“She told him twice,” Allie says. “She just wanted some quotes.”
“When I tell Echo ‘Hands off,’ he laughs and makes a snide comment about my glorious pants,” Leo says.
“Big mistake,” Roxanne adds, finally smiling.
“Echo and I exchanged some words,” Leo says. “He got the message when I bent his fingers back and sent him to his knees.”
“But the best part! The best part is … well, tell them what you said,” Allie insists.
Leo finishes his glass of wine. “I said, ‘Touch my girl and make fun of my pants again and I’ll twist you into a cocktail garnish.’”
“He got the message,” Roxanne says.
“We still got the quotes, by the way,” Allie says. “And free drinks for the rest of the night.”
“Wow,” Georgia says. “And you didn’t even have to throw a punch.”
Leo shakes his head. “Nope, I don’t throw punches unless the earrings come off.”
“He’s all shoulders and glittery self-restraint,” Roxanne says. “It’s very effective.”
Topper raises his glass. “To Leo, cameraman, and part-time bouncer.”
Everyone shouts “Hear! Hear!” and part of me is disappointed when the conversations veer off in other directions. I want to hear more about Roxanne’s global adventures.
Later, when most everyone starts to wander off toward the fire pit, Roxanne stands. Our eyes lock. She doesn’t smile, she just nods toward the trail that leads off the Nook and starts walking.
I follow her without hesitation.
twinkle, twinkle
ROXANNE
I’m not exactlysure where I’m going, but the narrow path that leads away from the Nook seems like a quiet place for me and Duke to talk. We say nothing as we start our walk, taking deep breaths as we go. The music and laughter from the dinner party fade with each step, traded for the hush of spruce trees and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The air is thinner here, cooler, tinged with the smoky scent of distant fire pits and the sweetness of wild sage.
It’s almost pleasant.
The crickets have joined us as Duke walks beside me, hands tucked in his pockets, the sleeves of his dinner jacket hugging arms that could split firewood without an ax. He’s freshly showered, clean-shaven, and so unfairly handsome.
The trail widens into a stone overlook that curves along the side of the lodge, part natural ledge, part handcrafted terrace built from thick slate rock and aged cedar beams. The mountains rise in dusky silhouettes, soft-edged in the fading twilight, and tucked between them lies the lake, glass-still, catching the last blush of sunset on its mirrored surface.
We stop, lean against the wall, and take in the view. I’m not quite ready to say that I enjoy it, but with night covering the harshness of the day, I silently admit that it’s not entirely horrible.
“Dinner was lovely,” I manage to say.
“That was Thatcher and his crew at their best.”
Being near Duke sends a zip of jittery warmth through me. I stare straight ahead and yet, I know I need to say something to break the undercurrent churning between us. I need to say something casual, professional … emotionally distant.
“You clean up well,” I say.
Nope. That’s not it, Roxanne.
“Why, thank you.” He glances sideways, a slow grin forming on his perfect mouth. “And you look stunning, Trouble.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What happened to Sunshine?”
Duke shakes his head. “I’ve decided you’re nothing but trouble.”
