Does it also make me screw married women in a greenhouse not even twenty feet from a party? “We better get back before people start to worry…or leave.”
The senator nods. “Let’s make our entrance together. Even if you’ve got time to think, I want to…”
As we walk back to the party, I tune him out, listening just enough to know when to nod and make a noise of agreement.
There has to be some way I can get out of this stupid promise I made before it’s too late.
Chapter 2
Saylor
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
I always wanted a family. One with a mom and a dad…a couple of siblings. I’d settle for one, actually. Someone I could confide in, fight over stupid things with, and conspire with against our parents. We’d live in a cute suburb where the neighbors had cookouts and ride our bikes in the street.
Of course there would totally be the grumpy old man, fist raised as he yelled at us to get off his lawn—you know, just like in the movies.
Unfortunately, no one listened to me on the day families were being handed out. My mother, who I know loves me to pieces, stopped letting me travel all over the world with her to shoots—photo shoots, that is—and movie sets once I turned thirteen, saying it was for my own good. She’s a really famous model/actress who has love affairs with equally famous men, and they always make the news.
Sometimes they’re married.
Most of the time they’re not.
None of them last very long.
While my biological father…he’s someone that everyone knows. Someone whose face is always on the news and in the papers, especially during election season. Lately, I see him on television, kissing babies, shaking hands, and talking about equal rights and access for all, like he really means it.
Yet, I’ve never met him, never reached out to him…and his name isn’t listed on my birth certificate. I guess equal access to him is for everyone else but me. But every quarter, just like clockwork, he deposits a quarter of a million dollars into my checking account—something he started doing right after I dropped out of college.
Despite the notoriety of my mother and the lack of a name from my father, the media leave me alone. I’m just not newsworthy. I don’t seek their attention. However, if they would do a story on my animal shelter, that would rock.
Some might call me a lonely little rich girl with first-world problems. I disagree with that descriptor, well, the lonely part anyway.
My heart pinches, just like it always does when it comes to the man who has no use for me.
Anywho, you’d think I’d be miserable around families who love one another, especially ones as big as my best friend Evangeline’s. I think she has eleven billion relatives attending her wedding today.
Or fifty.
Whatever.
It’s a huge family.
The groom, Hunter—his is no different on his mother’s side. I think they brought all of Tijuana with them. Except, we’re all supposed to travel to Mexico for a second reception tomorrow.
So you’d totally think I would hate weddings joining said families together.
But you’d be wrong. I’m a total sucker, romantic…or masochist. Take your pick.
In any case, I’m overjoyed for Eva. She deserves someone like Hunter mooning over her, sexing her up all the time, and being completely, utterly in love with her.
“Smile wider, please,” the photographer orders, and I pull my lips back from my teeth like a beaver about to get her wood on.
“Not that wide,” he mutters.
With a little sigh, I slump and almost dump my boobs out of the top of my dress. Tugging the material up, I ask, “Better?”
“No,” the groomsman beside me whispers in my ear, and I stiffen. Here come the comments about my breasts. “I like the one before he made us look like deranged antelopes.”
Delighted at his comparison, I glance up at him. “You have experience with them?”
He smiles, making my stomach flip, just like he’s done since I first laid eyes on him while walking down the aisle. “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t. The animal shelter needs to be prepared for anything.”
“People around here bring antelopes back from Africa a lot?”
I’m not sure if he’s teasing me, so I just go with it. “No, but they do adopt animals that they don’t keep longer than two weeks, and then we’re responsible for them.”
“Hey, Chatty Cathies. We’re trying to take a wedding picture here,” a guy calls out.
“Shut it, Rollins,” the groomsman growls, then turns his sexy blue eyes on me again. “Ignore him. You talk for as long as you want.”
“That could be a really long time,” I admit. “I live by myself and Empress Padme is exceptionally good at the quiet game.”
His eyes widen a little. “Really?”
The sound of a camera whirring as it takes our pictures doesn’t stop me from looking at him. Something that is a feat in of itself since I’m a teensy bit vain when it comes to how I look in photographs.
“I’m Saylor, by the way.”
“Hayden.”
“You’re Anakin.” I practically breathe his name. Wincing, I attempt to correct myself. “I meant that you have the same name as the guy who played him and Darth Vader.”
“My acting chops are far, far worse.”
“Doubtful.” Only a smidgen of guilt pokes me in the gut for being so disloyal. “Have you seen the latest one?”
Before Hayden can answer, Hunter grabs his arm, giving me a smile and Hayden a pointed look. “Mind if I borrow him?”
“It’s your wedding.”
I watch as the two of them walk away, Hunter talking intently to Hayden.
Evangeline, looking radiant in her wedding gown, joins in on the picture, which is now only of bridesmaids and flower girls.
