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I personally wasn’t on social media. It had never been my thing. But I was in the minority, so it didn’t take me long to find Zoe.
And then text Lucas.
You forgot to mention Zoe is hotter than hell.
I went back to her pictures and scrolled through them. Dirty blonde hair, a great smile, and even better tits. Zoe was about Charlee’s age, as predicted. Unfortunately, though, her pics showed that I’d completely misread her texts. Zoe was being friendly. That was all. Shit.
I added to my text to Lucas.
And has a boyfriend.
Jumping off the bed, I turned off and plugged in my phone. Time for sleep and to forget that very pleasant conversation. Zoe had a boyfriend at best. Maybe a fiancé or husband for all I knew. Her socials didn’t say.
Oh, well.
You win some, you lose some.
And this one was definitely a loss.
CHAPTER THREE
zoe
“Another day, another winery,” Charlee said.
We sat on stools, our wine-tasting glasses sprawled out in front of us on the built-in shelf of the deck. These were prime seats overlooking the lake, the winery a fairly new one. At least, sort of new. It had been renovated and reopened recently, a perfect spot for a hangout. With just the two of us today, Charlee called it part Operation Distraction and part work. We were collaborating on the annual Fall Festivities for the resort group. Although technically Charlee and I held the same positions as managers of two different resorts, both under the Lakeside Properties brand, the fact that her father owned the company gave her a bit more status and influence within the company.
“I like what they did with the place,” I said, picking up my first wine. We’d each gotten two whites and two reds.
“I like to see you actually smiling.” Charlee picked up the same wine.
“I’m trying to make up for being a blubbering fool all morning. The day started well enough but then guess who texted to ask if he could come get his things?”
“Aw, shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What things does he have at your place that he needs back so bad? Enough to reopen a very tenuous wound?”
“Mmm,” I said about the wine. “This one isn’t my favorite.” I put the glass back. “You know, the important stuff. Like his favorite toothbrush.”
Charlee nearly spit out her wine. “You’re joking.”
“I am not.”
“So, did he come get his. . . toothbrush?”
“I didn’t text him back,” I said, picking up the second wine. The deck was filled with people, all wearing sweaters or light fleece jackets, the transition to colder weather well underway. “Instead, I just cried like an idiot. And then ate a shit-ton of Oreos.”
“Pre-gym fuel?”
“Exactly.”
We each took a sip of the wine, a chardonnay.
“Not bad,” Charlee said.
“I agree.”
