Seduce Me Sweetly (Heron's Landing Book 1) (15 page)

“I’ll tell you a secret: Leah serves way more wine on Mondays, mostly because she hates Mondays. I’ve seen patrons have to be carried to their cars afterward.”

“Noted.” Turning to Adam, Joy said, “Be sure to sign me up for Monday’s class, would you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Kerry, don’t encourage her. Let’s get you some coffee before you do something stupid.”

As they walked away from the younger woman, Joy whispered, “Like sleep with you? Is that stupid enough?”

She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when he snapped the back of her bra like a middle school boy before leaning down and saying, “Watch your mouth, or I’ll make you pay later.”

“I can’t wait.”

Joy found the coffee quickly enough, and she found herself watching Jaime and his staff prepping for the day. Jaime called out stations, telling his sous chef that if he burned the duck again he’d burn
him
, and mostly Joy was surprised no one started crying. Jaime had brass balls, she realized, and she sipped her coffee, admiration filling her. She liked a guy with balls, and Jaime was as confident as any person in that kitchen.

“What are we having today, Jaime?” Adam asked, taking some donuts from a nearby counter.

“Hey, Adam. Roast duck with garlic broccolini in white wine sauce, plus raspberry tarts.”

“Raspberries again?”

“Yeah, because somebody—” a glare at one of the staff  “—ordered twenty pounds instead of two, and now we’re trying to use them up before they go bad.”

Joy couldn’t help but piping up. “You know if you soak berries in vinegar for a bit, they’ll last longer?”

Jaime turned to her, an eyebrow raised, as if shocked anyone would give him tips in his kitchen. Joy, though, merely smiled widely at his expression.

“You don’t say?” Jaime said.

“Yep. Try it and let me know how it works for you.” She snagged a donut from Adam and began munching on it. “Great donuts! See you all later.”

She and Adam eventually made their way to his office, where Joy sat him down and made him tell her everything about doing events at the vineyard. He still seemed like he’d rather eat rocks than talk about weddings and bridal parties, but Joy could only be excited. She
loved
weddings. The dresses, the flowers, the invitations, the food, the shoes, the jewelry—everything. When she’d had to cancel her dress order when Jeremy cheated on her, she’d been so mad that only a large bottle of wine had stopped her from finding Jeremy and choking him out.

“We’re currently in talks with two local brides,” Adam explained. “They both seemed interested. We’re going to start small, see how it goes, and continue from there.”

Joy pulled out the story she’d written and handed it over to Adam. “I know you think journalists are Satan’s minions, but I would still highly recommend allowing me to write about River’s Bend. It’ll be free publicity. How could you say no to that?”

She had to admit, she was still a bit nervous about his reaction. He may have apologized, but that didn’t mean he was cool with the idea yet, either. As she held out the papers, he stared at them like she was handing him a dismembered arm in a box. She set them on the desk with a pat.

“Adam, have you ever considered talking to someone about your fear of free publicity?”

He glared at her, but it was tinged with amused exasperation. “Has anyone told you you’re a giant pain in the ass?”

“All the time. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.”

He grunted.

Silence fell, and Joy fidgeted. “Look,” she finally said. “I know you aren’t super into writing about the vineyard or whatever. I don’t get it, but I know it’s a thing now. Just, at least think about it. Okay? Make a pros and cons list even.”

He picked up the papers, glancing at them before setting them next to him. “I’ll read through this. Thank you for letting me see it first.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile, too. This exasperating man was going to be the death of her.

Her phone sounded again, and a chill went through her. And then it sounded again, and again. Message after message. Adam looked at her, and then said, “You going to answer that?”

No
, she thought.
I know who it is and he sucks monkey balls and I hope he falls off a cliff.
She gritted her teeth. “Not particularly interested in responding,” she said.

“Who’s texting you so much this morning?” He didn’t say it with jealousy lacing his voice, necessarily, but more concern that she was potentially ignoring something important.

How did she tell her current…fling? lover? that her ex-fiancé was intent on talking with her no matter what she told him? When her phone sounded again, she pulled it out with a curse, and then swore again as she read Jeremy’s texts.

“What is it?” Adam asked, concern in his voice.

Joy hesitated. But at his look, she admitted, “It’s my ex. He’s just being a pain in the ass. Don’t worry about it.” At Adam’s look, she winced inwardly. For all Adam knew, she and Jeremy were still on somewhat good terms and she was playing two men at once. She almost blurted that Jeremy had cheated on her with her best friend, but then she stopped herself. The thought of telling him of such a betrayal made her want to sink into the floor. Oddly enough, Jeremy’s betrayal had only been one layer of hurt: the other had been humiliation that she’d been cheated on. That she couldn’t keep a boyfriend interested enough not to fuck her friend. Oh, sure, it was Jeremy’s—and Regina’s—decision, not Joy’s, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been a blow to Joy’s self esteem, either.

So now she bit her tongue and gathered her things, a jumble of emotions. “I should go. Let me know what you think of the story, okay? Have a good day.”

She didn’t even kiss him goodbye, and she could’ve slapped herself. Way to be obvious that something was up, and now because she was a total coward, he was probably thinking the worst.

Is your pride important enough to let this man think badly of you?
her mind whispered.

The sad thing was that Joy wasn’t sure of the answer.