There are twenty-five of us.
Or three.
Whatever.
Eva has a lot of nieces, a sister, and four sisters-in-law. They’re all beautiful, happily married—the sisters, not the nieces—and kind…I want to hate them, but I can’t. They’re undeserving of that kind of emotion from me.
Plus, they did my makeup and hair—the nieces, not the sisters. The oldest one, all of twelve, wielded an eyeliner pencil better than Rey with a light saber.
“Was Hayden bothering you?” Evangeline asks as we take a break from smiling.
I like him bothering me. “We were just talking.”
Her blue-green eyes flicker over me. “He didn’t want to just talk.”
“I know. He actually wanted to listen to me go on about antelope adoption.” I lean in close. “We don’t actually have anyone doing that.”
Her brow furrows. “Do you want me to tell Hunter to lay off of Hayden for you?”
“It’s your wedding,” I repeat for the second time that day. “I’m here for you.” I belatedly realize that groomsman Hayden is actually firefighter Hayden she and Hunter have mentioned in conversations over the past few months.
A beatific smile curves the corners of Evangeline’s mouth. “I know you are, and I’m very thankful you’re putting up with me and my family. We can be overwhelming by sheer size alone. Just think of how crowded it would be if everyone I invited had come.”
I stare at her in awe. “There are more of you?”
She nods. “Practically an entire county.”
“That’s nice.” I know my face is going to Sadville, but I put a stop to it. It’s not her fault I’m alone ninety percent of the time. “Got any hot cousins or nephews I can meet?”
Dimples appear in her cheeks. “No one old enough.”
“Guess Hayden will have to do.”
We start walking back inside. Evangeline links her arm with mine. “Are you planning on getting lucky at my reception?”
My face heats. “No.”
“It’s okay if you do.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“As long as you know up f
ront that Hayden—”
“Evangeline, time for your entrance,” the wedding planner calls.
“That Hayden what?” I ask her, but she’s already on her way to boogie down the middle of the reception hall.
Is he married? An undercover agent? An undercover agent who is married to his job?
“You’re next,” the wedding planner says cheerfully.
“I wish.” I so wish it were me getting married next, but then I’d have to get to know the guy first and he’d want to meet my family, get to know me…all of me, and the thought of all that happening is horrifically terrifying.
Besides, who’s going to fall in love with someone like me?
—
After everyone throws enough birdseed to feed the parakeets at the animal shelter for a year at Evangeline and Hunter as they run for their getaway limo, I start collecting the unused net bags and slip them into my purse.
“Need any help?” Hayden asks, holding out his hand.
I stare at him for a moment, like he’s holding forbidden fruit instead of several bags of birdseed. “That would be great.” Opening my purse wide, I nod at him. “Lob them in.”
“That’s the biggest purse I’ve ever seen.” He carefully places the bags inside. “Any chance you got a passport in there?”
“Who carries around a passport?” I ask. Besides me, that is. I always have to be prepared, in case my mom calls at the last minute to fly me out to see her. Never on location, though.
She’s still all about me leading a normal life.
“Hopefully, you do. My apartment is a couple of blocks away, so I figured you can drive me there to get my things, and then off to the airport we go.”
“You want me to go away with you?”
He lifts a blond brow. “The Castillos invited the entire wedding party back to their place, remember?”
Oh, good grief. Yes, I do remember. I’m such an idiot. Why would he want to go away with me anywhere?
Pretending to be confused, I tilt my head to one side. “We need a passport to stay at the Charlotte Hilton?”
He laughs. “No, but we do need one in order to travel to Mexico. I thought we could change up our flight plans and get there early. Are you down?”
“What about my birdseed?” I ask stupidly. I have to be stupid to be worried about that more than traveling to an exotic location a day early with him. “The shelter could use it.”
Hayden’s blue eyes gaze into mine for what seems like eternity before he steps back. “I need everyone to gather every bit of birdseed and put it on table five. Rollins will drop it off at the animal shelter in Forrestville when we’re done.”
“Dude. I don’t work for you,” he grumbles.
“What about this lovely woman?” Hayden jerks his thumb at me. “She needs help.”
Rollins’s dark gaze travels over me. “The glasses are nerdy, but the body is banging. Deal.”
“Ignore him. The glasses are just as banging as the rest of you,” Hayden murmurs. “Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I first saw you walking down the aisle.”
He couldn’t stop thinking about me?
“A shame you weren’t at the rehearsal dinner,” he adds.
