Deliciously Thick (Naked Brews Book 2)

by KB Jacobs

  Lake nodded. “But he lives a completely different life than either of us. Did you know he has a standing order from Naked Brews every week? And sometimes, he has to call in for an extra keg mid-week. Anthony parties hard, and from what I hear, he does a lot of that partying naked.”

  “Oh.” What else could a girl say when she found out her white knight was a man whore? Not that it should matter to me. He was my white knight just in the fact that he saved me. My predilections meant I needed to stay far, far away from someone like Anthony. Someone who might use those things against me. Never again. “Well, that’s fine. In fact, good for him. I’m not interested in anything like that anyway.”

  “He saved you, and that’s all I need to know, but you need to be careful around him. When it comes to girls, he’s only after one thing, and that never lasts after the sun rises. Sweet dreams, Melissa.”

  Lake went to her room and shut the door behind her. I should go to bed, too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the mountain of a man who was unbelievably heroic last night and then a total douche bucket today.

  I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it...something about him still fascinated me. I pulled the laptop up higher in my lap and did a quick internet search for Anthony. My screen filled with image after image of him during competitions, receiving trophies, and posing for sponsor advertisements. There were also way too many pictures of him out in expensive suits, and each one featured a different gorgeous girl wrapped around his arms.

  Tingling erupted low in my belly. What would it feel like to be held in his strong arms like that? He was so large, strong, and dominant. My mind wanted to imagine him doing all kinds of very naughty, forbidden things, but I pushed those thoughts away. I knew better than to indulge them.

  Lake was right. Anthony lived a completely different life than me. One that included a long string of meaningless trysts and wild parties. That wasn’t my world, and even if it was, there was no way he’d ever be interested in me. We’d more than proven that at the hospital today.

  Lake’s door popped open, and I slammed the laptop closed to hide the evidence of my sad internet stalking.

  “Well, speak of the devil,” she said, handing me her phone. “You have a call.”

  I took the phone and watched her saunter into her room with her fairytale future. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Melissa, this is Anthony Millet.”

  I froze, my tongue completely incapable of movement, and silence stretched between us.

  “Anthony...from the fire,” he added.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my tongue to move. “Of course, what can I do for you?” Why in the world did I sound like a reference librarian?

  “Right. I’m sorry it’s so late. You’re probably mad at me, and you have every right to be. I was a jerk today, and I want to apologize. I hadn’t had much sleep, and the pain meds were wearing off when you got there. You caught me just as I got some pretty bad news. That’s not a good excuse for my behavior, though, and I’m sorry.”

  I nodded again even though he wouldn’t be able to see me. “I...uh...thank you. For your apology.” I let out a silent breath. I absolutely hated that he’d been hurt, but it was a relief to know he didn’t hate me for it. “I hope you’re feeling better now.”

  “A little bit,” he said. “Listen, there’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. I need to call in a favor.”

  I pulled a blanket higher up on my chest. “What kind of favor?” I bit my lip against the unbidden image of all kinds of favors better performed naked.

  “My agent is calling a press conference for tomorrow. I need to give a public statement about my injury and let the fans know I won’t be back this season. I was hoping you would be there so they could see my banged-up ankle was worth it.”

  My brain swirled with his words. Worth it. That was certainly a different tune than he was singing earlier today.

  “If you don’t want to do it, I understand.”

  “No,” I blurted out. Lord, the last thing I wanted to do was stand in front of a bunch of cameras and answer personal questions. But the man did save my life. I owed him for that. “I mean yes. I...” I took a second to collect my thoughts. “If it will help you, I’ll be there.”

  “Perfect.” Anthony gave me the details about where to be and when. I wrote them down on the back of a grease-stained napkin. “Thank you, Melissa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” I hung up and threw the phone at the end of the couch. As gracious as a princess. Take that, William.

  Chapter 9

  Anthony

  Drake and I were the last to make it into the media room of my house for the press conference. We’d had a private meeting with the rep from Adrenaline, my largest sponsor and the premier maker of competition snowboards. Drake reassured them I would remain visible, and I was still a good choice as the face of their company. The meeting had gone well.

  Now we just had to get through the press conference, and then I could nap some more. These pain meds were knocking me on my butt.

  I grinned at the mass of media. This turnout was insane, with at least one hundred reporters squished into the room. The normal rows of huge leather recliners had been removed and replaced with row after row of uncomfortable folding chairs. Every seat was filled, and people stood along the walls with cameras and phones at the ready to catch every single nuance of the press conference.

  I swallowed down my nerves. I should be used to this. I did press conferences all the time. There just usually weren’t this many people present. This wasn’t the normal handful of ski news reporters. No, this was a wide-ranging gaggle of media, representing some of the biggest news outlets in the country.

  Drake took the lead for moderating the chaos. He stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you so much, everyone, for being here...”

  While he did the intro speech, including a detailed explanation of my medical prognosis, I glanced down the line of people standing behind the podium, my gaze snagging on the tiny, blonde figure.

  Juliet...no, I had to start thinking of her as Melissa.

