Rusty Nailed (The Cocktail Series Book 2)

The next morning I was waiting in Jillian’s office when she arrived. As asked, I’d sent her my list of questions and tasks that needed her approval or input before the wedding. We had lots to discuss, but foremost was getting a better idea of when she was coming back.

“Wow, you’re here early,” she exclaimed, shrugging out of her coat and unwrapping her scarf.

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Hey, my boss is all over the map—she’s getting married this weekend, you know. Figured I better nab her while I could.”

She sighed, sinking down into her chair. “Have I been a bridezilla?”

“Nah, I’d characterize you more like the phantom boss,” I joked.

“Watch it, Reynolds; I’d hate to have to write up my maid of honor for insubordination,” she warned, a twinkle in her eye but enough steel to tell me I was pushing it. “So I read your list. It’s long.”

“It is. And I can handle practically everything on there. I just need to know what your plans are, and what your expectations are of me so I can manage things.”

“I know, kiddo; sorry I’ve been a little absent lately. Who knew weddings had so many arms and legs?” She grinned. “I can’t wait to watch when you go through all this. It’s a lot to have on your plate.” She picked up the list and grabbed a pen.

“When I go through this?” I asked, my breathing going a little, well, breathy.

“Sure. Don’t you think you and Simon are heading that way eventually?” she asked, putting on her glasses and positioning them so she could look down at me. Cheeky.

“Um, I don’t, well, I mean, how can I, Jillian!” I stuttered, blood rushing to my face at the thought. Picket fence territory.

“Whoa, strike a nerve there?” she asked, a twinkle growing in her eye. “Don’t you think Simon’s the marrying kind?”

“I don’t . . . I mean . . . he’s never had a relationship longer than the one he’s currently in, I don’t think we need to push the issue, and besides, it’s good the way it is now and—I don’t know that I, I mean, what if I don’t want—”

“Easy there, Trigger, settle down.” She grinned, pleased that she’d rattled me off course.

“Okay, this isn’t what we’re here to talk about this morning. We need to go through this list and put out some fires, and I need to know when you’re coming back from your honeymoon, woman!” Simon and me getting married. Pffft.

“Not sure,” she said calmly.

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not sure when we’re coming back. Wanna house-sit too?”

“House-sit too?” I asked, my eyes crossing.

She sighed, sitting back in her chair.

“The thing is, Caroline, I need a break. I love my job, you know how much this business means to me, and I’m so very proud that I’ve been able to carve out a niche for myself. But I need a break, and Benjamin and I just want to go wherever we feel like for a while. Does that make any sense?”

It made perfect sense. A gorgeous man and his gorgeous new bride, with all that money burning a hole in their bonds or funds or whatever really wealthy people had their money in. They wanted to see the world while they were young enough and sexy enough to do it right.

Hell, I’d do it if I had the chance. A never-ending vacation with Simon? Gondola rides in Venice? Yodeling in Saint Moritz? Fucking in Frankfurt?

But I couldn’t afford to think like that. I had to think about the person left behind, the person left behind holding the design bag. How could Jillian Designs function without Jillian?

“I’ve already talked to my accountant, who can walk you through any weird payroll issues that might come up. And it’s not like I’ll be in a cave somewhere. We’ll do weekly conference calls; I can assist with whatever you need. You’ll see, it’ll be fine,” she assured me, her face filled with a confidence in me that I didn’t share.

Could I do this? Jillian seemed to think so. Plus I’d have a new intern. I didn’t want to say no, not when I knew she was counting on me.

This is too much.

This is also an opportunity. One that would likely never come along again.

Shit yes, I could do this.

“So tell me about this house-sitting gig. Does it come with the Mercedes in the garage?”

“It sure does.”

“I’m in!”

“That’s great! Now, back to you and Simon. So no marriage just yet, but have you talked about living together?”

I bit through my colored pencil.

•  •  •

“How’s the sexiest interior designer on the West Coast?”

“You flatter me. Have you been keeping your bits and pieces tucked into your wet suit and away from shark week?”

“Best as I can. How’re things going at work? You ever pin Jillian down about how long they’re going to be away on their honeymoon?” Simon asked, calling in for his nightly chat. Which was really breakfast, his time. It’s amazing how fast you learn all the time zones when your boyfriend was usually running across all of them in any given month.

I sank back against the bed pillows. “I got a vague idea. Somewhere between indefinite and sabbatical.”

