A server appeared, offering them a tray of flutes.
“Ah, perfect.” Julian lifted two glasses and handed one to Megan and the other to Callie. He took a third one for himself before thanking the server. “I’m so pleased to meet Calliope’s friends and family. How long have you two known each other?”
“We met in elementary school.” Callie hadn’t told him anything about her past, so now wasn’t the time to reveal that she’d had no real friends until Megan. An introvert, she’d kept mostly to herself. Well, until she and Fin had gotten together—and then the whole world had split open. “She was my closest friend.”
Megan’s attention roamed the crowd, barely acknowledging her.
She’d try another tactic. “Do you remember that time we—”
“What’s with the hair, wild thing?” The all-too familiar voice cracked through her like a thunderclap.
It might have been a while since she’d heard it, but her body responded like a rosebud starved for sunlight. Every cell bloomed and strained in his direction.
Her stomach lurched, and she did not want to turn around. She didn’t want to look at him. With fight or flight kicking in, it took every bit of strength she had not to run like he’d just tossed a lit match at her feet and set her on fire.
“Hey, Fin,” Megan said.
Brushing Callie’s arm as he reached across the small circle they made, Fin met Megan in the middle for a hug. His scent—that hint of sage and clean clothes, the essence of Fin—swirled around her, filling her senses and sending her crashing back in time. She had a matter of seconds to pull herself together and treat him like an acquaintance. Julian didn’t know about him, so she needed to just be normal, but turbulence scrambled her system, and her mind went blank.
And that pissed her off. She’d prepared for this moment. Hell, she’d rehearsed it. But living it, having him right here, she just…dammit. No matter how many nights she’d lain awake scripting this interaction, she couldn’t control her body’s reaction.
Come on. She gave herself an internal shake. He’s just a guy.
But when he pulled back, he turned his full attention on her and…Oh, my God.
For the first time in years, she looked Fin Bowie, in all his six feet two inches of rock-hard muscle, in the eyes. A tremble started from deep within, rising in velocity until her composure shook like a tree in a violent storm. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been a boy. A gorgeous, untamed, mischievous boy who’d kept her on edge for most of her life. His wild, free spirit made him impossible to nail down.
But the boy she’d loved so fiercely had nothing on the man who stood before her. With his overgrown dark hair and bright blue eyes, he was a shock of rugged, raw power next to her lean, elegant boyfriend.
Of course he’d worn jeans to a rehearsal dinner, the white button down shirt the only nod to the dressy occasion. Not like Julian’s pressed shirt, though. No, Fin’s looked like he’d swiped it off a pile of discarded clothes on the floor on his way out of the shower. He’d shoved the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing tanned, muscular forearms.
Julian would have carefully folded the cuff until it fell just below the elbow. And he would’ve spent a minute adjusting it in front of a mirror.
Fin didn’t own a mirror.
“Fin.” The way he tilted his head in confusion made her think she sounded more stuck-up than pleasant. Snap out of it right now. But she couldn’t—not when he looked at her as if he could see straight through her make-up and fancy clothes, right down to the trembling heart of her.
He reached for a lock of her hair and tugged it. “You iron it?”
Julian, always well-mannered, stepped back to include the new addition in the conversation. “Her hair?”
Fin tugged it again. “It’s brown.”
“That’s her natural color.” Julian’s smile remained fixed despite the crinkle on his brow. He reached out his hand. “Julian Reyes.”
“Fin Bowie.” Fin shifted his beer bottle to his other hand so they could shake, and Callie caught the moment Fin noticed the slight sheen on Julian’s manicured fingernails.
Too quickly, Fin let go and turned his attention back to her. He didn’t move closer, but somehow she felt crowded by him. The entire backyard and all its guests faded away until it was just the two of them. She could smell the mountain air on his skin. He was sun-warmed meadows and bracing snow-covered summits. He was tangled sheets and calloused hands. Bone-melting kisses and thrilling gropes in public places.
He was abject heartbreak.
“Liked it platinum.” Fin’s deep, rough voice sounded like it might crack from the heavy emotion it carried.
“Platinum?” Julian spluttered. “When have you ever colored your hair?”
“Are you serious?” Megan laughed. “How long have you known her?”
“Two years.” Julian gave Callie an assessing look.
She squeezed his hand. Later. “We should probably find our seats.”
“She used to dye it a new color every semester.” Megan had a gleam in her eyes. “That was her thing.”
“I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Julian said.
Gracious words, but she knew better. She’d have been invisible to Julian back then. He thought people who wore gauges and piercings and dyed their hair pink were compensating for a lack of authentic creativity. They showed the world how funky they were because they lacked the guts to actually create something.
“Come on.” Callie pulled on his arm. “It’s time for toasts.” She shot Fin a look. Thanks for starting this.
But instead of his usual challenging response, he just looked baffled.
“Actually, I’d love to know what she was like back then,” Julian said.
“She was a total tomboy,” Megan said. “She got into more trouble than—”
“I don’t know what a tomboy is,” Fin said. “But if you’re trying to say Callie could run faster and stomp landings and kick our asses up to Dead Man’s summit, then, yeah, she was a badass.” He turned fully to Julian. “You’re from the east coast. You grow up making snowmen?”
“I might have made one.” Julian offered a guarded smile.
“Yeah, well, my brothers and I didn’t make snow men. We made snow targets. We’d build a row of snow mounds with holes in the middle. Big hole for the first one, smaller hole for each one down the line, until the last one had a hole the size of a small skillet. We’ve got pretty good aim, but this one?” He tipped his chin toward Callie. “She was the only one of us that got a snowball through the smallest one.”
The tinkle of silver tapping glass cut the hum of conversation. Everyone turned to the head table where her brother stood. “Could you all please take your seats? We’re about to start the toasts.”
The crowd around them started moving, but Fin’s compelling gaze kept them rooted. “Tomboy?” He shrugged. “I only know that Callie was confident, strong. Fearless. Everything a woman should be.”
Her heart clenched painfully that he’d come to her defense like that, but it only took a moment to see that he wasn’t defending her at all. His gaze held no warmth.