It was Kensie who broke the silence. “You’ve got to do a better job of keeping it together.”
“What about him?”
“He’s hurt.”
“You don’t think it hurts me to see you with him? To know everyone here thinks you’re his?”
“I know who I belong to, and in three days, they will too. You’ve just got to keep it together until then.”
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
It’s time for us to say,
I Do!
I’m writing this email to thank you all again for being a part of our special day. I can’t believe we are less than a week away from #KnightNuptials! Enclosed is an itinerary of events for the weekend to help you pack accordingly.
I love you all and I promise not to go all BRIDEZILLA on your a$$es! Well, I’ll try not to. ;).
Xoxo,
The Future Mrs. Knight.
Kensie scanned the email printout once more, fingering the half-heart pendant around her neck. She contemplated taking it off but fuck it. Carter was insecure enough about this weekend, she didn’t want to add another reason for him to go all—me Tarzan, you Jane. She was going to wear it, consequences be damned.
“I can’t believe you brought this thing,” Jamie snorted, tugging on the hem of the now infamous red dress. Well, it wasn’t the dress. That dress was ruined, but she did find an identical one online.
“The email said, ‘please wear your sexiest red dress’ and well…” She shrugged, the “this is the sexiest dress I own,” was implied. Plus, the dress was special, a lucky charm of sorts. A talisman to ward off evil skanks and cornball ex-boyfriends.
“If you say so, Roth.” Jamie smirked, unconvinced.
“Okay, maybe also—just a tiny bit—I want to look hotter than the rest of those bitches,” Kensie admitted, blushing. Was it fair to call women she’d hardly known bitches? No, but all was fair in love and war, right?
“No contest, babe,” Jamie assured, falling backwards on the bed. “Does he know that’s what you’re wearing to dinner?”
“Not exactly. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Jamie rolled over on her tummy and tucked her hands under her chin. “He’s going to blow a fucking gasket when he sees you.”
Kensie rolled her eyes and smeared a layer of red lipstick across her lips. “He loves this dress.”
“He loves that dress when you’re on his arm, not when he has to pretend like he doesn’t know you.”
Kensie pursed her lips. Jamie had a point, especially after the showdown he and Trey had in the hallway. Maybe she should have thought this through a little more. “You don’t happen to have a red dress in your suitcase by any chance, do you?”
“Nope,” Jamie responded, popping the “p.”
“What should I do?”
“It’s too late to change.”
“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” Kensie whined.
Jamie yawned. “No. I’m exhausted, plus I’m pretty sure Ry has my ass on lockdown until he finds a stick for me to piss on.”
“Wait, he’s not going either? You guys are like the voices of reason.”
“Javi will be there,” Jamie offered.
“Javi would probably throw the first punch.”
“Probably,” Jamie snorted.
“Alright, well how do I look?” Kensie asked, twirling around.
“Even hotter than you did the first time you wore it. Give ’em hell, Roth.”
Kensie sighed and took one last look in the mirror. Smoky eyes, red lips, and dewy skin. Her hair was porn star big. Loose waves cascaded down her back. Then there was the dress. The fabric clung to her, hugging every dip and curve on her body. Flashes of tan skin peeked out from underneath the band around her chest. Jam was right, she looked like sex.
Grabbing her clutch off the dresser, Kensie slipped her phone and lipstick inside and gave Jamie’s still flat tummy a good luck rub, before heading to the elevator. Anticipation and dread filled her belly. She wanted Carter to see her in the dress. She wanted him as jealous and needy as she felt, but what about Trey? Could they really pull this weekend off?
The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. Reagan and another woman stood inside giggling. “Holy smokes, Ken, you look…” Reagan trailed off into a low whistle.
“Me?” Kensie shrieked, stepping into the elevator. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mrs. Knight.” Reagan looked stunning in an ivory sequin wrap dress that accentuated her every curve. It dipped down low in the front and was cut so high, Kensie assumed double sided tape was the only thing keeping it in place.
“It’s not too much?”
