Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
All good things must come to an end.
Following the GPS directions the guys gave me, I drive down a long, winding road, past lush rolling hills, to a B&B at the end. I park, then get out, checking out the place. It’s a gorgeous white inn with a red tile roof that glints in the setting sun. A sprawling vineyard stretches along the side of the inn and likely far into the hills. A slight breeze carries with it the scent of ripe grapes and fresh soil.
Up the steps is the main entrance to the inn, and next to it is a restaurant called Springtime. A wooden sign on the porch reads Closed for private event.
The next line reads—Come to the back.
I head along the porch to the back of the building when my breath catches. On a patio, there’s a string quartet playing. I train my ears, realizing it’s not classical music.
It’s pop. Girl pop. The kind of music the guys hear me listen to. The kind they know I love. Played on a cello, a viola, and two violins.
A door swings open and a hostess strides across the porch, down to the patio. “Briar Delaney? Your party is already here. Party of four,” she says pleasantly, her nose ring sparkling against her bronze skin.
“That’s me.” I feel frothy and happy again. We are a party of four one more time.
She guides me along a cobbled path through the vineyard, toward a picnic table set up in the middle of the vines.
My heart surges. Three attentive, thoughtful, filthy, generous men chat animatedly in their seats, possibly arguing about their upcoming games as I pick up bits and pieces. When I reach them, they all stand. Like I’m the one they’ve been waiting their whole lives for.
That’s silly to think. And yet I feel that way when Rhys comes up to me, ropes an arm around my waist, and kisses me passionately.
When Gavin grips my jaw and crushes my mouth.
When Hollis cups my cheeks and kisses me like he’s putting a spell on me.
If Hollis’s kisses are the sun and Rhys’s are twilight, then Gavin kisses like it’s after midnight.
Hard. Rough. Demanding.
They all kiss differently. I’ve grown to crave all their kisses. I’ve come to need all of them too.
When Hollis breaks the kiss at last, I blink. “Wow. Have I mentioned a good boyfriend is a great kisser?”
“You don’t say,” Hollis deadpans.
“And you all are,” I add.
“It takes two,” Gavin says, giving me credit where credit’s due.
“Well, not to split hairs, but…three,” Rhys corrects playfully.
“And that one goes to the Viscount,” Hollis says, then gestures to the table, set with crystal glasses and ceramic plates along with plush cushions and soft blankets for us to relax on on the ground. A picnic basket is filled with an array of gourmet cheeses, fresh fruits, olives, nuts, and breads. My mouth waters.
“Sit. Have dinner with us,” Hollis says.
This is so much more than just a meal. It’s a wildly romantic private picnic with my three temporary boyfriends as my favorite tunes play.
This is the only place I want to be. I sit on the blanket, legs stretched out. Rhys grabs the basket, then pours a small glass of white wine and offers it to me. “Did the boyfriend project work out for you?”
It’s a little wry, but there’s a touch of vulnerability there too. Like he wants my yes. He deserves it. They all do.
I lift the glass, then say to all of them, “Yes. They showed me what it means to be good to a woman. They cherished me; they adored me; they romanced me.”
“Good,” Rhys says, while clearing his throat, like he needs to clear away emotions too. Gavin looks toward the never-ending stretch of vines. Hollis swallows roughly.
And I will miss all of you.
But I try to focus on the friendship, just the friendship. As we eat, we talk about the coming weeks. “You’ll talk to Amira soon about her meeting, right?”
Rhys’s eyes flicker with nerves but also some acceptance. He knows his fate is out of his hands. “I will.”
“You better let me know,” I say.
“Bossy,” Hollis teases.
“And you know Rhys will when he shows up at your class again,” Gavin adds. “He can’t break that streak.”
Hollis shoots a pointed look at Gavin. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be making sure we wear face masks if we win this coming weekend.”
“One hundred percent,” Gavin says, but his tone says that’s not the streak he wants.
Hollis sets a hand on my thigh. “You better send us cat pics and dog pics when you settle into your new place.”
“Count on it,” I say.
“And a copy of your column,” he adds.
I’d nearly forgotten. Or maybe that’s not quite right. I hadn’t forgotten. The column just became the way of my life for the last several days. “I will,” I say, and it’s a promise—one that means we’ll stay friends. We’ll nurture this friendship.