Dean paused. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
“I know what it means, jerkwad.” Brek replied.
“She love you?” Eli asked.
He’d bet money she did, but she hadn’t said it. Here he was working on a plan to stick around Denver, and she hadn’t even said the words. “Pretty sure she’s getting there.”
“Then I’m happy for you two.” Dean clinked his beer bottle against Brek’s. “Here’s to the Johnson women.”
“What’re you going to do about the tour?” Eli asked.
That was the shit of it, wasn’t it? Brek had to leave soon.
“I’ve gotta go. But I’m working on plans so I can make Denver my base. Travel less. Stay with Velma.”
“Does she know?” Dean jerked his chin toward where Velma and Claire stood together by the jukebox.
He hadn’t told her. Not yet. “I’ve been waiting until I get everything sorted before I bring it up.”
“My advice? Don’t wait too long.” Dean stood. “I’m going to go dance with Claire.”
“His advice is good.” Eli followed Dean out of the booth. “Communication is a good thing.”
What the hell did the single guy know about communication?
“Hey.” Velma approached the table.
His pulse did a nosedive before picking up again. He’d gotten used to her presence doing that to him.
“Hey.” He held his arm out so she could slide beside him. “You wanna dance?”
She grabbed his hand to pull him out of the booth. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Hands on her hips, he pulled her close and nuzzled Velma’s neck. “Thought we might call a truce.”
“I like that idea.” Her arms around his neck, she met his gaze. “Claire said we have to be out of here by midnight. She wants everyone to get sleep.”
“Then we’ve got approximately thirty more minutes to figure out a way to get kicked out of this bar.” He twirled her in a circle.
“What do you have in mind, Mr. Montgomery?”
He pulled her palm to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, then kissed each of her fingertips. “I’m going to start a bar fight.”
“Claire will literally kill you if you show up tomorrow with a black eye and ruin her pictures.”
He grinned. “Then I guess I’ll just make out with my girlfriend.”
And he did.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Claire & Dean’s Wedding Day
Velma dropped her laptop onto the cart holding the video projector. She’d been running around all day getting things ready for the wedding. All that was left was to set up the slide show for the reception and then watch her sister get married.
Claire would actually be Dean’s wife by the end of the day. The wedding video Velma compiled had come out fantastic—if she did say so herself. She tapped a finger against the top of her computer. Now she had to figure out how to set the darn thing up.
The ballroom was perfect. The “Purple Rain” theme had been a challenge. But Brek and Jase had hung lights strategically from the ceiling of the country club, so it appeared to be drizzling. They added various water fountains staged meticulously around the dance floor, and the tulips hung from the ceiling in the entryway. The place would’ve made Aspen proud. The editor from Rosette was already losing his mind over the photos they were getting.
Velma and Brek continued with their cautious truce. He hadn’t been around much since their argument, between preparing for the wedding and spending time with his sister and his nephew. Brek had clearly fallen in love with being an uncle.
Could Velma ever really make a relationship work with him? She opened her laptop and stared at the screen. He would always be Brek, and no matter how much she changed, she’d always be Velma.
She slid the curser over the video program but skipped it to click on her spreadsheet file instead. With a few keystrokes, she added Brek’s name and filled in the accompanying cells. The algorithm she had worked so hard on gave him a…four.
Her heart cramped.
“Except…” She brought her face closer to the screen and jolted.
Finger on the mouse, she clicked through the columns. “Oh my gosh.”
He had been so odd the day he’d told her he loved her, asking her random questions and making crazy declarations about haircuts and disability insurance. He’d asked all those silly questions because he’d been checking off columns of her spreadsheet. She pinched her eyes closed, hope rising in her belly. This is what he had meant? He had been worried he wouldn’t be enough. That he needed to change.
Her breaths came quickly.
He loved her.
And, holy goodness…she loved him. She. Loved. Him.
Her heart stumbled over itself. They would be okay. They loved each other.
The spreadsheet could never account for how Brek made her feel. Like she mattered. Like he genuinely cared about her. Trying to ward off a heart attack with this new discovery, she dug her knuckles against the pressure forming in her chest. He wanted to be the man she needed. She wanted nothing more than to let him.
Brek jogged up the stairs of the country club, trying to find Velma. Claire had insisted the entire bridal party get ready at the club before heading to the church. Some shit about pictures on the lawn and champagne in the lounge.
He glanced to his watch. T-minus two hours before Claire and Dean said their vows and then embarked on their European honeymoon. The church was finally ready. Brek wrapped things up and headed back to the country club to confirm everything there was a go and to connect with Velma.
Brek checked in with the hairstylist downstairs, but Velma wasn’t there.
Meanwhile, his tuxedo was irritating as all hell. He still itched from the too-short haircut he had gotten earlier that morning. When Dean’s barber had brought out the electric buzzer, Brek knew he was screwed.
He missed his jeans. And his hair.
Seriously, where the hell had Velma gone?
He reached the top of the steps and turned toward the ballroom.
Aspen and baby Bronson were headed the same direction.
