That Second Chance Page 15

  “How fancy?”

  “Cocktail attire, but it’s free.”

  “It’s free? I can drink wine and eat cheese for free?”

  He nods. “Yup. If you want to buy something you tasted, you can. They bring bottles and cheese for purchase.”

  “Sounds fun. What time tomorrow?”

  “Seven. You’re going to come, right?”

  I chuckle. “No pressure or anything.”

  “There will be a lot of people our age there, so you can make some more friends. Probably a good thing, since you’ve only been hanging out with that old grump lately.”

  “Who? Griffin? You think he’s an old grump?”

  Brig lets out a guffaw, drawing everyone’s attention, even Griffin’s. His jaw seems to be set in stone as he peers at us. He doesn’t look happy. I hope he doesn’t think we’re goofing off over here, because I’ve been working. Unlike Brig, who’s just tossing the paintbrush around, hoping to get some coverage.

  “Griffin is the definition of an old grump. Trust me. And come to the event tomorrow; you’ll have a great time.”

  I don’t have to think about it all that much. I’m trying to get involved in every aspect of the community. A cheese-and-wine tasting behind an automobile shop, though odd, seems right up my alley.

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Attagirl!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GRIFFIN

  “Didn’t think you were going to show up.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, adjusting the sleeves of my dress shirt.

  “Because you’re always on time, and it’s seven twenty,” Brig, the time police, says. “I was thinking you forgot or were maybe a jealous motherfucker because I was talking to your girl yesterday and making her laugh.”

  That didn’t go unnoticed.

  Yesterday was a giant pain in my ass. After staying up late brainstorming ideas for the Lobster Fest booth, I made sure to get up early and power wash the patio before everyone got there. I knew Ren was coming, and despite wanting to keep my distance, I still fantasized about us working together. Brig fucked that up when he clung to Ren and teamed up with her when it came to painting. And the girls snagged her for the flower beds. I got to hear Ren’s laughter sifting through the early morning, but I wasn’t the one making her laugh.

  And that grated on me.

  “She’s not my girl,” I answer through clenched teeth, even though at times, I wish she were.

  “Then why do I see steam is coming out of your ears?”

  “Because you’re annoying me, like always,” I answer, letting out a long breath. Being the oldest brother has its challenges; dealing with Brig is one of them.

  “Well, in case you were wondering, she’s here tonight.”

  I feel a jolt of surprise, and my eyes scan over the decently sized crowd milling about on the patio and across the lawn, wineglasses and plates of cheese in hand.

  “Ren is?” I ask, my eyes taking in every face but not finding her.

  Chuckling, Brig claps me on the back. “Not your girl? Okay, I call bullshit, but last I saw she was talking with Jake.”

  Fucking Jake.

  I adjust my pants low on my hips and make sure my shirt is tucked in before making my way into the actual party.

  The weather is pristine this evening, not too hot or humid, the perfect temperature to enjoy an evening out. There are lights strung about the yard, held aloft by poles bordering the yard. Potted plants and flower beds square off the space from the rest of the backyard, which stretches to a wooded area. Benches surround a gas firepit, and there are high-top tables scattered around the space. My brother might be an idiot most of the time, but he does know how to throw a good event—in the back of an auto shop.

  “She’s to the left, next to the Boss 302 Tribute, in case you were wondering.”

  “Go greet your other guests, jackass.” Ignoring his laugh, I head to the bar, where I grab a beer; wine really isn’t my thing. I casually take a sip, surveying the party. I scan the yard for the distinct red Mustang with black stripes running over the hood, one of Brig’s absolute favorites, and spot Jake’s back. He’s talking to someone I’m going to assume is Ren. But from where I’m standing, I can’t quite get a good look at her.

  “Hey, Griff,” Jen says, walking up next to me. “You’re late.”

  “Wanted to take a shower. I smelled like fudge.”

  “You could smell like worse things.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Did you see Ren? She looks beautiful tonight.”

