Love Me Crazy

by Camden Leigh

  I grind my teeth together and turn up the radio, drowning the silence with freaking banjos and whining guitars.

  Ellie pulls up to the valet.

  “We’re here. At the party,” I spit out. “We’ve got—”

  “Tell me first.”

  “Quinn, I don’t have time for this. We’re late because you sed—” Shit. I almost blurted out what we did. I close my eyes and stare at the back of my eyelids, needing to absorb how complex admitting publicly we’re an item makes everything and how letting him in changed me. Like I’ve packed up and moved to another country and don’t know where to put anything.

  “We’re a couple, not just a thing, but the thing. The one plus one equals one. The fucking perfect disaster.” My heart clambers in my chest, as if I need evidence to believe I’ve fallen.

  “We’re not a disaster,” he says.

  “We’re not perfect either.”

  “We are.”

  I shake my head. We’re about as perfect as a pair of mismatched socks.

  Chapter 22

  Quinn

  The night drags. I don’t want to be at a bachelor party, least of all Dean’s. The guy talks about strippers and body shots every other minute, which means he’s losing points in my book. I suppose his curious glances toward Ellie’s party on the second floor earns half of them back. I stare up at the strobe lights leaking around the drawn curtains.

  “Dude, she’s fine.” Wes slaps his hands on my shoulders.

  “I know.” I shrug him off. “It’s who she’s with I don’t trust.”

  “Kat has her back.” He hands me another beer, but I don’t feel like drinking.

  I look at him. “The Wes I remember tormented Kat. Now you’re besties?”

  “Yeah.” His face reddens. “Except payback’s a bitch. Now she torments me.”

  “You’ve got my blessing if she ever . . . changes her mind.” I laugh.

  Screams erupt and then chanting. Wes and I glance at the windows overlooking the dance floor. The girls rented the entire upstairs and counted us out. No guys allowed. Which really blows because they have a private dance floor, meaning I’ll never see Cassie shake her cute little ass on the main dance floor with the regulars.

  “Let’s invite ourselves.” Dean pats me on the back. “I’m sure there’s a few willing girls up there for you, Covington?”

  “Man, chill. Those are his sisters,” Wes says.

  “Not all of them. Game?” I hold out my hand and Wes slaps a high five before fisting it and pulling out of his seat.

  We make our way up the steps, and a three-hundred-dollar tip later, the bouncer wearing nothing but pants and a black bow tie grants us entry. No guys, my ass. And where’s he going to stuff that cash? At least he’s restricted to the hallway.

  The room vomits pink. And feathers. And something fruity. There’s glitter everywhere and fucking tiaras. It’s a guy’s worst nightmare, but easy to ignore with twenty-plus girls dancing around the room. Short dresses. High heels. And drunk.

  Family and friends, all people from my old life, fill the room like we’re having some sort of reunion.

  “Hey cuz.” My cousin Lucy grabs my hand and spins herself under my arm. Yep. Drunk all right. She’s not even legal yet. She lets go and disappears to the corner with a bottle of tequila.

  “Hey, Kitty Kat, your catnip’s here.” Someone hollers across the room.

  Meows and purrs follow.

  I punch Wes on the arm. “Sounds like someone has their claws in you.”

  “Real funny. I thought you’d have my back.” Wes walks backward into the crowd as the girls guide him toward the bar where more shirtless guys flex their guns and hold trays of drinks and food. Where the hell were our shirtless waitresses downstairs? And food?

  I skim the room for Cassie’s red hair but don’t see her. Dean gestures to the corner where Lucy ventured and I follow him over. Sitting on the ground in a circle are two girls from the yacht club, my cousin, Annabeth, Cassie, and my sisters. I rub my hand down my chest. Gone are the sweet, innocent little brats sitting around the Christmas tree.

  “Cassidy’s turn.” Annabeth hands her the dice. “You should probably stop sucking at this game.”

  Kat and Annabeth look up when some shirtless A-hole hands me a drink. Kat’s eyes expand, Annabeth’s get all demure. The rest don’t acknowledge us.

  “How can I possibly be this bad?” Cassie shakes a dice in her hand, then tosses it down. “Six?”

