The Best Man

by Natasha Anders

  “That’s—that’s . . . I honestly don’t know what that is.” He chuckled at the candid statement.

  “It is what it is. See you later?”

  “Definitely,” she promised him huskily. He disconnected the call, and Daff turned to face her avidly staring youngest sister nervously.

  “Sooooo.” Daisy drew the word out irritatingly, her elbows resting on the counter and her chin cradled in the palms of her hands. “Who’s the Dick and does he really look like a cartoon penis in a top hat?”

  Daff was grateful that she had so impulsively changed Spencer’s name and pic on her phone.

  “He’s no one you need to concern yourself with.”

  “Come on, Daff. A little hint. Where did you meet him?”

  “It’s just a passing thing, Deedee. I don’t see the need to discuss the matter with you. If it were serious, it would be different. But it’s not. It’s just . . . sex.” She blushed a little, wondering why she felt like a fraud and a liar. And a traitor. She and Spencer had been clear on the matter. No-strings sex and no need to discuss this thing with family—especially not with nosy siblings.

  “Fine, keep your secrets,” Daisy said with a put-out little huff, and Daff exhaled in frustration.

  “Come on, Deedee, it’s still very new. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it. Especially when I know it’s not going anywhere.”

  “You’ll let me know if anything changes? If it becomes serious?”

  “It won’t.”

  “I don’t know about that; you didn’t see your face when I first walked in here. You looked smitten.” Such a dated word. Quintessentially Daisy. It struck Daff that both her sisters were a lot more suited to Spencer than she was. Sweet and innocent and exactly the type of woman a decent, old-fashioned guy like Spencer needed in his life. Daff wasn’t sweet and she wasn’t innocent. She was much too cynical. Still, she wasn’t looking to settle down with the guy, so it didn’t matter if they weren’t compatible in any way other than sexually.

  “I’m not smitten. He has a great body, a big dick, and can work wonders with his tongue,” she said, being deliberately crude, knowing her sister—who had been a freaking virgin before Mason—would be silenced by that. “That’s all I need from him.”

  To her credit, Daisy, who did look a bit queasy after Daff’s frank statement, didn’t back down.

  “He sends you lunch and writes you love notes—there has to be more to him than just a nice body and a . . . and a big p-penis.”

  “Don’t forget the talented tongue,” Daff goaded, and Daisy glared at her. Daff waved the note in front of her face before continuing, “And this isn’t a love note. He’s telling me exactly where and how he wants to nail me next. Want to have a read? It’s very educational.”

  “Sometimes it seems like you’ve never really left adolescence behind,” Daisy said tartly. “You behave like the same boy-crazy hormonal teenager you were in high school. What’s wrong with settling down?”

  “Ugh, this again! Lia was the same. Why is it that the moment you find someone you’re ready to settle down with, you expect everybody else to follow suit? We don’t all want the same things in life, Daisy.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “I don’t bloody know. But why should I? Why can’t I just figure shit out as I go along?”

  “Maybe because you’re thirty-two and directionless?”

  “Well, we can’t all be perfect little Daisy McGregor with the degree and the career and the amazing man, can we? Some of us are born fuckups.”

  “You’re not a fuckup.” Daisy rarely used profanity, and after getting over her surprise at the words, Daff was touched by her sister’s immediate and vehement defense. “You’re not. None of us think that. And maybe when you stop believing you are, you’ll be able to move forward with your life.”

  “And how do you propose I move forward?” Daff had meant the words to be sharp and sarcastic, but instead they sounded almost . . . yearning.

  “Quit this job, for one,” Daisy said softly. “You hate it. You’ve never said as much, but I know you do. You’re bored, and your active and intelligent mind is wasted here.”

  Daff said nothing, not admitting or denying Daisy’s words, but surprised that her sister knew how much she hated the job. She had never divulged that information to anyone. Other than Spencer.

  “I have to finish my lunch,” she said quietly, not acknowledging Daisy’s words. “If you still want half of this, I’ll stick it in a lunch box for you.”