  I’m not even going to be mad about Jen mentioning Ren; at this point, there’s nothing I can really do to stop my family’s constant interference.

  “You know, Brig invited her tonight specifically for you. He told me all about it yesterday. Called me on his way home from the restoration committee, bragging about his plan to get you two together.”

  I turn to Jen. “Are you serious?” From just past Jen’s shoulder I can see Brig smiling brightly at me, a knowing look in his eye. Jesus, he’s just as bad as my mom and Jen.

  “Yup. And when you didn’t show up right away, he was upset, thought that maybe you weren’t going to come. It was sad, like a wounded puppy walking around his own party.”

  “So what you’re telling me is that I made his night.”

  “Oh, you probably made his week.”

  I shake my head, chuckling as I take a sip of my beer. “He’s such a douche.”

  “A romantic douche who wants to see you happy. We all see it, Griff, the way you lust after her.”

  “I don’t lust after her,” I scoff, even though I’m pretty sure that’s a lie.

  Leveling with me, she turns her back toward the party and forces me to look at her. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like what you say next?”

  “Because I know you won’t.” She presses her hand to my forearm, and her face grows serious, tears starting to well up in her eyes . . . and that’s when I drop the tough-guy act for a moment to truly listen to my sister. “I miss her too, Griff. She was my best friend.” I swallow hard as a tear slips past Jen’s eye. I quickly reach out and wipe it away. “We all miss Claire, but at some point you need to let go; you need to move on.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I whisper. “There’s more to it.”

  “You’re not freaking cursed, Griff. It was a weird coincidence, okay? There is no curse.”

  “But what if there is?” I shoot back, gripping my beer bottle tightly. “I . . . I like her, Jen. Okay?” I drag my hand down my face. “What if something happens to her because of me? I would never forgive myself.”

  “And what if you’re wrong and nothing ever happens between the two of you because you were too chickenshit to act on your feelings?” Squeezing my forearm, she softens her tone. “She likes you, Griff. She has no interest in anyone else in this town besides you. I think it’s time you put your past behind you and start living in the present, because if you don’t, you very well might miss out on something incredibly special.” Standing on her toes, she gives me a quick hug before walking off.

  Fuck.

  I have no idea what I want to do, my mind whirling with the possibility of making a move and the all-consuming fear of letting myself love again.

  I make my way toward one of Brig’s favorite Mustang convertibles and try to catch my breath as I take in the pristine leather of the interior. Buttery soft and polished.

  I desperately want to know what it’s like to hold Ren’s hand, to have her smile up at me right before I lean down for a kiss. I want to know what it’s like to take her out on an official date, what it’s like to text her before I go to bed or right when I wake up. I want to experience her body pressed against mine, her head resting on my shoulder as we stare out at the vast ocean during a beautiful Maine sunrise.

  But what if something happens to her? If the curse is real? I would never forgive myself . . .

  “Hey
, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Ren. From the corner of my eye, I spot Jen talking to Jake, and I can only imagine what she must have said to drag him away from Ren. Meddler. Jen and my entire family: a bunch of meddlers.

  With a deep breath, I turn to find a smiling Ren.

  And goddamn . . . my breath catches in my throat as I take her in.

  Wearing a strappy little black dress and high heels, she looks fucking stunning. Her hair is pulled to the side in curls, and her makeup is a little heavier than normal, but it doesn’t take away from the deep moss color of her eyes or the pout of her mesmerizing lips.

  So fucking beautiful.

  “Hey,” I’m finally able to choke out. “You look beautiful.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

  A small blush creeps up her cheeks as she glances down. “Thank you. You look very nice yourself. It’s weird seeing you in anything but a Lobster Landing shirt and jeans.”

  “Are you saying my clothing choices are predictable?” I laugh.

  She holds up two fingers, pinching them close together. “Just a little.”

