by Caitlyn Blue
Emma catches me looking and shifts the bag out of sight. “I doubt Julie and I carry the same sort of things.”
“Don’t you women all carry the same items?”
“Like what exactly?” Her lips soften into a crafty smile, a little naughty, a little challenging. The perfect blend to draw me in and get me thinking about what those lips might taste like.
“Wallet, lipstick, credit cards.” I run out of ideas.
“I suppose. What do men carry, besides the lipstick, that’s all that different?”
“Condoms.”
Her cheeks turn bright pink. I’m a big jerk for enjoying her discomfort.
“You don’t think girls carry condoms?” Her words are bold and I might’ve believed she was trying to flirt with me if not for the vertical line that appears between her eyebrows.
“Some girls do.” My gaze trails over her. “I’m gonna guess you’re not one of them.”
“Why?” The single word is packed with defensive annoyance.
She looks like a sexy 1950’s housewife in a full navy blue skirt with white polka dots and a matching blue sweater that molds to her breasts and makes my mouth water. The white lace apron, fastened around her waist, highlights her sensational hourglass figure. Four-inch heels bring her full lips to within kissing distance. She’s the sort of female a guy settles down with. Not my type at all.
“You and Julie are exactly the same. You both want to take your time getting to know someone before you commit. It took Paul six months to get her into bed.”
“It didn’t take you that long.”
Damn. She knows way more about her sister’s relationship with me than she should. I don’t know why I’m surprised that she knows when I slept with Julie. Back in those days, Emma was wildly curious about me. I might even go so far as to say I was her first crush. Not that I’d noticed her much at the time. When Julie and I broke up eight years ago, Emma was a sophomore and way too young for me. Besides, during those last few months of high school I had my attention focused on the future.
“How the hell do you know that?”
She shoots me a knowing look. “The game is starting,” she says, not answering my question before walking away.
Her purposeful strides quickly take her beyond my reach, but I stay where I am, enjoying the view, until she slips into the group and makes her way to a spot near her sister. There are five Callahan cousins at the party, ranging in age from twenty-four to twenty-six. All possesses the same wavy dark brown hair, but their eyes run the gamut from blue to olive to mocha.
“Is everybody ready?” Sarah stands in front of the fireplace between the straight-back chairs that contain the bride and groom. Her bright gaze tours her audience with barely concealed devilry. She pauses to allow the gathered group to respond and then turns to Julie. “First item?”
Julie pulls a lipstick out of her bulky purse. Every woman follows suit. I’m barely paying attention to the game. My attention is focused on Emma. That’s been happening a lot lately. I wish I understood why.
She’s not the sort of pretty I usually notice, and I’m not sure when I stopped thinking about her like the younger sister I never had. Maybe around the time when she started dating that Noah guy. During the year they went out, she gained confidence and became…sexy. Damned sexy. Damn.
“Paul?” Sarah prompts.
Paul pulls a driver’s license out of his wallet. Sam drops out. Several people give him questioning looks.
“My wallet got stolen last week,” he explains, and everyone’s attention shifts back to the engaged couple.
This time Julie brings forth a comb. Every woman stays in. There are about twenty people at the party and I expect this game could take a while. What I really want is another drink and maybe something to eat. But even as I consider pretending not to have the next item so I can drop out, I notice Emma is watching me. It’s as if she can read my mind because she raises her brows in a dare.
Fine. I let the thought appear in my expression as I pull out a credit card and show it to her. Her lips twitch even as her hand ducks into her large purse to pull out a travel-size package of tissues. She waggles it at me.
I counter with twenty bucks in cash.
She pulls out hand sanitizer.
I produce a business card from a lawyer. Her eyes widen at that one, giving me the opportunity to smirk.
When the next item out of Julie’s purse is a flash drive, I know I’ve won. This contest is no longer between me and the rest of our friends. I just want to beat Emma. Why I’m suddenly feeling so competitive with her, I have no idea.
