Brothers of Paradise Series

“Perfect,” I murmur to myself. Much better than the pajamas and bunny slippers from this morning. If I have to face down the biggest disappointment of my life, I’m going to need some armor.

I hear Turner’s car on my small driveway before I see it. He’s driving the small BMW today, and the top’s down.

I give him a wide smile as I step out of my little house. “Hi!”

He grins. “Hey. Looking good, Marchand.”

“Same to you,” I say. He wears a navy-blue suit and a pink shirt underneath. A pair of Ray-Bans are perched on his nose, the same classic Harris douchebag air he’s had since high school.

He opens the car door for me and I slide into the low vehicle. My heart is beating rapidly already, adrenaline making my thoughts sharp and clear.

Turner backs out of the driveway. “Hey,” he says. “When did you get your fence fixed?”

“Pretty recently.”

“Looks good.”

“Thanks,” I say weakly.

The drive is short and the conversation easy, quickly turning to the upcoming Morris project. We’ve never had a problem talking, Turner and I, at least not about the trivial things.

The Maze Party is held on the great lawns next to the marina, right on the ocean. Marquees are set up and improvised hedges brought in. Great lemon trees flank the entrance, where dazzling golden letters spell Paradise Shores. A jazz band plays in the distance.

Turner hands his car keys to a valet and offers me his arm with a valiant flourish.

“This is going to make waves,” I warn him, keeping my tone playful. “My brothers will be here.”

His answering smile is rebellious. “They might have scared me off when I was a teenager, but I can take the Marchands now.”

I spot my parents immediately, standing close to the beach. My dad looks as serenely cool as always, but my mother is wearing a wide smile. She’s speaking with her hands, the way she does when she’s genuinely excited.

They’re talking to Parker and a tall man with his back to us, dressed impeccably in a gray suit. He says something that makes my mother burst into laughter. Only when he turns do I recognize the profile.

Hayden.

“A drink?” Turner asks, giving one of the waiters a wave.

“Yes, please.”

He takes two flutes of champagne and hands me one. “Remember when our parents made us come to these parties?”

I turn my back on Hayden schmoozing with my parents and give Turner my full attention. “Yes,” I snort. “Dragged us kicking and screaming.”

“And now we’re here voluntarily. I even looked forward to it.” Turner shakes his head, looking momentarily embarrassed. “Everything comes full circle, I suppose.”

I appreciate his sincerity, even if it makes me a bit uncomfortable too.

He offers me his arm again. “Shall we do the rounds? There are potential clients here, you know.”

“Is that why you insisted on going together? To network?”

He smiles back at me. “Of course. Work hard, play hard. Is there any other way?”

In a small community like this, most faces are familiar. Turner and I work our way around, talking to old school friends and grandparents of friends and Turner’s aunt and many, many more. It’s a task to keep all the names and relations sorted out in my head.

Parker finds us quickly. He’s wearing his old merino sailor’s sweater, the collar of a polo shirt peeking out from the neckline. His pants are chinos-not even suit trousers.

He grins at us. “You two have become a proper little team, haven’t you?”

“Bonded in business,” I say, reaching out to touch the hole on his left shoulder. “Couldn’t you put on a suit, Parker?”

“Nope,” he answers without looking at me. “Taking out Catalina this weekend?”

Turner nods. “I’m thinking about it, yes. Want to join? We could go north, make a full day out of it.”

“Let’s.” Parker leans closer, a conspiratorial look on his face. Dread rises in my stomach. I think I know what he’s going to say, and I’m not looking forward to it. “Think you have space for a third crew member?”

“I’ve tried, man, but your sister has staunchly refused to join me on the boat.”

“Nah, not Lily,” Parker says with a grin. “Guess who’s back in town?” He turns around and points-my brother, the paragon of subtlety-straight to Hayden. He’s talking to two women I faintly recognize from high school.

Turner’s gasp is audible. “No fucking way! Cole’s back?”

“Yep.”

He turns to me and apologizes for swearing, as if I was a delicate flower. “No worries,” I say, thinking that I said many worse things when I first heard Hayden was back.

“When?”

“Two days ago. Just rolled up like he never left. Man, he always was a wild card.”

“Remember the time he got us all to spray-paint the-” Turner breaks off with a look at me. “Sorry. We were kids.”

“I know you were,” I say dryly. “I was there.”

Hayden has seen that we’re looking at him. I can see his eyes zero in on Turner’s arm around me, his hand resting lightly on the dip of my back. His jaw is clenched tight.

The blonde woman in front of him is talking and Hayden nods at something she says without sparing her a glance, his eyes focused on us. His gaze flicks to mine. It’s expressionless, but I can see the challenge in it.

You’re here with Turner? his eyes ask.

I meet his gaze head-on. So? I have every right to be.

Parker and Turner break me out of our staring competition. They’re discussing plans for the weekend, focused on the winds.

“Of course he should join,” Turner says. “I have to go and say hi… Lily?”

I shake my head. “You guys go and catch up. I saw some friends from high school that I’m going to talk to.”