Which was fair enough.
We clinked our glasses and she eyed me as we sipped. “Maybe you can meet Dad another time,” she said.
“Sure.”
“And maybe Jacob’s coming,” she added.
“Jacob?”
“Margot’s fiancé. The homeowner.”
Right. The rich dude with all the cars. At least maybe we could talk about those. Wasn’t sure we’d have much else in common, judging from the decor in his living room.
“Can you judge someone for having too many horse statues?” I asked her. Honestly, I’d counted three already. The one out in the driveway and two smaller ones in the house.
Danica poked me gently in the ribs. “He’s a good man.”
“I’m just asking. You’re the decor expert.”
“Hey, Margot,” she called over to her aunt. “Is Jacob joining us?”
“No, chère. He’s away.”
Danica smiled at me. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” I said. “I’ll manage. And by the way, is that a fake French accent?”
Danica sipped her drink to hide her grin. “Don’t ask.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I was starting to get the picture. Danica’s family was a little eccentric.
But how bad could it be, spending my Saturday morning with a bunch of good-looking women, with a whiskey in my hand?
By the time we all headed into the giant dining room to eat, I was on my second drink, had had an entertaining conversation with cousin Charlotte about boy bands—she was seriously into them, I was kinda neutral on the subject—and I was feeling a little more relaxed.
But as we settled in, I felt conspicuous all over again. The way I was dressed. The fact that I was the only one here with a dick. The fact that there were four different forks next to my plate and I really didn’t know, or care, what any of them was for.
The catering staff laid out some kind of eggs Benedict thing on my plate that looked and smelled amazing, and whatever would get it into my mouth the fastest worked for me.
I picked up the biggest fork.
“What interesting tattoos,” someone said. I glanced to my right, where the aunt who’d answered the door sat. The uptight one.
She managed to keep a straight face as she studied the F-word wrapped around my bicep, which was right in her face. Miraculously, I’d found a shirt in my closet without any swear words or dicks on it, but my Fuck Bitches / Get Money tattoos were on full display.
“Thanks.”
“Do they all have personal meaning?” she asked me.
“Yes.”
“Tattoos always have personal meaning,” Danica’s mom said. She was sitting across the table and smiled at me. “I have a crow on my hip that I—”
“Mom, no one wants to hear about your spirit animal,” Daniella interjected.
“I’m getting a Pegasus on my back,” cousin Charlotte said. “That’s my spirit animal.”
“You’re not getting a Pegasus,” one of the aunts said. I assumed it was Charlotte’s mom.
“You don’t want a tattoo on your back,” said the uptight one. “You’ll regret it.”
“What’s wrong with tattoos?” cousin Jolie put in.
“You should get one,” Charlotte told her. “I would, if I was your age and my mom wouldn’t flip.”
“You’re not getting a tattoo,” the uptight one informed Jolie.
“There’s nothing wrong with tattoos,” Danica’s mom said, smiling at me again.
“These are Aunt Mireille’s English muffins,” Danica said on my left side. She tapped my plate with her fork, directing my attention away from the great tattoo debate that had now broken out among her cousins and their mothers. “You really haven’t had eggs Bennys until you’ve had them with Mireille’s English muffins.”
“I’m trying out some new recipes today,” Mireille informed us all. Tall one; the baker. She stood up and clinked a spoon to her wine glass to shut everyone up. “So eat, eat. I want honest opinions when we get to dessert.” She looked at everyone sharply, then sat back down—and the argument erupted again.
“Sorry,” Danica said quietly, leaning in to me. “I’d hoped they’d be on their best behavior, but sadly, this is it.”
I smirked and whispered in her ear, “The one on my right doesn’t approve of me.”
Danica glanced past me, to where her aunt was now bickering with Jolie. Her daughter, if I remembered correctly.
“Margot,” Danica informed me.
“Right,” I said. “I may not remember all the names. I hope your sister wasn’t serious about the quiz.”
“One never knows…”
“It’s okay, though. I’ve got a system. There’s the bitch…” I pointed discretely at Aunt Margot. “And the baker, and the candlestick maker? Oh, no, wait. You’re the candle maker.”
Danica’s jaw dropped, but she was trying not to smile. “You are such a shit disturber.”
“I prefer asshole. It’s more to the point. Seriously, I remember Madeleine’s name. You work with her, and you mention her a lot.”
“That’s sufficient, really,” she said. “I’m closest with her.”
“Plus,” I said, “it’s a sexy name. And I’m never gonna forget what you told me about how she likes to beat the shit out of men…”
“I never said that!”
I cocked an eyebrow at her as I sipped my drink. “You said she’s a dominatrix. My imagination took it from there.”
Danica groaned and started eating her eggs Benny. Everyone else had finally started eating, so I dug into mine, too.
“Okay,” she whispered after a moment, “whatever you do, just promise me you’re not hooking up with her.”
I almost choked on my food. “What?”
I expected a smile and maybe a punchline on that. But instead, Danica looked kinda… worried?