“It’s perfect,” the woman in the red halter dress said. “I’m Emerson, by the way.”
“Kensie. You were at Liam’s birthday party, right?”
“Yes. You’re Trey’s girlfriend.”
“Umm, not anymore.” Kensie blushed. She did her best to keep her expression neutral, but she was sure the smile she’d forced onto her face resembled a grimace more than anything.
“Oh, bummer.” The blonde frowned. She was slightly taller than Kensie, but not quite as tall as Reagan. Her medium-length blonde hair was swept over her left shoulder and her red dress was exponentially more modest than what the other two women wore. Kensie wondered if Emerson was a part of the family or a part of the harem.
“It’s fine.” Kensie shrugged.
“Well, I haven’t given up on you two yet, and I know Trey hasn’t either.” Reagan winked. The elevator doors slid open and Reagan and Emerson stepped out into the lobby, but Kensie stood, frozen into place.
She breathed and then counted to ten; she was stalling. It took everything she had in her not to ride the elevator back up to the second floor and hide out in her room. It wasn’t until the doors pinged, signaling that they were about to close, that she finally found the courage to step out of the car.
The hotel lobby bustled with activity. By Kensie’s count, most of the twenty-member bridal party, including Trey, and the two tattooed degenerates, had already made their way down.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” she heard the familiar voice growl. Kensie chuckled, hidden behind the large potted plant in the lobby, as she watched Carter approach his sister.
“What’s wrong with it?” Reagan asked, defensively.
“Half of its missing,” Carter said, half-teasing, half-serious.
“You do realize I’m getting married in a couple of days, right?”
“Liam,” Carter asked, flinging his arm around his sister’s fiancé’s neck, “tell your wife she needs to go upstairs and find more clothes.”
“I think she looks amazing,” Liam replied blushing shyly. This earned him a resounding aww from the small crowd gathered around the bride-and groom-to-be.
“She’s really got you whipped,” Carter chuckled, releasing the younger Knight brother from his hold.
Kensie frowned. While it was nice seeing this side of Carter, the protective big brother side, she was sad that they had to hide their relationship. This entire weekend should be about love and happiness and the wonders the future will hold, yet, for her, it was about lies and deception and, as much as she hated to admit it, guilt.
Trey was an ass, of that there was no denying, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in love with her and she had cheated on him. Her eyes scanned the crowd for her ex. He was smiling, talking to his cousin, a fellow groomsman. Everyone seemed so comfortable, so relaxed, and here she was hiding behind a plant, watching like an outsider, as the men in her life interacted with their family.
“Why are we hiding?” Grant whispered, coming up behind her.
Kensie rolled her eyes at the eldest Thayer. “Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”
He scrunched his nose, as he took in the sight in the lobby. Carter and Javi were talking and laughing with Reagan and Liam, while Trey sat in the opposite corner of the room, laughing with yet another groomsman, chugging
from a bottle of champagne.
“Well, they don’t seem to want to kill each other as much as normal, but I’m sure that will change once they see you, so yeah, I guess I’d be hiding too.”
“If I sneak back upstairs, will you tell Reagan that I’ve become violently ill?” she asked.
Grant’s eyes softened. “It’ll only be awkward at dinner, after that the guys are going one way and the girls another. You’ll be fine.”
Kensie nodded. She could handle dinner, right? She looked over at Grant, but his gaze locked on his brother. Carter, on the other hand, focused solely on her, his body rigid, his eyes glazed over with lust, and the corners of his mouth tipped up into that patented Carter Thayer smirk.
The cocky bastard stalked over to where they were standing, extending his hand to his brother as he opened his mouth. “I don’t know if I’m more pissed off or turned on that you’re wearing that dress.” He was looking at Grant, but the message was for Kensington.
“I didn’t have anything else appropriate for the occasion,” she whispered, her cheeks flush.
“Baby, this dress is far from appropriate. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to fuck you right here, right now.”
“Okay, this is getting weird.” Grant cringed, dropping his little brother’s hand.
