Last Call (Cocktail #5) Page 2

  Simon leaned in once more, just before we got to the end of the pews. “What if I told you I know a place perfectly suited for a quickie, guaranteed no one will find out?” His breath warmed my skin, and some other parts.

  “You’re like the devil,” I whispered back, shivering deliciously.

  “Caroline. Please. We’re in church,” he chided with a twinkle in his eye. Ungh. Loved this guy.

  We had now reached the front steps. And as we all spilled out onto the sidewalk below, we watched Ryan swing his new bride around in a circle, her feet kicked up in the air, arms tight around his neck as she laughed and laughed. The crowd oohed and aahed appropriately, and my friends and I gathered to watch and smile as the first of our crew made it official.

  “How long are you going to make Neil wait until he gets to be the one swinging you around like that?” I asked Sophia, who stood in front of her baby daddy.

  “Six months, post baby. That should be enough time to get this weight off and make sure I look positively killer in my wedding dress,” she answered, not-so-subtly rubbing her bum back and forth a bit against Neil. Who groaned and started not-so-subtly thrusting against her backside.

  “Whoa, whoa! Can’t. Unsee.” I shielded my eyes.

  “Can’t help it. Have you seen her ass? Sweetie, turn around and show them your ass,” Neil encouraged, as Simon laughed, clapping him on the back and steering him away from the group.

  “I’m gonna take Ass Man here over to congratulate the new Mr. Mimi. You two stay out of trouble,” Simon said with a chuckle. And as they walked away, Sophia and I watched them go.

  “Speaking of great asses . . .” Sophia said.

  “No kidding. And good lord, is it me, or are they both insanely good-looking in their tuxedos?”

  “Sort of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Sophia mused, watching her perfect Ass Man now swing Ryan around in a perfect re-creation.

  “Wonder what? When to get married? When we should all make it official? When we all become Mrs. So-and-So?” I asked, my heart leaping into my throat at the idea of becoming Mrs. Parker.

  “No.” She shook her head, looking at me with a funny expression. “Wonder if Neil’s wearing boxer shorts under those tight pants. I don’t see a line at all.”

  “Ah. Well. That’s something entirely different,” I replied, letting out a little chuckle.

  She put her arm around me and squeezed. “Caroline Reynolds, look at you blush.”

  “Be quiet.”

  “All excited about the prospect of getting married, making Simon your mister?”

  “You think because you’re pregnant I won’t stomp on your foot?”

  “Come on, let’s go congratulate our friend Shoeless Joe over there,” she said with a smirk, pointing at Mimi, who was surrounded by family and positively beaming.

  Ninety minutes later we were drinking champagne under one of the most iconic San Francisco monuments, the Palace of Fine Arts. Mimi had consulted the sun charts, not in an astrological way, but in a perfectly backlit way. So not only was the sun streaming in through the church windows to exactly highlight her skin tone, she had also designed her reception around sunset, capturing that perfect moment when the sun was setting behind the rotunda. And as the lights came on and the candles glowed, the gorgeous old landmark was reflected perfectly in the pond below. Shades of burnished gold from the structure, deep indigo from the water, buttery yellows from the candlelight, and the kaleidoscope of magenta, orange, and fuchsia from the setting sun painted the backdrop of this lovely evening.

  It was perfection, as only a professional organizer could ensure. Simon and I mingled with the guests, sipping our bubbly and chatting with strangers, acquaintances, and finally, friends. Up for the wedding after becoming friends with Mimi during her renovation in Mendocino, Viv Franklin was in the house. With her very dashing fiancé, Clark Barrow.

  “I can’t believe you’re pregnant again. William isn’t even six months old!” I exclaimed as she told me the news.

  “I know, I know! But Clark’s got, like, superman sperm or something. I can’t explain it. I just enjoy it.”

  “Vivian!” Clark admonished, his cheeks turning pink as he shook his head at her. “One can share news without sharing everything.”

  “One can share anything she likes, when she’s the one with bun in her very pretty oven,” Viv quipped, patting her just-beginning-to show tummy, and effectively shutting down the conversation as Clark now blushed even deeper.