  She’d come. She’d said she would, but I’d been so awful to her, I hadn’t believed it. She was such a little thing that I hadn’t seen her from behind the massive bulk of Miller Murdock, my physical therapist.

  Her eyes were wide and overwhelmed as she gazed out into the crowd of media. She looked like a wide-eyed, innocent Bambi, and I wanted to protect her from the vultures in the room.

  “Anthony!”

  I turned, startled at Drake’s hard tone. He nodded his head toward the microphone. Obviously, he’d been trying to get my attention for a while.

  I crutched forward to stand behind the podium. “Sorry, pain meds.” I gave the crowd my winningest smile. “I haven’t gotten much sleep the last couple of days, and it’s beginning to catch up with me. You caught me spacing out.”

  There were a couple of chuckles throughout the room, but for the most part the reporters watched me expectantly. I looked down at the prepared statement. Hopefully, Drake had stuck to his rehearsed part, or I was screwed. I hadn’t heard a bit of what he’d said after his greeting.

  “You seemed to be distracted by the blonde,” someone called out from the crowd.

  “Well, of course I am. You can see her, right?” I turned and smiled to see that Juliet had blushed red. She even looked pretty like that.

  “Why don’t you introduce her?” someone else catcalled from the group.

  I liked that idea, mainly because it meant I could be up-close with her. I made a come-here motion toward Melissa, and she ducked her head as she came and stood beside me. “Everyone, this is Melissa Frye. I’m sure some of you already know this by now, but she works at Naked Brews, and she’s the one who lived in the apartment above the brewery where they had the fire.”

  I’d put my hand at the small of her back to pull her forward. Her body trembled with nerves under my light touch. I leaned down, hoping to calm
her and instead got a heady whiff of cinnamon and vanilla.

  Her scent did bad but wickedly good things to me. I wanted to bury my nose in her neck. I flexed my fingers with the need to thread my fingers through those silken, golden locks to find and explore all the other hidden places that held her tantalizing scent.

  She drew in a harsh breath at my closeness. “Relax,” I whispered in her ear. “They don’t usually bite.” Although I was tempted to.

  She turned to grin at me. This close, her presence overwhelmed me. Her scent had been haunting me along with the smell of smoke since the night of the fire. I understood why now.

  Her eyes sparkled bright blue, but the smudges of exhaustion under her lower lashes worried me. Why wasn’t she sleeping? Was she having nightmares about the fire?

  Drake cleared his throat from the other side of me. “Let her answer the question,” he hissed.

  I glanced back at the crowd to find them watching the two of us expectantly. I’d lost track again. Geez, no more pain meds for me no matter that they were really just strong ibuprofen.

  I glanced at Melissa to see if she’d heard. She gave me a tiny shake of her head and shrugged, looking wide-eyed again. Although I hated to see her fraught with nerves, it was good to know she’d been just as caught up in our interaction.

  I had to take control of this situation so it didn’t freak her out so much. “Can you ask your question again?” I asked to the reporter who appeared most invested in whatever we said.

  “Sure.” He focused on Melissa. “I wondered what it was like for you when you realized that the Bad Boy of Boarding was the one saving you?”

  She giggled and stepped forward with a deep sigh. “If I’d been conscious, I probably would have swooned like an old-fashioned heroine. I mean”—she glanced over at me and swallowed—“seriously...look at him. He’s gorgeous. All he needs is a white horse, and he’d be every girl’s ideal knight in shining armor.” She shook her head. “No, strike that. He doesn’t even need the bloody horse or armor. He saved me. I was unconscious, and I don’t think I’d be alive today without the heroism that Anthony Millett displayed that night.” She clutched the hand I wasn’t holding to her chest. “I just really hate that he got hurt doing it.” Emotion choked up her words.

  Dang, Drake did an amazing job coaching her for this. If I hadn’t known that he’d told her what to say, I would be totally overwhelmed with her delivery of that performance.

  A middle-aged, female reporter held up her hand, and Drake called on her.

  “We’re all very thankful that Melissa Frye is well and healthy, but what I don’t understand is this...” She consulted her notes. “According to the fire department, the fire broke out after midnight. How did you just happen to come by at that time of night, Mr. Millett? Are you and Ms. Frye romantically involved? Is this just some sort of stunt to cover up that you were in her room living up to your Triple B reputation?”

  Wow, I hadn’t expected the questions to take this route, but before I could say anything, Melissa took over the microphone. “That’s preposterous. I hadn’t even met Anthony until yesterday, although I know his mom through my book club. You know this is a small town.” Melissa blushed again.

  What did those women do at that book club?

  Melissa continued. “You’re in the media, so I know you’ve seen his publicity, and you’re seeing me now.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Anthony is so far out of my league it’s not even funny. He dates models and actresses.” How did she know that? Had she done research on me?

  I liked that idea. A lot.

  Melissa shook her head like she felt sorry for the reporter’s cluelessness about how the realities of the world worked. “I’m a small-town accountant. Believe me, the only thing we have in common is the fact that he saved my life, and I will forever owe him for that.”

  The reporter raised an eyebrow, still not buying it. “That still doesn’t explain how you just happened to be there, Mr. Millett.”