“Bro, you gotta keep him far the fuck away from her. I’m not kidding. If he touches her, I will fucking annihilate him.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Grant agreed, his lips pressing into a tight line.
“And you,” he said, turning to Kensie, his eyes roaming the length of her body, taking in the sight of her in the dress. His tongue darted out, sucking in his bottom lip, as he dragged his hand through his wavy brown locks. Eye fucking didn’t even cover the way he was looking at her. An adequate phrase had yet to be discovered. The look was equal parts possession and promise. A warning. “You’re lucky I can’t touch you because if I could, I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk, and then I’d keep fucking you until I couldn’t.”
“I’m standing right here,” Grant said, breaking the spell between them.
“Later,” Carter whispered, slowly retreating backward. Kensie released a shaky breath, one she’d been holding from the moment he smirked at her. One word never held more promise.
Magic was the common theme among all the princess movies Kensie grew up on. Fairies and spells and potions helped the princesses chase their dreams. Too bad Kensie’s fairy godmother was knocked-up and taking a nap, and the only potion in her possession had an eleven percent alcohol content.
Despite her lack of magic, dinner went smoother than Kensie could have hoped. The bridal party sat around a large table in the private dining room of one of Napa’s most prestigious restaurants. Food and drinks flowed freely as the Thayer/Knight wedding party kicked off their weekend-long celebration. Much to Kensie’s surprise, Carter held it together well, managing to pretend as if she didn’t exist.
Mostly.
Small glances, secret smiles, and dirty text messages sustained her. He was discreet, never lingering on her longer than a moment, but enough to make her feel secure, to feel loved, even while being trapped at a table filled with women who’d known him in the biblical sense.
Then there was Trey. His sad brown eyes roamed her body every chance he got. She felt the longing in his stare, the weight of it, how unapologetically he yearned to be near her. Guilt prickled at her skin when he looked at her like that, like he’d lost his best friend. But despite his staring, Trey seemed to be on his best behavior as well, only telling her she looked beautiful as they boarded the party busses.
All in all, the atmosphere in Napa was light. Kensie didn’t know whether to attribute it to the copious amount of alcohol or the fact that everyone was content to put their feelings aside to celebrate Reagan and Liam. A little magic would be nice, but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed seeing Carter with his family. She enjoyed their subtle flirting. She enjoyed listening to everyone tell stories about Reagan and Liam and about how they’d been best friends since they were in diapers.
They’d been lucky. They didn’t have to search through the muck to find their other half. Reagan never had to kiss any frogs, her Prince Charming was right next door. Reagan didn’t have to endure the pain of heartbreak or the devastation of finding out the person she loved wasn’t who she thought they were.
Kensie’s cell phone pinged, and she chewed on her lip in anticipation.
Peter Pan: You are by far the sexist person in the room.
Peter Pan: And stop biting your lip.
Her eyes found his, and with deliberate, measured motions, her lips parted, and her tongue darted out of her mouth as she licked her top lip, before ever so slowly sinking her teeth into the bottom one.
Kensie: I can’t help it, it’s like my body’s natural reaction to you and your teasing.
Peter Pan: I’m not teasing. I mean every word.
Kensie: That’s not helping.
Peter Pan: I bet your panties are soaked.
Kensie: Wouldn’t you like to know…
Peter Pan: Go take them off.
Kensie: What?
Peter Pan: Go take them off and give them to me.
Kensie: You’ve lost your mind. We are supposed to be keeping a low profile.
Peter Pan: I’m not asking you to take them off at the table and throw them across the room. Go to the restroom and take them off.
Kensie: NO.
Peter Pan: By the end of the night, not only will I be in possession of your panties, but you’ll be begging me to fuck you.
Kensie: So far, you’re the only one begging.
Peter Pan: Care to make it interesting?
Kensie: What did you have in mind?
Peter Pan: The first person to initiate sex loses.
Kensie: What do I get if I win?
Peter Pan: Me.
Kensie: And if you win?
