by Tessa Teevan
Me?
Nope. Not even for a split second.
Still, it’s not like I’m going to start talking her at work, so I try other methods of hopefully running into her.
That’s why I’m currently in Sawyer’s office, trying to schedule a round of golf.
“Couldn’t we have done this over the phone, Wellington?” he asks, tapping his pen on his desk impatiently.
I shrug, feigning indifference. “I’ve been scouring over contracts all week and I needed to stretch my legs. Since you’re not that far away, I thought I’d just stop in and ask if you were available. Two birds, one stone.”
Sawyer sits back and stares at me as if I’m a stranger and not someone he’s played golf with once a month for the past three years.
“Who is she?” a teasing, feminine voice asks behind me.
I turn toward the pretty brunette standing behind me, the door to Sawyer’s office open. I give her a wry smile. “Now, Cheyenne, why would you think there’s a woman involved? It’s just us men playing golf.”
Her brow rises as she walks around her fiancé’s desk. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gives him a squeeze. Then she picks his cell up and waves it at me.
“Now, Shane, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve walked into Wellsley-Callahan.” She holds one finger up. “The first time, it was because Sawyer shared on Instagram the bottle of whiskey I bought him.”
Ah, fond memories of that whiskey. Hey, when a guy sees a photo of a hard to find whiskey, he does what he can to get some. “What can I say? You have fantastic taste in scotch.”
Sawyer looks to his fiancé, then back at me. “I was only trying to show everyone what a fantastic girlfriend you were.”
She rolls her eyes. “You were bragging to your Insta-friends.”
I interject. “As said Insta-friend, I took it as an invitation. I’d walk through fire for good scotch.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she responds then places a hand on her hip. “Now, you’re here under the guise of scheduling golf. A lame excuse, Wellington. Plus, there was that mystery girl in the lobby whose name you’d never tell me. Tell me the truth. Who’s the girl?”
I could make something up. I could brush her off. I could. Yet I don’t. “Alyssa Covingt—” I barely get her name out before Sawyer stands, placing his fists on his desk and staring at me with unamused eyes.
“No.”
It’s one simple word. One simple word I hate.
“Uh…”
“No,” he reaffirms. “I don’t know—and I don’t care—what your game is here, Shane, but Alyssa Covington’s a good girl, and you’re not going there.”
I’m about to protest when Cheyenne places her hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. “Sawyer, when have you ever known Shane to mistreat a woman?”
He scowls. “Never. He hasn’t kept one long enough to treat her in any way.”
That’s fair. And accurate.
Cheyenne’s eyes meet mine. Then she places herself at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. The interest in Sawyer’s expression has me wanting to leave, but as Cheyenne guessed, I have plans here.
“Babe, isn’t that how you were before we reconnected?” she asks, and damn, I have to give it to her. She’s got balls.
Sawyer’s scowl tells me she’s right.
“Sawyer, I admit, I’m a bit of a commitment-phobe.”
His scowl deepens. Wrong thing to say.
“What I meant is I never planned to settle. The women I was with knew it. Now?”
Cheyenne raises a dark eyebrow and interrupts. “Now?”
“I met someone who’s changed my plans.”
The Callahan glower deepens when his fiancée sighs. She pinches his nipple. I flinch in solidarity.
Sawyer, unfazed, grips her wrist and pulls her into his lap. “Let’s say you have changed. What am I supposed to think about my rival CFO sniffing around one of my accountants when Filiatrault is putting both our finance teams under extreme scrutiny?”
God dammit. I was hoping that part would slip his mind.
He continues. “That’s got to be some sort of conflict of interest, even if I can’t think of what.”
I raise an eyebrow at the woman in his lap. “You’d be the one to know all about conflicts of interest, wouldn’t you, Callahan?”
When his gaze narrows, I’m quick to continue.
“If I wanted to use a woman to get the details of what Wellsley-Callahan is doing, I could’ve done so a long time ago.”
