Page 62 of The Charm of You

In truth, Owen’s right, not that I’d dare say as much with Addie present. The Buchanan House is spectacular on its own, and I’m actually surprised we’re able to host an event here. But Sapphire Creek holds traditions very close to its heart, and the townspeople are hoping to establish a special new one. Each high school reunion after ours will be held here.

The town trusts us to set the precedent. To show them we’re a team who can respect the history of this place and leave it the way we found it, with a few dashes of our own footprints impressed upon it.

We’re building something here, even though Addie and Owen insist on tearing each other apart, instead.

As the pair continues bickering about the best spot to set up the slideshow and what appetizers will be offered, it’s hard to appreciate all the beauty as I normally would.

Aside from my feuding friends, I’m distracted by the afternoon I spent with Austin.

The way his tan skin glistened under the sun.

The sharp cut of his square jaw.

I can still feel him. Not to mention I can practically hear his low growls.

The thoughts alone send a shudder down my spine.

Addie groans. In my periphery, she races through the open entryway covered in yellow boas. “These are tacky, aren’t they?” she asks, whisking past me to throw the props into a box.

She doesn’t leave room for me to answer, so I assume it’s a rhetorical question.

Owen returns. “Tacky and nostalgia go hand in hand.”

Those two need a buffer, and I’m being a lousy one by losing myself in la-la land, where Austin serves as the mayor. Fantasies of him laying me back against a rock by the river and covering me with his strong body fill me with heat and desire.

My dirty thoughts are interrupted once again by Addie asking me to set up the welcome table at the foot of the winding staircase, which is taped off with an intimidating red sign that reads “do not enter.” No one is allowed upstairs or in the bedrooms, as that’s just asking for trouble. The town doesn’t trust us that much, and I don’t blame them.

As I drape a linen cloth over the rectangular table, Addie and Owen move on to arguing over the plants in the courtyard.

“I’m the class VP. I have ideas,” Owen insists. “What’s wrong with putting roses out there? They’re classic.”

“Roses?” Addie scoffs as if he’s lobbying for bouquets of roaches. “We’re not changing the pansies with Goldilocks and creeping Jenny arrangements.”

“You made those names up, didn’t you?”

My involuntary snort draws their attention. I clear my throat and lift my shoulder to hide my face away from their stares.

Over the next few minutes, I busy myself with the table, stringing along a “welcome” sign across the front, followed by positioning a framed photo from our graduation. Owen is, indeed, wearing his inappropriate boob T-shirt in it. I’m surprised Addie didn’t mark him out with a permanent marker.

There’s still time for that, I suppose.

Owen marches back inside from the courtyard in the back and gets to work on using the helium tank that Addie rented in order to blow up balloons.

She’s on his heel. “You better not suck the helium out of a single balloon.”

“Aw. You know me so well.” He clutches his chest sarcastically.

Should I intervene? I know Addie is stressed, which is probably why she’s being so hard on him, but is there a time they ever get along? If I had to guess, I’d say no.

I open my mouth to interject, but my phone buzzes on the table. I’m embarrassed to admit even to myself how quickly I lurch for it with hopes that it’s Austin, but it’s Beverly.

I’m excited to hear from her, nonetheless.

BEVERLY

I got the McMurray listing!

It’s followed by an obscene number of emojis, and while I’m overjoyed for her, there’s still a sting of jealousy in my chest.

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