Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1)

by Bryan, Rebekah N.

  Cord seemed to take the hint. He claimed the seat two chairs away from Brit instead of the one right next to her. He was wearing gray swim trunks and a powder blue filmy t-shirt that set off his eyes.

  Through Britney’s dark sunglasses, she watched him with interest and waited for him to decide if he was going to go to the pool or hang out on his chair. He opted for the pool and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Opening one of the magazines on her lap, Brit pretended she wasn’t staring. He wasn’t ripped, per se, but he had a very pleasing physique with strong broad shoulders and a small waist and muscular legs.

  “Are you going in the pool?”

  His question gave Britney permission to look up at him and she admired the blond hair across his chest. “Maybe, eventually.”

  Cord shrugged and dove in and then proceeded to swim a couple laps from one end of the pool to the other.

  Brit all but forgot about the magazine on her lap and instead admired his athleticism.

  “Enjoying the view?” Rube sauntered by with a frothy drink in his hand. His pinky, which was adorned with a big gold ring, was in the air.

  “How could I not? This place is lovely.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, you naughty girl.” Rube flitted away with a dramatic swish of his hips. “Just enjoy yourself! Sit back and smell the rosé! No judgment!” he called behind him.

  Brit sighed and picked up the magazine. She didn’t put her headphones on yet though because if Cord came back out, she wanted him to know that he was welcome to talk to her if he wanted to. The four of them were the only ones in the pool from their party so far. Her dad didn’t care much for water in general. He preferred to be water adjacent, and that was more for the status symbol than actual enjoyment. As for Barbara and Lander, they were probably christening their room. One person Brit was surprised not to see yet was Vincent.

  The heat of the sun reminded Brit that if she wanted to stay one color without tan lines, she’d need to apply some of the sunscreen she brought. Digging around in her bag, she found the bottle and lathered the lotion on her legs and arms, glancing up to see if Cord had been watching. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she was seductively applying the lotion to her body to attract his attention, but that’s exactly what she was doing.

  Her plan paid off—he got out of the pool dripping wet—his hair a satisfying mess compared to his usual perfect coif. He grabbed a towel and dried off his chest as Brit ogled him behind her shades.

  “Hey,” he said, “do you mind if I use some of that? I forgot mine upstairs, and we pale people are prone to sunburns.”

  His skin was not an unhealthy pale, but it was also not the light tan of Brit’s or the light brown of Rube’s. Brit reached what she could of her back and handed him the tube.

  He took it, brushing her fingers as he did. “Do you need help with the rest of your back? Would that be crossing a line?”

  “No, Cord, I think we know each other well enough by now. Go ahead and get my back if you wouldn’t mind.” But it was weird. A little weird. In the sense that his hands were cool from the water when he touched her, which gave her a thrilling jolt. He used more pressure than he had to when applying the sunscreen. The mini massage was not unwelcome, and she allowed herself one little moan. “You want me to get you?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

  She took the tube back and applied a generous amount on his back and his waist and the top of his shoulders, applying a little extra pressure around his neck. She was half-tempted to offer to do his chest to have an excuse to run her hands over it, but even she wasn’t that bold. Instead, she watched and waited while he applied the rest to his chest, legs, and face.

  “How’s the water?” She tried to break her own embarrassing stare before he noticed.

  “Really nice, you should jump in.”

  “Maybe I will.” Brit sat on the edge of the pool and draped her legs over the side while Cord dove in beside her and then popped up with a mischievous grin while Brit hid her face from the splash of water. “You missed.”

  He slapped the water again, sending up a light stream in her direction. It wasn’t a huge wave—just enough to pay her back for teasing him. He leaned his elbows out of the pool inches away from her thighs.

  She had to say something to break the tension building up inside her. “Rube has no shame whatsoever.” She nodded to him back at the bar. “Walter’s sitting right there, and he’s pretty much ignoring him.”

  Cord didn’t bother to look. “Yeah, alcohol can make people do crazy things sometimes.”

