Yet the entire drive here, I got sick of listening to the thoughts in my head and started wishing there was someone on the back of my bike with me. Someone special, with her body wrapped around mine, holding on tight while she rattled away in my ear.
It’s suddenly hit me that I have no one in my life who needs me. Sure, I’ve got Palmer, and I’ve had to talk him down from quite a few ledges over the years, but it’s not the same. I’m not the first person someone calls when they’re in a jam. I’m not written down as anyone’s emergency contact when they’re hurt or in trouble. I’m not the first person anyone thinks of when they’re having a rough day and need a shoulder to lean on. And I’ve always been fine with that until recently.
Being on this island, surrounded by my nephew, his fiancée, all of his friends, and the women who brought them to their knees, seeing how close they all are and how happy… it just makes me regret every life choice I’ve made up to this point.
This fucking wedding is really messing with my head. As soon as it’s over and I can get away from here and back to my regular life, everything will be fine.
Sure. Your quiet, boring-as-fuck life. Sounds like a blast.
“You don’t have to be Laura’s plus-one for the wedding. I know that’s why you’re in a grumpier-than-usual mood. I’ll talk to Birdie later and tell her why that’s a horrible idea.” Palmer laughs, pulling me out of my thoughts and making me glare at him.
“Why is it a horrible idea?”
“Um, because you’re you.” He laughs again. “You would be the worst plus-one ever, bitching and complaining about everything. I would kind of like my future mother-in-law to not hate me after this wedding is over.”
His words sting a little, even though he’s mostly right. I do bitch and complain a lot, but people piss me off a lot. That doesn’t mean I would purposely set out to ruin someone’s week, especially the week of her daughter’s wedding. Just the opposite. I could make both of our weeks a hell of a lot better with multiple orgasms.
“And just ignore the girls and Shepherd with all their squealing about you two being perfect for each other. They don’t know you as well as I do. You’re not her type anyway, even if she was momentarily distracted by your cute butt,” Palmer explains, my eyes once again locked on the woman in question as she sips a glass of champagne Palmer’s agent just handed to her. “I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to forget Birdie even mentioned the plus-one thing, so you can be left alone in peace this week. Laura is fun, and carefree, and doesn’t want to settle down. Actually, now that I think about it, you might be perfect for each other in that regard.”
Exactly. Tell me more.
“She doesn’t take life too seriously, and we like her this way. I don’t want your grumpy attitude to rub off on her. I don’t know why I’m even worrying about this. Everyone knows Laura only goes for younger guys anyway. You’re too old and broody for her,” he finishes with another chuckle, now making me wish I would have told him to shut up.
I wasn’t a younger guy even when I was a younger guy. On the rare occasion my mother would say something nice to me, it would be to call me an old soul, and I always liked that about myself. Until right this minute, when my soul and my body suddenly feel absolutely ancient, watching Laura throw her head back and laugh at something Palmer’s agent says to her. His twenty-something, too damn good-looking agent, who I have the sudden urge to throw through the nearest fucking wall.
What in the actual shit is wrong with me?
Who gives a fuck what Laura’s type is and who she usually goes for? I’m here for a week. I just want a nice, relaxing vacation without any complications. I’ve already heard her say she prefers meaningless sex, so really, we’re a match made in heaven. You know, temporarily, while I’m visiting. Nice and easy, with no strings attached—just how I like it. We both get our rocks off, and then we both go our separate ways. I don’t have to deal with any of her baggage or bullshit, not that she has any anyway, with her perfect little life. And she doesn’t have to deal with mine. I think we’ll get along just fine, and she’ll enjoy having me as her plus-one once she admits she wants me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior with your future mother-in-law,” I reassure Palmer, smiling to myself when Laura catches me looking at her and rolls her eyes before looking away.
Something about her makes me feel lighter, younger, not so hard and filled with a lifetime-worth of anger and resentment. It intrigues me and pisses me off at the same time.
Fucking weddings. Making me get in touch with my goddamn feelings, when I should only be thinking about getting in touch with the hot blonde who keeps pretending she can’t stand me.
When Bodhi walks over a few minutes later, and I have to listen to him and Palmer regale me with stories about all of them having Sunday dinners together, going to baseball and football games together, celebrating every birthday and milestone together, people constantly coming and going in everyone else’s houses, getting in each other’s business, and all the noise, noise, noise that seems to go hand in hand with living on Summersweet Island, it reminds me again why putting down roots here is just not for me. It sounds entirely too exhausting and peopley. It might be a nice place to visit, but I don’t need that kind of chaos in my life twenty-four seven.
Peace and quiet and solitude. That’s all I want. After I have a taste of Laura Bennett and get this wedding over with, I can go back to being perfectly content with my life.
Chapter 4
Laura
“Get off my lawn!”
“Hey, Lala, Mom said I could have a glass of champagne.”
“I’m fairly confident your mother did not say that.” Chuckling at my grandson, Owen, as he walks up to me with a devious smile on his face, I continue sipping the glass of champagne in my hand. “Nice try though.”
Wren started off referring to me as Grandma Laura. When Owen was learning how to speak, I became Gala, which eventually turned into Lala, and it just kind of stuck. And I secretly kind of love it a lot more than being called Grandma. As the mother of two girls and having their two best friends practically live at my house, when I found out Wren was having a boy, I was a little scared. On top of the fact that my daughter suffered the same fate as I did and had her pants charmed off of her by a piece-of-shit tourist, I didn’t know the first thing about little boys. I was honestly petrified I wouldn’t be able to connect with him like a grandmother should, worried I wouldn’t be able to give Wren all the support she’d need. But this boy practically came out of the womb with a dimpled smirk on his face, full of charm and sass, and it was love at first sight. Sixteen years later, this boy still has me wrapped around his finger.
“Fine. Then can I spend the night at your house tonight?” Owen asks.
“As long as it’s okay with your mom and Shepherd.”
“We can finish watching season six of Sons of Anarchy.” He nods, head down, looking at his phone.
“Nope. No. We’re not watching that. I hate that. Bad idea. Booo!”