Page 1 of Love Hazard
Prologue
“If it ends with sushi, it starts with sushi.”—AugustWellington
Hazel
Summer 2016
I peered around my favorite tree, smack-dab in the middle ofour front yard. We’d inherited the house from my great-grandma Nadine. She hadbeen a force to be reckoned with when she was alive and told my dad—her eldestgrandson—that she’d had a premonition I would need my own place of solace.Somewhere to read and hide. She then told him she’d disown him if he didn’tbuild a little rope ladder leading to the top.
He tried to call her bluff.
It didn’t work.
She stood her ground, which was almost always followed byher tapping a red or leopard-print heel until he gave in—which he always did.
Now that I was seventeen, he wanted me to helpout with the family businesses during the summer, but how many chorescould a person do?
Each of our vineyards, the farm, and even corporate, had aninsane number of staff members, and I still had to wake up at seven to help mymom with the garden. It was midsummer. I was supposed to have some semblance offreedom before my senior year.
The midafternoon was hot, and I just wanted a break. Dadalways said my life wasn’t stressful, but he knew nothing about the drama inhigh school, especially living with the awkward, gangly body I still hadn’tgrown into: weird, stringy blond hair that refused togrow past my boobs; and oh, boobs that also refused to grow.
If I weren’t so tall, I’d get shoved into lockers.Apparently, my mom had been popular. So had my dad and even my uncle. But theuniverse failed to send those genes down. It was like everything stopped withthem.
Ugh. Even my great-grandma had beencool.
Before she started deteriorating, we’d all assumed she wouldjust move back into the house and allow us to take care of her. Instead, wefound her missing daily, heels gone, lipstick snatched, and designer purse offthe hook.
My dad said she’d moved back in to haunt him, even while shewas still alive. Then again, she was the matriarch of the family and had set upthe great Pacific Northwest Titus empire in a way that was unmatched—unless youbrought up the name Wellington. One of Great-Grandma Nadine’s past lovers. Iswore she both blushed and stomped out of the room every time you did.
It was a story we all assumed she’d never tell. We wereright. But oddly, she went to Arizona a lot for business, even when she wassupposed to be retired.
Weird.
I shook the errant thought from my head; she wouldn’t mindif I took a short break. I grabbed my copy of Pride and Prejudice—cliche,I know—scurried up the rope ladder into the giant oak and lay down in myfavorite spot right where the large leaves blocked the sun. My legs dangled oneither side of the branch. The trunk was itchy, even against my white tank, andmy jean shorts would probably be indecent if I wore them at school. Oh, good, Iwas getting even taller.
I groaned, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and got back tomy book, only to hear a throat clearing at the base of the tree.
I knew that sound.
It was a trigger.
One I had nightmares about. “No.”
“Hazel.” His voice was deep and raspy. “You know your dad’sgoing to be pissed if he finds you shirking yourresponsibilities up there. We all have crosses to bear.”
I slammed my book shut and looked down.
The person with the inability to not clear histhroat in my presence, also known as August Wellington III, stood grinning upat me. He was one of our rich neighbors—a class above me, just graduated, and atotal waste of space.
He’d rather fix motorcycles than join the family business,which was some weird art empire that stretched from the East Coast to the West,with around seven locations.
Then again, I couldn’t imagine him being an art dealer whenhe couldn’t even shower.
“Shirking. Is it a big-word day?”
He leaned his muscular body against the tree. I hated thatwe almost matched with his ripped jeans and tight, dirty white tank top. He wasso annoying.
“Just because I don’t want to go to college doesn’t mean I’mstupid,” he argued, running a hand through his sandy-brown hair.