  “It’s not even that. It’s just Rube being Rube.”

  “Hey, what are the dinner plans tonight?”

  “The first night, we always like to go to this place called Cabana’s. It’s Caribbean themed, so spicy jerk chicken, lots of seafood options, and a whole menu of mango drinks to make you really feel like you’re on vacation and out of the city.”

  “That sounds nice. You sure you don’t want to get wet before dinner?”

  “Maybe a little,” admitted Brit as she slipped the rest of her body into the pool.

  FOR DINNER, BRIT CHANGED into a filmy cotton maxi dress and joined her group at a table under a large straw-roof that sheltered the restaurant. The air smelled faintly of coconut as if they piped in the scent through the fans above them. A warm breeze kept her comfortable as she sipped a virgin mango beverage while everyone else imbibed.

  Vincent drained his fourth or fifth margarita and clinked his fork against the empty glass in syncopated rhythm. “Hey, Lander, how many instruments can you play?” he called from around Barbara.

  “How many can you name?”

  “Oooh! Give me a beat, brother.”

  Lander drummed his hands on the table and beat-boxed, and Brit whipped out her phone to document the moment. With the rhythm section in place, Vincent busted out a half-rap, half-song about whatever he saw around the restaurant. Rube joined and clapped along, and Lonnie chimed in with some oohs matched by Cord and harmonized by Barbara. Nearby tables clapped along with Rube, enjoying the impromptu concert that ended with a twirl and a curtsy from their waitress bringing a bounty of food to the table.

  Lonnie settled the bill as soon as everyone had finished stuffing themselves and threw another hundred on the table for anyone else who wanted to stay for another round. Brit had been seated on the bench side of the table next to her dad. A row of chairs lined the other side with two extra added to the ends to accommodate their large group. Now that Lonnie wasn’t filling the space to her right, there was an awkward gap between the end of the bench and Cord, who was seated in a chair at the head of the table.

  “Care to join me?” Brit patted the empty space on the bench beside her.

  Cord squeezed into the spot next to Brit and across from Vincent, a spot which somehow had grown smaller since Lonnie left. Cord’s narrow hips fit perfectly next to Brit’s round ones. The entire length of their thighs were touching. They were so close that Brit could feel the muscles in his legs tense and release every time he moved.

  “What was the club like back in the day?” asked Vincent.

  “Rube has some pretty good stories,” said Barbara.

  “Tell us one of your old tales, Rube,” encouraged Lander. “What was it like back in the day?”

  Rube found his fruity beverage empty when he tried to take another sip and only drew up air. Before he began his story, he signaled to the waitress to bring him another.

  “The year was 1992 or ‘93. Was it ‘92 or ‘93 that the Jays won the World Series?”

  “That was both years, man!” said Lander with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “Well, one of those years. The first time, I think.” Rube was slurring now, and his eyes blinked rapidly like they were trying to focus. “The celebration was scheduled to take place at the club. Snow performed that night. Remember Snow?”

  They all nodded except Vincent.

  “The place was packed.
Some of the Jays were supposed to make an appearance, but they didn’t. We had a big screen and projected the game on a screen behind the band. Every time the Jays scored a run, everyone would cheer and take a shot.

  “The cops came a few times to try to shut it down at about four and five in the morning. But a few of them just stayed and partied with us. Nowadays they probably would have gotten investigated for their behavior, but it was the highest of highs.

  “The biggest names in Canada were at this party—athletes, actors, musicians, and politicians. It was a regular Who’s Who in addition to everyone who had paid top dollar to be there with them. Everyone was dressed in their finest red, white, and blue attire. At the end of the night, everything dissolved into one big orgy. It was the most money we ever made in one night if I remember correctly. Working the VIP tables, it was the highest class tail I’ve ever gotten in one night. That’s when we got our feature in the American Rolling Stone magazine—the one that’s hanging up in Lonnie’s office.”

