Two days later, after her get-together with Chloe, Sylvia, and Fallon, Liv had a to-do list a mile long. She didn’t mind so much—had volunteered to be an errand girl, as a matter of fact. She enjoyed staying busy and it was kind of fun to traipse about town collecting this and that for the auspicious occasion. It also kept her from obsessing over what might or might not have been put into play when she’d been on the phone with Tristan.
She’d had a hell of rerun of the Paris evening when she’d finally crawled into bed after that convo. Hadn’t allowed any additional scenes to unfold, though. She still considered that tempting fate. But she had permitted the more enhanced version of her lovers to take center stage—all rippling sinew and searing male heat.
The looping in her mind had led her to break into a new package of batteries. Holy hell, Nate and Tristan inspired some amazingly fantastic orgasms!
Today, she was trying to be all business. All wedding business. Though she had another decision simmering in the back of her head, one she didn’t bring to the forefront just yet, because it deserved its due time to percolate. She had a choice to make and it wasn’t between two hot and hunky men.
It was between two spectacular bands she’d auditioned with. Actually, there’d been about two dozen bands she’d auditioned with over the past months. But temperaments and musical styles and future aspirations all had to be factored into the equation for everyone involved, and Liv believed she’d found two great fits: an up-and-coming, edgy pop band that had no solid following as of yet, but was poised for greatness with a raw look and sound and the members’ astounding ambition; and a pure rock-and-roll band with a huge fan base.
Both met Liv’s ideal for her change in direction from acting to singing. There were numerous driving forces behind her desire to branch out, most crucially the charge she’d gotten when she’d been a guest lead in a Broadway musical.
The thrill of a live audience would be magnified when it was a more interactive setting, such as a nightclub or a concert venue where she could get people on their feet. Liv yearned for that sort of high-voltage reaction to her performances, and had been working with a vocal coach and a stylist. She’d also written songs that she’d like to eventually record if she expanded into a solo career.
But first things first.
This new transition wouldn’t occur overnight, she was perfectly aware of that. She was being strategic, relying on the help of experts who understood and supported her goals. Granted, it seemed music performers tended to want to break into movies more often than the other way around, but there was a certain allure to having her own stage and listening to the roar of a crowd if she could so move them.
She suspected that was the reason her superstar mother was so enthralled with opera; her ability to evoke tears with her haunting voice. Though it wasn’t difficult for Liv to see that Cara Tyner was more enamored with herself than her audiences’ response to her.
This wasn’t a mentality Liv subscribed to—and it was just one of the many sources of contention between her and her estranged mother.
At the moment, however, Liv wasn’t inclined to dwell on any of that. She had a different purpose today and needed to kick off her morning with a tall iced skinny latte. She popped into the coffeehouse in the town square and was greeted by the staff and a small group of friends who were just approaching the counter to place their order.
“Perfect timing!” Vanessa Parks called out. To the barista, she said, “Add Liv’s usual to ours.”
“And I’m buying,” Liv announced as she handed over a fifty to the cashier. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks,” he beamed.
“It was Grace’s turn,” Vanessa sweetly scolded Liv.
“Yes, but she didn’t actually get anything to drink last time because she’d just had her teeth cleaned and didn’t want to lose that sparkly feeling.”
“Oh, right.” Vanessa and Liv stepped to the side, allowing other customers to order. Vanessa said, “So, Boxley delivered yesterday.”
“Puppies!” Liv blurted excitedly.
“Chip’s home with them right now, along with the sitter. It was quite the ordeal. You’d think nothing would gross out a ten-year-old boy, but apparently a dog giving birth does the trick.”
“That is surprising,” Liv concurred. “But congrats on being a pet grandparent, Ness.”
“They are so freaking adorable. The size of hamsters—one doesn’t even fill my hand.”
“Text me pictures.”
“Speaking of!” Vanessa gasped, all dramatic-like for Liv’s sake, which made Liv laugh. “You must spill about these two men!” She whipped her iPhone from her Burberry bag, tapped the screen a couple of times, and then thrust the device toward Liv.
“Nate and Tristan?” It was a photo of her standing between them on the sundeck, with Fallon along the periphery. “You know them,” Liv said to Vanessa. “We all went to school together. A few years apart, but you hadn’t graduated yet when the three of us started high school. Nathaniel Dalton and Tristan Reeves.”
“Oh, no,” Vanessa contended with the shake of her head. “I would recognize these two hulking men if I’d met them before!”
Heat burst on Liv’s cheeks as she thought of just how hulking Nate and Tristan were—and she did everything in her power not to envision them in the buff.
She told her friend, “They didn’t quite look like that in school. And I really want this photo. It’s awesome—who took it?”
