by T. Torrest
“What?”
“Sorenson didn’t tell me you were Brooks’ daughter for three whole weeks.” He looked over at Simon and added, “Asshole.”
Simon was wearing a shit-eating grin as he cracked, “I thought it would be funnier if I didn’t.”
“Dickhead.”
Chapter Six
DECEMBER 31, 1998
With only months remaining before I graduated college, I was looking forward to getting a real job that paid some real money. But for now, at the age of twenty-one, with my room and board paid for, I basically only needed enough to cover incidentals and beer money. But seeing as I was off the clock at Beans over holiday break, I wouldn’t see my next paycheck until closer to February, and my stash was already wearing thin.
That didn’t stop me from buying a new dress anyway.
I couldn’t help myself. The thing was practically screaming at me from the display at Nordstrom’s, where I’d done some Christmas shopping for my mom. Unfortunately, I was there to exchange the present I’d gotten her as she already had a blue pashmina. I scored a new pink one for her… and a slinky gold gown for myself. I figured the dress would be perfect for Casey and Simon’s wedding next fall.
Except this morning, they’d thrown a wrench in their original plans when they hopped a plane for Vegas instead.
Casey called me from a payphone at the airport to spill the news. I was shocked, and more than a little heartbroken, but ultimately, I couldn’t be anything other than happy for her. They’d just gotten engaged at Thanksgiving, and I knew she immediately found the whole wedding thing overwhelming. As much as I was looking forward to helping her plan, I was well aware that they needed to do what was right for them. I was sad that I wouldn’t be there for it, but the more she explained their decision, the more I became impressed with her logic.
“We just started asking ourselves why we were driving ourselves crazy with the thing, you know?” she asked at one point.
“No, I get it. I know you weren’t enjoying any of the decision-making.”
“Exactly. That’s your department.”
I snickered, but acknowledged that she was right.
I’d become quite the party planner over the years. Birthdays, sorority balls… you name it. I was a very organized person by nature, and such skills came in handy whenever there were plans to be made. Aside from the fact that I totally reveled in the details, I loved having the control to make the decisions. Even during my sorority’s committee meetings, I found most of the members would simply delegate all authority to me, and I was more than happy to take the reins. It might sound stupid, but after years of blending into the background, it felt empowering to finally stand out for my accomplishments. Even if said accomplishments were nothing more than pulling together an awesome party.
“Oh, whatever,” I appeased. “Yes, I would have loved to help you plan the best wedding ever, but I completely understand why you’re choosing to skip it.”
“We know we love each other. Why should we wait?”
“You shouldn’t.” I figured her parents might have felt a bit differently, but then again, they were pretty laid back people. Maybe they’d even be relieved. “Oh my God. The next time I see you, you’ll be married!”
“Eeek! I know! Oh God. Wish us luck!”
“Good luck! Tell Simon, too.”
“I will. Love you!”
“Love you, too.”
I hung up the phone and slunk down onto the bed. When Casey first told me she and Simon had gotten engaged, I was surprised. But thinking about the fact that she was actually going to be married within a matter of twenty-four hours was positively surreal.
My brain tried to register the new information as I eyed my new dress. It was hanging from my closet door, still with the tags on it, still returnable. Long, slinky, shimmery… sexy, but chaste enough for a formal occasion. I’d tried it on in the store and fell in love with the skinny straps, the fitted bodice, the dropped-cowl neckline that made me look boobier than I actually was.
I realized that even though I was Maryann… I could still rock one hell of a Ginger dress.
My plan was to show it to Casey for final approval. One of the only decisions she’d made was to have me as her sole bridesmaid, and because of that, she was planning to let me pick my own gown. But I wanted to make sure she liked it before getting my hopes up about keeping it. Shame of it was that I knew she’d say it was perfect, but now it looked as though I’d be returning it after all.
I walked over to the gown, and before I could think about the ramifications of my actions, I ripped off the tags and threw them in the garbage. It was New Year’s Eve, and what better way to kick off the new year than in a fabulous new dress?
* * *
Johnny’s was hopping already and it was barely nine o’clock. I assume it was the new dress that gave me some much-needed confidence, because I went there alone. I knew the whole crowd would be there, as they weren’t scheduled for another game until January 3, giving them three whole days to blow off some steam.
It looked as though the party was well underway.
I ditched my coat and grabbed an unoccupied stool at the bar next to Guillaume, not far from where the rest of my hockey friends were congregating.
“Hey, Guy! Happy New Year!” I said, as I leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek.
He looked at me appreciatively, letting out with a whistle. “That is some dress.”
I blushed from my head down to my toes. “Thank you. It’s New Year’s. I figured I’d live a little, you know?”
“Well, I’m glad you’re living. I think my heart just stopped.”
I gave him another kiss for that.
I ordered a glass of champagne from the bartender, and while I was waiting for it to be delivered, a searing heat made its way down my spine. I turned to find Zac standing there, but I didn’t need visual confirmation that it was him. From the electric charge I was feeling along my skin, I already knew it was his hand at my back.