  A small crowd had gathered to hear Rube’s story when he started dropping names in his rant. The crowd cheered, including everyone at their table, and took shots for Oh, Canada!

  “And with that, I bid you adieu.” Rube excused himself from the table, taking Walter by the hand. There was a round of applause as he bowed and then stumbled, then curtsied, then walked out, but not before planting a kiss on the mouth of their waitress as he went.

  “Well,” said Brit, “that was some vintage Rube, and I am darn glad I was here to see it.” She saluted.

  “Almost makes you want to start drinking, doesn’t it?” asked Lander.

  Brit laughed. “That solidified my resolve not to drink in public.”

  “Yeah, after that show, I kind of want to stop drinking too,” Barbara agreed.

  Lander squeezed her waist. “No, you keep drinking. You get horny when you’re drunk.”

  “And that, folks, is another episode of TMI from Barbara and Lander.” Brit made her voice sound like a game show host.

  “In a little while, Dear. You’ll get lucky tonight, don’t worry.”

  “Speaking of TMI and getting lucky...” Vincent’s tan face was illuminated by the light of his phone. “These are hot, Brit.”

  Brit blinked at the bright screen when he shoved it in her face. A dark photo of her in her bedroom mirror with nothing but a black censored bar covering her private parts stared back at her.

  “What the hell, Vincent? Where’d you find that?” She snatched the phone away to delete the photo, but it wasn’t only a photo. It was a whole article on a website.

  “I have a Google alert on my name. I get notifications whenever someone posts about me.”

  “You’re in the article, too? Why?” She flicked her finger, and the screen whizzed to the top. The source had linked her to Vincent and had pictures of the two of them on their CN Tower tour.

  “What’s going on?” Cord leaned over to see Vincent’s phone, but Brit covered it.

  Vincent took his phone back and admired the picture again. “Come on, what famous daughter doesn’t have nude pics leaked? You’re in an elite club now.”

  “A club I didn’t want to be in.” She slunk down in her chair. It felt like the whole bar was watching her, and the dress she had selected that clung to her curves now felt like it exposed them. Cord definitely was watching her with a look of concern, along with everyone else at the table.

  “You guys want to get out of here?” asked Barbara.

  “I’ll come up for a nightcap,” said Brit. “Maybe I’ll have a sip of wine if you have it. I’m going to need to drink something after all this.”

  “I’m sure our mini bar has some wine.”

  “I’m in for that, what the hell,” said Cord.

  “Yeah, me too. I’m always up for a nightcap,” said Vincent.

  Brit wished Barbara would rescind her invitation from Vincent after he had seen more of her than she ever wanted him to see.

  THE FIVE TOOK A CAR back to the resort and followed Barbara and Lander to their room. The three singletons exchanged glances as to whether this was a good idea or whether they actually were entering into some sort of gross orgy.

  “If it gets weird, I’m out,” said Brit. “I’d be fine with Lander, in theory, but that’s my sister, and that’s disgusting.”

  “Well, I’m not blood related to either of them.”

  Brit’s mouth dropped at Cord’s uncharacteristically inappropriate talk.

  “I’m down for whatever,” said Vincent to no one’s surprise. “Only if Brit stays too.”

  Cord and Brit exchanged a glance that Brit couldn’t quite read.

  Lander let them into the room, cracked open the mini bar, and poured everyone a splash of champagne. He raised his glass. “This is in celebration of our time together and also for the new artist I’ve taken under my wing, which I think Brit-nay will be especially jacked about.”

  “Is that official now?” asked Brit.

  “Yes, he should be coming in for meetings soon. J.J.’s got this whack schedule that I haven’t been able to figure out. It should happen in the next month or so. At least it better.”

  “That is so exciting. He’s going to be a huge asset to you guys, I just know it. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “He does seem like your type,” said Barbara.

  “I don’t know what my type is anymore,” said Brit, averting her eyes to avoid Cord’s and Vincent’s.