“If you never want to see me again after this,” she said gravely, “I can handle it. I mean, I kind of wouldn’t blame you.” She gestured at the table, where every one of her relatives was currently talking—over each other—while they ate. “But whatever happens, please swear to me you’ll never mess around with my aunt.”
I almost laughed, but she still wasn’t kidding. “Why? Is that what you think dudes want to do after you introduce them to her?”
“No. Maybe. Ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay…”
“Shit. Why did I tell you that about her, again?”
“Hey, it’s cool,” I assured her. “I’m not hooking up with your hot aunt just because she’s hot.” I threw in the hot thing just to tease her, try to make her smile, but then I felt bad when she put her hand over her eyes and groaned again. “We’re getting to know each other, right? Might as well just let it all hang out.” I nudged her shoulder gently. “You got any other colorful family secrets?”
Danica peered at me between her fingers. “Um, have you got a year?”
“To get to know you? Sure.”
I smiled at her, and finally, she smiled back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ash
Turned out, Vola family brunch was an all day affair. Like the food and drinks just kept rolling out… and out… and out.
For hours.
And these chicks could talk.
I didn’t even try to get a word in unless I was directly asked a question.
They were curious about me, at first, and peppered me with questions for a while. But they soon seemed to forget I was here.
Most of the time, they all talked about themselves—at the same time, right over one another.
Except for Danica and her shy-ish cousin Jolie. They were the only ones who actually breathed between sentences, and they were definitely the most reserved of the lot.
Though they both got a little looser with their words after several mimosas.
Seriously, at one point they all definitely forgot I was here or just didn’t care
, and started talking about their periods. Or Jolie’s period, specifically. Apparently she was late, and her mom was now tracking the days.
“Relax, mom,” Jolie kept saying. “I told you, I’m not knocked up.”
“We’ll see,” her mom said.
“It’ll be fine,” Charlotte said. “I’m late all the time. Maybe it’s hereditary. You know, we both get the killer cramps…”
“You need to start taking arnica for that,” Danica’s mom informed them. “I keep telling you so.”
And on and on they went.
Chick talk.
If there wasn’t so much booze flowing and the caterers didn’t keep serving up all the amazing food, I might’ve tried to slink away and find a TV somewhere to turn on. But the spread on the table kept me where I was. Just barely.
Well, that and the beautiful girl sitting next to me.
At least she seemed aware of the fact that this was bizarre for me. Not only was I unaccustomed to being the only sausage at a formal pie party, but I really didn’t have much family. I wasn’t used to so many people all wanting—no, expecting—to weigh in on each other’s business.
I was kind of a loner that way.
Always had been.
Danica kept throwing me apologetic looks whenever her sister and the uptight aunt got arguing, which happened a lot. Or shoveling food onto my plate when anyone remembered I was here and started cross-examining me about my tattoos or music or general male opinion about things, which happened occasionally. Or topping up my drink when someone started talking about sex or shoes or tampons.
Yes, they talked about tampons. Something about organic cotton.
I tuned out at that part.
Eventually the caterers started clearing away the food and we all broke away from the table. Danica led me into a sunroom at the back of the house that was flooded with light from the high glass walls. It led out to a gorgeous yard with a pool.
And there was more food.
The caterers had laid out a dessert spread by the windows, courtesy of the baking aunt. They also brought out coffee, liqueurs, more champagne and hard liquor.
Danica and I headed over to the dessert table to help ourselves, and she asked me, “Having fun?” She was grinning, ear-to-ear.
Maybe it was amusing to her that I was actually putting up with this.
“Never had more fun in my life.”
“Liar.”
“Honestly,” I said, “the food’s great. And your family is … entertaining.”
“Thanks. They are that.”
Just then, her family started spilling into the sunroom, still talking. Some of them had changed into swimwear.
“Are we swimming?” I asked her.
“I didn’t bring my suit,” she said. “I kinda thought we could slip away while they’re in the pool.”
“Good plan.”
Danica shook her head at me a little and smiled. “You’re amazing.”
I liked that.
But then it hit me… Maybe I was being an asshole about this. I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t like her family or that I didn’t want to be here.
I just didn’t want to be here all day. I’d already sat through almost three hours of lady talk.
A dude had limits.
“The tall aunt is nice,” I offered.
“You mean Mireille? Yeah, she’s kinda the mother hen.”
“She keeps refilling my drink and asking if I’m hungry. Like how could I possibly be hungry? I had an Italian grandmother who never fed me this much.”
Danica laughed. “Mireille likes to feed people. Plus, she’s probably sensitive to you being new here, and Dani and Margot and my mom being, you know…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Batshit.”
“I wouldn’t say they’re crazy,” I whispered back. “Just passionate. About very weird shit.”
At the moment, Danica’s mom was going on about crystals (again) and the reincarnated souls of dolphins, for real. I wasn’t sure anyone was really listening.
Danica sighed. “Thank you for enduring this. Really, it’s sweet of you.”
