The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

“Oh. Never mind, then.” Nova laughs.

  I grit my teeth and lie. “Anyway, I just want to spend a quiet evening by myself. To reflect and stuff.”

  Right then, the waitress drops two greasy plastic trays on the table and they land with a loud splat!

  Nova pauses for a fraction. “Hun, are you listening to merengue music?”

  I throw my palm over the mouthpiece to stifle the sound. “Yeah. It’s my fave. Love love love merengue music. Especially when I’m drawing a bath and relaxing with candles and trying to clear my head.” I’m the absolute worst liar.

  Nova doesn’t answer immediately. I hear muffled speaking in the background. And then, Reese’s voice bursts through out of nowhere. “Sophia, cough twice if you’re being held captive!”

  I bark out a laugh. “I’m not being held captive. I promise.”

  “All right,” Nova says finally. “We’ll see you at breakfast?”

  Nodding, I say, “See you at breakfast.”

  “Get some rest,” she tells me. “And if I'm covered in blood splatter at the breakfast table, don't ask questions you don’t want to have to answer before a grand jury. Because if I run into Joshua Davies tonight, it’s on!”

  “Don’t do anything crazy," I warn.

  “I can’t make any promises,” she tells me. “Good night, Soph.”

  “Good night. Love you, guys.” And then, I hang up.

  When I glance up, an intense, dark stare hits me with force. Heat rushes to my cheeks when his lips curve with a smile. “Dig in,” he commands me, pointing his fork at the food laid out in front of me.

  I stare down at the enormous mozzarella and black bean steak burrito posing on a bed of crisp lettuce on my plate. I salivate.

  “Go ahead,” he prods me. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

  Licking my lips, I grab the overstuffed tortilla wrap from the plate and tear into it like a wildcat going in on a fresh carcass. The fusion of heavenly flavors I haven’t tasted in far too long bursts across my tongue.

  And…Oh. My. God.

  I can’t believe I ever cut this goodness out of my diet. And in the name of fitting into a wedding dress.

  A deep, low chuckle travels across the table. Embarrassment blooms in my cheeks and I quickly set down the burrito. I straighten my posture and discreetly brush the crumbs away from my lips with a napkin.

  "Pretty good, huh?" Tony’s eyes are alight with amusement as he bites into his own fully-loaded quesadilla.

  I give a little nod in agreement.

  “Taste mine.” He holds his quesadilla to my lips. “As if bacon wasn’t good enough on its own. They had to go and barbeque it.”

  I take a bite. Holy heaven on tortilla bread. What on earth did I just eat?

  The groan that comes out of me draws stares from all around the fast food restaurant. For once, I don’t care. Some sort of insanely delicious sauce drips down my chin. Eschewing the napkins, I swipe it away with my fingers. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since I ate anything that wasn’t in the diet plan my mother’s personal trainer made me. I’ve been living on steamed broccoli and chickpeas for over a year. This is like Nirvana for me right now.” I gnaw at my burrito.

  He leans back in his uncomfortable plastic chair and stretches his legs wide under the table as he takes a sip from his paper soda cup. “Glad to bear witness then.” As he bites into his wrap, his thigh brushes against mine and my chest hitches as my pussy clenches on air. We share a gaze that spikes the temperature in the room to an inferno.

  Wait—is burrito an aphrodisiac? Because I’m really getting into this.

  “You’re so fucking pretty,” he mumbles with his mouth full.

  Face stuffed to the max with food, I blush fiercely. “Thanks.” This is so disorienting. All of it.

  When I woke up this morning, I never expected that my day would turn out like this but what I do know is that I’m grateful for the stranger sitting in front of me. And I like him. A lot. More than I should. That scares me.

  "Hey..." He taps the blunt end of his fork on my chin. “Where'd you wander off to? Talk to me, Daisy."

  I lick sauce from my fingertips. “I need to say something…”

  The rainbow of neon lights pouring in from the street dance across his gorgeous features. "One rule tonight,” he tells me. “We tell each other everything, anything. No holding back. It's our one chance to get everything off of our chest."

  “Like a confessional at church?" I smile.