  “That’s okay. Mason will be here soon, and we can get lunch en route. But, before I forget, the other reason I popped in was to tell you that Mason and I are hosting a dinner for our wedding attendants—well, most of you. Sam Brand can’t make it, for obvious reasons. Just a fun evening so that everybody can get to know one another.”

  “We already know one another.”

  “Well, none of you have met Chris yet,” Daisy said, referring to Mason’s chef friend.

  “When?”

  “Saturday night. I hope you can make it.”

  “It should be fine.”

  “Feel free to invite your well-hung sex toy.”

  “Daisy!” she gasped, shocked, and Daisy grinned unrepentantly. Lately her sweet youngest sister had developed the tendency to astonish her. And that was quite a feat. Daisy’s phone bleeped, and her smile softened when she looked at the screen.

  “Mason’s here.” Mason’s sleek, sexy BMW i8 drove up just as she said the words, and she waved at him through the plate-glass windows. “See you on Saturday?”

  “Yeah.”

  Daisy had her hand on the door when Daff sighed and called her name. Her sister paused and looked back. “Enjoy the day, Deedee. I’m sorry about earlier.”

  Daisy let go of the door and came back to enfold her in a tight hug.

  “Don’t be silly. I shouldn’t have pushed the way I did.”

  Daff ruffled Daisy’s crazy curls and gave her a nudge toward the door.

  “Your carriage awaits, and your handsome prince is looking impatient to get you to himself.” They both watched Mason, who had vacated the car and was waiting next to the passenger door. He was shuffling from foot to foot in an attempt to stay warm in the frigid weather.

  “We’ll chat later,” Daisy promised her before hurrying out to greet Mason. Daff watched as a goofy smile lit up Mason’s good-looking face and he wrapped his arms around Daisy’s cuddly figure, burying his nose in her neck for a brief instant before planting a hot kiss on Daisy’s lips.

  Daff blushed at the steamy exchange—Daisy was her baby sister, after all—and was about to yell at them to get a room before they started making babies right on her doorstep when Mason lifted his head and smiled at Daisy. The naked adoration on the man’s face was evident to all, and Daff sighed softly. If she were a different person, she’d be envious. And she told herself that the only reason her chest felt so tight at the sight of the couple’s devotion to each other was because of the happiness she felt for her sister. Nothing else.

  His staff was gone for the day, and Spencer was just finishing up a few last-minute e-mails before heading home when his phone beeped. He tensed before looking at it, sure that it would be Daff bailing on tonight. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw his brother’s name on the screen. Swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock the phone, his brow immediately furrowed when he saw the message.

  Daff has a man. Know about it? Maybe an eighth for the stag?

  Shit.

  He thought about it for a second before replying.

  How the fuck would I know about it? I’m not her bestie. She doesn’t braid my hair and tell me all her secrets.

  He watched as Mason typed and typed and typed and then finally rang. His brother didn’t have the patience to send long texts.

  “Yes?” Spencer snapped.

  “Come on, Spence,” Mason said without any of the usual niceties. “You’ve been spending time with her lately.
Hasn’t she dropped any hints?”

  “We discussed the wedding and the party plans.”

  “Aren’t you even curious about it?” Mason sounded surprised. “I figured you would be, since you’ve got the hots for her.”

  “Not anymore.” Spencer contemplated the elephant stain on his ceiling, hoping lightning wouldn’t strike him down where he sat.

  “Apparently she has him listed as the Dick on her phone. And she actually has a picture of a cartoon penis in a top hat as his profile pic.”

  Spencer swallowed back a surprised laugh, wondering what fit of pique had led her to do that.

  “No shit?” He could barely keep the laughter out of his voice.

  “And he sends her lunch.”

  “How do you know all of this? Has she mentioned this guy to Daisy?” Maybe paving the way to reveal their relationship to her family? Spencer felt an elated bubble of hope in his chest at the thought. That would be pretty terrific.