The plastic blue and brown cupcake on Emma’s palm has captured the attention of the entire room, me included. With a smirk and a flourish, she pops the icing off the cake and reveals a flash drive. My eyes narrow. What sort of crazy novelty item is that?
Paul pulls out a photo of Julie and I know I’m screwed. There’s no nostalgic picture of me with my parents before their divorce or a group photo of my frat brothers from our annual fishing trip to Canada. I’ve never been one to keep things to look back on. I’m all about the future, not the past. I shake my head when everyone stares at me and I realize I’m the last guy standing.
The focus shifts to Julie and Emma. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost because there’s no way anyone can keep up with everything Emma must have packed into that bottomless purse. Then Julie catches me by surprise as out of her purse, comes a familiar square package.
The assembled crowd oohs appreciatively and all eyes turn to Emma. She glances from her grinning sister to the condom and then begins searching in her purse. Sarah and Gabby call out encouragement, but Emma is so focused that she doesn’t appear to have heard.
From what I’ve gleaned about Emma’s dating life from Paul, she hasn’t been seeing anyone since she broke up with Noah. And I’m pretty sure she’s not the type who’s trolling bars looking to hook up. The chance of her having a condom in that Mary Poppinsesque bag of hers is pretty unlikely. And if she can’t come up with a condom, then I still have a chance to win.
I don’t know why this is so important. I can be competitive, sure, but this is a party game at a coed bridal shower. Yet I find myself oddly jazzed when she looks up.
“No luck?” I taunt.
“Oh no,” she purrs. “I’m incredibly lucky.” Her gaze locks with mine, but there’s not the slightest trace of defeat in her eyes. “Or maybe I should say that…”
The triumph I was feeling a split second earlier fades. What is she up to? And then I see her hand slowly emerging from the bag.
“I like to…” She raises her eyebrows at me and finishes, “Get lucky.”
Her lips slide into a sexy come hither grin that kicks me in the gut. I reel beneath the blow. Sweet Emma is a fucking knockout and I want to devour every curvy, delectable inch of her. How did I not see this coming?
I blink twice without understanding why the entire room has erupted into laughter and catcalls. And then I focus on what she’s holding between her long slender fingers.
A bright red condom square.
Damn.
“Well played, Emma,” I murmur, impressed, intrigued, and totally turned on. “Well played.”
3
Emma
It’s nearly six, and the last of the wedding shower attendees left ten minutes earlier. The party was only supposed to run until five, but the present opening started late. I’m exhausted but aglow with satisfaction. Everyone exclaimed how much fun they’d had and how great the refreshments were. I’m feeling pretty damned smug.
“Oh my God, did you see the look on Zach’s face when you pulled out that condom?” Gabby crows as she sets empty party trays on the small table that occupies a sunny corner of the kitchen.
“Zach’s face?” Sarah counters with a laugh. “You should have seen how surprised Julie was. Does she think you don’t have sex?”
“I don’t,” I say, thinking about my year-long dry spell after I’d broken up with No
ah.
“Maybe you should think about hooking up with Zach,” Sarah suggests. “He sure seemed interested in you, and I don’t think he’s seeing anyone at the moment.” She turns to Gabby for confirmation.
I jump in before Gabby can speak. “He’s always seeing someone, just not for very long. Besides, he’s not my type.”
“Successful? Handsome?” Sarah asks. “Sexy?”
“Temporary.”
Yet there’s no denying the way he lights me up like a Roman candle. It tends to make me stupid around him. Like today. I felt compelled to beat him at the purse/wallet raid game. Maybe it was the way he goaded me. The guy is always competitive, but today he’d been actively trying to beat me. Me. Like I’d suddenly appeared on his radar and he was locked on.
Something hot and disturbing swirled through my veins.
“Damn it’s warm in here,” I say. “Sarah, do you mind cracking the window and letting some cool air in?”
Late March in Chicago is usually when we get a break from the snow and cold, but not this spring. The unusually rough winter refuses to give up. We had six inches of snow last week, and the leaden, gray clouds have kept the sun from melting any of it.