“Happy New Year,” he said, all smooth and Zachary. It wasn’t standard protocol for him to beeline in my direction the first minute I showed up, and I was suddenly very glad I’d worn my new gold dress out that night. I decided right then and there that I would wear the thing every waking moment for the rest of my life.
“Happy New Year, Zac.”
His beautiful green eyes held a trace of apprehension as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I became aware of the fact that I was throwing him off guard. Me. Avery Brooks. I was throwing him for a loop. That had never happened before.
Thank you, God, for alluring dresses and captivated men who smell like peppermint.
Guillaume grabbed his drink and offered Zac his seat. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said with an evil grin.
“That doesn’t leave much,” Zac spat back. He slid onto the stool and waited for the bartender. “Flying solo tonight?” he asked, scanning his eyes around our immediate area.
“Yep. Did you hear about Simon and Casey?”
“Sure did. Got the call from the airport.”
“Me too.”
He swiped a hand through his hair and said, “Jesus! I can’t believe they’re actually going through with it.”
I looked at him curiously. “Why would you say that? They were planning to do it anyway, now they’re just doing it sooner.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head at the floor. He raised his eyes to mine and explained, “Simon and me are the same age. It’s just hard to imagine getting married at twenty-three.”
I huffed, “Well, of course you can’t imagine it.”
“Hey, whoa. It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I choose not to. Most guys my age feel the same way.”
“Most girls, too.”
“Bullshit.”
“Huh?”
“Come on,” he said, lowering an eyebrow. “Most girls I know have only one goal and one goal only.” He nodded his head in the direction
of a group of bunnies fawning all over Guillaume. “Marry some rich guy and spend all his money.”
“How optimistic of you.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No it’s not! It’s not the truth with Casey, and it’s not the truth for me. I happen to have much bigger goals, and none of them require ‘some rich guy’ to make them happen.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I don’t know yet,” I laughed, absently running a finger around the edge of my champagne flute. “But who knows? It’s a new year, right? Anything can happen.”
He clinked his bottle against my glass. “Here’s hoping.”
* * *
“Crap. I missed.”
I stood upright after taking my fruitless shot and noticed a bit of wobble in my legs. I placed a hand on the table and used my cue to steady myself.
Yeah. I am definitely buzzing.
Zac and I had been playing pool for over two hours. He suggested we team up, and when we did, we became a force to be reckoned with. Challenger after challenger got smacked down as we dominated the billiard room.
Our latest contenders were Travis and Selene. Travis was one of Zac’s teammates, and Selene was one of the Angels. I knew her well.
“My turn!” she let out, before moving into position and bending over the table. I watched as Travis gave Zac a nudge and nodded at her ass.
I shook my head at the two of them, then called them out. “They’re checking out your butt, Selene.”
She gave a flirty look over her shoulder. “Well, I should hope so. I didn’t wear this tight little dress for nothing.”
We all shared a good laugh at that as she took her shot.
“Yippee! Made it!” she exclaimed as she spun around and I gave her a high-five. I was giggling at her word choice. Who the hell says yippee? She must have been more excited than actual words could convey.
“Hey! I’m your teammate, remember?” Zac asked.
How could I forget? I’d had his undivided attention the entire night. I was normally a decent pool player, but I made a point to play better than I ever had in my life, because every time we won meant we got to play another game in order to defend our championship. And every game we played meant another chunk of time together. As partners. Teammates. A couple, by the loosest definition of terms.
Even though our relationship was planted firmly in The Friendzone—and I was content with that, truly—it didn’t stop me from crushing on the guy. Especially when he looked so hot all dressed up.
I took a look over at Zac and Travis, two incredibly beautiful men leaning against the wall together. Zac’s dark good looks were offset by Travis’s light brown hair and eyes. Zac was wearing a black, button-down shirt, and Travis had on a chambray snap-up with white piping (and a white cowboy hat to match). Night and day. City meets country. Damn. It was quite an enticing vision.
I smiled involuntarily at the sight and explained, “Just showing a little sisterhood solidarity.” Although, since I was feeling the buzz from all those glasses of champagne—and two Lemon Drop shots—I was sure my words came out more than a little garbled.
“Oh, darlin’. I think you need another drink,” Travis suggested in his honeyed drawl. He was a regular good ol’ boy, that one. I didn’t know too many cowboys, much less ones who played hockey, but he was a really great guy, not to mention a damn fine athlete.
He waved the waitress over and asked her to hang on while Selene sank the 8-ball. She dropped her cue onto the table and threw her arms in the air. “Whoooooo!”
Travis came over and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the floor as he put in his order to the waitress. “Well, I know I’ll be having another beer. And this little winner here will have…”
“A white zinfandel!”
“You heard the woman. You can deliver them to our table, thank ya kindly. Oh, and make sure you put it on McAllister’s tab,” he added with a wink in Zac’s direction before carrying Selene out to the bar.
The waitress followed them out as Zac came over by me. He tossed his cue onto the table and said, “Well, partner, we gave it our all. Looks like we finally have to hand over the trophy. Good game.” He held his hand out to me and I shook it.