  “Now the other. Go on.” Annabeth gestures at her hand. “Roll the topic.”

  Cassie closes her eyes and lets the dice roll down her palm and off her fingers. It summersaults several times before exposing a single word. Sex.

  “Oh my God. Really?” Cassie whines.

  “Take the shots,” Kat says. “It’s for your own good.” She looks up at me and shakes her head. “Help her,” she mouths.

  “I can’t take six shots.” Cassie pushes the glass away. “I’ll take the questions.”

  “But you haven’t drunk anything.” Ellie balances the shot on her palm. “Are you sure, sweetie? Because AnnaBee’s crushing you with these questions. And this times there’s six . . . about sex.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I have to work tomorrow.” She plays with the strap on her shoe. “I can take whatever’s dished out.” Her voice cracks and her shoulders droop as she rests her chin in her hand.

  I’ve only seen her this defeated one other time and that fiasco involved a turkey. I move forward, ready to rescue her.

  “Last sex position and with who?” Annabeth blurts.

  I tense when she sends me the warning look she reserves for finagling money or the keys to the yacht from her parents.

  “That’s two questions.” Ellie pinches Annabeth. Giggles and hiccups take over.

  I glance around the circle. With my sisters probably choosing shots over questions to protect their dignity and the Covington name, my hands will be full come closing time. I couldn’t leave now if I wanted to. The stubble on my chin rubs my finger raw as I ponder a way to separate Cassie from the group.

  “This game really sucks.” She kicks off her shoes and pulls her legs up until she’s nothing but a sexy mess of copper hair, freckles, and huge green eyes. Her knees hide her lips. What would she do if I tipped her chin up and drew my finger across them?

  “Answer the questions,” Annabeth says.

  “Take the shots,” Kat begs.

  “On a table,” Cassie admits.

  “Sake’s alive. I was right.” Ellie grabs Cassie’s hand. “How many times did you”—she cups her mouth—“orgasm?”

  “Oh God. Can I take the shot?” Cassie reaches for the double but Lucy holds it up.

  I grab it and tilt it back. “Rules are rules. Answer the question.”

  Cassie’s head pops back. A pretty pink swarms in her cheeks. Her eyes dance, perfectly clear, unlike the others around her who look like they ODed on vodka and grenadine. She smiles and holds up two fingers.

  “Damn, girl. Where can I find this guy?” One of Ellie’s friends asks. “That’s not my question. Don’t answer.”

  “Did he?” Lucy asks.

  “Don’t waste questions. Of course he did.” Annabeth slaps our cousin’s arm. “He’s a guy, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Yeah, he most definitely did.”

  Cassie doesn’t take her eyes off me, and I give her a wink.

  “Clothes on or off?” one of the girls asks.

  “On-ish.” Cassie’s face reddens more. Then her chest.

  “When?”

  “Who?” The girls fire off.

  Cassie shakes her head. “That’s two. I veto both.” She holds out the dice. “Ellie, you’re next.”

  “No, you have one more question?” The girls lean in, waiting for Annabeth’s attack. “Are you, by chance, screwing the boss’s son? Because if you are, you’re so fired. She’ll hang you from the magnolia back behind the—”

  “Game over.” I
squat between Kat and Cassie. “Ready to go?”

  She looks around the circle, but all eyes are on me because I’m the fucking boss’s son.

  “She has to answer the question.” Annabeth grabs my wrist. “Hiding something, Quinn?”

  “Wait.” Lucy’s eyes flit between me and Cassie. “Are you?”

  Cassie shakes her head. “Nope.”

  What? She’s denying a relationship with me, right here in front of people who already know the truth? I stand and stare at the top of her head. How could she say no after what she admitted? I’m not that fucking bad she can’t even admit she likes me a little.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my pockets to hide my fists.

  Cassie looks up and smiles. It’s a big fucking smile. An innocent smile. The kind she reserves for me. She rolls to her knees and pushes to her feet.

  “Um, then who are you messing around with?” Kat stands up too and elbows me in the gut with a what-the-hell jab.

  Ellie and I share silent glances while Annabeth sits on her fucking pedestal, gloating. I’m too dumbstruck to move.

  Cassie winds her arms around mine and gives it a squeeze.