“When Evan and I get engaged, you are totally organizing the party and showers,” Gabby says to me as she fills plastic containers with the untouched hamburgers and brats. “Everything today was perfect.”
Everyone claims I throw the best parties. It’s because I really go all out with themes, from the food to the decor to the activities. And each party is perfectly matched to the person I’m throwing it for.
For example, when my cousin Brynn turned twenty-one, I organized a zip-line excursion followed by a pub crawl. It was the perfect adventure for my adrenaline-loving cousin who is all tomboy beneath the ultra-feminine attire she wears to work downtown.
“Of course I’ll plan all your parties,” I say, wondering if that day will ever come.
Gabby and Evan have been dating for three years and the guy is no closer to settling down than he was after their first date. She met him at Coastal Vibe. He’s the sous chef as well as Sam’s best friend.
The back door leading into the mudroom opens and an icy wind blows in with Brynn. “The trash is out,” she says, unwrapping a long scarf from around her neck and stepping out of her boots.
I share Grandma’s big Victorian house in Cedar Park with my cousins Gabby, Sarah, and Brynn. Grandma’s been in a nursing home for the past year and a half, and because its sentimental value is greater than its actual value—she grew up and raised her kids here—no one wants to sell the house.
Gabby is putting food into plastic containers. “We have tons of leftover burgers and brats. What’s with all the guys eating the canapés and drinking the cocktails?”
“Emma’s food was fantastic,” Sarah says, and then turning to Emma, “Too bad it kept you stuck in the kitchen all day.”
“It would’ve been worse if Brynn hadn’t helped me this morning.”
“That’s right.” Brynn wraps her arm round my neck, cutting off my breath. Brynn works out a lot and I’m not sure she knows how strong she is. “We’re a great team. While you two were still in bed, I was helping Emma make the salmon and cucumber twists, put the mixed cheese and fruit on the skewers, and stuffing the meatballs with mozzarella. Also, the chocolate and ginger brownies were mine.”
She smiles brightly at Sarah while I struggle to free myself from her near chokehold.
My phone buzzes. I break free of Brynn and scoop it off the counter. Why is Zach texting me? I bring up his message. It’s a picture of a condom.
You’ll find no one who does lucky better.
I roll my eyes. Thumbs dancing over the screen, I type a reply:
Don’t you mean who gets lucky better?
Now he sends me a photo with two condoms. I snort.
Please don’t send me a picture with one of those on your junk.
Shit. Had I just given him the idea to send me naked pictures of his penis?
It’s Saturday night. If you don’t claim one or both of these someone else is going to get the pleasure.
The guy should add self-esteem classes to his growing list of webinar topics for his online marketing classes. In addition to consulting with start-up companies, from what Paul tells me, Zach is raking in huge dollars with a sideline business that teaches people how to make money on the internet. I get the concept, but I prefer to make sales the old-fashioned way—face to face.
A vibration brings me out of my thoughts. I glance down at the screen.
Emma? Are you still there?
Feeling a bit needy, is he? I smirk as I type.
I’m sure there are hundreds of girls prowling the bars who’ll be thrilled to be tonight’s one-night stand.
The two-year torch I carried for Zach back in high school ended the night before prom as I watched my sister sob her eyes out after he broke her heart. He’d cheated on her, and once I found that out, my opinion of him was forever damaged.
“Who are you texting?” Gabby demands, snatching the phone from my hands before I can answer her. “Zach?” She scrolls through the messages. “Are those condoms? He really is too full of himself.”
“He has reason to be,” Brynn says. “He’s panty-dropping hot with a deep, gravelly voice that’s incredibly sexy. And his company makes ridiculous amounts of money.” She ticks each item off on her fingers. “He knows how to dress, order wine, and make a girl feel special.”
My blood has turned to ice. “And you know all that because…?”
“I run into him all the time at the gym. We talk.” Brynn gives me a dry look. “Don’t worry, he’s not my type.”
“Well, he’s not mine either.” I take my phone back from Gabby. “So you haven’t…” I don’t finish my thought.