  Simon and I had gone up to visit them after the birth of their son, a beautiful little boy. The new parents were ecstatic at their good fortune. They’d been planning their own wedding to be a few months after he was born, but it looked like those plans were on hold for now.

  “I want to get married back home, where all my brothers got married,” Viv said. “You remember St. Gabriel, don’t you, Simon?”

  “The church on Seventh Street, right?” he asked. They’d grown up together back east in Pennsylvania.

  “That’s the one, marrying Franklins off left and right. But Catholics are funny about sin. They’ll forgive anything, but they don’t like to see it right in their face, know what I mean? My mother would die a thousand deaths if she had a pregnant daughter walking down the aisle,” she said with a laugh.

  “So we’ll wait until after this one is born, and get married sometime next year,” Clark finished, wrapping an arm around Viv’s shoulders and pulling her in close. “Our own kids will be there when we get hitched. How great is that?”

  “Pretty great,” Viv agreed, and grinned up at him. Then she turned to me. “And speaking of pretty great, you should see the last few paintings I did. It’s a series of how the light changes over the ocean, at different points during the day. They’re pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  “I’d love to see them. You know I never have any trouble selling your stuff to my clients,” I said, thinking of when I might be able to make a trip north. Things were booming at Jillian Designs, and my schedule was full, but not overly so. I had an almost perfect balance now between work and home, and it was pretty freaking great.

  I was hired by Jillian after interning here my senior year in college, and she’d become more than a boss, sounding board, and mentor. She’d become a close friend.

  In the last year or so, our working relationship had changed. When she first told me she and Benjamin were moving to Amsterdam for six months of each year, I thought my work at her interior design firm was going to change drastically. I’d spent the previous several months running the show while they were on an extended honeymoon, so I was honored when Jillian offered me a partnership. And scared to death. And even more scared to death to turn it down, something most young designers would never do. But my Creative Caroline side had found that the administrative side of running a business wasn’t my cuppa. When you’re handed the keys to a kingdom, though, you don’t walk away.

  I didn’t walk away, but I didn’t snatch the keys either. Jillian and I were able to work out a new arrangement that allowed me to continue to primarily work with clients, and supervise things in a very general sense while she was abroad. We agreed that I’d stay in a mostly creative role, and we brought in a wonderful office manager who helped make sure the lights stayed on and the payroll checks were cut on time.

  But things were busy, no mistake. After helping Viv do a renovation on her inherited Victorian home in Mendocino, I’d been retained to work on several restoration jobs around the area, expanding the reach of Jillian Designs beyond the Bay Area. I’d worked jobs all over Northern California, and as far south as Santa Barbara. I still worked primarily in San Francisco, but the regional work was fun and satisfying. And I was helping to raise the profile of the design firm, which was already fairly well known, even higher.

  But as busy as I was, I’d always carve out time for a quick overnight to Mendocino to take a peek at whatever Viv was working on. Sometimes with Simon, sometimes without; it was an easy drive to
a lovely location. Viv had converted her attic into a working studio where she started painting the most incredible pieces, all inspired by her recently adopted home of Mendocino. I sold a few to some clients, and word was beginning to spread. Some of her work was featured in a few stores in her area, and she even had a showing at a local art fair here in San Francisco. New pieces? I’d make it work.

  “Let me look at my calendar on Monday, see when I might be able to get up there?”

  “Sounds good. Simon, how about you coming this time too? We just got two new kayaks,” Viv offered, hopeful her adventure partner would come along.

  “We’ll see. I’ve got a big trip coming up soon; lots to plan between now and then,” Simon said. But I could see his eyes dancing at the thought of kayaking.

  “Oh fuck it, you’re coming up too, and that’s that. Now, I need another root beer. Let’s roll, Clark,” Viv said, making the decision for him.

  “Impossible woman,” Clark muttered under his breath, but followed her across the room toward the bar. With a wide grin on his face.

  “Those two aren’t wasting any time, are they?” Simon said.