“Lindsey. She posted it on Snapchat. She knows better, of course, but apparently couldn’t help herself because you seemed so happy to see them. Lindsey assumed they were actors or models you’d done some work with, so far game, I guess.”
“I haven’t even looked at social media this morning.” Liv retrieved her own phone and opened the app, then located the notification and typed Childhood friends! #BayfrontAcademy and hit the reply button.
That would quell any speculation about her and the mystery men.
“By the way,” Vanessa said, “I was binge-watching The Walking Dead last night and saw you in two episodes. Wow, you as an extreme survivalist—completely blew me away. Sorry you had to die, though.” She winced.
Liv smiled. Her appearance on the show had been rather spontaneous, like the Broadway musical; something that had fallen conveniently into place while she was between movie roles. She told Vanessa, “Thanks. I knew it was only a two-parter going into it. Though they really liked me and mentioned to my agent that they might find some way to bring me back. As my evil twin perhaps.”
“Or a zombie. That would be cool.”
“I don’t know. Maybe if they let me eat a lot of people. Otherwise, I’d just be roaming about, moaning and grunting. I need more action than that.”
“Good point. Plus, you’re much too pretty for them to zombie-out.”
With a quick hug, Liv told her friend, “How you flatter me. I’d love to sit with you lovely ladies this morning, but I’m on the go. Chloe’s wedding.”
“Ah, yes,” Vanessa said with a soft laugh. “The event of the year. It has become the talk of the town. I can’t believe Nick, Hunter, and Roxy haven’t been evicted from their own mansion while all the preparations for the ceremony and the reception are made.”
“Oh, God.” Liv held a finger to her lips. “Shh . . . Don’t even send that thought into the universe. It will reach Chloe’s ears and she’ll be all, ‘Hey, why didn’t I think of that?’”
Vanessa giggled. “She wouldn’t dream of it. But honestly, from what I hear this entire soiree is going to be so over-the-top gorgeous, no one will want to get married in Bayfront for the next decade. And even then, they’ll pray there are no comparisons being made.”
“So glad I’m not living under that pressure,” Liv quipped.
“Hmm.” Vanessa raised a quizzical blonde brow. “One of those ‘childhood friends’ doesn’t spark your interest?”
Liv resisted the urge to sigh longingly at the mere mention of the two men. Instead, she simply said, “It’d be difficult to date either one of them when we’re rarely in the same location at the same time. And I’d rather be single than a star-crossed lover. Much too tragic.”
Definitely something for her to keep in mind so she didn’t get carried away with Nate or Tristan. Nate and Tristan.
She groaned inwardly. Her common sense seemed to be on its own hiatus, because Liv actually did want to get carried away with them. And in the back of her mind, there was the tickle of a thought as to how her new career path would take her across the country, since both bands she was seriously considering joining were on the East Coast—as were their current touring circuits.
With this venture, Liv figured she’d be buying a New York pad for a temporary home base these next few years while she built up her reputation and credibility, and, of course, determined whether lead singer was truly a viable professional path for her.
London would then be infinitely closer—she actually could see Nate and Tristan more often.
The downside was that Liv’s goals had always been carefully crafted around her desire to be in Bayfront whenever/as much as possible. But sacrifices had to be made to fulfill one’s aspirations, right? And she couldn’t deny that an overnighter from time to time in London sparked her interest.
“Well,” Vanessa mused, cutting into Liv’s thoughts. “I can imagine your globe-trotting lifestyle makes it hard to have a serious relationship. But I can also see why Lindsey broke the cardinal rule and posted that pic of you. I don’t recall you ever being quite so ecstatic in the presence of a man, let alone two.”
“It’s just been a while since I’ve seen them,” she said nonchalantly, hoping to diffuse any further conjecture—and keep her secret under wraps. “Nothing more.” The barista called her name and Liv collected her skinny latte, poked a straw in the lid, and took a long drink. Then she told the group, “Sorry to sip and run, but I’ve got a million things to do. See you all next time.”
Liv left the coffee house, her cup in one hand, her cell in the other. As she made her way down the awning-lined sidewalk, she eyed the photo again.
Vanessa had been right—she did look ecstatic. And she had been. Still was.
The reception would be much more fun with Nate and Tristan there for her to dance, make toasts, and generally get crazy with while surrounded by their friends. It’d be a great night to let loose here in Bayfront and not feel like a fourth wheel amongst the threesomes in attendance.
It hadn’t fully dawned on Liv until the afternoon when Nate and Tristan had arrived at the yacht club that she really had been dreading her sans-date predicament. And even though her friends would never allow her to feel left out or lonely, she would have had to face the stark reality that she was, in fact, all alone in the romantic grand scheme of things.