It’s cocky, I know, but it’s the truth.
“Is that so?” he replies, and I realize it was the wrong way to phrase that.
“We both know it,” I tell him, and Cheyenne nods her agreeance. Yep, she’s getting the most expensive thing on her wedding registry. “Plus, do you really think I’m the kind of man who would use a woman to get ahead?”
His gaze narrows, but then he sighs. “Of course not. It’s the only reason we’re still having this conversation. But the thing is, I’m not a matchmaker, Wellington. I’m in charge of keeping the business running, just like you.”
I turn my gaze to Cheyenne. “That’s where you come in.”
She claps her hands together. “Oh, fantastic! If there’s one thing I know, it’s marketing.” She pauses, raking her gaze up and down my body. “And, with you, I have a feeling my job is going to be very, very easy.”
Sawyer glances between us and groans at the beaming grin on her face. “I suppose I have no choice. But I’m warning you. Hurt her and the rivalry between Wellsley and your father will seem like nothing compared to what I’ll do to you.”
I grin because that’s one threat that’ll never come to fruition.
I’VE BEEN dreading this day ever since Benjamin Cunningham put a ring on my sister’s finger. It’s the night of the rehearsal dinner, and in less than twenty-four hours, I’m not quite gaining a brother-in-law. Instead, it feels more like I’ll be losing a sister.
It’s been two months since the night at the wine bar. Two months that I’ve tried broaching the subject about Ariana’s upcoming wedding. Two months that I’ve watched her smile lessen with each passing day.
And two months spent trying to avoid Shane Wellington as much as I could, even though Cheyenne somehow found out about us and started a campaign in favor of him.
I have to give him credit. He started off slow. An apparent internet sleuth in his time off, he was quick to find all of my social media accounts, giving me a follow on several. His Facebook friend request sat unanswered for three weeks before I had too much wine and felt the urge to creep on his profile. Hey, he added me, so all’s fair, right?
It apparently gave him the courage to move things along.
First, there were flowers. I have no idea why he suddenly decided to stop giving me space. I just know that, two weeks after the escape at the wine bar, a gorgeous bouquet of tulips showed up at my office.
The things I’d do to get between those tulips. -SW
If Shane had been trying to send my mind racing back to the night we’d spent together, he definitely succeeded. I suddenly found a greater appreciation for the flower.
Next, I found myself signing for a case of Ollie’s most exceptional red wine with a note attached.
I don’t fancy wines; I prefer moans. Specifically yours. -SW
My cheeks must have flushed a deep pink, because two seconds later, Bryan snatched the card out of my hands, whistling as he read the words.
“Wow, those flowers are gorgeous!” Cheyenne exclaimed, her Southern drawl exaggerated on every single word.
To be honest, I’d barely noticed the bright sunflowers that’d accompanied the wine because I was too busy imagining Shane and his preference for moaning.
I turned to her in surprise, my mouth still open as she took the card from Bryan.
“Who is this mystery suitor, SW?” she asked, rereading the card then waving her hand. “It doesn’t matter. He sounds perfect.”
<
br /> I quirked an eyebrow at her, incredulous. “He sounds perfect from one single line?”
“Of course. Cori and I always say humor is one of the greatest qualities in a man. I mean, seriously. A man who can make you laugh is just so sexy.”
Bryan snorted, “Can we not?”
Cheyenne gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Bry,” she whispered softly.
Yeah, there’s still no reconciliation in sight for those two.
“Anyways, I’m just saying… He’s obviously into you. He’s funny and isn’t afraid to make a fool of himself with cheesy—yet not overused—pickup lines.”
I couldn’t argue with that, especially since I was attracted to every single inch of the man in question. If Cheyenne only knew.
That was a week ago, and I wanted to contact him. Say thanks…with my words. My mouth. Or perhaps other body parts.
But, with Ariana’s upcoming wedding, I couldn’t find the right moment to decide what to do.
