After being jilted at the altar, Amber Gardner finds herself in a small beach town and stuck rooming with an unlikely person: her childhood nemesis Cameron, the man she is supposed to hate.
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Amber Gardner and her fiancé were together for two year...
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"HOW DID YOU KNOW I'M A PROSECCO LOVER?"
After asking the question, I took a bite from a strawberry as Cam filled my glass. We were sitting at a wooden table by the shore, decorated with a soft pink tablecloth, long candles, a small vase of pink peonies, a bowl of strawberries, and a bottle of Prosecco. In front of me, there was a serving dish with a closed lid, making me wonder what was underneath.
"I didn't know," Cam replied with a grin as he put the bottle back.
I splayed out the cloth on my lap, matching his smile. Soft waves brushed against my feet since I removed my platforms and put them aside. I took another sip from my drink and remembered how prosecco became my favorite. "My roomie at college occasionally dragged me out to clubs and forced me to drink prosecco. I'm normally a scotch girl, but I also developed a soft spot for prosecco."
He made a grimace. "Scotch? Disappointing."
I lightly kicked his leg under the table. "You are disappointing, wine boy."
"Never said I like wine."
"Don't have to," I replied with a smirk. "You're an art guy. Bet your favorite activity is to sip on your red wine and skim through your archive."
"Oh, come on, you forgot my foulard," he mocked me, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded. "Well, stereotyper, I'd pick gin and tonic any day."
I held his gaze to ensure he was telling the truth and let out a soft sigh when his eyes never wavered from mine. "Gin, huh? Interesting."
Cam leaned forward and opened the lid of my dish. "It's only the beginning, Amberoni."
In the meantime, my eyes tugged at the dish: spaghetti bolognese. I looked between him and the meal, wondering if this was a coincidence or if he remembered that I loved this. Aunt Annie's spaghetti bolognese was the best. "Spaghetti bolognese."
"Mom's spaghetti bolognese."
He remembered.
"I mean, she gave me the recipe, and I tried my best, but it's probably not as good as hers. So, it's a wannabe Mom's spaghetti bolognese—"
