1: Punch Bowl Massacre

            You ever see those movies where the heroine enters a room and it goes dead silent? Everyone is staring like she’s the dog that got caught stealing the Christmas ham?

            Yeah, that.

            Only, I’d take a belly full of ham over a shoe full of fruit punch any day.

            As if my place as June Lake’s favorite pariah weren’t already secured, I’d managed to kill the music and deplete the beverage supply within thirty seconds of my arrival.

Easing into the backyard, I shook the unplugged extension cord from my foot and stepped over the mess I’d created.

I lifted my hand in a half-wave as I looked up and found the backyard full of people staring. “Hi,” I said, trying for a smile. A few people waved back, but mostly they just stared.

Was it too late to slip back out through the gate?

“Are you all right, pumpkin patch?” Dad ambled forward, donning a Kiss the Cook apron and a concerned expression.

Yep. Too late.

“Oh, I’m fine.” I shook the punch from the gift bag clutched in my hand and held it toward him. “Happy birthday!”

Dad took the bag and wiped it on his apron. “Thank you. And thanks for that spectacular entrance.” His eyes, the same green eyes he’d passed on to me, twinkled with laughter, and maybe a beer or two. “I was worried people were getting bored.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead and I caught a whiff of Budweiser. Yep. Definitely a beer or two.

             “Tierney! There you are!” my mother hollered from across the yard—as if I needed any more attention. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

            “No, not lost.” I glanced at the punch bowl massacre at my feet. “Just…thirsty, apparently.”

            Her eyes followed mine and she shrugged. “There’s plenty more punch inside.” She put her arm around me and steered me away from the mess. “Go towel off and grab another jug from the fridge.” Someone called her name and she gave my shoulder a squeeze before wandering off.

            Stares and whispers followed behind me. My skin prickled. Why had I let Mom talk—no, guilt—me into coming to this thing? Sure, it was a milestone birthday, and sure, I loved my father, but dammit. I’d stayed away from events like this for a reason.

            My eyes grazed the swarm of people and I let out a slow breath of relief. So far, so good.

            Glancing back at Dad, who was now lost in conversation with a couple friends, I turned and started for the house. Maybe I’d just stay there for the rest of the party.

Really? Twenty-nine years old, and you’re really going to hide inside like a coward?

I ignored the voice. I’d gladly take the coward’s way if it meant I didn’t have to see—

A pair of blue Converse stepped into view. I skidded to a stop, dread settling over me. Slowly, my eyes followed a pair of dark blue jeans to a white t-shirt with a skull and crossbones across the front, only the crossbones were kitchen utensils. Finally, I reached a grinning face.

The dread eased. Not him.     

This guy had dark hair, just long enough to curl at the ends, just short enough to avoid complete chaos. His blue eyes gleamed with unadulterated amusement. Huh. Cute.

            “Thirsty?” He held out a cup of punch, and his lips twitched.

            Well, cute until the smartass came out to play.

            “Oh, I get it.” I pushed passed him. “Because of the whole punch bowl thing. You’re funny.”

            “I think so.” He moved in front of me. I didn’t slow my pace, so he had to walk backward or be run over. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I thought that was one hell of an entrance. I mean, nothing says ‘I have arrived,’ better than a flying punch bowl. Maybe it’s just me. I do have a thing for cute brunettes that know how to make an entrance.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to make an entrance.” I looked over his shoulder to the open back door. Almost there.

“Aw, come on. Why not? Who doesn’t like to be the center of attention?” He grinned and continued walking backward.

My eyes fell on the single step up to the patio. “Hey, watch—“ I started, but it was too late.

He hit the step, stumbled backward, and landed on the patio with a thump, fruit punch spilling all over his once-white shirt.

The look of pure shock on his face had me laughing before I thought to ask if he was okay. “Dude.” I moved forward to offer him a hand. “Watch your step.”

He took my hand and got to his feet, brushing at the bright red stain. “A little late with the warning, doll,” he said, though he didn’t sound angry.

“My apologies.” I glanced around to see people staring and laughing. “How about we get you a towel?” I slid open the screen door and he motioned for me to go in first.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

“For what?”

“Well, my public display of awkwardness took everyone’s attention from you.”

I crossed the kitchen and opened a drawer. “That was very kind of you. I am forever in your debt.” I handed him a towel. Squinting, I tried to place how I knew him. An image of a scrawny blue-eyed teen ran through my head. A ha! “You’re Wes’s little cousin, right? John? James?”

“Jack.” He glanced up and grimaced. “And I’m not Wes’s little anything. We’re the same age.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “My bad. You just…seemed younger.”

“Plus, I’m taller,” he grumbled, handing back the towel. “Better looking, too.”

“And oh-so full of yourself.”

“Please,” he shot back, leaning against the counter right next to me. “You think I’m a little cute.”

I shook my head, heat creeping into my face. “Not even a little bit, buddy,” I stared at a spot on the counter, avoiding his grin. “I like my guys less cocky.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned an elbow on the counter. “I’ll try to tone down the cocky.”

“Please do.” I glanced up in time to catch him running a hand through his hair. My eyes lingered on his bicep. Huh. He’d certainly grown up nice, hadn’t he? No sign of the gawky teen that’d helped me run the dunk tank at Spring Thing eons ago. Maybe I really could spend the rest of the party inside.

“So,” he interrupted before I could ogle him further. Something about the spark in his blue eyes made me forget all about the mob just beyond the glass door. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know.” I searched my mind for a suitable answer. Really, what I’d been up to was a whole lot of nothing. Working at Pencil Pusher Publishing for the last six years, biding my time until something better came along. Going out on bad dates and girls’ nights with my best friend, Cat. Watching too many TV shows about teenage vampires. “I’m doing all right,” I finally said, wishing I had a more interesting answer. “How about you?”

“That was a cop out if I ever heard one.” Jack’s eyes lit with laughter. “But I’ll let you get away with it.” He paused, his lips tilting. “For now.” His gaze lingered on my face, promising more effective interrogation tactics to come.

“Oh, really,” I started, leaning in just a touch. “How do you—“

“Tierney?”

A voice, warm as a memory, filled the kitchen. I turned and everything inside me frosted over. There he was. The reason I’d avoided June Lake for nine years. The reason why, when I did come home, I never stayed long. The reason I didn’t want to come tonight.

His eyes met mine and just like that, I went back. I could smell the rain-soaked breeze, hear the sound of breaking hearts. I could feel my footsteps as I walked away.

I exhaled, his name catching on my breath.

“Wes.”