I just have to get through this weekend, and maybe I’ll give in.
Okay, I’m totally giving in.
First things first, however. That’s somehow getting through the weekend while watching my sister pledge her life to a weasel of a man and hope I’m wrong.
As I’m walking towards the hotel bar, I see Ariana stopped just outside the door, looking entirely too conspicuous. She sees me approaching and holds a finger to her lips. I frown but comply, tiptoeing towards her so my heels don’t click along the ceramic tile floor.
“Benjamin, you’ve done it, my boy.”
The booming voice is Benjamin’s father, but what I don’t understand is why Ariana’s eavesdropping. I also don’t understand why her face is red or who the daggers in her eyes are aimed toward.
“Mother was right. Ariana will be the perfect trophy wife. And once she’s pregnant with my heir, it’ll only be a matter of time before Covington names me his successor. After all, he has no sons and it’s not as if Alyssa’s…”
He practically spits my name, as if it’s left a bad taste in his mouth. My blood boils, and just as I’m about to burst into the room, Ari’s hand latches on to my arm. Apparently, she’s heard enough. I have no idea how long she’s been standing here or what all he’s said, but from the anger in her eyes, I didn’t hear the worst of it.
“No. Allow me.”
I raise an eyebrow, wondering if I’m about to witness the showdown I’ve been waiting so damn long for. “By all means, lead the way.”
Ariana strolls into the bar like the freaking queen of England. I’m amazed she’s keeping it together. The anger’s faded to a look of indifference. Me? I don’t merely want to chop his balls off. No, I want to take a filet knife and slice away, bit by painful freaking bit, until he’s writhing on the floor in agony.
I come to a stop behind Ariana when she reaches the two jackasses. She places one hand on her hip and gives Benjamin a lethal stare.
“Don’t stop on my account, Benjamin. Please continue. I’d love to hear all about how this trophy wife is going to help secure your place in the Covington line. How I’m the key to your wealth. How the only reason you want to have a child with me is to basically bribe my father.”
I have to give it to him. He’s good. Benjamin doesn’t even flinch at her words. Nope, he practically dismisses them.
“Darling, it’s not that at all. You must just be getting nerves before the wedding. Why don’t you go up to your room and I’ll send up a bottle of the hotel’s finest champagne? Tomorrow, we’ll be wed and you can put all of this stress behind you.”
It’s uncanny. He hardly even sounds human, let alone a man about to be married to the love of his life.
Benjamin steps forward, but Ariana takes a step back, stopping him in his tracks. “No, Benjamin. I think you’re sorely mistaken. If you think I’m going through with this farce of a wedding, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
I’m amazed at the shock that crosses his features. It melts into humiliation, and I’m pretty sure this man has never been humbled before in his life. His father clears his throat, and then I see the anger in Benjamin’s eyes. A second later, it’s as if he’s donned a mask. He chuckles, walks towards Ariana, and places a kiss on her cheek. He pulls back, staring down into her eyes.
“I have a few things to do before the rehearsal tonight.” It’s as if she hadn’t just told him the wedding was over. “I’ll see you later.”
And just like that, Benjamin and his father walk out of the bar like nothing happened.
I race to the open door and yell insults about his anatomy loud enough for everyone on the premises to hear.
The jerk doesn’t even flinch, so I toss out a few more expletives to no avail.
Ariana gapes after him, and I’m right here with her. Did he seriously think he could kiss her on the cheek and make everything better?
Of course he did.
What a freaking tool.
My sister, with her head held high, walks back to her room. It’s not until I close the door behind us that she crumples to the ground.
“Just breathe, Ari,” I whisper, rubbing soft circles on my sister’s back.
I wait as she takes a deep breath. Her shoulders rise and fall in rhythm with her breathing, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
Because, even though I knew to expect something like this from Benjamin, I currently imagine all the ways I can disembowel the man who broke my sister’s heart the night before her wedding.