“Wow, really? What does that mean for you?”

“In a word? Fucking busy.”

“That’s two words, nightie girl.”

“I’m so busy it can’t possibly be contained to just one word. The good news is, I scored us a house with a killer view of the bay.”

“Huh?”

“Jillian asked if I wanted to house-sit for them while they’re gone.”

“And you said yes?”

“I did; how could I turn that down? Why, do you not want to stay there? It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be boring.” He groaned.

I rolled my eyes. Simon loved his city living. “Oh please, it’ll be great. Besides, I don’t think we need to stay out there every night. I think they just don’t want the place sitting empty for all that time.”

“Humph,” was his response.

“We can go hot tubbing.”

“Humph?” was his more interested response.

“As you recall, I tend to lose all control when bubbles are involved,” I said, thinking back to the first time we hot tubbed in Tahoe.

“True. Will there be skinny-dipping?”

“You bet your sweet bippy.”

“Mmm, you’re killing me.” He groaned, but this time in a very different way.

“Anyway, as busy as I’m going to be, it’ll be nice to have a change of pace. It’ll feel a little like a vacation just across the bridge. I’m barely going to be able to come up for air in the next few months.”

“Speaking of vacation, I just booked a job in Bora Bora. Wanna go?”

“What?”

“Yep, after the wedding. What do you say? Thatched hut over the water? Coconut bikinis? Actual sex on the beach?”

I clenched my hands in frustration.

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? I’m swamped, and about to get even swampier. I can’t go to Bora Bora. I couldn’t even go to Napa if I wanted—” I stopped myself from going on a full tirade and took a deep breath. “Simon, that’s very sweet of you, and you know there’s nothing I’d like more than to run off to the South Pacific with you. But I just can’t. I literally can’t even think about that right now, okay?”

He was silent for a minute. The line was a bit crackly, and I imagined how far he truly was from me that night. How far that phone connection was, stretching halfway around the world to reach me. I sighed into my half of that connection.

“You’re right, babe, I wasn’t thinking. I do know how important this is to you. You know that.”

“I do know that.”

“Maybe this isn’t a good year for Rio?” he asked, his voice quiet, but with an underlying tone.

“Don’t you dare—I’m looking forward to that trip more than I can say! Things will have settled down by then. But in the meantime, I just can’t drop everything and island hop.”

He was silent.

“I love you,” I whispered, wishing he was here to hug and hold.

“I love you too. I’m glad I’ll be home soon.” His voice had mellowed some.

“We’ll have fun at the wedding,” I said, changing the subject. “You gonna dance with me?”

“You bet your sweet bippy. I’ll even get them to play us some Glen Miller.”

“That always works.” I giggled.

“Caroline?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“I know it works.” He chuckled.

We said good night, then I went across the hall and let myself into his apartment. Putting the phonograph needle down, I slipped back to my apartment and into bed. Glen Miller played me to sleep through the walls, and I dreamed I was dancing on a beach in Brazil with my photographer.

•  •  •

Three nights before the wedding, I was still at work at eight thirty and I’d just canceled dinner with Sophia and Mimi.

Bring a grown-up sucked sometimes.

I’d been in meetings all day with Camden’s people, finalizing details on the construction that was beginning next week. We weren’t doing a complete teardown, just a gut rehab, using the existing lines of the hotel but reworking the layout of nearly everything.

Monica, the new intern, was enjoying a first week of trial by fire. She’d been thrown into the deep end headfirst, but she was swimming. She’d run errands, she’d delivered paperwork, she’d filed for permits; she’d really taken a lot off my plate. And speaking of plate . . .

My tummy was grumbling. I padded into the kitchenette, pretty sure I had a burrito stashed somewhere in the freezer, when my phone rang. Sophia.

“Still can’t believe you ditched us, Reynolds,” she sniped in my ear, and I bit back a snipe of my own. Seriously, did no one understand how busy I was?

“You’ll get over it, I promise. Where’d you guys end up going?”

“Your favorite restaurant in Chinatown. You missed out, sister. We got that shrimp thingie with the noodles, what’s it called? The one you love more than anything?”

My stomach rumbled even louder, and I gritted my teeth. “Mei Fun.”

“We did have fun, thanks for asking!” She laughed in my ear. “Now let us in the front door—it’s freezing out here.”

“I’m still at work; I told you I was working late. Why are you at my apartment?”

