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Chapter One

Ruby

I sift my fingers through the pile of past due notices with a lump in my throat.

Sip and Flip is officially going under.

I’ve barely opened the doors to my bookstore with the cozy tea lounge, and the overdue bills are going to turn off the lights.

My dream is dashed before it was ever fully realized.

The demise of my quaint little shop isn’t for lack of style and warmth and selection.

Really, my downfall started with a giant water main break on the street in front of the shop, which shut down the entire block for my opening week.

Then a leak from the tenant upstairs caused half of my inventory to be damaged.

Sip and Flip never had a chance.

Coming out from behind the counter, I gaze across the street toward the ocean on the other side.

People are leaving the beach, silhouetted in the orange California sunset.

Maybe a tiny tea shop with little book nooks was wrong for this tourist destination?

This is far from the first time I’ve wondered if I set up shop in the wrong place.

Who has time to get lost in the stacks with their kids in tow?

Or sandy from the beach? If I was selling ice cream or keepsakes, would I have done better?

Maybe.

But that’s not my dream.

I begin to turn back into the darkened shop, prepared to lock up for one of the very last times, when I notice two women in their late twenties hustling toward me from across the street. They spy me through the glass door and wave.

“Are you closed?” one of them, a redhead, calls.

A little caught off guard, I still hold the door open with a welcoming smile. “Come on in. I can stay open as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” says the second woman, a tall brunette. “We are in desperate need of some reading material.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” I murmur, trying not to stare at their incredible purses.

To say nothing of their Italian leather, luxury brand shoes.

It’s not unusual to come across wealthy tourists in this town, but these women appear to be another level of affluent.

“If you need any recommendations, let me know.”

The redhead sends me a blithe smile, then does a double take. “Hey. Why do you look so familiar?”

I rear back a little. “I don’t know. Have you shopped here before? This is my store.”

“No, we’re vacationing from the east coast,” she murmurs, staring at me for another beat before shaking herself, continuing to saunter through by the bestseller shelf. “And let me tell you, it is not going well.”

“Vacation from hell,” the tall brunette agrees. “The blame goes squarely on our husbands. They won’t even speak to each other. We had to spend the day on opposite ends of the beach.”

“Why won’t they speak to each other?” I ask.

The redhead drops her head back on a dramatic groan. “It’s complicated.”

Her friend snorts. “You can say that again.”

I don’t want to pry or ask about anything too personal, so I slide back behind the counter and busy myself with the bookmark stand.

“Tell her the story,” encourages the redhead. “It’s not like we’re in a hurry to get back to those dickheads.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” mutters the tall brunette, who approaches the counter twisting a Cartier bracelet around her wrist. “Buckle up, blondie. I bet you’ve never heard anything like this before,” she begins.

“We have been best friends all our lives. Our dream was to marry, have babies and do everything together, including grow old. Simple, right? Well, our husbands had other plans.”

Her red-haired friend picks up where she left off. “We met our husbands during sophomore year at Yale.”

My chin pops up.

Yale.

I went to Yale, three thousand miles away in Connecticut. What a coincidence.

But I don’t want to interrupt, so I hold my tongue.

“They were best friends since childhood, like us. My husband is an artist who works with metal. Her husband played football and now works in the corporate sector. They’re very different men, but they were inseparable.

In other words, perfect for our purposes.

We had it all planned out. Snatch up these men, have pretty babies and raise them together while the men go golf and make money or whatever. Well. It wasn’t to be.”

“Nope!”

My body temperate is starting to drop.

An artist and a football player. Yale.

Oh God.

A swallow gets stuck in my throat.

This can’t be happening.

“Senior year,” says the redhead, picking up the story. “This cute freshman girl arrives on the scene. Blonde, kind of nerdy. She tutors them for their final semester, because neither one of them can decipher Shakespeare…and they both develop a little crush on her.”

“A little crush?” scoffs the brunette.

“Now, they didn’t cheat on us, mind you. We probably wouldn’t have married them otherwise. It was more of an…infatuation they both had.”

“Basically, this tutor came between our husbands. And now, here we are, six years later, and they still refuse to speak to each other.”

