Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (7 page)

“It
is
pretty cool,” Alec conceded. Sam leaned in to survey his work. He had drawn a rocket ship, slightly resembling Apollo 13, soaring through space. He’d scattered a few random planets through the black, starry sky, but the rocket was in the center, detailed and realistic, with orange and yellow flames shooting from its engines.

“Thank you, Uncle Sam!” Hope squealed. She kissed his cheek, then carefully picked up the drawing and took it over to show her grandparents.

Sam sat back in his seat, content, following his niece with his eyes. But within seconds, he was looking back down the table to see what Lydia was doing. She was in profile, turned slightly away from him, talking with Melanie. He let his eyes glide over her and take her in.

“Who’s she?” Alec’s voice came stealthily.

Sam broke off his gaze to glance at his older brother. “Who?”

“The redhead you’ve been staring at all night,” Alec said. He snorted out a caustic laugh. “Don’t play dumb with me. You can’t pull it off, you’re too sharp.”

“Well, thanks for that backhanded compliment.” Sam grinned. He reached for his glass, which also contained scotch, and took a sip.

“You’re stalling,” Alec said. “Come on, fill me in before Paige and the kids get back. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal,” Sam said with nonchalance.

“Right. You’re obviously interested in her, you’re clearly checking this chick out, so just fess up.” Alec’s grin turned wicked. “You always liked a woman with curves, and Lord knows she’s got ‘em. A one night stand, perhaps? A little action for the weekend away?”

Sam snorted derisively. “You’re charming. Once a frat boy, always a frat boy.”

“Who is she?” Alec pressed.

“Her name’s Lydia,” Sam said, giving in. “She’s a friend of Melanie’s. They were college roommates.”

“Aha. And?”

“And nothing.”

“I call bullshit,” Alec declared.

Sam laughed. Without full awareness of it, his eyes drifted right back to Lydia. She seemed to sense that she was being looked at, because she glanced at him almost immediately. She offered him a small, bashful grin. He smiled back at her openly, warmly.

“Ohhh, please,” Alec scoffed. “What was
that
? Nothing, huh? Nothing, my ass. You guys are totally flirting with each other, doing the dance.” His eyes burned into Sam as he used his best interrogative stare. “So you met her here?”

“This morning,” Sam said, unable to keep the smile off his face as he again turned back to his brother. No matter how overbearing or even obnoxious Alec could be at times, his ribbing rarely failed to amuse Sam.

“Have you talked to her?” Alec asked, seizing the opening. “I mean, at some length, more than introductions.”

“This afternoon. I ran into her outside, and we sat and talked for a while.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed as he studied his younger brother. “You’re editing.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up rakishly. “Only a little.”

“Mm hmm. So? You gonna try to hook up with her?”

Sam snorted again. “Even if I am, I’m sure as hell not going to discuss it with you first.”

“Hey, I just wanna lend a helping hand, if you need it,” Alec said, the sly smirk returning.

“Riiight. You want to help me?” Sam laughed, but held Alec's gaze. “Then do
nothing
. Don’t help. And keep this on the DL—I don’t need Paige involved and on my back too.”

“Hey, handsome, I’m sure you’ve got it covered,” Alec drawled. “I know you’ve got game. I’m just sayin’. It’s fun to watch you hunt.”

“Hunt?” Sam said, his tone indignant. “She’s not an animal. She’s not a target.”

“Alright, alright, didn’t mean to offend,” Alec said, holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s just kind of funny. I haven’t been privy to watching you gear up for the prowl in a long time, that’s all. And we’ll all be together all weekend—I get a front row seat. Me, Paige, Mom and Dad… we all get to watch—what
fun
!” Alec cracked a wide, sardonic smile.

“Wonderful,” Sam groaned. The thought of his whole family keeping an eye on his activities didn't please him one bit. “Do me a favor, alright? Just give me some room. Pay attention to your wife and kids, not me.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Alec said dismissively. He looked down the table to check out Lydia for himself. “She is pretty, I’ll give you that. Not a knockout, per se, but definitely attractive. And even though she’s got a great rack, other than that she’s not your usual type. I’m a little surprised.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up, his expression cynical and mildly curious. “What do you think my ‘type’ is?”

