At least I spent the day with Mae. With ten other people around and stuck in a kayak for most of it, but I got eight hours in her presence, watching the way her face lights up when she smiles or laughs, listening to her funny jokes, and guiding her to confront her fears. No matter what happens after this wedding, I’ll always have today.
Before returning the vans and equipment to our garage in Aspen, we need to drop the women off at the spa in Glenwood where they’re spending the night.
If I had my way, I’d whisk Mae away from the group and bring her back with me. From her snarky responses and the few eye rolls I caught throughout the day, she isn’t really into the whole bachelorette weekend. Can’t blame her. I stuck close to her and Zoe most of the day because they seem the most sane and least grabby of the bunch.
Part of me feels bad for sticking Mitch and Steve with the wildest of the bunch. Mitch’s heading to his first semester of college in a few weeks and is too young for these women. Steve’s happily married and wears a thick gold band on his finger. That leaves me as the prime target. You’d think my shaggy appearance would deter the stares and casual touches. Yeah, right.
“We’re here,” I announce as I make the turn into the hotel’s entrance. Not easy to navigate the hotel’s driveway with a trailer, but I manage to find a strip of sidewalk where we can park both vans.
In the middle row, Mae and Zoe stretch and yawn, slowly waking up from their naps. The two women in the back never slept. Instead, they’ve spent the short drive staring at their phone screens.
Next to me, Twyla grumbles about needing a real nap. “This tiara is giving me a headache.”
“You can always stop wearing it.” Mae’s hand appears on her shoulder. “We’ll make sure everyone knows you’re getting married. Even if we have to write ‘bride’ on your forehead with a Sharpie.”
I press my lips together to keep myself from laughing.
“You’re funny, Mae. I have a sash to wear, too,” Twyla says, happily, unbuckling her seatbelt.
Meeting Mae’s eye in the rearview mirror, we share a moment. She mouths “help me,” and I reconsider my idea of driving away with her. If she pretends she’s sick, it would be natural she’d want to go home and sleep in her own bed. Or mine.
If I had one.
There’s not a chance in hell I’d bring her back to Landon’s.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask Mae, giving her an opening. “If you’re sick, you can catch a ride back to Aspen with us.”
Studying my face, she slowly nods her head. “I’m fine.”
Because she didn’t take my out, I resolve to not make a move until after the wedding and once I have my own place.
Sounds like a solid plan.
The guys are already pulling bags from the back of the van when I get out. For an overnight where most of their time will be spent in spa robes, there’s an impressive amount of luggage. Mitch struggles with one bag that must be heavier than it looks.
“What do you have in here?” he asks when he sets it on the curb.
“It’s probably stuffed with micro penis straws and inflatable pink dicks,” Mae explains, loudly. A frazzled mother covers her son’s ears as she passes us. Mae laughs. “Don’t be offended, it’s a bachelorette weekend. We’re not kinky Russian hookers here for a sex convention. See my cousin’s tiara? She’s the bride.”
Twyla hisses at her to be quiet while Zoe and I laugh.
“Russian hookers?” I ask, holding Mae’s backpack for her. “Pretty specific.”
Her eyes widen and she clamps both hands over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean we were your hookers. I mean, I don’t know why I would even say anything about kinky sex workers who may or may not be from Eastern Europe. Not my place to judge. No one told me anything. I swear. I’m going to stop talking now and go stand over there.”
She follows her promise by walking away and straight into the hotel entrance without looking back.
Frowning, I wait for her to turn around to get her bag, the one I’m still holding. Did she say my hookers?
“What was that about?” I ask Zoe, who appears as confused as I am.
“No idea. I know she really hates penis straws. Had a mini rant about them before the bridal shower.”
“Traumatic experience?” I’m even more lost, trying to make a connection between bachelorette accessories and prostitution.
Mae comes back, pushing a luggage cart. She gives me a shy, sheepish smile. “Ignore me. Sometimes I say inappropriate, random things.”
“No problem.” I don’t ask for clarification because she seems embarrassed, and I don’t want to add to that. Sometimes people get weird when they’re coming down off of a big blast of adrenaline.
“I had a great day. It’s so cool you’re getting back to your roots after everything you’ve been through.” She lunges for me and wraps her arms around me in a tight squeeze.
Shocked by her full body contact, I stumble back a step before catching my balance. Laughing, I glance over her head to see if anyone is paying attention to us. Thankfully, no one is standing around us, jaws on the ground. Safe from creating a scandal, I return her hug, instinctually pulling her closer. This feels right. She fits against me like she belongs here. With me. Reluctantly, I let her go.
When she releases her hold and steps away, I want to draw her close again. “Thanks. I had a good day, too. It’s good to see you again.”
Can I say good more? Being this close to her erodes my vocabulary.
“Me too.” She blinks up at me with her lips parted, her chest rapidly rising and falling.
I recognize her expression. She wants to be kissed. And I want to be the man who kisses her, more than she probably realizes. However, I’m not going to do it here in front of this audience. I made a pact with myself to wait and I don’t break promises to myself.
Instead of leaning down and sucking on her full bottom lip like I want, I step away with a friendly squeeze to her shoulder.