“We’re not at your apartment, you idiot, we’re outside your work. Let us in,” she said. I could hear Mimi grumbling in the background.

“You’re outside my—oh, for God’s sake.” I walked down the stairs to the front door, and there on the other side of the glass were Mimi and Sophia. With Chinese take-out containers.

“I’m hanging up on you now.” I grinned into the phone, unlocking the door and throwing it wide. “What in the world are you two up to?”

“It’s dinner, silly, and we promise we’ll only stay a little while,” Mimi answered, walking inside and heading straight up for my office. With arms full of the most heavenly scented food on earth.

Sophia posed in the doorway, a vision. No more sad sacking for her, she was dressed to the nines and looking lethal. Red hair piled high on her head, makeup flawless, just the barest hint of leg peeking out from under her trench coat. “You’re not gonna, like, flash me, are you?” I asked.

“Hell, no. Mama’s got a date after we feed you.” She grinned, handing me a bag.

“Mei Fun?”

“Someone’s gonna have some fun tonight, that’s for sure.” She winked, sauntering past me. “Don’t eat all the wontons, you little shit!”

Mimi yelled something back to her, but it was muffled by something in her mouth. My money was on the wonton. I locked the front door, shaking my head as I followed my two friends into my office.

Ten minutes later we were all sprawled across the floor cross-legged, with plates piled high with delicious food. Noodles, panfried shrimp, crispy pot stickers, spicy sautéed vegetables; it was a feast. Chopsticks were passed and we dug in.

“This sure as hell beats the burrito I was going to eat.” I sighed, my mouth full of delicately seasoned noodles.

“Since we knew you were gonna be here late, we thought the least we could do is bring you dinner,” Mimi responded, offering me an egg roll.

Sophia intercepted it, wielding it like a megaphone. “Oh, please, it was so I could tell you all about my new boy toy. You’re impossible to get ahold of, lady, and I needed to dish!”

I grabbed my own egg roll and spoke directly into the megaphone end of it. “So dish.”

Sophia told us all about the new guy she’d met at the gym. Once she decided she was officially moving on and looking for love (read, a date to Jillian’s wedding), she left no stone unturned. And this stone happened to be an insurance salesman. Car, life, you name it, he sold it. Hmmm.

“And let me just tell you, he is F-I-N-E fine. Tall, dark, and handsome, he is seriously sinful,” she gloated. “I’m gonna have the hottest date there.”

“Did she just quote a line from Grease?” Mimi asked me.

“Pretty sure she did. Let’s just hope this guy’s name isn’t Cha Cha,” I replied.

“His name is Barry, and he’s great,” Sophia insisted.

“As in Gibb?” I asked.

“As in White?” Mimi chimed in.

“As in Derry,” Sophia said through clenched teeth.

“Wait a minute, hold up. Stop everything. His name is Barry—” I started.

“—Derry?” Mimi finished.

We collapsed on the floor howling amid chopsticks and soy packets.

“Silence, whores, silence. Besides, Reynolds, you dated a guy named James motherfucking Brown,” Sophia snapped back.

“I sure did. That’s fantastic compared to Barry Derry,” I cried, wiping tears from my eyes. Which was a terrible idea, as I still had hot mustard on my fingertips. “Shit!”

“Serves you right,” Sophia said, handing me a stack of napkins.

Mimi was still chortling, muttering something about him being hairy, and I gave her an elbow to the ribs.

Through my mustard haze I saw that Sophia was putting on a brave face, but this wedding wasn’t going to be easy for her. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Neil either. I had a recurring fantasy where I accosted him by the cake stand and make him choke on fondant. I smiled encouragingly. “I’m sure he’s great, sweetie. We can’t wait to meet him.”

We were all quiet for a moment.

Mimi cleared her throat, ready to change the subject. “When is Simon getting back?”

“Thursday night,” I answered, then remembered my news. “Hey, I forgot to tell you! Guess who’s house-sitting over in Sausalito?”

They both shrieked; we all loved Jillian’s house. Especially the hillevator.

“That’s gonna be so much fun. What did Simon say?” Mimi asked.

“Simon says it’ll be boring out there, but Caroline says too bad. That house is a fucking rock star—who wouldn’t want to stay out there? Plus it’s so close to the Claremont, it’ll be nice to have a home base over there. And I don’t think we’re going to spend every night there, just some.”