Peter Pan: I get you.
“God, he is so fucking hot,” the brunette to her right slurred into Kensie’s ear.
“Huh?” she asked nervously, covering her phone.
“Reagan’s brother,” she slurred again. Kensie’s eyes darted across the room.
Please be talking about Grant.
Please be talking about Grant.
Please.
Pretty please with sugar on top.
“The one with the tattoos.” Of course not. “…but I’d take Grant too. Hell, I’d take them both at the same time.” If she was trying to whisper, she was failing miserably. Her eyes had that glassy, far-off look in them. It was obvious that she was tiptoeing on the line of sobriety.
Kensie frowned. She’d been so preoccupied with sexting her boyfriend, she almost forgot about the loose-legged bridal party.
“Gross, Cameron, that’s my cousin,” the woman on the other side of Kensie groaned.
“Your cousin is a sex god, Quinn,” Cameron stated unapologetically. “I know from experience,” she mumbled to Kensie.
“Still not whispering.” Quinn rolled her eyes.
Kensie shook her head. She didn’t know how to react, so she just smiled and picked up her glass of wine, fighting the urge to throw its contents at the brunette named Cameron. What kind of stupid fucking name was Cameron, anyway? Breathe, Kensie, just breathe, she willed herself, turning to look at the woman on her left. Red hair, bright green eyes hidden behind thick-rimmed tortoise shell glasses, and a look on her face that said she wanted to be there about as much as Kensie did.
Quinn.
Quinn was family.
Quinn was safe.
She decided in that moment to attach herself to Quinn for the rest of the night. It was pathetic, but as she glanced over her shoulder at the drunk girl shooting her boyfriend bedroom eyes, she knew it was her only option for surviving the night.
“You’re Reagan’s cousin?”
“Yup, Quinn,” she introduced herself, extending her hand. “Our dads are brothers. You’r
e Kensie, right? Trey’s…ex?” Her tone was questioning. She, like everyone else in the wedding party, seemed unsure of their official status.
“Yes, ex,” Kensie confirmed, bracing herself for the inevitable, maybe you guys will work it out. “Good for you. Trey’s an asshole.”
“You have no idea.” Kensie grinned, raising her glass.
Quinn lifted her own, bringing it to meet Kensie’s with a clink.
Kensie was liking Carter’s cousin Quinn more and more.
The party bus pulled up in front of Silo nightclub at around 10 p.m. CT and Javi crashed the girls’ party, opting instead to go with them rather than chance CT and Trey getting into a drunken bar brawl. Kensie was happy to have her boyfriend close by even if she still couldn’t touch him, and even if half the women in their party were eye fucking him.
She peeked out the tinted window of the bus. A bright red, neon sign hung above the entrance of the club, illuminating the night sky. She sat and stared at it, waiting. That was all she ever did anymore, wait. She waited for her dream job. She waited for the day she could finally go public with her boyfriend, and now she waited for eight other women to exit the bus.
She felt his gaze on her, but she stayed in her seat, her eyes focused out the window until she felt the brush of his leg against hers. “You coming?” he whispered, looking ahead. One by one the bridesmaids exited, until they were finally alone.
“Yes,” she said, finally tearing her gaze from the sign. She straightened her dress as she stood. Their bodies were close, so dangerously close that she felt the heat radiating off him.
Reaching for his hand, she pressed the tiny swath of silk into his palm. “Game on, Thayer.” She winked, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. Her hand brushed over the bulge in his pants as she made her way to the front of the bus.
The low, throaty, “Fuuuuuck,” that escaped his lips made her stomach flutter.
Score one point for team Kensington.
Once inside, the group made their way towards a long bar situated to the left of the dance floor. The place was a far cry from what the less than sober bridesmaids were expecting. In fact, Club Silo wasn’t really a club at all, more an upscale lounge. Soft jazz pumped through the speakers and the dim lighting cast a soft blue haze throughout the room. Not exactly a place where a group of drunk twenty-somethings could rage.
Lithium Tides: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 20