“At least we drank for free all night!”
“That’s true,” he agreed, before rolling his beer bottle over his forehead, trying to cool off. I was feeling a bit hot and bothered myself. He was such a sexy bastard. He didn’t even need to try. It was just who he was.
Maybe it was the booze lightening my inhibitions, but I suddenly came to an indisputable revelation: Standing right there in front of me was this gorgeous guy who made my heart do somersaults in my chest, and yet I’d been keeping him at arms’ length for years. Why did I do that? I’d only ever let him be a friend to me, as opposed to the manwhore he was with the rest of the world. But why was I so afraid to let him be both? How come I never even tried?
And that was it for me. That was all it took. That stupid bottle was like a switch being flipped in my brain, a split second that changed everything. You could spend your life thinking a certain way, just following the status quo. And then BOOM. Just like that, the most inconsequential thing would have you rethinking everything.
He lowered the bottle and leaned against the pool table. I went to do the same, but I misjudged its height and fumbled a bit before getting situated. Zac watched me in amusement and asked, “Just how much have you had tonight, anyway?”
I didn’t know where the hell I found the nerve, but I ran a hand across his and teased, “Why? Worried I won’t be able to get it up?”
The comment actually floored him. Hell. It floored me.
He looked at me in open-mouthed shock and laughed out nervously, “You shouldn’t joke around like that, Ave. A guy could take things the wrong way.”
He’d been flirting with me all night; hell, he’d been doing it for three years. Teasing me into oblivion was pretty much his default mode, but this was the first night I ever let myself flirt back. I don’t think he knew how to take it.
He tried to go back to joking, tried to bring things back down to friend level. “We should get you some water.”
I was definitely not drunk. Tipsy, but not full-on, head-in-the-toilet, falling-over drunk. At least not on alcohol. I’d become high on the idea of getting him alone, and I was suddenly hellbent on doing everything in my power to make it happen. “We should get out of here.”
That threw him. He scanned my face, trying to see if I was putting him on, but I didn’t waver, didn’t even crack a smile. I knew he could tell I was one hundred percent serious. I could tell he was fighting it. He wanted to believe me… and was scared shitless about it.
I loved every second of confusion on his face.
Finally, tentatively, he raised a palm to my jaw. His fingers brushed under the hair at my nape; his thumb feathered against my lips. I almost fainted, I swear to God. But I knew he was testing me, seeing just how far I was willing to take this little joke.
When he could see that I wasn’t going to break, his grip tightened as his teeth clenched, and like some sort of holiday miracle, he hissed, “Screw it. Let’s go.”
Yippee!
Prince’s “1999” was playing for the third time that night as Zac walked me out the door. It had to only be a few minutes until midnight, but I couldn’t care less. I came out for the evening to hang with my friends, but I’d suddenly found a much better way to ring in the New Year.
We got to my car and I fumbled with the keys. I was kind of in shock that this was actually happening, and my shaking hands were so obvious that it was embarrassing. Zac’s hand closed over mine, and when I looked up, he was wearing that adorable lopsided grin. His eyes met mine as he slid a palm behind my neck and into the back of my hair. We stood there like that for a moment, my stomach threatening to explode, Zac giving me one final chance to change my mind. As if I would.
He waited for just one extra beat before backing me ag
ainst my car and lowering his lips to mine.
Holyshitholyshitholyshit!
My heart started beating like crazy, but my arms managed to wrap around his shoulders. Thank God, because my body was about to crumple into a useless heap right there in the parking lot.
He broke away for a moment, looking at me in what I can only describe as amused shock.
“Jesus, Ave,” he whispered, stunned but pleased, before pressing his mouth to mine once more.
Oh God. Kissing him was the sweetest thing in the world. He tasted like candy and sunshine and Johnny Walker Blue. He smelled like winter chill and peppermint. He felt like… Heaven.
He pulled me tightly against his length as his lips moved tenderly across my own. I knotted my hands in the back of his hair and opened my mouth, pressing myself against him as his hands slid down to my ass, pushing me against the car again, his mouth devouring mine, his hips grinding against me.
My breath was coming out in an unsteady gasp; my heart was pounding against my ribcage. The feel of his firm lips against mine and his insistent hips and his possessive hands… Whoa. I mean, just, full-on, mind-numbing whoa.
He took half a step back, wearing that stunned look on his face again which was quickly becoming my new favorite expression. “I tried,” he said, lowering his head and giving it a good shake. His eyes raised to meet mine as he added, “I really did try to stay away from you.”
A warmth spread throughout my entire body at his words, warding off the winter cold. He’d been… trying to stay away from me? He wanted this as much as I did?
I found that completely too good to be true. My brain simply wouldn’t allow me to believe there was any way he was as into this as me.
But still, his admission gave me the confidence to accept that this was actually going to happen.
This was sooo going to happen.
I stepped away momentarily in order to unlock the car, sliding behind the wheel and starting the engine just to get some heat flowing through the frosty space. “I hope you don’t expect me to drive anywhere.”
