Page 3 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

‘No—’ I start, but he’s already pulled out the seat next to mine, and he’s leaning over, trying to catch Jake’s attention.

My stomach lurches when I spot the napkin with my barely started pros and cons list on it next to his elbow, and I think I pull a muscle snatching it away and stuffing it in my pocket.

The bartender makes his way over, and when he looks at me, his smile has dimmed. I can’t blame him – most men take one glance at Nico and know they can’t compete, even if in this case any competition would be purely theoretical.

I might have been in love with Nico since I was five years old, but if you ask him he’ll tell you I’m the little sister he never had. It is, in fact, the great tragedy of my life: hopelessly pining over Nico Hart, my brother’s best friend, for twenty-six years and counting.

‘What are you drinking?’ Nico asks me.

‘I’ll have another martini, please, Jake,’ I say. ‘And a bottle of Corona with lime if you have it. Would you add it to my tab?’

‘Of course, Lee,’ he smiles.

When I turn back to Nico, he’s grinning. ‘Well, well, well,’ he says. ‘I didn’t realise I was going to be cramping your style. Do you want me to leave?’

‘No!’ I blurt, way too earnestly. ‘You’re not cramping anything.’

We’re interrupted when Jake places our drinks in front of us, and I watch him leave without a single pang of regret. Nico appearing is like a message from the universe: stay in your lane, Ophelia Turner-Jones. No wild one night stands for you.

Nico holds his bottle towards me in a silent toast and I tap it with my glass.

‘Thanks for the drink,’ he says. ‘And for remembering my order.’

I try not to watch too closely as he lifts the bottle to his mouth. I should be more careful about giving myself away. I shouldn’t know what his favourite beer is. I shouldn’t know the ten thousand other tiny facts I know about him like the way he loves raspberry-flavoured things but hates actual raspberries, how he does jigsaw puzzles working from the inside out (the lunatic), or how he got that scar on his lip trying to do a wheelie on his bicycle to impress Tansy Bennet when he was thirteen. I shouldn’t jealously hoard these scraps of information like a magpie with an eye for something shiny.

‘Sorry. Did you want a cocktail or something?’ I’m flustered and I hate it. I wasn’t ready for him, I wasn’t prepared for his Nico-ness, not here and now.

‘It’s perfect.’ He puts the bottle back down on the bar and scrubs both hands over his face. ‘Just what I need after a long day.’

‘You said you’ve been working?’

‘If you can call it that. Spent a few days hiking in the Grand Canyon with a couple of friends. Had to get away from all the drama.’

‘What drama?’

Nico rolls his eyes. ‘All the legal stuff that comes with Dad’s death. Honestly, I don’t even understand half of it but it seems to involve an entire army of lawyers and everyone wants their pound of flesh.’

I wince. Nico’s father was a duke – yes, an actual duke – but Nico’s mum Claudia was his second wife and the two of them had a pretty acrimonious divorce. His dad passed away a few months ago and Nico’s half-brother Ward, from his father’s first marriage, inherited the title and the estate. As far as I know, Nico doesn’t speak to that side of his family at all.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say hesitantly. ‘I should have said right away. I know how strange it must have been for you. Your relationship was complicated.’

He laughs then, though it holds no humour. ‘That’s a polite word for it. Anyway, this trip has been just what I needed, and I got some great shots of the condors. It was beautiful, but after all that peaceful communing with nature I felt the itch for some noise, bright lights and a decent meal, so I headed here.’ His eyes meet mine and an electric zing runs through my whole body. ‘And look at how that’s worked out. Serendipity.’

‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’ I shake my head. ‘It seems like ages since I last saw you.’

‘It’s got to be about a year, right?’ Nico looks thoughtful. ‘At your mum and dad’s house with Jack and Cynthie?’

The first time my brother had brought his fiancée Cynthie home to meet the family. It had been as fraught as most interactions are with my parents. Thankfully, Nico was there to smooth the way. The peacemaker. It’s a role he’s played often over the years.

‘Right,’ I agree now. ‘At least a year. And Gran was very upset that she missed you.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I know. I got a proper telling off.’

It’s my turn to grin. My parents, Max Jones and Caroline Turner, were two of the biggest stage and screen stars in their day, and their relationship makes Burton and Taylor’s look like a Disney movie. Gran was the one in charge of us kids. With all the time Nico spent at our house growing up there’s a running joke in our family that he’s her favourite grandchild. It should be noted that neither of them have ever denied this.

‘Did she make you feel like a worm?’

‘What do you think?’ He tilts his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. ‘How’s she doing, anyway?’