raise a family here. It’s a good neighborhood.”
The camera zoomed
in for a close-up of Joe’s face. His eyes seemed to glow, his gaze intent on
Willa.
“
Gah
!”
Hannah shrieked. “What the hell are we watching here?
The Bachelor
?” Her
outburst drowned out the voiceover.
The show cut to
commercials.
“Sure you want to
keep watching?” Hannah asked, her worried eyes scrutinizing Julia’s pale face.
Julia grimaced. “Yes.
But I need a shot.”
Hannah set her
empty bowl on the coffee table and poured out a shot of vodka for each of them.
She handed Julia a glass and tapped hers against it. “How about we do a shot
for every time they zoom in on Joe’s face?”
Julia tossed her head
back and downed the shot in one gulp. Hot liquid poured down her throat and
burned her lungs. She held out the empty glass for a refill. “Only if you’re
planning to crash here tonight. No way am I letting you drive home drunk.”
“Fine with me,”
Hannah agreed as she refilled both their glasses. “I don’t have anything on the
agenda for tomorrow anyway. Thank God tomorrow’s Friday, right?”
Hannah ran a
graphic design business from her home. Julia had first met her over ten years
ago when Julia had been outsourcing some print materials for an event. Hannah
was the same age; they’d hit it off immediately. Hannah’s bubbly personality
brought out Julia’s inner playful side—the impish, sometimes devilish
personality that she rarely revealed to her parents, or to anyone else, now
that she thought about it. Her parents had raised her to be the perfect lady;
she’d always done her very best to live up to their high expectations.
She was pretty sure
they were watching this episode right now, too, though they hadn’t mentioned
the Rossetti brothers’ show once in her presence since May. Her mother had
taken Julia’s cue and avoided bringing Joe’s name into their conversations.
Diane Kelly had been just as devastated as Julia when Joe had broken the
engagement—probably even more so. She had been convinced since Julia was a
little girl that her daughter would marry Joe someday.
Strangely, her mother
was the first person Julia had thought of when Joe had broken things off. Diane
had intertwined her expectations and dreams so closely with her daughter’s that
Julia had only recently begun to wonder if she had been living her mother’s
dream all this time and not her own.
“And we’re back,”
Hannah said in an aside as the Rossetti & Rossetti logo flashed on the
screen again.
Everyone was in
Willa’s kitchen now. Tony was raving about the 1950s era appliances. Joe was
running his hands along a built-in wall unit. They were talking about how much
counter space Willa wanted in her kitchen. Joe said they’d have to take the
wall unit out to have enough space for the counters. He opened one of the
drawers.
Suddenly, Willa
came running towards him and shouted, “No!” She reached inside the drawer and
pulled something out. It looked like a child’s drawing.
Julia leaned
forward, her heart thumping painfully as she watched her ex-fiancé brush his
fingers down Willa’s arm and then clasp her wrist. He brought both of their
hands upwards so he could get a closer look at the picture. The camera zoomed
in on both him and Willa as she explained that she’d drawn the picture when she
was seven years old.
And there it was.
Julia could
practically hear the
click
as their eyes met. Something softened in both
of their expressions. It was like they were the only two people in that room.
“Holy shit,” Hannah
breathed.
Julia was finding
it extremely difficult to breathe at all.
And then Tony was
moving into the shot, bursting that intimate bubble, forcing Willa and Joe’s attention
back to the task at hand. Tony’s voice was calm, his manner confident. He took
charge as he guided Willa outside to talk about landscaping and other design
elements.
Joe didn’t speak
with Willa again for the remainder of that segment. There was a brief interview
of him talking about his overall first impressions of Willa’s house. He
concluded by saying, “That kitchen wall unit is a well-made piece of furniture
that clearly holds some special memories for Willa. I’m going to do everything
I can to keep it intact in that room. But, if she wants the counter space,
it’ll have to come out.” He shook his head, looking troubled. “I don’t want her
to be unhappy.” And then he seemed to realize what he’d revealed with that
comment. His expression went flat. “It’ll be a tough choice for her, but
sometimes you have to sacrifice sentimentality for the sake of practical design.”