“Well, with the obvious exception of Chelsea, and then the few other women you got serious with after her—whose names I can’t even remember right now, holy crap—you always seem to hit on blondes. Whenever we’ve gone out, to a bar or whatever, that’s who you seem to look at, and to pick up.” Alec rubbed his temples. “Dammit, this is bugging me now. What were their names? There was the one you dated first, lasted like six months, I wanna say? And then, there was the one you moved in with for a while, you were with her for like two years?”

“First one was Emily. Second one was Maria,” Sam murmured, his voice flat. He hadn’t thought of either of them in a long time. He was honestly surprised that Alec had even remembered both women, much less brought them up in the correct order and context. He took a hard swallow of his scotch and welcomed the burn down his throat.

“Right! Yes. Thank you. They were both brunettes, like Chelsea. But you don’t hook up with darker haired women, unless there’s something more to them that interests you beyond just having a fling. Like, you realize they have a brain, or a decent personality, and then it’s different.” Alec smirked knowingly. “To sum up, Sammy: you play with blondes, you get real with brunettes. So I’m surprised you’d give a red haired woman a second look, that’s new. Although technically, she could
almost
be a brunette; her hair isn’t, like, flaming red. More like auburn, I guess you'd call it? I don’t know colors, you’re the artist.” His smirk widened into a salacious smile. “So? How’m I doin’? On the money?”

Sam said nothing in response to his brother’s observations, which were unnerving in their accuracy. Taken aback, his jaw set in displeasure for a moment before he knocked back the rest of his drink in one hard gulp.

Alec laughed mockingly, victoriously. He gave Sam’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze and pressed ahead. “I know you well, little brother. Better than you think. Don’t ever forget that. So? What’s Lydia’s story? Where’s she from?”

“Jesus. Where the hell did Paige take the kids to pee?” Sam wondered aloud. “Siberia?”

* * *

Dinner was served, a few toasts were made, and conversation and laughter flowed as easily as the drinks. Towards the end of the meal, Melanie whispered into Lydia’s ear that there was a pub and lounge on the fourth floor of the hotel, and a few of them were going there after the dinner to hang out. “Please, please come. Just for a little while.”

Lydia sighed. She was tired, and the third glass of wine in front of her was half empty already. She had a perfect buzz going, and had been looking forward to just going back to her room and passing out in a comfortable bed. But she couldn’t say no to her old friend. “I’m really tired, Mel. I’m only gonna stay for a little while. Deal?”

“Deal. I’ll take what I can get.” Melanie smiled, obviously pleased.

After some deliciously decadent desserts, the guests all began to disperse. Melanie’s parents both hugged Lydia, repeating how glad they were to have her there. People headed for the door, going to get a good night’s sleep for the following day’s big event. Lydia smiled and shook hands with all the relatives she’d met that evening.

She tried to be discreet as she glanced over to where Sam was, at his end of the table, wondering if he'd be joining the troupe headed to the lounge. The younger of the little girls was up in his arms; she watched him kiss her little pink cheek. It looked like Sam, Alec, and Paige were saying good night to the kids, and Lydia continued to observe as Sam and Alec's parents eventually led their grandchildren out of the room. Once they were gone, Alec turned to Ryan and called out boisterously across the length of the room, “Alright, Selby. The kids are off to bed, thanks to Grandma and Grandpa. Paige and I get to hang out with the grownups. Let’s go, my brother!”

Melanie grasped Ryan’s hand and her small, silvery handbag with the other. She turned to Lydia, who stood beside her. “Let’s go, darling. Chop chop!” She smiled brightly and let her fiancée lead her away.

Lydia grabbed her handbag too, then went to follow what had become a small group: Ryan and Melanie, Alec and Paige, three of Ryan’s cousins, two of Melanie’s cousins, and Sam. He stood still at the end of the long table, waiting as Lydia came closer. They smiled at each other as the distance between them gradually closed.

“Mind if I walk with you?” he asked her, a disarmingly sweet look on his face.

“Of course not,” she said, feeling a little flip in her midsection. She wondered if it was the three glasses of wine releasing the butterflies in her stomach, or a case of nerves from this appealing man paying attention to her. She knew it was most likely the latter. He fell into step beside her at the back of the group.

