Read Online Jumped by Colette Auclair - Free Book Online

that charged the air between them like electricity in a thundercloud.
    â€œRight.” The corners of her mouth twitched up. She had forgiven him, at least temporarily.
    â€œI’m here, actually. But I travel some for work.”
    â€œAspen?”
    â€œJust outside. I’m renting a house.”
    â€œBut you stayed at the hotel for the wedding.”
    â€œIt was more convenient to stay in town. I’m almost an hour away, up a mountain.”
    â€œAnd you travel? Like, to Branson?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou like it?”
    â€œBranson? Nah. It’s like Vegas for kids.”
    She smiled. “I meant the work.”
    He nodded. “I do. I really do. It’s very satisfying.”
    â€œThat’s great, Finn.” She smiled, but it never lived up to its potential. It was fueled by sadness, and he wasn’t sure why. Although it bothered him that she had asked if he’d dated Melissa—or was it the tone of voice she’d used that bothered him?—he decided to let this particular sleeping dog snore away with its paws twitching, because he liked the course the conversation had taken.
    â€œI moved here recently, from Ohio. Like, two weeks ago. I really like doing houses, and if I could make a name for myself out here with clients who have the resources to build their dream homes, no holds barred . . . I could do pretty well doing what I love. So I got licensed in Colorado.” Did you hear that, Bethany? I could do pretty well.
    Bethany was looking at him, but he couldn’t read her face. She sighed. “Yeah. That would be great for you.” She sounded like a lobotomy patient. She raised her arm, back in tour-guide mode. “Anyhow, um, so these are bedrooms, along this hall. Grady’s trophy room is just down there—you should see it—it’s round, and some of Amanda’s trophies and ribbons are there now. It’s where Amanda broke Grady’s Emmy, and he’ll never get it fixed because it happened like, a minute after they first met. Isn’t that sweet?”
    â€œIt’s round?” he asked.
    â€œYeah. Cool, huh?”
    â€œMay I see it?”
    â€œSure.”
    She led him down the hall. The glass shelves were lit so that they glowed. A skylight kept the room from feeling like a silo.
    â€œI’ll be damned,” he said.
    â€œSo much metal in here? I know. Makes you sick.”
    She gestured toward the living room, from whence they had come. “I’m going back out.” She graced him with another sad smile and said, “Don’t steal any vases.” And left. He watched her retreating form in that killer black dress and wondered—as he had a zillion times before—how they had come apart so quickly and so completely.

4

    F inn was an architect. Finn was an architect. Finn was an architect with his own architecture firm .
    Beth almost body slammed Harris as she barreled onto the patio thinking about Finn.
    He held his full flute above his head and reflexively put his tanned, manicured hand on her shoulder. “Whoa, girl—don’t spill the bubbly!”
    â€œSorry. But he’s an architect!”
    â€œFinn?”
    She nodded. Harris took her hand and led her to the bar. “Don’t mind me,” he said to the bartender as he grabbed an open bottle of Perrier-Jouët and a champagne flute. He led Beth to a couch on the edge of the patio, sat her down, set his own flute on a small table, filled hers, and handed it to her. He sat next to her. “Sip.”
    She did. It was cold and citrusy and made her think of Dom Perignon’s supposed quote, “I am drinking the stars.” Then she filled Harris in on Finn’s professional accomplishments. “And from the looks of his tux last night, he’s doing quite well in the architecture game, but he wants to do better. He just moved here.”
    Harris said, “Not to add insult to injury,