  "Better than a confessional at church. 'Cause we won't ever see each other again. So we can be completely honest."

  I feel a little twinge beneath my ribcage. Because I just met him and I already wish I’d be seeing him again.

  He leans forward and takes a bite of his food as he waits for my deep, dark confession.

  "No judgement, okay?" My eyes bore into his, needing confirmation that he won't think that I'm a horrible person for what I'm about to say.

  "No judgement," he promises with a soft half-smile.

  My chest heaves up as I pull in a lungful of air. "I'm a little bit relieved that he didn’t show up." More words rush out to justify the statement. "Don't get me wrong. I love him, err. I loved him. Argh! I don't even know right now. All I know is, he never really was all-in for me. He never went the extra mile for me like I did for him. And now, in hindsight, I can admit that I was terrified knowing I was about to spend my whole life with someone who didn’t love me the way I loved him…so, I'm glad Josh didn't show up today." I feel all kinds of horrible as I say it.

  My eyes travel to Tony's and all I see there is compassion. Unwavering compassion.

  He drops his fork to his plate and grabs my hand. His voice rumbles low. “He did you a favor, Daisy. He saved you from the biggest mistake of your life. You just don’t realize it yet.”

  Man—those words slam me with a major case of the feels.

  He purposefully swipes away the tear building in my eye. Like it’s his job. A duty he takes to heart.

  And now I wish I could have someone like him in my life. Full-time.

  Just my luck that the guy I spend 15 years of my life with turns out to be a jerk. And my rebound-fuck turns out to be something from out of a dream.

  “Eat,” he whispers. “The food is getting cold.”

  I chew thoughtfully on a bite of my burrito. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Go for it.” He digs his fork into his cheesy fries.

  “Why did you come up to me at the bar? I mean, there were literally dozens of beautiful women there. Freakishly beautiful supermodel gazelle-women. And none of them were wearing a wedding gown. And none of them were crying into their martini and blowing snot into the hem of their dress. So why did you choose me?”

  He drops down his fork and looks at me earnestly. “Because I needed something special. Not someone just like everyone else. Someone whose face I’d forget the minute she crawled out of my bed. I needed something memorable tonight. Someone memorable. And I could tell you needed that, too.”

  My heart clutches as I sit there, silently waiting for him to explain what the hell that means.

  He reads the confusion in my expression. “I’m about to activate for pre-deployment. The orders just came down. I’m heading to base tomorrow.”

  “You’re in the military?” I hear the shock in my own voice.

  He nods. “Special Forces. I could be shipping out any time, starting forty-eight hours from now.”

  I swallow. “Oh my god. I had no idea.” I’m not even sure what to ask next. “Where are you going? What will you be doing?”

  A little laugh moves across the table. “I can’t tell you much more than that. For national security reasons.”

  “Right.” I nod. “Of course.” Understanding dawns on me. “So, that’s why you’re in Vegas. You’re here for one wild night before facing the unknown.”

  He flashes his teeth and those glorious dimples pinch his cheeks. “That was the plan. I was supposed to m
eet with an old military buddy at the bar. We were gonna go cause some trouble. But when I got there, he was arguing with some chick in the corner.”

  “What?!” I laugh.

  His head bobs. “It looked intense. Like they were gonna start ripping each other’s clothes off. I did not want to get in the middle of that. So, I just slowly backed away. And then I saw you sitting at the bar.”

  “And then you saw me sitting at the bar,” I echo. Our eyes lock with intensity.

  He reaches across and takes my hand. “I don’t want to be a punk and cry and whine and tell you I’m fucking scared. Because I’m not.” His attention drops to his plate. “It’s just—the last few missions I was on, they got bloody. I lost brothers. Guys who had hopes and dreams and things they never got to accomplish.” He looks up at me. “Life is precious. You’ve got to cherish every moment. And that’s what I want to do tonight. With you.”

  My heart pounds. My skin tingles.

  This man is about to face something monumental. And he’s chosen to spend these moments with me. That feels huge. Important.

  I have to make sure this night is special for him, too. I have to take care of him, the way he’s been taking care of me.