  “Daisy was there when lunch was delivered.”

  “Oh. And what did she tell Daisy about the guy?” Spencer asked, refusing to let go of that hope.

  “Said she just needed him for his dick.”

  The bubble burst into a million sad little pieces, and Spencer glared at his ceiling. He shouldn’t have asked.

  “Then why do you think she’d even want him at the party?”

  “I just figured it would pad the numbers. And according to Daisy, Daff does seem a bit starry-eyed over the guy, even if she denies it.”

  “Yeah?” The bubble reformed, and Spencer sat up straighter in his chair.

  “I told Daisy she was probably reading too much into it, but she wants her sisters to be happy and she worries about Daff.”

  “It’s probably better not to interfere—you know how Daff can be. And honestly, we’re starting to sound like gossipy old women, so I’d rather not speculate any further,” he said firmly, and Mason chuckled.

  “True. I think spending so much time with Daisy and her sisters has had an adverse effect on me. I’m way too involved with the gossip and the other chick stuff.”

  “You need a guy’s night out.”

  “Tomorrow night?” Mason asked hopefully, and Spencer briefly thought about Daff, wondered if she’d miss him if they didn’t spend a night together, and then grimaced. She wouldn’t care. He knew that. They didn’t have that kind of relationship.

  Yet.

  “Tomorrow night sounds fine. Tell your fiancée not to expect you back till the early hours of Saturday morning.”

  “Awesome.”

  Spencer was heading for his 4x4 when he saw her again, the young girl from the other night. She appeared to be loitering by his car, and when she saw him she immediately hastened away in the opposite direction. Spencer swore and increased his speed in an attempt to catch up with her. She was wearing the same huge jeans with a different shirt and a jacket that looked too thin to keep her warm in this weather.

  “Hold up,” he called as he darted after her. She was moving so fast that she was practically jogging now. “Charlie. Hey. Stop.” He had a longer stride and caught up with her in just a few steps, taking hold of her thin elbow in the process.

  “I didn’t steal anything,” the kid growled in frustration as she tried to yank her elbow from his grip.

  “I didn’t think you did,” Spencer appeased, letting go of her and backing off a couple of steps to give her more space. She looked torn between running and staying, and he could see her trying to assess the situation and figure out if he was a threat. He backed up another step, keeping his hands in sight all the time. She relaxed marginally.

  “I just wanted to talk.”

  “About?” she asked warily.

  “Wanted to know if we’ll see you on Monday?” Her smooth brow furrowed, and she shrugged.

  “Dunno.” Now that he knew she was a girl, he could see why she disguised herself. She was quite pretty and, because of her circumstances, obviously felt the need to downplay that.

  “Where are you staying? In the township?”

  “No.”

  “With your family.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “What about school? Are you attending Riversend High?” With everything that had happened with Daff this week, Spencer had forgotten to ask Principal Kane about her. He felt guilty about that oversight.

  She shrugged again in response to his question. Typical teenager.

  “Okay, well, I work at the sports store. If you ever need anything, please let me know.”

  “Why?” she asked suspiciously. “What’s in it for you?”

  “I’ve been where you are. I just want to help.”

  “I don’t need your help,” she snapped. Way too much prickly pride for one so young.

  “Okay,” he said, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “That’s cool. I still hope to see you on Monday. We’re doing that self-defense class.”

  “I’ll check my schedule,” she said sarcastically, and Spencer bit back a grin.

  “You do that,” he said seriously, trying to keep his amusement hidden.

  “Can I go now?” she asked with a belligerent tilt of her chin.

  “You’re free to do whatever you want.”

  “See ya around,” she said casually, turning away with a dismissive wave. Spencer watched her walk away, again feeling a swell of concern for her. He didn’t think she had a permanent place to stay, and it worried him. She was young, vulnerable, and small enough for a strong breeze to blow over. Not ideal. He hoped like hell she would show up on Monday—something about her brought out all his protective instincts, and he wanted to be sure that she was safe.

