Page 15 of Smooth Talk

Chapter 5

Poppy

“He’s so infuriating! Today was supposed to be about me. Mani, pedi, massage, facial. Instead I had to forgo the massage to listen to some asshat berate me about not knowing how to do my job. And after the day I had yesterday, I deserved a damn me-day. When he realized I was unavailable, he lost it, tried to go over my head and speak to my mother.” Sara is practically yelling in our corner booth at La Mesa.

My mom picked up Harper from school today and they’re having a slumber party tonight. Sara’s taking her for ice cream in the park Sunday. We’re staying in for a veg day tomorrow, and with the way we’re drinking, we’re going to need it.

“My assistant patched a call through mid-facial. He didn’t even say hello, he just started ranting about every choice I made for his daughter’s wedding. BTW’s, they were her choices. I thought I was done thinking about that damn wedding for a few days, but he just had to call and ruin my pamper day.” She’s complaining around gulps of her second Paloma to Ruby, Emma and me. She holds up her phone, “This is the fifth time since we got here that he’s texted. If I could find an easier way for the company to breach southern territory than the ‘wedding of the century,’ I would drop him as a client. His daughter is the sweetest though. I’d hate to let her down.” She tosses her sheet of silky black hair over her shoulder, and scoops guacamole on a chip before shoving it past her lips.

“I’m assuming he’s wealthy as all hell if he can afford ‘the wedding of the century’ and you’re willing to put up with his bullshit,” Ruby asserts. Sara nods, finishing off her drink. “Extremely wealthy people are used to getting their way and are often very hard to deal with.”

“We see it with clients at the vineyard all the time,” Emma adds while Sara nods again, looking around for our server. No doubt trying to order her third drink of the evening. “But not all wealthy men are jackasses. I’m guessing he’s got some other qualities that allow you to overlook his regrettable personality. What’s he look like?” she asks.

“What does it matter,” Sara answers flippantly.

“Hmm, so he’s not good looking at all then,” Emma asks coyly.

“Of course, he is. ‘Good looking,’ is the understatement of the century. Imagine: Anthony Joshua and Idris Elba had a baby, who’s now in his early-forties; tall, obstinate, cocky, richer than God, with a rock-hard body and a deep, husky British accent.”

“So. He’s perfect. For lack of a better word,” Emma smirks.

Ruby starts fanning herself, the black, mid-length, wavy hair framing her face lightly blowing in the breeze. Her long dark lashes lay on her bronzed cheeks. I’m super jealous of Ruby’s year-round tan. I have to slather my skin in SPF 100 and limit my time in the shade, so I don’t burn. She opens her crystal blue eyes widely, “I think I need to stop imagining. Ugh, I’m super horny now. Thanks, Sara.”

Sara just sends her a wink. Our server, who has just come up to the table, mistakes the wink for his, and smiles broadly at my friend. “Is there anything else I can get you ladies?” The implication is clear. And Sara is gorgeous. Her mother is Korean and her father Italian. She has that alluring blend of almost-black hair and eyes with smooth olive skin covering a tiny curvy figure. Sara just smiles and orders another round for all of us. Our sizzling platters of fajitas come to the table minutes later and the conversation lulls as we chow down. God, that’s good.

“So Pop, what’s new in your world?” Emma asks as we slow down.

“Harper’s good, my parents are good, and,’ I pause for effect, “I am working with Caroline Maxwell.” I want to share my good news; they know how huge this is for me.

They congratulate me all at once and pummel me with questions.

‘Is the house as ridiculous as the pictures?’ ‘Yes. More.’ ‘Are they really that kind and generous or is it an act?’ ‘So far, they seem genuine.’ ‘Are they really all that gorgeous or is it photo shop?’ My mind recalls Grayson Maxwell in that dark blue suit and my face flushes. It’s a dead give-away to anyone that knows me as well as these ladies do. “All the Maxwells I’ve met have been really nice to look at. Even Caroline. That woman has excellent genes.” I play down my reaction because I’m not ready to share my feelings with the group.

Why I’m still thinking about a man that I had no more than a mere minute-long interaction with, I don’t know. Does he do this to every woman he meets? He has to. His smirk alone was enough to disintegrate my underwear for the love of God.

“Did you meet Grayson? IMHO, he’s the most handsome,” Emma says. I nod, not trusting my voice. They all know me too well. The breathy quality I fear it will have right now will result in a severe grilling. One, I’m not ready for. “I’ve known Asher since we were kids. He’s good friends with Hud and Charlie. That boy is fine.” Emma says pulling me out of my momentary lusty haze.

Em has two cousins— Hudson and his brother Jacob— Charlie’s her sister, Charlotte. “They all are, but there’s just something almost dangerous about the eldest Maxwell. Jake and Grayson were friends at one point. I was a lot younger than them, so we never really hung out. And I was always too busy with my nose in a book to notice anything going on around outside of the vineyard,” she rolls her eyes in a self-deprecating manner. “Heck, I’m still too busy for anything unless it’s in my face when I’m out with you ladies or one of the farmhands. One night is all I have time for.”

“Amen sister,” Sara salutes her with a clink of glasses.

Em was a late bloomer and didn’t really discover boys until college. A couple bad experiences were enough for her to put all men in the ‘not to be taken seriously’ column for life. “I wasn’t too busy to see the cover of Forbes though. Did y’all see that man in a suit? Hell, all of them. Talk about dangerous,” she’s the one fanning herself now.

“You should’ve seen my man in a suit,” Sara says, because yeah, she’s still talking about this guy. Apparently, he’s ‘her man’ now. I don’t mind the shift in conversation though. “I have never been so angry and turned on at the same time in my life.” She says popping a grilled shrimp into her mouth.

“Oh, Rubes can totally relate,” Emma says. Ruby elbows her hard. “Ouch! Sorry, I thought it was common knowledge.”

“What’s common knowledge,” I ask.

“No more drinks for Em.” Ruby huffs loudly before she continues, mumbling, “I kind of made-out with Knox the other day.” She’s not looking any of us in the eye as she blows a stray hair away from her face with another huff.

“Knox Teller!?!” I shout. And I thought my news was big.

“Opa! Now it really is common knowledge,” Ruby bugs her eyes out at me, shrinking into the booth.

“Sorry, I just thought you hated, like all caps, HATED, Knox Teller.”

“I did. I mean, I do. I just… it was an accident, I think.” She sounds flustered and her cheeks have gotten the slightest bit pink. I can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or if she’s embarrassed. She couldn’t be blushing. Ruby DOES NOT blush. This is huge! “We were in the back of the bar, you know, that hallway where the restrooms and offices are? Anyway, it was almost closing time, and I wanted a drink; he said I’d had enough then he kissed me.” She rolls her eyes. “Like he would know, he only notices anything I do so he can use that information to get a rise out of me.”

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