I’D ALWAYS HATED THE feeling of sweat. I hated the stickiness, the sensation of wet clothes clinging to an even wetter body. There wasn’t anything more uncomfortable.
This meant that tanning sessions, any sort of exercise, and tropical vacations were typically things I happily passed on. Air-conditioning was a must-have, and I preferred a heavy winter storm to a heat wave any day. My dislike for sweat wasn’t good for my weight or wallet, but sacrifices occasionally had to be made in life.
It was a mild fall day today; it wasn’t very warm.
But my blood was running hot.
I’d take anything, anything over this. I would sprint across a tropical beach in the middle of a July heat wave if it meant I could snap my fingers and magically make Julian Briggs disappear from my office.
Our office.
I wrinkled my nose and resisted the urge to do a pit sniff.
I was stress-sweating. I had been for hours, but it had only gotten worse since I’d declared I would be joining for celebratory drinks after work. Was I interested in getting drinks with Julian and some law school bro of his? Hell no. Even if Cameron was easy on the eyes and made my legs feel a little bit like jelly when he’d flashed those dimples at me.
But I’d grown up with a terrible habit: committing to any and all things that were a surefire way to piss Julian Briggs off.
I glanced at my watch. Five o’clock.
Julian had already left, and the last thing I wanted was to be alone at the bar with him, allowing the opportunity to pick apart and replay everything I’d said today. But enough time had passed that Cameron’s four o’clock meeting must be done. He’d likely be there by the time I packed my things and managed to find the Bellflower Bar.
I unplugged my laptop, stashing it in my bag next to that stupid envelope I’d found in my mailbox this morning, which reminded me that I needed to call Gemma ASAP. Firstly, to tell her that her irritating brother had ruined my first day of work, and secondly, to ask for her help in figuring out what to do about this damn wedding invitation.
After waving to Daphne on my way out the door, who flashed a friendly smile, I checked my phone for directions. Only a five-minute walk, which meant it wasn’t worth pulling out my earbuds. Unfortunately, my audiobook would have to wait until after I made it through a round of drinks with Mr. Buzzkill.
The Bellflower Bar was charming. It was the type of place I would have picked myself—exposed brick walls with eclectic framed pictures, a modern flair with a nod to the classics, warm but not stuffy. A local pub that wasn’t afraid to redecorate every now and again. And it was clearly well-loved, considering how busy it was for a Monday afternoon.
“St. James!”
Cameron’s head popped up over the row of patrons lining the bar as he waved to get my attention. Hoisting my bag higher on my shoulder, I pushed through the suits and slacks until I reached an empty chair on the corner of the bar top. It wasn’t until I was settled in my spot that I glanced up to see Julian staring at me, his light blue eyes nearly translucent, even in the darkened bar lighting.
Their entire family had eyes like that. Not to mention the auburn hair and fair skin with a slight dusting of freckles.
Somehow, Julian always managed to tan more than the rest of the family, and his face had an irritating golden glow to it. Damn him for looking like that when I was definitely bright red and brushing sweat off my brow. He’d shed his suit jacket, but beyond that, he didn’t look even a bit flushed. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his exposed chest looked dusted by the sun. Not blasted with it, like I felt. Ugh.
“So nice of you to join us, Lily,” he drawled before tipping his beer bottle back for a swig.
Cameron’s brows drew together, so I interrupted his thoughts before he could ask.
“Ignore him.” I cleared my throat. “He thinks it’s cute to forget my name, even though it makes him seem incompetent.”
I shot a glare at Julian. He took another pointed drink of his beer.
It was hard enough to be named after a freaking plant without having someone constantly remind me about it.
“Cute is not usually the vibe I’m after,” Julian muttered.
“Oh?” I cocked a brow. “Then what precisely are you going for?”
“Precisely?” His beer bottle clinked loudly against the bar top as he set it down. “A certified pain in the ass that you just can’t help but find endearing.”
I snorted. “You had me until the end.”