  It wasn’t long before Lander and Barbara were pawing at each other, and Brit decided to call it a night. Vincent was in the next room over, and Brit was very happy it wasn’t hers with all the noise sure to be coming out of the adjacent room. Cord and Brit were at the other end of the hallway, so Cord walked Brit to her room.

  “I really do think he’s got a crush on you,” Cord said again. “He wanted to have an orgy with you and your sister, for crying out loud.”

  “I didn’t hear you turning that down either, Cord.”

  “I was joking. I don’t think he was.”

  Brit considered this for a moment. “You might be right. I’m going to bring up Daisy again at breakfast. I haven’t been talking her up enough, and I told her I would. It’s going to be an all Daisy breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  AND BRIT DELIVERED. The next morning at breakfast at the resort, whenever Vincent said anything mildly suggestive or would lean a little too close to Brit, she would wonder about how Daisy was doing, or compliment Daisy’s perfect skin or her hair or beautiful big eyes. Or say something about her cute little figure. She pressed and pressed until Vincent agreed to all these things.

  “Yes, Daisy is a really cute girl.”

  Then Brit felt she had done her job, and she could enjoy the rest of her vacation.

  Because the group had to leave at different times, Lonnie arranged for cars to drive instead of the party bus this time. Lonnie and Cord had a meeting to get back for, so they left first. Barbara and Lander were staying later because they wanted some more alone time. Brit, Vincent, Walter, and Rube were supposed to share a car leaving at noon. However, Rube and Walter decided to extend their stay too and promised to find their own ride back. This left Vincent and Brit together alone. If Cord had known about this, he would’ve given her crap about it. The last thing she needed was him saying, “I told you so.”

  Brit was excited for another opportunity to talk up Daisy. Once Brit had the trunk loaded, she climbed in the car next to Vincent, who immediately raised the window between them and the driver. She had to throw Daisy’s name out there as fast as she could.

  “Daisy really likes you.” She crossed her arms over her chest to show that it was not her whom he should be pursuing.

  “Daisy is a lovely girl, and I had a lot of fun with her. She has a hot little bod, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s not someone I see myself with. I see myself with someone more like you.” He opened up his body so that his arm was on the back of the seat with his knee propped up toward Brit. He
was as close as he could be to her without actually touching her.

  “Someone like me, or me?” Brit clarified. “Because I have other friends I could set you up with if Daisy is not your type, although I think she’s great and perfect for you.” She was rambling.

  “It’s you, Brit Byers. It was always you. I’m surprised you didn’t see that. I really thought we had a connection.” His fingers traveled across the back of the seat and touched a lock of Brit’s hair that happened to fall out of her messy bun.

  She had not gotten dolled up for the long car ride home today. She hadn’t seen the point in it, but she was wearing a sundress, which she regretted at the moment. Vincent was small, and Brit was pretty sure she could take him if she had to. She slapped Vincent’s hand away.

  “I’m not into you like that. I like you as a friend. There’s never going to be anything between us.”

  He scooted closer to her and put his arm all the way around her, now moving his nose close to her ear and breathing on her neck. “Are you sure?”

  She gave him a huge shove to the other side of the seat. “No!” she said loudly enough so the driver would hear.

  The driver cracked the window. “Everything OK back there?”

  “Leave the window open, please.”

  He opened the window the rest of the way, and Vincent slumped to his side of the car. They stayed silent for the rest of the ride while they listened to the driver’s choice of country music.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BRIT WOKE UP WITH AN uncomfortable feeling in her gut. She had done Daisy wrong by setting her up with Vincent, someone who had wanted Brit all along. Deep down, she had to admit she had an inkling, but what guy wouldn’t like Daisy? Come on. Although she should talk to Daisy first, Brit decided to head to the club.

  She threw on the first thing she could find—a black jersey maxi dress that had been in her reject pile for Muskoka and her espadrilles from the trip that had spilled out of her suitcase. Her hair looked...fine...OK enough to be holed up in her father’s office.