  “Hey,” Annabeth says as she rises and moves in front of us. “Give us a name . . . if you aren’t fucking your boss’s son.”

  Ellie bites her lip and Kat holds her breath to the point her cheeks expand into plums. I grab the tequila from Lucy and take a swig. Then another. Why did I come up here?

  “Fuck’s a strong word, Annabeth.” Cassie steps forward.

  I choke on the tequila and the burn trails into my nostrils like I lit a match and shoved it up my nose.

  “Thought we already determined you like quickies with no-name guys.” Annabeth curls her fingers through her ponytail. “You have a thing for bad boys and tattoos? Right?”

  “It’s time to go. Cass?” I tug on her arm and whisper to Kat to call off the attack.

  “It’s okay. I’ll answer.” Cassie pushes my hand away. She slips on her shoes and grows taller than Annabeth. “You asked who I’m fucking? The answer is no one. I haven’t found anyone here worth a fuck, but I have found someone worth my heart.”

  Holy shit. I freeze, hand halfway between me and Cassie. Kat nudges me forward. I waver on my toes, then settle back into my heels.

  “He’s my Quinn?” Annabeth blurts.

  “He isn’t yours.” Cassie scoots to my side and wraps her arm around my waist. “Not anymore.”

  I stare at Cassie. A warm glow settles in her eyes. A steady calm instead of the bright static chaos that first attracted me.

  Calm looks fucking gorgeous on her.

  Chapter 23

  Cassidy

  Ellie waddles across the room in the third and final dress. Lace drips off her in big drowning waves. And the veil? Sheesh. I smile and nod like a good little assistant. One who isn’t sleeping with the boss’s son . . . the bride’s brother. God. Sounds worse putting it into words.

  “Eleanor, you’re divine.” Mrs. Covington pats her cheek and turns her toward the full-length mirror.

  Quinn had excused himself to make some calls while we dressed, bustled, and shimmied his sister into three possible wedding gowns just flown in from Italy. All a perfect fit. Of course. And paid for in advance if I heard Mrs. Covington right. What’s a girl to do with three dresses? I’d be lucky to afford just the sleeve on one. And these don’t have any!

  “Cassidy, which do you like best?” Ellie turns and the train refuses to follow. Is she considering this cloud of a dress? She can’t even walk.

  I scan the other two gowns. The first dress is the one I’d pick. In fact, I kind of did. A much cheaper one of course, but the style was similar.

  I drift my fingers over the wide silk sash. The beads sewn to the bodice massage my fingertips. I swallow down the tiny bit of jealousy that it isn’t me standing on the pedestal and glance at Mrs. Covington. She holds up two fingers behind Ellie’s back. Okay, dress number two is doable. Dress one is still my favorite, but, “I think no on that one.”

  “Agreed. I can’t breathe and it’s big, like too big.” Ellie gathers the dress off the ground and moves to the other two hanging on pegs. “This one. I’m sure of this one.” She rubs her fingers across the delicate lace on the winner. Dress number two.

  “Fantastic. Ms. Beck, see to it the dress is pressed and confirm on-site bustling and what have you the day of. Now hurry along, you two. I have business to—”

  “I thought we were having dinner,” Ellie says to Mrs. Covington.

  “We’ll reschedule, darling. You know how clients can be.” She adds a little laugh like the joke doesn’t apply to Ellie. We all know fully well, it does.

  Ellie withers like a tired balloon. “Maybe I can catch Dean before he gets to the restaurant.”

  I unzip the lace monstrosity and she tumbles out of the dress. I bag it like a corpse, which has me sweating buckets after fighting with the poufy skirt, then hang the three dresses near the front door. I wipe sweat from my forehead.

  “Ready?” Quinn pokes his head inside.

  “For a shower. Geez, that dress.” I fan my face.

  “Ms. Beck, please join me in my office a moment. Oh, Quincy . . . feel free to join us.” Mrs. Covington doesn’t look back, just expects us to follow. I do without question. Stupid sycophant.

  Quinn pulls out one of the chintzy chairs in front of Mrs. Covington’s ornate desk. I sit; he does the same. I glance at him, wondering if we’ve just been called to the principal’s office for making out in the hall. Or the dining room. Or his bedroom. Or the stairs. That’s what it feels like.