“No problem. They’ve been amazing hosts.”
“Yeah. But I realize it’s a lot to absorb, your first time meeting them all…”
“It is. And speaking of a lot to absorb, what’s with all the food? How do you all not weigh three thousand pounds?”
“Well, we don’t eat like this every day. It’s Saturday,” she added, like that explained it all.
“Right. And Saturday is…”
“The day we all get together. We have a family brunch like this almost every Saturday.”
My face fell.
I didn’t mean for it to, but it totally did.
“Oh. That’s… cool.” I tried to recover. “That your family’s tight like that.” It was cool. But… “You know I’m not coming back to this every Saturday, right?”
To my surprise, Danica grinned at me. “I’m just amazed you’d think you’d be invited every Saturday.”
I snorted. “Nice.”
“Anyway, you’re off the hook. I don’t even come every Saturday.”
I grinned back at her. “You know I’m invited back. They wanna get me shirtless in the pool so they can decode my tattoos.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the reason they want your shirt off,” she said innocently and popped a strawberry in her mouth. She smiled at me, then wandered away to refill her champagne glass.
I watched her go, hips swaying in her long dress. I sipped my whiskey, wondering when my dick was gonna be ready to come out and play. And also, how the hell we were getting home from this thing.
I glanced over at Daniella, our driver, who had a drink in her hand. From what I’d noticed, she’d had a drink in her hand all day.
She noticed me looking and drifted over. She was wearing a bikini with a white lace cover-up thing over it. I made a point of not looking anywhere south of her face. I’d noticed, though, that she was a little skinnier then Danica. Not in a bad way. Just… different.
“You planning on driving us home after this?” I asked her as she sipped her drink. It was a Caesar, complete with salted rim and some pickled asparagus sticking out of it.
“Nope. Margot will call us a cab. I’ll get my car later.”
“Good.”
“So,” she said. “Danica told me about catching your dick in your zipper.”
Fucking fantastic.
Was there no intimate detail left unturned between these women?
“Yeah? She tell you my dick length and the circumference of my ball sac, too?”
“I wish,” Daniella said. Then she rolled her eyes at me. “Relax. I don’t care about your dick. I just wish she’d tell me more, in general.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let’s just look at the bright side, shall we?” Her eyes shone with a little too much pleasure. “You’re here, even though she made your dick bleed.”
“I am.”
“I’m gonna assume that means you like her. A lot. You know, dudes usually aren’t real happy when their dicks bleed.” She bit the end off her asparagus and smiled.
“Not usually,” I mumbled, helping myself to some fancy pastry thing that Aunt Whatever-M-Name made.
“I told her to have sex with you the second your dick recovers,” Daniella informed me.
I looked at her.
“You’re welcome,” she said, then turned and walked away.
Okay. That was fucking weird.
Like she seemed to think Danica wanted—or worse, needed—her permission to fuck me?
A few minutes later, as I sat down next to Danica on one of the cushy lounge chairs out by the pool, I told her, “Your sister just said something interesting.”
Everyone had come outside and was either lounging or in the pool. Still sipping cocktails, of course. Almost every one of them had giant sunglasses and/or a giant sunhat on. And a sexy-ass bikini or one-piece.
Seriously, Danica’
s family was a smoke show. All the women looked fucking great for their age.
“What did she say?” Danica asked me with a hesitant smile. She had sunglasses on, so I couldn’t see her eyes, but her lips looked like ripe, juicy fruit as she sipped her champagne.
Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.
Wasn’t really sure how that would go over with her family, though. And unfortunately, I respected her too much to be a dick about it and just find out.
“She said she told you to fuck me.”
Danica sighed a little. “Yeah. She did.”
“You serious?” Christ. She’d told me she wouldn’t “betray” her sister for a guy, but even then, I didn’t fully get her meaning. Because there was nothing between Daniella and me. It just didn’t all add up in my head until right this second, what she’d meant… “All this time, your sister’s been cockblocking me?”
“No,” she said. “I mean… Not exactly.” She sighed again. “Okay, this might sound strange to you, but me and Dani kind of have this rule about guys…”
“So you can’t fuck me without her permission?”
“No. Kind of?”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well, thank God she’s granted it, huh? What would we do if she didn’t bless our union?”
“Ashley…” she said softly. Then she leaned in toward me, sliding her sunglasses up on her head. Her soft blue eyes held mine. “It’s not like I don’t want to, you know. I would… If you could.”
“Uh-huh. Right now?”
She stared at me. “Well… Yeah.”
Damn.
Didn’t really think she’d agree to that.
She glanced over at her family. “I mean… we could probably disappear somewhere in that giant house for a while.” She looked at me, her gaze dropping briefly to my dick. “You know… If you could.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Good to know.” I sipped my whiskey.
I was getting fucking hot in my black clothes—which was mostly Danica’s fault—but at least we had a giant umbrella to sit under. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect day to lounge by a pool with a gorgeous woman… and all I wanted to do was leave.
Hot Mess: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #1) Page 30