“Good to see you again, Zoe.” I nod at her friend.
“You too. You’re officially my favorite Roberts brother. Expect to see me back on the river soon.”
“Any time.” I let my attention drift back to Mae.
Twyla steps forward and hugs me, discreetly handing me an envelope I assume holds a cash tip for us. “Thank you for making our day special. Consider yourself invited to the wedding. If you’re in town in three weeks, I’m expecting you to attend.”
“I’ll be here.”
After receiving hugs from both Mae and Twyla, the rest of the women come forward and create an awkward receiving line, hugging me and then Mitch and Steve. I try to bend forward to keep the body contact to a minimum. I’m mostly successful, only being squeezed by one or two of the bridesmaids.
Over the top of the final woman’s head, I spot Mae grinning at me. She may not be saying I told you so aloud, but her eyes and smile clearly communicate the thought.
I’ll suffer through hugging and groping at the hands of an exuberant bachelorette weekend if it means I can see Mae’s beautiful face light up with amusement.
I’m so doomed.
Exhausted from the day, all I want to do when I get back to the apartment is crash. Mitch rides with me while Steve drives the other van. We’re quiet and zoned out on the ride to Aspen. When we pass the turn to Landon’s apartment, I momentarily consider pulling over and letting Mitch take the gear to the garage on his own. Then I remember I’m the lead boatman and it’s my responsibility.
Time’s funny. Closing my eyes, I can easily imagine myself as Mitch—young, eager, and clueless. Hell, at thirty, I’m still mostly clueless. I guess the difference is now I know how much I don’t know.
It’s another ninety minutes before I walk through the door of the apartment. Inside, I find Landon and Easley sprawled on the couch, eating pizza, drinking beer, and playing a first-person shooter video game.
Another reminder that despite our age, we’re not that far away fr
om being teenagers. Although I’m not sure my brother and his roommate will ever grow up.
“Hey, did you save any pizza for me?” I peel back the lid of the pizza box and find only crust.
“Didn’t know if you’d be home,” Landon mutters, not glancing away from the television.
“You could’ve had a hot date.” Easley’s gaze flicks over to the pizza box. “You can have the crust, if you want.”
“Gee, thanks.” Closing the box, I head for the kitchen. Not sure what I’ll find to eat, but it has to be better than food that’s been touched by their mouths.
“If you’re looking for the chips and salsa, we ate those after the match earlier,” Landon calls out.
“And the frozen burritos,” Easley adds with a burp.
I open the fridge and stare at the shelves empty of edible food, wondering if I can make a meal from yellow mustard, a questionable jar of mayonnaise, beer, and three lonely slices of American cheese. Maybe if we had bread I could make a grilled cheese, but we don’t. Resigned I’m going to have to go to the store, I reach for my keys on the hooks by the door.
“Want anything while I’m out?” I’m tired, hungry, and my bedroom is occupied by the two of them. There’s no point in thinking about crashing until they finish their game.
“Hey, are you going by the taco truck?” Easley asks, and then yells in triumph at the television. “Suck my dick, Landon. You’re dead.”
“How am I going to do that when I’m a corpse? You fucking freak.” Landon throws an elbow at Easley.
I make a silent vow to bug my realtor about properties tomorrow. I need to move into my own place sooner than later.
Grumbling about living with cavemen, I take their order for tacos and head out.
When I get back, they’re still sitting on the couch. I doubt they’ve moved in the time it took me to get food and drive home.
I drop a bag of tacos on the coffee table on top of the empty pizza box. Easley dumps out the contents and inhales two without pause. The man is a beast.
“You’ll never guess who I had on today’s trip?” I ask while pouring hot sauce on my first taco.
“Your mother,” Easley responds without looking at me.
“No, idiot. Gwendolyn Roberts doesn’t like to get wet.” Landon steals a taco.
“Twyla London and her bachelorette party.” I unwrap another taco. “Mae and her friend Zoe were there, too.”
Landon inhales wrong and coughs on his food. “Mae told me they were going rafting. You were their guide?”
“I was.”
He shoots me a quick dirty look while finishing his taco in two bites. “Coincidence, or did you request it?”
Inhaling, I try to ignore his jealousy. “We’re limited on staff because it’s the end of the season. Steve and I are the only two lead guys left besides the owners.”
He continues shooting daggers at me.
I know he won’t let it go, so I give him the answer he wants. “For fuck’s sake, no. I didn’t request their trip.”
“How was Twyla on the river?” he asks, finally giving me his attention. “I can’t really imagine her paddling a kayak.”
“In a tiara with a veil.” I nod. “The official trip pics should be online by tomorrow morning.” Part of the rafting package is access to purchase the GoPro pics and videos shot during the day.
“Are they all wearing bikinis?” Easley lifts his eyebrows. “Maybe there’s a boob slip in some of the shots. Hello, nipple action.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “They’re all wearing personal flotation devices, so there’s zero possibility you’re going to see any nipples.”
“Fancy language for life vests, City Guy.” Easley throws some shade at me with the city reference.