  Mrs. Covington settles in her overstuffed leather chair. “It has come to my attention that Eleanor and Katherine expect your attendance at the ball as a guest, not my assistant.”

  I’m pretty sure time stops, at least my heart does. Even my lungs refuse to work. I want to kill whoever suggested this. I kick my heart into gear. “I can work, I assure you.” I scoot to the edge of my chair and grip the edge of her desk. “Mrs. Covington, I might not blend as well as I should, but I promise you, my work comes first.”

  Quinn elicits a haughty, stiff laugh. “True. I vouch for that, but she’s going as my date.” He rises from the chair and holds his hand out for me to join him.

  Mrs. Covington looks down her nose at Quinn. Like she’s waiting for him to flinch from her powerful presence or run screaming the way I’d like to do. Hands flailing, voice fading, anything to get the hell out of this room. “Sit down, Quincy, for heaven’s sake.”

  He lowers into the chair.

  “Really, I don’t mind working. I’m terrible at the dances, and well, I probably would hold the wall up better.” I smile at Mrs. Covington, then squint my eyes at Quinn, daring him to push further.

  “Not happening. You’re my date or I’m not going. Or . . . if you’re working, I’ll work, too. I’d look good carrying a tray, wouldn’t I, Mom?”

  I growl internally. I’d rather tie his lips into a knot so he’ll quit digging me a hole.

  Mrs. Covington points at Quinn. “You will arrive in proper attire and do your speech. This is your sister’s wedding, and you will not do something cockamamie just to prove your preposterous point.” She turns to me. “Which means you’ll be his plus one to prevent a catastrophe.”

  “Agreed. Now was that so hard?” Satisfied, Quinn leans back in his chair and props his ankle on his knee like he’d come for what he wanted. And succeeded.

  “You knew you’d win this battle.” Mrs. Covington clicks her tongue.

  He smiles. “Learned from the best.”

  She stares at him admirably, then just as quickly the twinkle in her eye extinguishes. “Please give me a moment with . . . your date.”

  No, don’t! That’s a terrible idea. My stomach ties itself into a knot—a dagger-winged killer butterfly. Nothing like dying from the inside.

  “I’ll load the dresses.” He leans down and kisses my cheek.
r />   I sink in my chair. Ready to die. Ready to disappear or rewind about four weeks.

  “Charming, isn’t he?”

  “Not when he’s like that,” I mutter.

  “Something we agree on.”

  Did she just say that? I sit a little taller and await my punishment. Obviously she knows something more than something is up between us.

  “Just how involved are you two?” she asks.

  “It wasn’t my intention, but he’s persistent.” Sweat begins to form on my skin.

  “You’re a strong woman, Cassidy. The word ‘no’ surely is in your vocabulary.”

  My skin tightens beneath my collar and begins to itch. “I said it a lot, but it got to a point where ‘no’ started sounding . . . rude.” And wrong.

  I want to scratch my skin so bad and am sure hives have popped up all over my face and neck. “I’m fine with kitchen work and overseeing the caterers. Please, I’ll even park cars if you’d like.”

  “A dollar short and a day too late, Ms. Beck. Just . . . don’t interfere with family matters. None from the past, and none in the future. Understood?”

  I grab my purse off the floor and wring the handles, waiting for her dismissal.

  “Good day, Ms. Beck.”

  I scurry out before she changes her mind . . . about anything. Once I’m safe outside, I glance behind me at the pink house with the teal door and begonias on either side. The curtain shifts as it falls back into place, drawing my gaze toward the office windows.

  At least she didn’t say anything about present family matters.

  Ellie tucks the last hairpin into my twist. “You’ll dance with our guys first. Then our cousins are on call. Be polite. That means don’t say no to anyone, if you want on Momma’s good side.” Ellie slips a card into my embroidered wristlet and threads the strap onto my hand. “That’s your dance card. Don’t lose it.”

  Kat strikes my knee with her fan. “The guys know you aren’t comfortable with the dances, so let them lead.”

  “Can they lead me off the dance floor?”

  Kat laughs. “You’ll be fine just remember not to walk around unattended.”

  “And never dance with the same person twice.”