My eyebrows lift. “Oh?”
Josh calls out, “Hey Nax,” walking up and jogging his thumb toward the exit. “I’m gonna go home. Bring Will back with you? Don’t wanna make him go early. He’s having fun.”
Unlike you, I think to myself, feeling sorry for Josh now that I know why he’s so troubled.
But Nax waves his arms, “No no no! Let’s get you something to eat. Hey Benny!” The ginger turns his head from where he’s standing with Christina and my Aunt Rose and Uncle Charley. “Elliot ever get you that hotdog?”
“There were two. One, two.”
Nax grins, “Still hungry?”
Seconds later their trio of hotness is complete, with Christina and I walking enough whisper-proof steps behind.
“What’s the scoop?” I ask her.
“They love him. Mom’s grilled him on his beliefs around feminism and he gave all the right answers. Honestly.” She smiles to herself, “He couldn’t be dishonest if he tried. I’ve never met anyone more straightforward.”
“Not your guy! Him!”
She flicks a glance to the men. “Oh no, Zia, I wouldn’t go there.”
I trust my cousin’s judgment so my shoulders sink on a, “Why not?”
“He just lost his wife last year.”
“Not Josh. Nax!”
“Oh!” She frowns. “He’s married.”
I freeze as my heart skips a lost beat. Married? But he was flirting with me. What an asshole!
Christina lowers her voice more, facing me. “They’re separated but we all know that could go either way. Remember your mom and dad?”
I nod at the painful memory of a divorce that disintegrated when they decided to lock in with another try that lasted.
“Your man will come.” Christina throws a loving arm around my waist. “Let’s give that frown some wine!”
Nax
After scanning a selection lit by candles, I turn to Zia. “Pinot grigio.”
With a detached expression she tilts her head. “Are you trying to guess which wine I prefer?”
Thought that was pretty obvious, but I’ll play along. “Yeah. Am I right?”
“No.”
My extended hand pulls back its confident reach and I try again, holding up another bottle with equal gusto. “Sauvignon blanc?” before setting it down, second guessing myself. “Nah, I don’t get a sweet wine vibe from you. Chardonnay!” I hold one up, wiggling my eyebrows.
Zia glances to her cousins as if wishing to join in on their conversation, but with Christina cuddling up and whispering with Bennett, and Tempest beyond them deep in a discussion with older women I’m guessing to be related, she looks back to me, expression lifeless.
Huh.
I blink to the options, set down the chardonnay, and snatch a dripping bottle from its ice bucket, offering it with a wink. “India Pale Ale.”
“Quite a leap from the others.”
“Got you smiling.”
“I’m not smiling.”
She’s not, so I chuckle, “Okay. I’m really bad at this.”
Zia says, “Excuse me,” and walks away.
That went well.
Josh walks up, his gaze following her exit, volume low since we’re surrounded by the Tuck family. “She’s even prettier out of her work clothes. I’d even venture to say she’s out of your league.”
He gets a good eyeballing before I mutter, “No one is out of my league. Besides, I’m not here for dating.”
“I am not your project!”
“Yeah ya are.”
“Your California casual needs some work, Nax.”
I smack his bottle away from pointing at me. “Oh really?”
“Yep.”
“Not all of us had designers dressing us for all of our twenties, Josh.”
“Read a men’s magazine. It’s all right there for the taking.”
“Benny,” I turn around, bored of this conversation. I like my style just fine. Comfortable. “What were you two lovebirds talking about, all up close and personal like that?”
He flatly answers, “Stock options.”
My smile falters. “Seriously?”
“She needs to learn.”
“If every class was taught like that more people would sign up.”
I’d like to take a class from Zia like that.
Those eyes.
Those lips.
Those calves.
Bennett says in his dry way, “You’d have to be as attracted to each other as much as we are.” Josh and I stare at him until he realizes, “I missed the point, didn’t I?”
We both nod, “Yup,”
I open the IPA Zia rejected and hold it out for a toast, “To Bennett bringing the gravity. Me, the levity. And our buddy Josh here, the eye candy.”
Our trio of bottles gets a new member, a fourth clink from Christina as she joins in, wine glass sloshing red into my consciousness.
“That’s it!” I explode, laughing as I turn to the table. “I didn’t guess red! Christina, what’s Zia’s favorite wine?”
She blinks. “Petite Syrah.”
Shaking my head I turn to the selection. “I should’ve known!” Pouring a glass, I chuckle at my own mistake, “Of course she’s a red girl. Duh,” and head off, “See ya guys later!”
The party is in full swing and they said it’s secret but I don’t see how it can be. Three triangular free-standing propane heat lamps are in the center so they give off no light below, but how did they get them up here? There’s even an old sofa and a variety of chairs that must’ve been donated over time by the weather damage. And then two long wood dining tables — one packed with beverages, the other with food, plates, utensils and condiments — separated by a large grill that must’ve been a bitch to haul up those stairs.
If the landlords come up here, they’re in for a big surprise.
Zia stands, empty handed, talking with a woman who has to be her mother, and who doesn’t hesitate to rake a curious glance down my long body as I approach, inspiring Zia to look over, see what’s interesting. Her eyes widen as I offer the half-full glass with a triumphant smile. “Petite Syrah! I should’ve guessed.”
With lifted brow she juts her chin. “You should’ve guessed that specific a varietal?”
“Yes.”
“I would’ve been surprised.”
“Me too,” I smile, “But wouldn’t that have been impressive? I’ll try harder next time. Hi, I’m Nax.”
Zia’s eyelashes flutter. “Um…this is my mother.”
I bow my head a little. “Nice to meet you.