  “Speaking of not wasting any time . . .” I pointed toward the head table, where Mimi and Ryan were engaging in some pre–wedding night foreplay.

  “It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll keep you entertained,” I murmured, sliding my hand down his back and giving his magnificent buns a quick squeeze.

  “Naughty Girl,” he said, slipping his hands into my hair and pulling me in for a long, slow kiss. I let him; I didn’t care. Surrounded by people at a wedding reception? I kissed him back, his sweet lips opening and his even sweeter tongue tangling with mine. My breath came quickly, my skin heated, and I was ready to take him up on his quickie offer. Until I heard the beginning of the toasts starting over the microphone, signaling it was time for us to return to the head table and be upstanding and proper members of the wedding party.

  “Later,” he whispered. And promised. Mmm.

  The reception went off without a hitch. We all danced, we drank, we danced some more, we definitely drank some more. Sophia and Viv, finally meeting and bonding over their ginger ales, swapped birthing stories and talked endlessly over some kind of sling you carry a baby in.

  Whatever it was, they talked about it for hours, it seemed. But since Sophia was the first mommy in our little clan, I was glad she had a new friend who could relate to what she was going through.

  By the time we said our good nights to Mimi and Ryan, on their way to spend a night at the Palace Hotel before leaving early the next morning for a honeymoon in Bora Bora, I was pleasantly sauced, and more than pleasantly horny for the man who’d been requesting Glenn Miller all night. But I still found a moment with my girl before she left.

  “You were truly the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. Seriously, Mimi, it was an incredible day.”

  “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?” She grinned, lifting up one foot to peer at the sole. “I’ve got soot foot.”

  “They’re pretty filthy,” I agreed. “But you totally pulled it off.”

  “I know!” She laughed, and fell into a hug.

  “Indulging in the fairer sex already?” Sophia asked, appearing out of nowhere.

  “Oh c’mere, you,” Mimi cried, pulling her into our Mushtown. “You girls are my best friends, you know that?”

  “Best friends? Then how come your cousin was your maid of honor?” Sophia teased, and Mimi’s face crinkled.

  “You know very well it wasn’t an option; my mother never would have let me get out of it. I had to have her, and—”

  “Tiny. Slow your roll. I was kidding.” Sophia laughed, and kissed her on the forehead. “You looked amazing today. Shit, we all did. You threw a great party; congratulations.”

  “Thank you! And thank you, God, that you didn’t fall for Ryan. And thank you, God, for not letting me fall for Neil. I mean, he’s super dreamy, and a great kisser, but—”

  “Thank God we all ended up with the ones we did. How ‘bout we leave it at that?” I interrupted, chuckling as I remembered the weekend at Lake Tahoe when the four of them righted their dating wrongs. What could have ended badly had ended up here. Two of them married, two of them having a baby. We all looked across the dance floor at our three guys. Ties loosened, jackets abandoned, hair messy. Jesus Christ, they were handsome.

  “I’m going to get my husband and take him to the honeymoon suite at the Palace,” Mimi said with a smile that was equally dreamy . . . and lascivious.

  “I’m going to get Simon and let him do things to me in the back of the limo on the way back to Sausalito.”

  “I’m going to get Neil, a few more pieces of that wedding cake to go, and let him eat me while I eat the cake.”

  “Oh, for the love of—!”

  “Good night, nurse!”

  And we sent Mimi off on her honeymoon.

  Ninety minutes later . . .

  “Simon. Simon. Oh, Jesus, Simon, that’s so good, right there, right there, don’t stop . . .”

  Ninety seconds later . . .

  “I can’t believe you ate cake while I did that to you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You can eat cake while I do this to you . . .”

  “Caroline, you naughty girl. In the back of a limo—oh, wow, that’s good. And this cake is terrific.”

  chapter two

  “So tell me again where we’re going? Shopping for pit bulls?” I asked, waiting in the backseat of the Range Rover with Sophia while Simon and Neil stopped for gas. We were headed out of town for the night, spending some time in Sophia’s hometown of Monterey. Just a few hours down the coast, it was like a whole new world.