  “All right, so when I show up at the shop tomorrow wearing a tux and my family thinks I’ve lost my mind, I’m going to blame you.”

  “If you’re wearing a tux tomorrow to work, expect me to be there to take pictures and spread the news around town.”

  I lift a brow at her. “Becoming a gossip now?”

  “I’m all about fully immersing myself into the culture of the town.” She winks and takes a sip of her wine.

  My pulse picks up, and that wave of butterflies takes flight in my stomach again. Resisting her charm strikes me as wholly impossible.

  “What are you drinking tonight?” I place a hand in my pocket and try to act as casual as possible, even though my heart has been racing ever since she walked over here.

  She holds up her wineglass and looks at it. “I think this is the cabernet. I really have no idea. I said to just give me whatever. I know nothing about wine.” She sniffs the glass. “But I do know you’re supposed to sniff it.”

  “And how does it smell?”

  She takes another sniff and shrugs. “Like booze?”

  I toss my head back and laugh. “Let me guess: you’re not one of those people who take in the herbaceous flavors in wine?”

  “Not even a little.” She steps a little closer and lowers her voice, as if we’re best friends about to share a secret. “To be honest, I consider a box of wine in my fridge fancy, so this little tasting is a whole new ball game for me.”

  “You’re a boxed wine kind of gal?” I nod in appreciation. “I like it.”

  “Do you ever dabble in the box?”

  I bring my beer to my lips and shake my head. “I’m a beer guy. My sister, Jen, could give you a run for your money when it comes to the box, though. She has to have one in her fridge at all times. Reid, the dickhead that he is, once hid her box when she was hosting a barbecue at her house, and she lost it. She was on a rampage until she found it. Just like you don’t touch my dad’s fudge supplies, you don’t touch Jen’s wine.”

  “Did Reid lose an appendage that night?”

  “Pretty damn close.”

  A waiter passing around samples of cheese comes up to us and holds out a silver tray; small triangles pierced with toothpicks decorate the surface. “Care for some cranberry-nut brie?”

  Ren and I each take a toothpick and thank the man. She takes her brie and clinks it with mine before putting it in her mouth and smiling at me. “Cheers,” she says through a mouthful of cheese.

  Fucking enchanted by this woman, I take the cheese down in one smooth bite, the flavors mixing terribly with my beer. I pucker my lips and try to chew and swallow as quickly as possible.

  “Didn’t like that?” She laughs.

  I tilt my beer back and take a few swigs, trying to wash down the taste. “Jesus, that was terrible. Didn’t really compliment the beer.”

  “That’s why you should be drinking wine.” She takes another sip from her glass before smacking her lips together. “Delightful.”

  “Are you mocking my alcohol choice?”

  “Not mocking, just showing you there were better choices out there.” She sways cutely back and forth in an “I told you so” kind of way.

  “You’re getting a little cocky there, Ren.”

  She presses her hand against her chest. “Am I? Or am I just comfortable with you now?”

  Hell.

  “A few meals together, and you think you can tease me?”

  She pokes my arm, her eyes lighting up from the touch. “I know I can tease you.” And hell if I don’t like that. She nods toward the Mustang. “Do you know anything about this car?”

  I study her for a few beats before I turn toward the car and down the rest of my beer, needing a little more liquid encouragement to be around this addictive woman.

  “This is a 1965 Ford Mustang convertible. It’s one of Brig’s favorites. He always puts it on display. It was the first one he ever refurbished. It has six cylinders and is a hell of a time to drive.”

  “He lets you drive it? I’d think it was his baby.”

  “You would think, but not Brig. He sees cars a little differently than the normal collector. He believes cars, old and new, have a purpose in life, and that’s to be driven. He never lets them just sit in the garage. He’s always using them or renting them out. He says if something happens to them, he can fix them.”

  “Wow, really? So I could rent one of his cars if I wanted to?”

  I nod and stuff a hand in one of my pockets. “For a pretty penny, but yeah, you can rent one. It’s one of the reasons he holds this cheese-and-wine event; he usually has a few bookings after.”