Julian’s lips spread slowly, cockily, as though he didn’t believe I thought he lacked any endearing qualities.
He sure as hell couldn’t be more wrong about that.
“Come now, Willow. You know exactly the vibe. You’ve been practicing it for the last fifteen years or so. I’m just following your example.”
“You always have been unoriginal.” I rubbed my dry lips together, wishing someone would swing by so I could order a drink. “Is this how you spend your free time, Julian? Jotting down plant names in a little journal you keep next to your bed so you’re ready to antagonize me?”
“The things I keep next to my bed have nothing to do with you. Trust me.” Julian’s eyes met mine, a dare of sorts, and I felt more sweat tickle the back of my neck before he kept talking. “Besides, that would imply that I had some sort of intention of seeing you, which couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Well.” Cameron clapped his hands together, clearly wanting to interrupt us. “This is going to be fun, isn’t it?”
Cameron and I had different definitions of the word fun.
I turned toward him while jerking a finger at Julian. “Did you know that when he saw my name outside our office, he actually asked Tyler if you’d put him up to it?”
Cameron threw his head back and laughed. “I can only imagine Tyler’s reaction to that. Poor guy.”
“Tyler’s not the one we should be feeling bad for in this situation,” Julian snapped.
He always did have a short temper.
“You’re right,” I interjected. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
My temper had never been much better.
Stuck between us, Cameron didn’t seem to know what to do. Or say. His mouth opened and closed twice before he figured it out.
“I knew we were onboarding more than one new associate attorney, but I was gone last week, so I didn’t catch all the details.” He gave Julian an apologetic glance as though he was sorry for not warning him. About me. But he was also struggling not to keep a smile off his face, seemingly amused by our far-from-ideal situation and how his friend was suffering from it.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Was I happy to see Julian Briggs on my first day as an attorney? Absolutely not. But at least I wasn’t acting like a little drama king about it and guilt-tripping my friends.
I hated the phrase drama queen. It implied that women were more sensitive and driven by feelings than men, which couldn’t be further from being true. Case in point: Julian Briggs.
I caught a bartender’s attention while Julian asked Cameron about his recent trip—the reason he was out of office. Soon, an Aperol Spritz appeared in front of me, and I sipped on it while listening to Cameron’s account of visiting his sister in California.
“Collins is mad at me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian frown with concern. Genuine, actual concern.
“Why?”
Cameron shook his head with a laugh. “I said something about how they should move to the East Coast, and now Beau’s throwing out house offers left and right.”
Julian perked up. “They’re actually coming?”
“No.” Cameron’s dimples appeared as he smiled into his drink. “But he wants to buy property so they can spend more time visiting.”
“Damn, that’s too bad. Would love to have them move here.”
Julian’s disappointment was evident. Maybe his range of emotions was broader than I thought.
The pieces slowly came together as they talked; Cameron’s sister, Collins, and her husband, Beau, were Julian’s friends from undergrad, which explained how Cameron and Julian connected in law school even though they weren’t in the same year.
I leaned back, listening to them go on about all of Julian’s hotshot friends from his early college days. A billionaire, a few pro football players, an upcoming singer-songwriter. Apparently, playing Division I football at a California university also meant collecting famous people as friends along the way. It was hard to wrap my head around, but then again, Julian was always that golden boy, the fan favorite at every school he went to. For some goddamn reason, he attracted people everywhere he went.
Meanwhile, I struggled even making one new friend as an adult. I’d had the same singular best friend since childhood.
“You remember meeting them, right?”
Julian directed the question at me, and I was so taken aback that he deliberately included me in the conversation that it took me a second to figure out what he was talking about.
“Who?”
“My friends from college. You must have met them when you and Gemma came to visit.”
Oh yeah. That.
I’d blocked out most of the memories from that night in California. After Julian found me on the floor by the toilet at the end of it, there weren’t any other options except to forget it ever happened. But if I skipped through my recollections to the earlier part of the evening, I could recall being introduced to a handful of nice couples and having a tipsy conversation with one of Julian’s hot roommates.