***

“You need to tell him.” Grace pulled a Twizzler from the package and bit on the end.

“Easier said than done.” Pointing her own Twizzler at the girl, Joy added, “You have no room to speak about being honest with a guy, missy.”

Joy had invited Grace over for a girl’s evening, needing someone to talk to about Adam. Well, not the details—Grace was his sister, after all—but about Jeremy and Adam and Joy’s poor life choices. She’d confessed to Grace that Jeremy had cheated on her, albeit after a few drinks. But now that she and the younger girl both had secrets that they’d revealed to each other, they felt a camaraderie that was stronger than it had been initially.

“This isn’t about me,” Grace said prosaically. “You called me to talk about yourself. Plus, I’m working on a plan.”

Joy perked up. “A plan? Tell me!”

“No, not until you tell my brother the truth.”

Joy slumped down into the couch, biting off more of the Twizzler. “I’d rather guzzle gasoline,” she admitted.
      
“You’re so dramatic. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that…” Joy looked away, her throat closing a little. “It’s humiliating, you know? I hate the look people get on their faces when you tell them. Pity mixed with questions.”

“Questions?”

“Yeah, like, ‘how’d she fuck up so badly that her boyfriend slept with her best friend?’ Those kinds of questions.”

Grace rubbed Joy’s knee. “Oh, Joy, I can’t imagine anyone thinking that.”

“My mom certainly did. Asked me point blank if I’d been withholding sex and if that’s why Jeremy had strayed. That had been the low point of my life, let me tell you.”

“Well, your mom can eat a moldy dick, as you would say. No one’s at fault for cheating except the cheater. Even if you shaved his eyebrows while he slept and cursed his future children, he still made that shitty decision.” Grace nodded, finishing her Twizzler and then sipping on some wine Adam had brought over earlier. “And I know Adam isn’t going to judge
you
for it.”

“I guess.” Joy didn’t think so, either, but that didn’t make it any easier. Desperately wanting to change the subject, she asked, “Have you been painting lately?”

Grace had majored in art and had specifically worked with watercolors while in school, and Joy had gotten to see a few of her pieces. They had been surprisingly dark for a seemingly sunny girl like Grace Danvers: images of dark oceans and skies and places that made Joy shudder, faces of women shrouded in black and gray, and some pieces that couldn’t be easily explained but that exuded a roiling emotion that Joy found both distressing and infinitely compelling.

Lately, though, Grace hadn’t been painting much, which she’d confessed to Joy a few weeks ago. Joy had a feeling she felt a little lost after graduating and then moving back home, stuck in her parents’ house while she figured out the terrifying question of what-are-you-going-to-do-with-your-life.

Grace smiled a little sadly. “I started one a few days ago, but it was awful. Just a jumble of barf colors. I threw it out.”

“Maybe you need new inspiration. Perhaps a day trip somewhere new?”

“Maybe.” Grace didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe I need to try painting fewer landscapes. I could try more people.”

Joy smiled widely. “You should hire some models. Nude models. Wonder if Jaime would be down?”

“Joy!” Grace yelled, hitting her with a pillow. “I will never ask Jaime Martínez to pose naked for me!”

“Too bad. I bet he’d be a great subject.”

“You say one more word about him and I’m going to poison your drink.”

“No you won’t, because then who would you go see hot-guy movies with?”

Grace sniffed. “I’ll go with my mom.”

“How thrilling. I always love watching hunks with my mom in tow.”

Grace just hit her with a pillow again.

The evening wound down, with the wine still flowing. Joy made Grace sit on the floor so she could play with her hair—perfect for braiding, as it was long and flowy—and she tried to convince the girl to continue painting. “I’m not a painter, obviously—I can’t even draw a stick figure—but I think we’re kind of in the same boat, since I’m a writer. You just have to push through any writer’s block. Or painter’s block, as it may be.”

Grace sighed as Joy tugged a strand of hair into the French braid she was creating. “It’s not that. It’s like…I can’t paint. It’s as if there’s nothing there.”

“What’s not there, hun?”

“The skills? The inspiration? I don’t know. I used to paint all the time. Now, though, I take out my watercolors and it’s almost painful to pick up a paintbrush.” She sighed, and it was such a sad sigh that it went straight to Joy’s heart. “I think I’m broken.”

No, I think you’re depressed
, Joy thought. Instead, she rubbed the girl’s shoulder. “You’re not broken, just a little stuck. You’ll get there, I promise. I think your twenties are more about trying not to fuck everything up than they are about becoming some accomplished adult. Believe me, you’re doing as great as any twenty-three year old out there.”

“What were you doing at my age?”

Joy pulled another piece of hair, biting her lip in concentration. “Writing, mostly. Eating ramen noodles. Wondering if I should be responsible and go to law school like my mom wanted. The usual early twenties’ angst.”

“Why didn’t you go to law school?”

“Because I didn’t want to. I knew it wouldn’t make me happy. It’s funny, people think young people are inherently selfish, but I think so much of your twenties is trying to do what other people want you to do. Trying to make others happy with your choices because you’re young and don't know what you really want. But at the end of the day,” she said as she finished tying off the braid, “if you’re not happy, no one else will be, either.”

Grace didn’t say anything, but Joy saw the girl brush something off her cheek. She squeezed her shoulders, hoping deep in her heart that Grace would find that happiness she so rightly deserved.