Not a dilemma she normally ruminated over. Yet weddings tended to bring one’s singleton status front and center, didn’t they? And even though Liv could claim her career kept her from having a steady boyfriend, somehow she knew that sentiment wouldn’t even ring true in her own ears forever. Not in light of how everyone else had recently coupled up, despite their hectic schedules.
Hell, Nick was a blockbuster indie movie producer with his own studio outside of L.A., Hunter was an international best-selling novelist, and their girlfriend, Roxy Shea, was an artist. They all had their personal agendas. And yet they lived quite harmoniously, and happily committed, in Nick’s mansion. The one Chloe was all but taking over for her wedding, thanks to the trio offering up the space for her and John, since John’s primary residence was currently in Texas and they were still house-hunting in Bayfront.
So for Liv’s situation, excuses seemed trite at the moment.
But also inescapable. Liv did have a lot on her plate.
As she was about to round the corner of the building, she wondered just how long Nate and Tristan intended to be in town. Likely just for the wedding. Then they’d sail back to wherever they docked the Ariana and jet over to London? Or did they have different frontier in mind to explore and—
“Oh, shit!” Liv cried out as she slammed into a solid torso, then promptly bounced off of it, stumbling backward. The lid on her coffee popped off and half the contents splashed against her neck and upper chest.
“Goddamn, Liv! What the fuck?”
Her gaze snapped up from where the cold liquid and ice had splattered, drenching her white tank top and lightweight sea foam–colored sweater.
Toby Anderson fumed. “Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re going? Head in the clouds, or what?”
She ground her teeth as she stared up at him. “I can’t see around an entire building, Toby.”
“You better not have spilled on me.” He stepped back and glanced down at his suit, running his hands along the gray material.
“I’m the only one wearing it,” she lamented.
“Good. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. I don’t have time for fucking games.”
“Yeah, this is totally my idea of a good time.”
He glared at her. “You were texting, weren’t you?” he sharply demanded.
“Leave her alone.”
Liv’s head whipped in the direction of Nate’s voice as he joined them.
“Whoever the hell you are, stay out of this,” Toby warned in the tone he’d been using to intimidate people since junior high. “Superstar over here needs to pay better attention to where she’s going.”
Liv opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but Nate stepped in front of her, positioning his mammoth body between her and Toby so that she actually had to look around Nate’s rock-hard biceps to see the other man.
“Nate Dalton,” he said by way of an introduction. “Why don’t you cross to a different sidewalk the next time you see Liv coming? Might be safer for you.” His tone held its own threatening edge—one that made Liv’s toes curl and her breath catch.
Toby’s gaze slid over Nate, his brow lifting ever so slightly, as though he mentally debated exactly how wise it would be to tangle with Nate. His jaw clenched for a moment, then he let out an annoyed grunt. “Just live in the real world with the rest of us when you’re in town, Liv. You’re not God’s gift to Bayfront, you know?”
He shoved past Nate to continue on his way. Liv whirled around.
“Hey, you arrogant asshole! I was—”
“Uh-uh.” Nate’s arm snaked around her midsection and he hoisted her off her feet, spun on his booted heel, and set her down, giving her a pat on the butt to send her in the opposite direction. “He’s not worth a public confrontation that’ll end up on TMZ or whatever.”
Liv marched off with Nate a half-step behind her. “That soulless twit,” she muttered. “Always so damn antagonizing. He deserves a good railing at—and a kick in the shins. I’m the one covered with coffee, for chrissakes.” She jerked around and spread her arms wide as she declared, “Look at me!”
The corner of Nate’s mouth twitched. “A hot mess. Emphasis on the hot.”
Liv’s temper eased instantly. “I’m soaked.”
“You’d win any wet T-shirt contest, hands down.”
“That’s sexist,” she said with a smirk.
“I just call ’em like I see ’em.”
She would have swatted playfully at him, but her hands were full. She skirted a few passersby and dropped her coffee in a trash bin. “Thank God it was iced or I’d be on my way to the ER for scalding.”
“Yes. Also fortuitous that you didn’t dump the contents on Toby. He likely would have sued you.”
“Actually, I was a little worried he was going to smack me. Still has that lightning-quick temper. What a whackjob.”
“I’m sure he’s smarter than that. Though I do recall him hauling off on a kid during a basketball game. The reason I wanted him to move along rather than trying to terrorize you.”
“You’ve certainly got the don’t fuck with me look down pat.” She tucked her cell into her purse and then flirtatiously said, “That was really very sexy how you flexed your muscle with Toby.”
“I don’t like a bully any more than you do.”
“He is a colossal prick.”
“And you are a drowned rat. Want me to drive you home so you can change?”
“Not necessary,” she said with a smile. “Tons to do. I’ll grab a spare shirt from Fallon’s beauty shop in a bit. She keeps a bunch of them on hand for when she’s mixing trial lotions and potions, in the event the contents explode as she removes the lid. I have to pick up some things from her boutique, anyway. First, though, I have a quick stop to make.”