Brynn laughs. “Hell no.”
“Because he’s a man whore?” Sarah prompts, the words sounding especially severe when paired with her sweet disposition.
“Man whore?” I echo, slightly dazed. “Did you really just say that?”
I always expect pretty words to come out of her mouth as if she’s the faery queen from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She’s made for Shakespeare soliloquies and musical theater. Man whore? I shake my head.
To my surprise, Gabby comes to Zach’s defense. “I don’t think he’s getting as much action as he lets everyone believe. In fact, as often as he comes into Coastal Vibe, I’ve never seen him leave with anyone.”
I’m suddenly intrigued. Turning to Brynn, I ask, “Then why such a vehement hell no?”
“It wasn’t directed at Zach in particular,” Brynn explains. “But rather at men in general.”
Brynn’s engagement abruptly ended three months earlier and the messy situation won’t go away as long as Brynn continues to work at Voyle Advertising. Her ex-fiancé is the son of one of the owners and a member of the account executive team that Brynn works with every day. I don’t know how she stays sane, except that she loves her job and is damned good at it.
“You know what they say about falling off a horse,” Gabby says. She’s a die-hard romantic. Which is why we’re so confused that she’s still seeing Evan. He’s not exactly a sweep-a-girl-off-her-feet sort of guy. “You should get back on as soon as possible.”
“Yes, but in my case,” Brynn reminds her, “I didn’t fall off. I was dumped. Hard. My bruised ego needs some time to heal.”
The rest of the conversation fades into the background as I revisit Zach’s texts. It’s weird to see him flirting with me. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s treated me like a kid sister. I really shouldn’t make too much of this. Zach’s default persona is charmer. Half the time, I wonder if he even knows what he’s doing.
I set the phone face-down on the counter and head into the living room to pull down the decorations, vacuum, and restore all the furniture to its proper place. When I return to the kitchen fifteen minutes later, the dishwasher is humming and my three cousins turn
guilty eyes in my direction.
“What?” My stomach plummets as I see my phone clutched in Sarah’s hand. “Give me that.”
Sarah hides it behind her back and puts a hand out to ward me off. “Before I do, I just want to say it was Gabby’s idea.”
“Hey!” Gabby glares at Sarah. “It might have been my idea, but you were the one who came up with the message.”
“What message?” My sick feeling increases as Brynn rolls her eyes.
“I told them not to, but they didn’t listen.” She’s the eldest and bossed us around when we were kids. She’s a year older than Gabby, and two years older than Sarah and me, but acts like there’s a decade between us. I think it bugs her that we’ve grown up and stopped listening to her.
“Told him not to do what?” I aim the question at her, anxiety flaring.
“They sent Zach a text.”
I narrow my eyes and look from Gabby to Sarah while my heart pumps so hard I can barely breathe. “What sort of a text?”
“Nothing bad,” Sarah says. “I told him you’d meet him at Gillies at eight.”
My stomach clenches in excitement. What is going on with me? I don’t want to have a drink with Zach. Do I? Of course not. He’s the perfect guy for flirting and casual sex, but that’s not the sort of thing I do. And yet, there is this year-long dry spell I’ve been going through. I haven’t found anyone who appeals to me enough to get naked with.
Chills sweep across my skin as I remember teenage Zach at my uncle’s cabin. He was all long, lean muscle back then. I spent months fantasizing about wrapping myself around him in the water and dreaming of his kisses. Late at night I’d knead my breasts and slide my hands between my thighs, imagining that it was Zach touching me.
“Emma?”
“Hmmm?” I blink and realize my three cousins are staring at me. What were we talking about? Oh, yes. I don’t want to meet Zach for a drink. “He’s going to think I’m interested in him,” I complain, putting on a show while I wonder what’s so wrong with that. I’m sure there are lots of guys who know I’m interested in them…as a friend. That’s all this has to be. A friendly drink between…friends. After all, we do have a combined bachelor/bachelorette party to plan. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”