“That was years ago,” I said, deciding Julian didn’t need to know that I understood exactly who, what, and where he was talking about. “Their names ring a bell, though.”
“They’re all great,” Cameron said warmly. I could tell he was someone who always gave his undivided attention. And I couldn’t help but melt a bit at being on the receiving end of it. “Honestly, I was concerned when Collins wanted to live across the country from my mom and me, but she made friends with the right people.”
He said it so sincerely that I bit down on a teasing retort about Julian being considered one of the right people and smiled back at him. “It sure sounds like it. I’d love to meet her again sometime. Maybe when I’m sober enough to remember it.”
Cameron laughed, his deep brown eyes twinkling. He ran a hand over his black, buzzed hair, smoothing an already perfect style, and it occurred to me that maybe he could solve all my problems. Well, not all of them. That was probably impossible. But at least the one involving needing a date to my sister’s wedding. My only sister. The one I’d never met and felt the innate need to impress.
Cameron was very impressive.
“I don’t blame you for being too drunk to remember,” he said. “I’ve heard about the parties Julian used to throw.”
He shot a look at the party-thrower himself, who I expected to smirk. But Julian had his eyes narrowed on me instead. He even went as far as to tip his head slightly to the side, studying me, and I resisted the urge to look down at my dress to make sure nothing had spilled on it.
Distracted by Julian’s sudden stare-down, I jumped a little when Cameron pushed back from the bar and excused himself to go to the bathroom.
Great. Alone with Mr. Killjoy again.
Julian silently took another drink of his beer, holding the stem of the bottle with two fingers lazily. Finding my mouth suddenly dry, I also threw back some of my Spritz.
“For the love of God, don’t go trying to get into Cameron’s pants,” he said abruptly after a few seconds of only the chatter from nearby drinkers to keep us company. He didn’t bother looking at me, keeping his gaze on the bottles that lined the mirror behind the bar.
I took another sip of my drink to buy myself time on how to respond.
Finally, I decided, “Why not?”
That seemed to annoy Julian—which had definitely been the point. His jaw ticked twice before he took another drink and then pushed his empty bottle away. Blue eyes darted around, likely searching for a bartender before they came to rest on me again.
“I’m just saying…” He leaned back, slinging an arm over the back of Cameron’s empty chair. “You’ve got double the competition. So good luck.”
“Oh, so that’s it,” I said, catching his meaning. “You want him for yourself, then?”
The question was a little snarky on my lips, which always seemed to happen when Julian Briggs was involved. But it was genuine. I would immediately let go of my wedding date idea if it got between some friends-to-lovers destiny these two had going on.
“No.” Julian shook his head. His answer was as genuine as my question. “I’m just protective of my friends like I’m protective of everyone in my life.”
“Everyone in your life, huh? Does that include me?”
He looked away, eyes wandering again for the bartender—who was doing an awfully good job of serving everyone but us.
“Yes,” he eventually admitted, gaze bouncing back to mine. His eyelids were heavy, tired. “By association, that unfortunately includes you.”
Before I could utter a retort, Cameron slid back into his seat between us. And since I was still hoping to make a good impression on the handsome Mr. Bryant, I swallowed my sass.
“So, Cameron,” I started, nervously wiping my sweaty hands on my dress beneath the bar top. “I know you went to law school in Boston with Julian. Where were you before that?”
“New York,” Cameron answered with an easy grin. “That’s where my mom lives.”
“What part? I went to law school in New York City.”
Behind Cameron, Julian drew his lips into a firm line before he finally pounced on an approaching bartender for another drink.
“I need another fucking drink,” he muttered, interrupting Cameron’s answer. “Anyone else?”
“I’d love one,” I said, flashing him my brightest smile and hoping it masked my nervous sweat.
To no one’s surprise, he did not smile back.