She popped into the fabric store. Nate followed her in.
“Good heavens, Liv! What happened to you?” Ruby Jenkins asked from behind the cashier’s desk. In addition to tailoring dresses in her adjacent wedding shop, she owned this business as well.
“Minor incident with Toby Anderson and a building corner,” Liv said dismissively.
“That guy.” Ruby did her signature bristle. “He chewed me out the other day at the market because I’d apparently bought all the best peaches for my cobbler and left him with bruised ones for his smoothies. For his smoothies! As if his blender isn’t going to do a heck of a lot worse than bruise them!”
Liv laughed. “Yeah, he’s a tool.” She introduced Nate to Ruby, and then said, “I’m here on Chloe’s behalf. She needs two more bolts of the silver satin for the full-length tablecloths and she’s discovered this intricate, glittery silver-purple iridescent lace as an overlay that she’s hoping you can locate for her.” Liv dug in her purse and extracted the swatch.
“This is beautiful,” Ruby said as she admired the sample. “It’d be breathtaking incorporated into the bridesmaids’ dresses . . .” Her light-brown eyes glassed over and Liv knew Ruby was already envisioning the enhancement to the gowns.
But she reminded the seamstress, “Uh, wedding’s in less than two weeks, remember?”
“Not a problem,” Ruby said with a wave of her hand. “Easy fix.”
“Okay. Well. Chloe said to put it on her account.”
Ruby whistled under her breath. “Good thing she’s marrying a multimillionaire.”
“Actually,” Liv said, “she and Sylvia are working for Noah Donovan, designing the spa for his Covington Collection hotel that he’s opening down the coast next year. Chloe’s doing very well for herself and paying for all of these decorations out of her own pocket—hence the reason she’s enlisted the help of friends, so she can keep the bridal consultant’s fee to a minimum.”
Liv knew Chloe’s life had been extremely tumultuous before she’d come to Bayfront a year ago. Her misfortunes had led Chloe to believe that she’d neither find true love, nor did she want to. But then she’d met John and her childhood dream of a frilly wedding had returned full force. Chloe had emerged from her shell enough to dare to follow that dream. This was the one extravagance she chose to grant herself, and she wanted it to be a memorable day for her fiancé as well.
Ruby told Liv, “I’ll order another round of supplies and have them delivered as quickly as possible.” Then she whisked a hand in Liv’s general direction and asked, “Do you want to borrow something from the shop?”
“One of your prom dresses to run my errands in?” Liv joked. “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered. I’ll see you next week for the final fitting.”
“Lay off those carbs and the sugar until the day after the wedding, Liv.”
She snickered. “I am not bypassing the cake. Oh, my God! Wait till you see it!” A work of genius unlike anything Liv had ever imagined; it was going to be a travesty to cut into it from a design aspect, but she had no doubt every decadent bite would be worth the calories!
That made her pause before she walked out of the store. She eyed Ruby and inquired, “You will have a sewing kit in your purse, just in case I burst a seam with all the food and drink?”
“You wouldn’t be my first bridesmaid to do so.”
“Figured as much.” She breathed a sigh of relief and left, Nate still tagging along.
Half a block down, she unlocked the door to Fallon’s beauty shop, crossed the threshold, and disengaged the security alarm. She closed the door behind Nate and set the deadbolt.
The store faced the square and was tranquility personified with its frosted glass accents, thyme-painted walls with medium-colored wood wainscoting, and shiny hardwood floors. The gorgeous chandeliers she flipped on provided a cozy, golden glow of illumination.
The shop didn’t open until ten, so Liv had time to go about her business. As she headed toward the hallway that led to the back portion of the building where there was an office, an employee restroom, a workstation, and a storage closet, Liv told Nate, “I promised Chloe I’d pick up the bubbles for the reception that Fallon crafted and bottled as a bridal shower gift.”
She deposited her purse on the work table and eyed the shelf above that was fully stocked with the slim glass vials and narrow wands.
“There’s a stepladder here somewhere,” she mumbled.
“You need those?” Nate’s chin jerked toward the boxes overhead.
“All five of them.”
“No problem.” He leaned in close, his hard body sealing to hers as he reached above her and pulled down the first box.
“Show-off,” she teased.
He chuckled and the vibration passed from his chest to her back, echoing inside her.
He retrieved the remaining supplies, stacking them up on the table. “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked in a low murmur, his hands resting on her hips.
A seductive suggestion lingered in the air between them and Liv was immediately fixated on everything Nate had done to her in Paris, every way he’d made her come, and how she truly hadn’t gotten enough of him—or his brother . . .