“What are you doing here?” He hurried toward them, reaching for his nephew. The tyke had quickly become one of Brek’s favorite people.
Aspen handed the baby over. “We needed out of the house. I figured we’d stop by and see how everything’s going.”
“Did you hear that, Bronson? Your mommy came to check up on Uncle Brek.” He snuggled the kid against his cheek.
“Well, there is that.” She wiggled her fingers toward the baby. “Uncle Brek is finally getting haircuts like a grown-up.”
Brek rolled his eyes. “I did it at the request of the bride. Jacob know you’re here?”
She laughed. “Uh. No. Don’t mention our little outing to him.”
“C’mon in and take a look how everything turned out.” Brek led the way to the ballroom.
She followed. He grinned as he entered…both from the view of Velma in her short tube dress bending over the projector and how his team had transformed everything in the room purple—literally, everything—from the tablecloths to the plates.
“What’re you doing?” he asked Velma.
She jumped and yanked at the hem riding up against her thigh. “Trying to get the projector to work. The audio is all fuzzy.”
Two cords hung limp in her palm.
God, she was beautiful. He liked the way she looked all decked out. Today they actually looked like they belonged together.
“Velma, that dress is fantastic.” Aspen took Bronson back. He fussed during the transfer. Of course he did, he loved his uncle.
Aspen did a sway-bounce combo to settle him.
Velma looked up at his sister. Her eyes got bright. “Oh my gosh, you brought the baby! Hi, Bronson.”
“Let me take a peek at the cables.” Brek shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out to run a fingertip along the edge of her dress
on the way by. With Velma around, he would have to keep reminding himself he had a job to do today.
She glanced to him and the smile froze on her lips. She sucked in a breath. “I’m going to murder whoever did that to your hair.”
“I think you’re making an impression on him. He’s getting big-boy haircuts and everything now.” Aspen was in full-on little sister mode.
He refrained from sticking his tongue out at her.
“You don’t like it?” He ran a hand over his trimmed hair. It hadn’t been this short since high school.
Velma’s lips parted, and she paused for slightly too long. That didn’t bode well.
“V?”
“It’s just not what I’m used to.” The fabric of her skirt rode up again as she draped the cords over her laptop.
That dress was the fuckin’ best.
She straightened. He pulled her to him. Her fingertips smoothed the lapel of his suit coat. “I’ll get used to the hair. Do you like it?”
“Fuck no.” Why people did this regularly, he’d never understand. “Figured it was more your thing.”
Her lips tilted at the edges. “Tastes change, I guess.”
He leaned to kiss her, which wasn’t as far down as usual, given her three-inch stiletto heels.
“Diggin’ the shoes,” he said.
Velma turned her head to the side, so he missed and kissed her cheek.
He kissed the tip of her nose instead.
“Ahem.” Aspen cleared her throat.
Brek looked over his shoulder to the sister he’d forgotten was standing there. She was grinning wider than he’d ever seen. “Mom’s gonna get such a kick out of you two.”
“Don’t you dare bring our mother into my relationship,” he grumbled.
“I won’t have to. She’s Mom. She’ll find a way in.”
“Aspen stopped in to check up on me,” he said to Velma.
“Well, the last wedding didn’t exactly go as expected.” Velma scratched the little dimple at the tip of her nose.
“Actually, I wanted to tell you both thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.” Aspen shifted the baby in her arms. “And I was also checking up on you.”
“Told you.” Brek reached toward Bronson, letting the kid wrap his hand around Brek’s index finger.
“Anyhoo, since everything is under control, and I have a newborn, I should check in with Rosette and get Bronson home. I’ll leave you to it.” She cooed to Bronson as Brek disentangled his finger.
She left, and Brek’s heart about burst with happiness for what his sister had.
A sigh escaped Velma’s lips and her expression turned soft. “It’s impossible to be annoyed at you when you look at your family like that.”
“Then I guess now’s the time to make my move.” He kissed her with the urgency of a man who had to keep looking at her in that dress and do nothing about it. They were both breathing heavy when he finished.
The grip she had on his jacket lessened. “I need help with the audio.”
“Audio later. This now.” There had to be a closet or something around here they could utilize. Anywhere private, as long as she wore those damn shoes. His fingertips toyed with the slider on the zipper of her dress.
“Audio now. This later.” She giggled and pointed to the rolling cart with the projector.
He sighed dramatically and followed her. Even with the wires adjusted, the audio wasn’t playing right.
She slipped off her shoes and tossed them on one of the banquet folding chairs with the fabric covers. “I’m going to break my neck in those heels.”
“Nah, you start to fall, I’ll catch you. Those shoes are the shit.” He adjusted an adapter, but it still didn’t work. “I’m gonna grab Dean. He’s good with this stuff.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at his cell.
“Check it out. Pictures of the little beefcake.” The screen held the latest snapshot of his nephew. Aspen sent new photos regularly. His little nephew already had Brek wrapped around his finger. When the kid turned eighteen, Uncle Brek had big plans to buy him his very own motorcycle. Of course he didn’t mention this to Aspen—she’d lose her mind.