  I suddenly feel invigorated, buzzing with adrenaline. I squeeze his fingers. “What do you wanna do tonight?”

  “First off, I wanna see your tits again.”

  I fling a black bean in his direction. “Be serious.”

  He thinks for a little while and then he says, “I wanna dance with you.”

  “What?” I spit out a laugh.

  He takes one final messy bite of his quesadilla then wipes his hands on a napkin. Standing, he extends his hand to me.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Of course, I’m serious. Let’s do this.”

  Self-conscious, I glance around. People will think we’re crazy. “We're in the middle of a burrito shop.”

  “And we’re in Vegas and we just met and we don’t even know each other’s real names. So many damn factors to consider. Fuck all the factors. Tonight, the factors don’t matter. You get a break from the factors tonight and so do I. Let’s dance.”

  I fight back a smile, still not convinced.

  “Babe, we're in Vegas. If a pretty lady in a dirty wedding dress slow-dancing in the middle of a burrito shop is the weirdest thing you've seen, then you're not doing Vegas right."

  I laugh.

  He nods insistently. "Trust me—stranger things have happened."

  I peer over my shoulder to the sidewalk outside. An Elvis impersonator is in full-fledged downward dog, leading an impromptu yoga session. I guess Tony is right. Stranger things have happened.

  A grin takes control of my face as I slide out of my chair, resting my hand in his. The man smiles broad and free and my heart goes wild in my chest. He pulls me against him and his massive arms swallow me up in a tight embrace. The virile scent of his body fills my lungs. Musk and body heat.

  The position is stunningly intimate. I burrow my face into his chest. Because tonight is all about escape. When the sun rises, we'll go back to our lives. He’ll go save the world and as for me, I know that whatever is waiting for me in Copper Heights won't be fun.

  I bring my eyes to his. He's smiling, trying to keep up with the brisk tempo of the merengue music. And we're bumbling through it like lust-drunk idiots, eyes locked, chests pressed together. And why does it feel like our hearts are drumming in sync, beating out a rhythm they wrote together?

  I should be afraid of this man. Because this connection is too strong, too fast, slamming me from all sides. This is crazy.

  Relax, Sophia. Emotions are running high. You just got your heart crushed. You're projecting. That's all. Just live in the fantasy tonight. When morning comes, you'll be back in your shitty reality. So just enjoy the fantasy for now.

  Tony gets a little bit too involved in the dancing. He spins me around in the narrow aisle between the tables and my train tangles around his legs. In slow motion, I go spiraling toward the sticky linoleum floor. In my descent, I grab him by the back of the knee and bring him down with me. And now, we’re on the floor in a heap of shrieks and laughter.

  “I think I’m lying in guacamole,” I say between chortles.

  Tony hauls us up to our feet. He's wiping something that looks like melted cheese from the leg of his pants.

  I'm in hysterics.

  The grumpy waitress seems far less amused. "I'm gonna have to ask you two to leave," she hollers across the restaurant.

  I offer an awkward apology as Tony slaps a few ten-dollar bills onto the table and we stumble out into the night. “That was definitely guacamole you fell in,” he says as I walk ahead of him on the crowded sidewalk.

  Taking a peek over my shoulder, I catch sight of my avocado-covered ass. “Oh great…” I mumble. "I can't believe how much money I made my dad spend on this crap." I slide my fingers into the bird’s nest on the top of my head. "Or these hair extensions. They were flown in from Brazil. Can you believe that?” We laugh harder at my ridiculousness. "And the limo cost a fortune." My laughter begins to fade just as my bottom lip starts quivering. "I'm such a spoiled brat. Threw all this money down the drain."

  He cups the side of my jaw, his eyes playfully begging me not to cry. "A pretty spoiled brat.” His eyes drop to my chest. “A fucking sexy spoiled brat." He tickles my ribs and now I’m giggling through my blurry vision. He steps closer and puts his palms on my shoulders. "You made a mistake. An expensive mistake. But you've learned a priceless lesson."

  I pout. "What lesson’s that? "

  "Always listen to your gut. You knew he wasn't right for you but you were gonna marry him anyway. You would have had a shitty life with him, Daisy. Now is your chance to start over. To do it right."