  He turned back to his car and saw that he was standing in front of Daff’s store. She had closed up for the day already, and he wondered if she was headed straight to his or if she was on her way home for a change of clothes. He hoped it was the latter. It was silly for her to go home to change every morning before work. But he knew that bringing an overnight bag would feel a little too much like a relationship to Daff. So he doubted the stubborn woman would bring so much as a toothbrush.

  He didn’t know why he expected her for dinner, but she was a no-show. He ate a silent, solitary meal and glared at the empty chair across from his at the dinner table. Of course she wouldn’t come—that wasn’t the way this worked. He had a quick shower, changing into a pair of those pajamas she seemed to find so irresistible, and did some accounts. He was still trying to figure out an economically viable way to fix the plumbing at the community center. He could pay for the entire thing, of course, but this should be a community effort. He wanted people to get off their privileged asses and chip in. So far it looked like nobody else—aside from Mason, Oom Herbert, and Principal Kane—really gave a damn about these kids, and Spencer wanted to find a way to change that. He wanted his program to become something the entire town could be proud of. Maybe if they had a dedicated youth center. A safe haven where both the well-off kids and the at-risk kids could hang out and socialize. If Spencer and Mason had had a wider circle of friends, perhaps their grim home lives would have felt slightly more tolerable.

  An idea started to bloom, and he began to jot down notes. He’d have to get Mason to sign off on it, but he was sure his brother wouldn’t mind. He was about to pick up his phone to call Mason when the soft knock on his front door sent all other considerations fleeing.

  Daff.

  He went rock hard in an instant.

  Just like Pavlov’s fucking dog, he thought with a wry glance down at his straining crotch. He took a moment to will the erection away—his cock mocked him for even trying—before opening the door. She stood there, a cheeky grin on her face, her head tilted to the side and her hands planted on her hips.

  “Hey there, big guy. What are you up to?”

  “Nothing much.” He stepped aside to let her in. She sashayed past him, leaving him to follow in her deliciously scented wake. She always smelled amazing. He
couldn’t tell if it was body wash, perfume, or just her shampoo. Again he wondered if it was vanilla or honeysuckle, and he was about to ask her when she sent him a cheeky peek over her shoulder.

  “It’s hot in here. Won’t you take my coat?”

  “Of course.” He reached out to help her. She shrugged out of her coat, revealing first one bare shoulder, then the other, then the slim, naked column of her back, her pert, perfectly peach-shaped ass, and finally those gorgeous, shapely legs. His mouth immediately went bone-dry as he drank in the sight of her nudity. Then she turned around, and he nearly passed out when even more blood drained from his brain straight down to his now throbbing cock.

  “Christ almighty,” he breathed—prayed?—not quite sure where to look. At her beautiful face, adorned with a slightly nervous smile? Or maybe those pretty, perfectly shaped little pink-and-cream breasts? What about that delightfully dipped-in waist or that flat tummy? No, maybe his eyes should feast on the immaculately manicured V at the junction of her thighs. Yeah, that’s where his eyes wanted to be; that’s where his hands, mouth, tongue, and cock wanted to be as well. He groaned softly.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered, and her smile widened.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

  “And you’re a little overdressed.”

  Jesus. So much for his vow not to let her dictate the pace of this relationship. He’d had no intention of making love to her tonight, but how the hell was he supposed to resist this?

  “Come on, Spencer, show me some skin,” she pouted, tugging at his pajama collar, slipping her fingers between the gaps in the front to get at the skin beneath. He fought for control as he unfastened the top button and stepped back to tug it over his head and off. She gave a delighted little purr that turned into an undignified squawk when he unceremoniously pulled his top over her head and yanked her arms into the armholes before dragging it down over her hips and thighs.

  He heaved a sigh of relief when she was somewhat covered and leaned in to give her shocked mouth a hot, brief kiss. She folded her arms over her chest and met his eyes defiantly. He was alarmed to see a touch of hurt beneath the bluster.