I’m battling the urge not to drop down behind the counter and hide.

These women. They are the wives of Dean and Cameron?

This is a nightmare. Almost worse than the past due notices on the counter.

Please, please don’t recognize me.

“You know, I wish they’d just slept with her and gotten it out of their systems. We’d all be sharing an Aperol spritz by the pool.”

“Seriously, I think the same exact thing all the time,” mutters the redhead. “How much easier life would be if they’d just banged the tutor a few times.”

My face is piping hot.

“We got everything we wanted. Attractive, well-educated husbands. Two beautiful children each. Houses across the street from each other in a nice Connecticut town.” They look at one another thoughtfully.

“It was never our intention to marry for love. We were taught to marry for convenience, and that’s what we did. ”

“Exactly. But there’s nothing convenient about our husbands refusing to be in the same room. Or even share the same sand.”

“You said it, babe—”

To my horror, the tall brunette cuts herself off with a gasp.

And she’s looking right at me. With dawning recognition.

“Oh my God, it’s her.”

The redhead frowns at the book she’s holding. “It’s who?”

“The tutor. That’s how you recognized her!”

I want to melt into a puddle. I think my body could actually pull it off right now, I’m so warm from embarrassment. Both palms press to my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m…oh my goodness, I had no idea they would…that this would still be going on six years later.”

They’re both standing in front of the counter now, gaping like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Holy shit, it is her. Ruby Lang.”

“Holy, holy, holy shit.”

My face is so hot, I’m worried my skin is melting off.

“I promise, I didn’t do anything inappropriate with either of them.

I was only there to be their tutor. I didn’t realize a rivalry had formed until it was too late…

and I resigned as their tutor right away.

It was never my intention to come between Dean and Cameron. ”

I’m positive they’re about to jump me.

I’ll be discovered by the next customer who enters the shop. So, like, three days from now. Which is pathetic. There aren’t even enough customers to find my corpse before it starts to decompose.

The redhead’s gaze tracks down to the stack of overdue bills.

She nudges her friend. They trade a long look, their mouths curling into smiles.

“We have a proposition for you, sweetie,” says the redhead, setting her Prada tote on the counter.

“We are women of extraordinary means. We have everything we want in this world, except two husbands who can get along. Let us rent you a nice house on the beach for a few days. We’ll send Cam and Dean over for a little… reunion.”

I’m the most confused girl in the world. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” pouts the brunette. “We’re bluebloods from Connecticut.

We’re not fanciful about fidelity, Ruby, and like I said, we love our men in our own way, but these marriages were more of a merger than romance.

” She does a little shimmy. “Let our husbands scratch their itch, so we can all move on as friends. We want to go to Malta together in the fall, and that requires Dean and Cameron to be on speaking terms. We’re tired of this nonsense. ”

“ Exhausted .”

My jaw is on the floor. “You want me to sleep with your husbands? ”

“Yes,” they say simply, in unison. “In return, we’ll take care of that nasty little stack of bills. But only if they return home as friends.”

Her friend nods in agreement. “Oh yes, we need to get what we paid for.”

“Are you in?”

This is all happening so fast. I never expected to hear the names Dean and Cameron again.

Though…I would be lying if I said I don’t think about them.

Too often for comfort. Those two compelling men took up all my air that semester during freshman year.

They barely let me breathe, they were such an overwhelming presence.

They merely competed for my approval, at first. But the competitive fun took a downturn rather quickly, didn’t it?

Do I want to get wrapped up in that again?

I’m the product of a very contentious divorce and I will never be in a relationship of my own. That has been my vow to myself since childhood. Emotionally, it is far safer to be alone. I have fictional stories to entertain me. I don’t need real-life drama and turmoil.

However.

There is a physical need within me that has never been fulfilled. A physical need that was sparked to life by Dean and Cameron, two men I resisted at all costs. They were taken, so I ignored what my body begged me to investigate.

Is this my chance to explore my own desires and pull myself out of a financial hole at the very same time? Will I ever get another string-free chance like this?

“I’m in.”