  She stares at the car, a smile playing at her lips. Lightly she shakes her head and takes a sip of her wine. “You know, you Knightlys really impress me. You have your hands in every part of this town, always thinking of ways to enhance the Port Snow experience. It’s really cool.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “You have got to be kidding me!” Ren turns toward me on the bench we’re sharing, absolute disgust on her face. “There is no way you can say Coke is better than Pepsi.”

  “Oh, it is, by far. Just look at the sales. Coke outsells Pepsi every day. Sales speak for themselves.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know the numbers.”

  “Oh, I know them.” I playfully nod.

  She pokes me in the side. “No you don’t!”

  “I know we sell Coke at the Landing for a reason.”

  She’s sitting cross-legged next to me, her toned legs illuminated by the fire in front of us, the feistiness in her eyes highlighted under the moonlit sky. There are still plenty of people milling about on the lawn, but I have yet to say hi to any of them. Ren has stolen all of my attention for the past few hours, and I’m not even the slightest bit mad or sorry about it.

  “You know, Griffin.” I like the way my name sounds coming off her tongue. “I think this could be the end of our friendship. I think we should cut our losses now and move on.”

  “Over soda?”

  She nods. “How can you even justify Coke over Pepsi? Hello, Pepsi has Mountain Dew.”

  And there it is, the one flaw with Coke. There is no Mountain Dew.

  I don’t even try to fight her. “I’ll give you that.”

  She pauses, her wineglass halfway up to her mouth as she blinks a few times, as if she’s trying to comprehend what I just said. “Did you just . . . concede?”

  “No.” I lean back on one of my hands casually. “I said I’ll give you the fact that Pepsi has Mountain Dew, but that’s all they have. Coke is still by far superior.”

  “I don’t think that’s what I heard. I think I heard you say Coke sucks.”

  Christ, this woman. Stubborn.

  “You know, when I brought this up, I was talking about Coke
and Pepsi, not Pepsi’s portfolio, if we’re really going to get technical here.”

  “You’re grasping.” She grips her wineglass tightly. “Holding on to anything to give you the upper hand. I suggest you just hang up your debating pants now. I can do this all night.”

  “Threatening me with a marathon argument. Is that your scare tactic? I expected better from you, Ren.”

  She shakes her head, not even denying it. “Nope, I’m not.”

  That makes me laugh from the pit of my stomach. “Maybe we should change the subject. Might be best if we want to savor this night at all, or this friendship, for that matter.”

  Her eyelashes flutter at me as the corners of her lips curve upward. “You know, you might be right. We can change the subject, but only to salvage the only true friendship I have in this town.”

  “The only one? Nah, you’re friends with my brothers too.”

  “I know them well enough.” She gives me an evil grin and turns her entire body toward me. “All right, you want to change the subject?”

  “Uh-oh . . . why do I feel like I’m not going to like what you say next?”

  “Because I’m evil.” She rests her wineglass on her knee and spins the stem with her fingers, staring down at the red liquid swishing around. “Are you ready for this?”

  I move my jaw back and forth, studying her, taking in the way her lips are perfectly pursed, challenging me, how her expression is lit up like a megawatt light bulb, and her body language doesn’t escape me, either—the way she’s leaning in toward me, the way her gaze lingers every once in a while, focusing on my forearms or the open V of my shirt.

  She may think she’s subtle, but she isn’t, and hell if I’ve been able to be subtle either. Surely she’s caught me staring at the high hem of her dress, at the bright-red gloss on her lips, at the quick glimpse of her cleavage I catch when she laughs and leans forward.

  The entire night has been electric between us, and it terrifies me; it’s becoming abundantly clear that I want her, and I want her bad.

  She isn’t just a friend, not when I have these animalistic feelings toward her. I want to mark her as mine, take her back to my house, and make sure she knows she belongs to me.