To knowSexy Book Club was to love Sexy Book Club.
The literature-loving group had been started by my grandmother and Frannie when all their other efforts to find a hobby had failed catastrophically. (Do not ask about gator wrestling or naked trapshooting.) Everyone in my family loved books, so my sisters and I were faithful to attend—whether we wanted to or not.
Did the book club involve immersive women’s fiction with intellectual talking points and plotlines so tight Reese Witherspoon had already snatched up the movie rights? It did not.
Did it include classics,New York Timesbestsellers, or that thriller on everyone’s nightstand? Don’t be ridiculous.
What it did involve was romance novels—and for Sylvie and Frannie, the steamier the better. Always character driven, and bonus points for a quirky plot. The ladies were fans of tropes, and the food continued the theme. Last month we’d read a cowboy romance, so Frannie showed off her pistols. Rosie was appalled and informed our aunt the Lost Story had a strict policy against weapons. Especially ones holstered in brassieres.
My heart lifted at the sight of the Lost Story tonight. Would I ever get over the love and pride I felt for Rosie’s dream come true? Exhausted but still high on Celeste’s announcement, I opened the doors and made my way inside. It was like coming home.
Paolo greeted me, wearing a chartreuse blazer that I knew he saved for special events. “Hello, darling.” He kissed the air near my left cheek. “Thank you for securing my invite.”
“Anything for you.” I waved at some family on the other side of the store. “Have you met everyone?”
Paolo fanned himself with his paperback. “Mercy, yes. Your Aunt Frannie and Grandma Sylvie have already invited me to be their side piece at senior citizen night at the Cherokee Casino.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. Ignore them.”
“Ignore them? I cleared my calendar and offered to drive.” Paolo glanced behind him as if making sure ears weren’t listening. “How are my clothes being treated?”
“Very well.”Sowell. Lachlan wastoo handsome to ignore, and every day I was losing my resolve to try. “You’d be proud.”
My friend looked pleased. “And you? How are you being treated?”
I thought of the feeling of being in Lachlan’s arms at the governor’s gala, our last kiss, and my relentless desire to hang out with him on the couch tonight. “Also very well.”
Paolo considered me for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it. Now stop monopolizing me, Olivia Sutton. I want to talk to Bitsy Carmichael and get the number of her pool boy.”
“You don’t have a pool.”
“This is not a relevant detail.” Paolo waved as he departed, happily leaving me to search out Bitsy near the tray of cucumber sandwiches.
“Olivia!” Hattie hugged me first, followed by Rosie.
Sylvie stuck a carrot in her mouth and took a crisp bite. “Well, well. If it isn’t the newlywed. You look like you’ve been up all night.”
Aunt Frannie handed me one of her famous cupcakes. “Are your evenings as hot as Rochelle’s in chapter fourteen ofThe Amnesiac Princess’s Royal Bodyguard?”
Hardly. “I’ve been at an amusement park all day. But…I have news.”
Sylvie cupped her hand over her mouth and bellowed to the group. “Olivia’s pregnant!”
“No!” I yelled over the delighted gasps. “I certainly am not.” The faces of thirty-five women and one man fell in disappointment. “Celeste narrowed the candidate list down for the promotion. I’m a finalist!”
“That’s great, sugar.” Sylvie hugged me again and patted my back. “A little anticlimactic, but still stellar news.”
“Congratulations, sis.” Hattie handed me a cup of punch served in a bone china teacup. “Your boss would be crazy to pick anyone but you.”
“Darn right.” My grandmother got that glint in her eye and stepped closer. She was a woman who’d made a career on instinct and her ability to read people (plus an uncanny knack for making things explode). “Olivia Sutton, something else is on your mind. Out with it so I can successfully micromanage the situation before moving on to our book.”
The rest of the club had migrated back to the food tables, leaving just my nosy family. “Monday is Lachlan’s birthday,” I told them. “On Halloween.”
Hattie blinked.
Rosie frowned.
“Sounds like a good excuse to eat cake,” Frannie said.