My thoughts return to the present when my sister’s face lifts and she meets my eyes. I want to cheer at the resolve staring back at me.
“I can’t do this.” She pauses, shaking her head. “No. I won’t do this.”
Hallelujah!
I could jump up and cheer, but for my sister’s sake, I remain seated and calm even though I’m screaming in my mind. Ariana is trying to compose herself, so I keep silent while she works through this in her head.
“What the hell was he thinking? This is the twenty-first century for crying out loud. It’s not like I came with a dowry! And who calls their children heirs anymore?” she cries, and I’m reminded of the historical romance binge she’s been on for the past few months. “I mean, really. A trophy wife? Me?”
One side of my mouth quirks up into a half grin. “Ari, that just goes to show you that Benjamin doesn’t know you. He never did.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re strong, even if you don’t realize it. The important thing is that you haven’t realized it too late.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” she says, rising to her feet.
I watch in silence as she smooths out the skirt of her dress, places her purse over her shoulder, and heads for the door. I follow her into the elevator and straight out of the hotel to her car. Ariana glances into the back seat, and she smiles a genuine, relieved smile. When I see two suitcases there, I have a feeling I know what she’s doing.
“Where will you go?” I ask.
Ariana’s eyes meet mine, and I realize that it doesn’t freaking matter where she goes as long as it’s far from here. “Anywhere.” She shrugs. “Somewhere far away from Atlanta where our parents—and probably his—can’t try and talk me into marrying him. I just need to get away. Regroup. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but can you cover for me? You know how William and Victoria have been waiting for this day to come, and now, it’s just going to be one more disappointment for them.”
If I weren’t so happy for her, I’d roll my eyes. This might be the first time in her life she’ll will do anything even resembling disappointment.
The devil on my shoulder is rubbing her hands together with maniacal glee. Oh, I’ll handle this, all right.
I place a hand on her shoulder and give her a reassuring squeeze. “You got it, sis. I’ll handle everything from here. Just promise to call me when you get where you’re going.” I bring my forehead to hers and look into her eyes. “And for the record, I’ve always thought you were too good f
or him. I’m glad you see that now, too. I love you.”
Tears well in Ari’s eyes as she musters a smile. “I love you, too. And I appreciate it, Lyssa. I’ll call as soon as I get settled.”
Just as Ariana’s peeling out of the parking lot, Benjamin, with his father hot on his heels, runs out of the hotel, yelling after her.
“Sorry, Benny,” Ariana yells out of her open window. “Looks like you’ll have to find another trophy wife.”
And just like that, my sister’s gone.
I’M HAVING the most delicious dream about tulips, pool boys, and endless orgasms when Shane’s suddenly serenading me with a sexy rendition of INXS’s “Need You Tonight.” The image of him fades and I wake only to realize it’s my phone, not the man in bed with me.
My sister’s name is on the caller ID. It’s the middle of the night though, and I wonder where she’s been. Where she ended up.
“Ari? Is that you?” I ask.
“Hey, Lyss.”
All drowsiness washes away at the sound of her scratchy voice. I sit up in bed, turning on the lamp on my nightstand. “Ari? Are you okay? You sound strange.” That’s when I notice the beeping in the background and the sound of distant voices. “What’s that beeping noise?
“I’m okay. I promise. Look, don’t freak out…”
I cut her off, doing just that. “Oh my God! Ariana Genevieve Covington! You cannot run off from your wedding, taking off to who knows where, and not answer your phone for hours only to call me in the middle of the night and tell me not to freak out. I’ve been alternating between cheering you on and freaking out since you left!”
It’s the truth. Sure, Ari’s an adult and can take care of herself. I just worried about her state of mind, you know, after calling off the wedding she’s been preparing for for the better part of five years. I tried not to bug her, but after two hours, I couldn’t help myself. Except every single call went to voicemail and every text message was left unanswered.