“Look at you two, playing house. Isn’t that sweet,” Sophia remarked, earning a glare from Mimi. “All I’m saying is what you guys have now is great. Together but not. Separate but equal. It gets all fucked up when you start buying furniture together.”

“Says the girl who moved in with Neil not even six months into the relationship,” Mimi pointed out.

“Says the girl who is no longer with Neil,” Sophia responded, waving her chopsticks in the air.

“But that’s not why you broke up. Living together had nothing to do with it. You two had the best time living together—don’t try and tell me you didn’t.”

“Sure, we had a great time. But it was too soon. Separate but equal—all I’m saying,” she said, picking a bamboo shoot from her cleavage.

This was getting into sticky territory. And I don’t just mean the cleavage.

“Okay, well, thanks for the advice, kids, but Simon and I aren’t moving in together. We’re house-sitting. And taking advantage of a killer house in which we will have the sexy times. So there,” I finished.

The stack of paperwork on my desk was calling my name and I sighed, nabbed one more shrimp, then started closing up containers. The girls followed suit, making me keep the leftovers so I’d have something for lunch tomorrow. “You guys didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did.”

“I know how hard you’ve been working; just thought you might need a break,” Mimi said as we walked toward the front door.

“Don’t make it seem like this was your idea. I’m the one who suggested we bring her dinner,” Sophia said. “You wanted to go get street tacos when she canceled.”

“No way! I’m the one who said that we should—” Mimi started, but I beat her to the punch.

I knew where this was going and I shoved them out the door, laughing. “Ladies, I love you both. Now get the hell out of here.”

They tossed back good-byes as they went on their way. I headed back up to my office, rolling my shoulders a bit and fighting the egg roll sleeps that were now threatening to take over. Then I flipped on every light in the place and turned on Pearl Jam. Loud.

Simon and I weren’t moving in together. Pffft.

•  •  •

Twenty minutes later I got a text from Mimi:

Did Simon tell you Neil’s bringing someone?

He did. What did Ryan say?

He won’t say anything, just that he’s bringing a date.

That’s all that Simon will say too. She better not be pretty.

Of course she’ll be pretty.

I know. This could be bad, you know . . .

Count on it. Besides, it’s already bad—the guy’s name is Barry Derry, for God’s sake.

Scary . . .

Quiet.

•  •  •

Simon should have been back Thursday night, but his flight into New York was delayed, making him miss his connection to San Francisco. He was rebooked on a flight Friday morning, but he’d be cutting the wedding rehearsal close indeed. He’d texted me to let me know he was on his way to the airport, and then he’d texted me for the address of the church. Then another text needing the address of the restaurant the rehearsal dinner was being held in.

Jillian was stopping by the office this morning to finish up a few things. I’d tried to talk her out of working the day before her wedding, but she’d insisted she only needed a few minutes to tie up a few loose ends. Then she’d leave for the bridal luncheon, which I was missing to head a last-minute meeting with Mr. Camden.

I was in my office frantically printing out the reports I needed for my meeting when Jillian breezed by. “I’m out of here, Caroline. See you tonight?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Think Simon will make it back in time? Benjamin can have someone else stand in tonight, if we need to.”

“He’ll be here. Last I heard from him, he was sitting on the plane waiting to take off.”

At that, my phone beeped again. Simon, wanting to know if he was supposed to make some kind of speech tonight. Boys. I typed back no, said good-bye to Jillian, and grabbed the last of the reports off the printer, just as the receptionist called over the intercom to let me know that the Camden team was here and being shown into the conference room.

As Monica came to help me take everything in, my phone beeped again.

I handed it to her. “Can you take this while I’m in the meeting? And if Simon needs his shoes tied or his shirt buttoned or anything else, please tell him to— Never mind. Just tell him I’m busy, and I’ll see him when he gets in tonight.” I tried to smile, smoothing my shirt so I didn’t appear frazzled. Sometimes it really was perception equals reality.

I am calm.

I am calm.

I am calm.

“No problem, I’ll take care of it. Everything else you need is already in the conference room; just let me know if you need anything else.”

As we walked toward the meeting, my phone beeped again. Stifling a growl, I looked over at her. She looked at the text and frowned.

“Shoes tied? Shirt buttoned?” I asked, nodding a greeting to Camden’s team through the window in the conference room door.

“Um, not exactly. He wants to know if you can pick up his tux at lunch today?”

I am calm.

I am calm.

I am calm.