“Oh my gosh. Look at his chubby cheeks.” Velma’s own forehead relaxed, her eyes bright, expression soft.
The look suited her. Fuck, he loved her.
“Brek?” Jase stuck his head in the room. “Got a flower situation. Need your approval.”
Velma tilted her head to the side with a coy smile. “Rain check on the…uh…other thing?”
“Unfortunately. But it’s gonna happen later.” He pinched her chin and gave her a solid once-over. He’d have to be careful not to wreck her hair once he got her alone and that skirt hiked around her waist. He jerked his thumb toward her discarded heels. “Wear the shoes.”
“Are we working here? Or is this high school prom?” Jase huffed before he walked out.
Brek practically dragged his feet, but he followed. Turned out the tulips they’d ordered arrived in periwinkle instead of royal purple. Whatever the hell that meant. Purple was purple. Brek signed off on the change before he checked in on a sweaty, pacing Dean.
The guy was strung way too tight today.
“Get him an amaretto sour from the bar,” Brek said to Eli.
Eli’s eyes glittered with agreement. “On it.”
“Just one drink.” Brek held up his index finger. The last thing he needed was a sloshed groom at the church. Pops wouldn’t appreciate that, and neither would Claire. Keep the bride happy. “And Velma’s having audio issues. Can you check it out, Dean?”
“Sure thing,” Dean said and headed for Velma.
Eli headed off to the bar.
Brek pulled out his recently replaced phone and checked with the assistant he had hired for the event. She verified the families were all in place, the Rosette editor was happy, the minister was ready, and the guests would arrive shortly. Brek called to confirm the limousine was on the way to pick up Claire and her bridal party at the country club once they were finished getting ready.
Dean would ride to the church with Jase and Eli.
Brek would take his bike so he could get back and forth without waiting for a limo.
Everything was a go.
He glanced at his watch. He had approximately fifteen minutes to show Velma just how much he appreciated her.
With the one-track mind of a nineteen-year-old boy, he took the stairs two at a time. Emerging at the top of the staircase, he thanked the God of Getting Laid when Velma nearly smacked right into him. He caught her around her waist and yanked her to him.
She let out a surprised “eeep.”
Give him ten minutes. He would have her making more noise than that.
“We’re workin’ a deadline, no time to stop.” He laid a kiss on her that relayed the depths of his dedication to this hookup and hoped she wouldn’t pull any bullshit about responsibility.
Both of them were breathing heavy when he let her go. She swayed a little and a tentative smile touched her lips. “Where are we doing this?”
Responsible Velma had left the building. His dick did a fist pump.
He snagged her wrist and pulled her toward the coat closet he had scoped out earlier. The door locked from the inside, which led him to believe they wouldn’t be the first couple to use the small space. Country clubs were classy like that.
Velma’s fuck-me-please shoes tapped along behind him on the polished marble tiles.
He tossed open the door, slipped inside with Velma, and kicked it closed—making sure the lock clicked into place.
The softness of her body contrasted with his as he pressed her against the wall. His mouth met hers.
A little moan escaped from her throat.
Today, her hair didn’t smell like strawberries. No, today it was flowers and peaches and whatever the hell goop held it in place.
Strawberries were better. He missed them. Along with the ability to touch her hair without worr
ying he’d fuck it up.
“Anyone tell you how pretty you are today?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.
She cleared her throat. “Not yet.”
Screw the wedding. He’d spend the day in the dark closet worshipping at the altar of Velma. On that thought, he dropped to his knees and ran a hand along the backs of her calves and up the exposed skin of her thighs to shove her skirt up.
“Totally unacceptable, your boyfriend is lying down on the job.” His fingertips grazed the silky skin between her legs.
Her breath caught and she parted her thighs. “Is he? I should talk to him about that.”
Amen and hallelujah, she was ready for him.
“You really should. You deserve sonnets ’n’ shit.” Hooking a finger along the elastic of her panties, he pulled them aside and peppered kisses along the edge of the fabric, right to her sweet spot.
“I don’t think my boyfriend knows any…uh…sonnets.”
Fuck, if he were any more turned on, he’d split right out of his pants. Not good, since they were rented.
“I’m going to call this one, Ode to Velma’s Pu—”
“You should stop talking now.” Her entire body squirmed under his touch, kneading the toes of those killer shoes into the carpet. “Timeline. No time for poetry.” She grabbed at his head when he ran his tongue along her crease.
“Fuck, I could do this all day,” he said against the heat of her. That was about the only poem he could think of right now, and it didn’t even rhyme. His eighth-grade English teacher would be so disappointed in him. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Unbuckling his fly as he stood up, he sprung himself free. His dick would never forgive him if he didn’t get to play, too.
Velma reached her fingers around the base of his shaft and squeezed right in the spot where it drove him crazy.
Droplets dripped from the tip. Her thumb massaged them, and he nearly blew right there.
Rented pants. Not good. Keep it together.
Goose bumps trailed along her skin as he gripped the back of her leg and hitched it around his waist. He centered himself and drove home, bracing her against the wall.
Going Down On One Knee (A Mile High Matched Novel Book 1) Page 23