“Aren’t tits basically personal flotation devices for chicks?” Landon asks. “Let’s be honest though. Mae’s aren’t going to save her from drowning. Kind of small. Zoe’s, too. Now Twyla has a rack that would save not only herself but another person from drowning.”
A possessive growl rumbles in my chest. “When have you seen Mae naked?”
Landon laughs. “I was pretty familiar with her teen boobs, unless you forgot. Spent a lot of afternoons with them.”
Right. “I meant recently.”
“Who hasn’t seen them naked? Those girls like to go skinny dipping in hotel Jacuzzis around town, especially on the full moon. It’s pretty easy to find them if you know the right people.” Easley stands up and burps loudly. “I gotta piss. Pause the game.”
While I’m intrigued by the idea of Mae sneaking into hotel pools to go swimming naked, I’m bothered by Easley and Landon stalking them like wolves.
“Does everyone in town know about their habit?” I ask, annoyed.
“More than you’d think, but we don’t want them to stop so we have to pretend we don’t know,” Landon explains without shame. “If they want to get naked in public, they can’t expect privacy.”
I’m not certain that’s a valid excuse, but I’m too tired to argue morals with these two.
“Hey, speaking of Mae, thanks for helping with those texts to her last week. They totally worked. She went from barely responding to sexting.”
My jaw drops open at Landon’s words. “What are you talking about? She sexted you?”
He chuckles. “She isn’t very good at it. No cleavage shot or anything good but she sent me a coded message that she wants to blow me.”
Impossible.
“Show me.” The tacos I ate sit like rocks in my stomach. “You’re probably misinterpreting her words.”
Still laughing, he pulls out his phone and throws it to me.
Scrolling through his messages, I find Mae’s and open the thread. The final two messages are only emojis. “How are you getting a blow job from random food and a monkey? Are you the monkey?” This has to be a mistake.
“An eggplant is always a dick,” he scoffs at me.
“You replied?” I cringe with regret for offering to help him. “With fruit?”
“Peaches are asses. How do you not know these things? Look closely. Totally a round, girl ass.”
“For one thing, I don’t spend my days figuring out how to make emojis sexual. Second, you sexted back about asses?”
“I told her I’m up for whatever sex she’s interested in, even anal.”
It’s worse than I thought. Pressing the heels of my palms against my eye socket, I lean forward before scrubbing my hands down my face.
“Did she ask about me today? Or mention me? I never heard back from her after our last text,” Landon asks, clueless as always.
“Strangely enough, your name never came up.” I need to fix this. I tap the reply window and begin typing.
“Hey, what are you texting?” He stands and makes a grab for his phone, but I’m quicker and block him, buying myself enough time to finish the message and send it.
“Fixing your mess. Can you try not to be a pervert between now and the wedding? You asked for my help and I’m trying. Work with me, okay?” I toss his phone in his general direction. “Be a gentleman for once in your life.”
I want to tell him to grow up, but I’m the older brother living on his couch. As far as he knows I’m having an early mid-life crisis and not in any position to give him shit.
“What does this even mean?” He studies his phone. “Does the champagne mean blowing my load?”
“Jesus. No. It’s a hint about the surprise you’ll be sending her at the hotel. When she mentions it, don’t act surprised.”
“I’m sending her champagne? That shit’s expensive. I hope you’re paying for it because it was your idea.”
“Yes, I’ve already ordered it on my card. You’re welcome, by the way.” Ungrateful little shit. “I’m going to go crash on your bed since you and Easley are playing video games.”
“It isn’t even eight o’clock, old man. We’re going to go out tonight and you’re going to bed.” He tosses his phone down on the couch
cushions.
“Wake me up before you head out and keep it down when you come home.” I do sound like an old guy.
“If I come home. Big possibility I’ll be sleeping elsewhere tonight.” He bites his bottom lip and lifts his brows in case I missed the meaning.
“Yeah, good luck with that.” I pick up my taco wrappers and the pizza box to dump in the kitchen trash.
“You need to get laid. If you can’t manage it on your own, there’s a discreet escort service in Aspen. Mostly Russian women.” Landon smirks.
“Wait, Russian hookers?” His words trigger a memory and I walk back into the living area.
“They’re not hookers. Escorts. Really hot model types. Not that I’ve ever paid for sex. Or had to.”
“Did you mention anything to Mae about me and hookers?”
“Escorts, Aiden. Sheesh. Show some respect.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like the little shit he is. “And the answer is no. Not that I can remember. Why? Is your secret out?”
I ignore the barb. “She said something about sex toys and prostitutes earlier. Didn’t make sense.”
“Was she communicating in emojis?” he asks, sarcastically.
“Fuck off,” I snark back.
“Just asking.”
“You need to figure things out with Mae on your own,” I tell him, my voice a low threat. “I can’t be your puppet master.”
Not waiting for his response, I stride down the hall to his bedroom. Exiting the hall bathroom, Easley bumps into me and apologizes for the stench. “Man, you better use the other bathroom. This one is off-limits for at least an hour.”
“Got it. Going to crash in Landon’s room.”
Scrolling through my phone, I pull up the realtor’s number and then send her a text asking about short-term rentals available for immediate move-in, immediately like this week.
Up to You Page 10
