“No, I meant her and Chase.”
“Oh, some creep was hitting on her in a bar, and he did the whole ‘knight in shining armour’ routine. They’ve been travelling the world together ever since.”
Marielle, never one to take a hint, chose that moment to interrupt.
“Hi, hello, I’m Marielle Marten. I’m helping Nolan with the diversification project here at Dionysus.”
Jerry looked her up and down. “Good for you.”
For fuck’s sake. “Marielle, this is Jerry. She’s an old roommate of mine and Alexa’s.”
“I see. Well, it’s always nice to catch up with old friends. Alexa didn’t come?”
“She’s finishing up a call on the bird,” Jerry said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nolan saw the helicopter’s rear door open, and then there she was. Tiny, blonde Alexa, and she barely looked any different from the last time he’d seen her a decade ago. Like Peter Pan’s sister—the girl who never grew up. Tight pink spandex showed off slender legs, and she hid her lack of curves under a loose, slouchy top. Tendrils of hair escaped from the messy bun on top of her head as her lips flattened into a scowl. She hefted a laptop bag, squared her shoulders, and marched toward him.
“Where’s the computer?”
No “hello.” No “how have you been?” Just “where’s the computer?” But had he really expected anything else? Alexa had never been known for her small talk.
“You mean the one with the virus?”
“Yes, the one that meant I had to abandon my trip to Italy and come bail out your sorry ass.”
Nolan had hoped for a reset on the past, for Alexa to have grown up a little and understood why he’d had to push her away. After all, she’d come to help, hadn’t she? But no, she wasn’t going to make this easy.
She hadn’t changed a bit.
“I appreciate you coming.”
“Whatever. The laptop?”
“It’s in the study. The internet isn’t all that fast, but?—”
“I brought a Satellink unit. Chase will need access to the roof.” She turned to Marielle. “I’ll have a cappuccino, no sugar, don’t leave the spoon in the cup.”
Marielle’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s, and it would have been funny if Alexa weren’t acting so damn rude.
“Marielle isn’t a maid.”
“So she doesn’t know how to make coffee?”
For Pete’s sake.
“I’ll make the coffee,” Nolan said. “Marielle, do you want a drink?”
“I’d love an iced tea.”
“Jerry?”
“Do you have vodka?”
“This is a winery. I can offer you an excellent Zinfandel or Syrah, but I’m not tainting my palate with that Russian shit.”
Cole appeared at her side, minus the two bags he’d deposited in the cottage. “Babe, you shouldn’t be drinking and flying.”
Nolan seized that lifeline. “You’re not staying?”