The troupe chatted and laughed as they made their way up to the fourth floor. Ryan pushed open two heavy white doors to reveal an elegant, old fashioned looking bar and lounge. The room had the feel of a gentleman’s club of long ago. The lighting was lowered, but not too much; it gave the place a relaxed, more intimate feel. The hardwood floors had been polished until they shone, and the walls were a warm shade of russet. Towards the front, on the left side of the lounge, were a billiard table and a foosball table, side by side. Towards the back were two plush armchairs, two couches, and a loveseat, all circled around a fireplace; a roaring fire crackled and popped in the majestic stone hearth. Three large windows opened up the right wall, showcasing an old, beautifully restored Wurlitzer jukebox. An old Eric Clapton song blared from it as the group entered the room.

In the center of the room stood the bar, separating the game tables and open floor in front from the cozier section that lay behind it. The bar was well built, majestic and sturdy, with lacquered mahogany and chestnut wood, shiny brass rails, six leather covered bar stools, and a display of every alcohol imaginable backlit along the bartender’s counter.

“Good evening, folks!” The bartender greeted the group in a cheery tone. “Welcome. My name’s John. Can I get anyone a drink?”

“Hell yes, John!” Alec replied. He clapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and announced, “This man is getting married tomorrow, to this beautiful lady over here. So we’re here to celebrate. We’ll start out with some shots of tequila. One for every person here, just line ‘em up.” He dropped a gold credit card on the bar. “I’m the Best Man, it’s all on me tonight.” Ryan and Melanie tried to protest, and Alec waved them off.

“Okay then.” John, a tall, bald, solidly built man in his late forties, quickly eyed the group. “Eleven shots, coming right up.”

Lydia sidled up to the bar and leaned over the wooden counter to tell John, “Excuse me, but just make it ten. I don’t do shots.”

“Oh, come on!” Alec protested.

“Party pooper,” one of Ryan’s male cousins teased.

“Seriously, I can’t.” Lydia simply looked over at Melanie. “Back me up here, will you?”

Melanie laughed, leaning into Ryan as she said, “It’s true. She can’t. Unless you want to wear it three seconds later. I’ve seen it, and it’s not pretty.”

“Ooof.” Alec shuddered. “Okay, you’re off the hook.”

Sam looked down at Lydia, an amused grin on his face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Lydia smirked ruefully. “We’re talking Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Found that out the hard way back in college.”

Sam laughed. “Okay, okay, I’m sold. Would you like something else, then?”

“Thanks, but I already had about three glasses of wine downstairs,” she replied. “I’m perfect right now. Maybe in a little while. I don’t want to get too drunk tonight, and I certainly don’t want to be hung over for the wedding tomorrow.”

Sam nodded. “Fair enough. When you change your mind, let me know.”

“Here we go, folks,” John announced to the group. Except for Lydia, they all leaned in to the bar to pick up their shot glasses.

“I’m the Best Man, allow me to make a toast,” Alec began.

“Like anyone could stop you,” Paige cracked, patting her husband’s arm.

The group laughed.

“Ryan, Melanie, I’ll save the funnier and sappier toast for tomorrow,” Alec said. “But in all seriousness, I’m so happy the two of you found each other, and that you’re going to have a wonderful life together. We all wish you the very best.”

“Hear, hear,” Melanie’s cousin Anne said, raising her shot glass.

“To the bride and groom,” Sam smiled, raising his shot glass as well.

“To the bride and groom,” they all echoed. They raised their glasses in salute, then simultaneously threw back their shots of tequila.

“Ugh,” Ryan’s cousin Jeanette moaned. She shuddered, then looked over at Lydia. “You were smart. I’ve never liked this stuff.”

“Then why’d you do it?” Ryan laughed.

“Because I’m a team player,” Jeanette pronounced. “Team Selby, baby.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Ryan smiled, exchanging a fist bump with her.

Alec turned to the bartender. “John, another shot for me and the groom, please.”

“Oh boy,” Melanie said. “Um, honey? Don’t get too shitfaced tonight. You have a wedding to host tomorrow, you don’t want to be hung over.”

Ryan turned to his fiancée and wrapped his arms around her. He smiled broadly and kissed her hard. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t get too shitfaced.”

“Maybe just a little shitfaced,” Alec said, handing Ryan the second shot.

“You’re a bad influence,” Paige scolded her husband.

“Always have been.” Alec nodded, clinking his filled shot glass to Ryan’s. The men threw back their shots easily.

The old Motown classic “The Way You Do the Things You Do” started blaring from the jukebox.