  I sniffle, fighting back tears. I glance down at my ruined dress. “The most expensive lesson ever learned in the whole history of human stupidity.” I sigh.

  He tilts his head to the side and grins wickedly. "Where's your phone?"

  Furrowing my brow with suspicion, I dig around in my cleavage. "Why?" I ask as I produce the gadget.

  "Make the call, " he tells me. "We need a ride and there's no way we're letting that wedding limo go to waste."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sophia

  My sister throws her head back and moans deeply. “Oh my god—Would it be really inappropriate if I had a long, roaring, toe-curling orgasm right now?”

  The blonde-haired, stern-faced spa attendant crouched down by Angie’s feet gives her a light slap on her ankle. “Not curl your toes! Not curl your toes!” she orders in a strong Scandinavian accent.

  Angie peels off the watermelon slices covering her eyes and throws the woman a stunned glare. The spa attendant glares right back and resumes pouring rivers of melted chocolate over my sister’s feet.

  Prasanna Light Oneness Studio and Spa prides itself on having unconventional beauty treatments. The place is a veritable oasis with its top-of-the-line beauty center, its Nordic spa and its popular yoga and wellness program. People pay good money to come here and I'm a lucky girl that my sister invited me along for her weekly self-care session. And the luxury chocolate pedicure. Who knew that was a thing?

  But I’m just not feeling it.

  I’m completely overwhelmed by the avalanche of information Archie dumped on me earlier this afternoon. Every time I close my eyes, gruesome images flash across my mind. Images of him injured, images of him in pain, images of him riding around lonely in that red Chevy of his.

  Why did I let him walk away? I should have stopped him. I should have told him that the little girl I was holding in my arms was our daughter.

  It all just happened too fast. I wasn’t ready. And I made the wrong decision.

  Or maybe it was the right decision. Because after all, he’s leaving town. Just like I predicted.

  All I know is that, wrong or right, this hurts.

  The dimly-lit room is warm with the calming soun
d of Indian flutes floating through the air. Plus, the place smells absolutely glorious. Rich, rich chocolate that seems to be pouring in from the air vents. It’s supposed to be heaven. But under the crushing weight of my guilt, I’m burning in my own personal hell.

  “Please, no orgasms,” I urge my sister as I wiggle my toes in the shallow basin of cacao goodness. “That would totally kill the whole soothing, relaxing vibe for me.”

  Angie tries to swallow back her laughter. “I’m sorry but I’m super sensitive these days.” She runs her hand over her bulging belly. “Every sensation is heightened for this pregnant lady. It’s a gift and a curse.” She sighs.

  Angie is a hard-working doctor at the Copper Heights General Hospital and at the beginning of her pregnancy, she was running herself ragged, trying to maintain her regular schedule despite getting slammed by nonstop morning sickness. Her husband, Ben, wasn’t happy about it. He wanted her to take it easy. After a nasty flu outbreak at the hospital a few weeks ago, she saw the light and decided to take an early maternity leave. Now, aside from hanging out with River and me, she’s focused on relaxing and preparing for her baby.

  The woman clipping the cuticles around my fingernails addresses us with a soft grumble. "Shhh. Just relax. Enjoy." She dunks my hands into a bowl of chocolate before she stands up from her stool. She motions to Angie’s attendant. "We’ll be back in a few minutes." Both women clasp their hands over their hearts and bow before exiting the room.

  Angie’s attention moves back to me. "Now that we're all good and high off of chocolate vapors and acrylic fumes, can we please have a serious conversation? What’s on your mind? What has turned my sister into the grumpiest spa buddy of all time?”

  “What?” I ask, surprised. “I’m not grumpy. I’m just trying to relax.”

  She gives me a pointed glare. “Soapy, you’re grumpy. And if you don’t stop pouting, next week Nonna Lucia’s coming to spa day instead of you."

  I giggle at the image of our 89-year-old, hardcore Italian grandmother sitting here in a spa robe. I’m pretty sure she’d get them to swap out the chocolate pedicure for marinara sauce.