  Luckily, Drake had already prepped me for this question. “I’m guessing you aren’t much of a snowboarding fan, but I’d had a particularly bad day on the slopes. I often run late at night to clear my head after a day like that. There’s a trail that runs behind Naked Brews, and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  Melissa touched her hand to my chest, and my breath caught. Nerves sizzled straight from her palm to my cock. Forget having nothing in common. We had this—chemistry. And whoa, that was some powerful stuff.

  “Convenient,” the female reporter muttered, drawing my gaze up sharply from where Juliet touched me. What had that meant?

  But before anything else could be said on the matter, a male reporter from the other side of the room called out, “So, what do you say to reports that your blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit, and that the two of you are lucky your so-called drunken heroics didn’t get you both hurt worse or even killed?”

  I froze.

  Melissa’s mouth dropped open with a little gasp only I could hear. We both turned to the reporter.

  Before we could respond, Drake pushed us away from the microphone. “Thank you so much for your time today, and never fear, Triple B will be back on his board in just a few short weeks.”

  He hustled us out of the room, the clicks of cameras and shouted questions following us out.

  Shame burned in the pit of my stomach. I thought back to that night. Had I still been that drunk when I’d been trying to save Melissa? I hadn’t thought so, but my hangover the next day would agree with the claims of the reporter. If so, I could have killed her. What if I’d landed wrong jumping from the building? I could have crushed her.

  Drake was speaking to me, but it was all white noise. I glanced down into Melissa’s beautiful, confused eyes. I could have killed her. The phrase repeated over and over in my head. I dove for the small half bath behind the media room as fast as I could on these dang crutches, barely making it to the toilet before I lost my lunch.

  Chapter 10

  Melissa

  Standing in the small ready room behind the media room, I tried to ignore the sounds of Anthony tossing his cookies.

  Poor guy. To say that press conference went off the rails was putting it mildly, especially based on the reaction from his agent.

  “Jesus Christ.” Drake’s booming voice echoed around the small room. “How the hell did that scum bag from Sport News Today find out you were drunk? When I find out who leaked your med records, I’m going to squeeze their balls so tight they’ll pray for a sharp knife to cut them off.”

  Anthony answered with a groan and another offering to the porcelain gods.

  “What a mother fuckin’ shit storm.” Drake squinted at me but then shook his head. “Just stay in here with your white knight while I clear the vultures out.” He shook his head at Anthony and marched back into the media room, the door slamming behind him.

  For my first press conference, I think that was about as horrendous as I could possibly imagine. I spent the whole time staring into Anthony’s shimmering brown eyes and waxing poetic like a smitten schoolgirl. Then I had every word I’d said smashed into useless blather with one bomb of a question. Anthony was drunk the night of the fire.

  I couldn’t have known. The smoke poured into my apartment so fast, and I barely had time to register the fire before I passed out. I woke up in an ambulance with Lake’s teary face staring down at me. The first time I’d seen Anthony was the next day at the hospital. He’d been grumpy enough to be nursing a hangover, but I figured his bad attitude had been a result of the fire mixed with the pain meds and loss of sleep.

  The question was...did it matter to me if he had been drunk?

  I’d certainly had my fair share of overindulgences. It was impossible to avoid with college roommates like Lake and Alex. Not that it took much. Three beers and I’d been known to dance on bar tops. There’s no law against drinking, and if he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be standing in
this room listening to him toss up everything he’d eaten in the past week.

  The toilet flushed, and Anthony came hobbling out of the bathroom, his face at least two shades lighter than the rest of his glorious body. “Sorry about that.” He held out his crutches and collapsed onto a worn leather sofa.

  “It’s okay. You’ve had a rough couple of days.” I perched on the edge of a cushion at the other end of the couch.

  Anthony laughed, but there wasn’t any humor to the noise. “I have a feeling my rough days are just beginning.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about his recovery or dealing with the fall-out of our disastrous press conference, so I didn’t say anything. What I wanted to do was wrap his big body up into my arms and take away some of the pain radiating off him like a solar flare. Instead, I examined every inch of the room.

  It was more of a storage room than anything else. Shelves lined the walls with expensive-looking electronics and an impressive movie collection. The couch seemed more like an afterthought. Thrown in here for use during press conferences or when the decision of picking the evening’s entertainment became too taxing. It was soft and worn, the opposite of the furniture I briefly glimpsed in the rest of his house. This seemed to fit him more than all the formal elegance of his giant mansion.

  “I’m sorry about...” Anthony waved his hand at the room on the other side of the wall. “You did great, by the way. With lines like those, I might have to start paying Drake as a speech writer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “‘Every girl’s ideal knight in shining armor.’” Anthony held his fingers up in air quotes. “If it weren’t for the drunken rescue question, that quote would be plastered all over every newspaper in the country. Drake outdid himself in prepping you.”

  I squirmed on the couch. “That wasn’t a prepared speech.” Why would he think it was? There was no need to lie about his heroics. Everything I’d said was true.

  “Wait.” Anthony turned completely toward me and put an arm around the back of the couch. “That wasn’t some line Drake coached you to throw out to the sharks?”