  “Yes. Exactly. We’re going shopping for pit bulls, Caroline,” Sophia replied dryly.

  “Well? Aren’t we?”

  “It’s not like shopping for a new handbag. Neil wants a puppy, and so do I. I think it’ll be nice to have a puppy and a baby at the same time.”

  “I think it’d be nuts to have a puppy and a baby at the same time, but hey, I’m just along for the ride,” I said. When she showed me her middle finger, I showed her one right back. “Seriously, that’s a lot all at once, don’t you think?”

  “We were planning on getting a dog after the baby, but when my cousin Lucas started texting me these pictures of their latest litter, I just melted. I mean, look at this! Could you resist?” she said, scrolling through her phone and then holding it up to show me six or seven of the tiniest, most adorable puppies, lined up in a row on a pillow, with a proud mama behind them. Some were gray, some were black and white, all of them darling. “And look, video!”

  “Oh, God, you’re killing me,” I sighed, as I watched the puppies wriggling all over the place, jumping and playing and being twelve kinds of cute. “I don’t know how I’m going to get Simon out of there without bringing one home.”

  “Clive would kill you,” Sophia replied, shutting off her phone as the boys came back to the car.

  “With his bare paws,” I agreed.

  “Bare paws? Who’re we talking about?” Simon asked as he slid behind the wheel.

  “Clive. Killing us.”

  “I have nightmares about that,” he replied, shivering. “That cat’s way too fucking smart.”

  “How’s his harem doing?” Neil asked.

  Simon socked him one on the arm. “Dude. Don’t call them that.”

  “His girlfriends. Sister wives. Whatever. How do you guys not have kittens running all over the place?” Neil asked, rubbing his arm.

  “Clive was neutered a long time ago. No nuts for my boy,” I said. “He won those girls over solely with his personality.”

  When Clive had returned home after his stint as a runaway, he didn’t come alone. He’d brought along three lovely lady cats, all of whom adopted Simon and me. We now lived with four, count them, four cats. Norah, Ella, and Dinah now joined Clive in ruling our household, and we jus
t did what we could to get out of the way. Our bed was a bit crowded some nights, but in truth? We wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Okay, Neil, let’s go over the plan one more time. We pick out one puppy—one—and let’s try and go for whichever one seems the calmest. Deal?” Sophia said, reaching up front and putting her hand on his shoulder.

  “We’ll see,” he nodded. His face turned red ten seconds later. Sophia had begun to squeeze, obviously. “One puppy. You got it,” he managed, and she gave him a pat on the head. “Cello players. Strongest hands you can imagine. Normally a good thing. But sometimes . . .” he told Simon, who just laughed as we zoomed down the highway, bound for Monterey.

  “And this is where we keep all the newer dogs, the ones we haven’t worked with as much. Sometimes they can go right in with the other dogs, but they usually need a little doggie detox,” the tall blonde said, grinning and making the tour sound fresh, though she’d obviously given it hundreds of times.

  We’d made it to Monterey in just under two hours, which was a refreshing change. Whenever Mimi was on a road trip, it always seemed like we had to stop every thirty miles or so for snacks. Once we reached Monterey it was a quick drive up into the hills to Our Gang, a rescue center for abused and abandoned pit bulls. Not knowing much about the breed myself, and only hearing the stories that are usually reported on the news, I didn’t know quite what to expect. I certainly didn’t expect a former beauty queen to be running the joint. Sophia had filled me in on Chloe, and how she’d gotten the gig, and for someone who’d only been running her own business for just over a year, it was impressive.

  “Where are the puppies? I want to see the puppies!” Neil said, practically dancing through the barn we were standing in.

  “Easy, Neil, they’re just around the corner.” Chloe laughed, patting the dog next to her. Sammy Davis Jr. was gentle and sweet, and obviously the mascot of the entire operation. Every volunteer she had working today stopped to say hello to him. Since I had a cat named Clive, who was I to judge what people named their pets?