I’m beginning to think so, too, and not just because I still feel guilty for letting Eva down by canceling at the last minute. “Ridiculous gerbil-stuck-in-the-heat-vent emergency. I mean, obviously the gerbil isn’t ridiculous, just his actions. Normally gerbils are quite intelligent, but there’s always one in the bunch.” And there’s his cue to walk away from wackadoodle Saylor Dean in three, two, one—
“Workplace hazard. Comes with the territory of being the boss.” He smiles again, and I swear my heart trips in my chest. “So about Mexico…want to go early with me?”
“Are you trying to hook up with me?” I ask.
He runs his thumb across his bottom lip, his angel blue eyes turning wicked. “Up to you, sweetheart.”
Chapter 3
Hayden
My head is pounding like someone took a jackhammer to it. I haven’t had a hangover like this in years, not since college, but my buddy’s family knows how to throw an after-party like no other.
Tequila had been the drink of choice. Pretty sure his mom drank me under the table. In any case, I ended up flying to Tijuana early with half the bridal party and all of the Castillos. Only, the last thing I remember is picking up birdseed after Hunter and Evangeline left.
Why, I have no idea.
Also, it sucks that I can’t remember the flight. Or what I did last night.
Forcing my eyes open wide, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and check behind me to make sure I’m alone. There’s no one with me, not even an indentation in the pillow. The bedcovers are reasonably rearranged. No condom wrappers on the floor and the morning wood I’m sporting is barely a semi.
My head starts pounding again, reminding me of what I need. Relief. Stat.
Pushing out of bed, I go in search of coffee and a pain reliever. Hunter’s grandmother, Mrs. Castillo, invited the entire wedding party to stay at her house, which turns out to be a huge hacienda on the outskirts of the city. I can’t remember what her family is into, but based on what I’ve seen so far, it’s very lucrative.
Yawning, I scratch my chest and make a pit stop in the bathroom before heading down another hallway, which leads me straight into the kitchen. The smell of coffee fills the air and I want to kiss the pot brewing near the stove.
Even if I think the shit is vile.
There’s a woman sitting at the table. From my vantage point, I can see legs, an oversized shirt…and chocolate brown hair pulled into a messy bun, like she spent the night in someone’s bed.
The lucky bastard.
Not a bad view at all.
“Good morning.” I step past her, heading straight to the coffee. “Do I have you to thank for making this?”
“No.” Her voice sounds vaguely familiar, but for the life of me I can’t place it. “It was already brewing when I got here.”
Grabbing the pot of coffee and a mug, I lean against the counter and pour a cup so that I can get a good look at her. A flash of pink catches my eye first. She’s wearing flowers in her hair. Her chin tips up slightly, revealing a full, pink mouth, high cheekbones, and glasses that frame a pair of dark brown eyes.
I’ve always been a sucker for brown eyes. One of the bridesmaids at the wedding had eyes like that, glasses, too.
“I know you.” I snap my fingers. “You’re the naughty bridesmaid, Sammy.”
“It’s Saylor.” Her head tilts to one side, then she pushes those sexy-as-fuck black glasses back up on her nose. “Saylor Dean.”
“Got it.” I grin sheepishly at her. “Sorry, I’m not my usual self.”
Her black lashes flicker down, then back up. “You don’t seem any different to me.”
I frown. “Is that an insult?”
“Do you think how you normally act is offensive?” She sips daintily from her mug.
“Depends on who you ask. Need a refill?”
She shakes her head. “Not drinking.”
I look pointedly at her cup. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.” This she says right before taking another sip.
Maybe she’s just as hung over as I am? “Mind if I join you?” I flash her the infamous Walker smile, the same one my dad, the senator from the great state of North Carolina, uses in every commercial and on every campaign stop.
Unfortunately, I’ve inherited that smile.
Fortunately, it works about ninety-five percent of the time. Then again, I’m not using my charms to get votes; I’m using it to convince a sexy woman to let me sit with her.
“Why would I mind?” she asks.
“I was being polite.”
Her dark gaze runs over me and my cock stirs. “No you weren’t.”
Something tingles at the back of my brain, but I ignore it. It’s not like I have Spidey-sense. “What was I bei
ng then?”
“Flirtatious.”
“You got me there.”
A small smile ghosts her lips. “You’re also nude.”
“What?” I look down and cover my junk, almost burning myself in the process. Shit. That’s all I need is to be labeled a perv in the press. My dad would love that, and while I normally enjoy yanking his chain, this is not what I want to be known for. I’m a fire captain, for fuck’s sake, and want to be taken seriously. Hard enough as it is when you’re the guy who not only has the proverbial silver spoon but the entire silver serving set.
“I’m so sorry. I had a one-track mind this morning.”
“You really did, but…not with me.” She stands up, then moves to the sink to rinse out her mug and place it on the counter to dry. “Nice seeing all of you again.”
“You, too, Saylor.”
I watch her walk away, the hem of the shirt she’s wearing barely concealing her plump ass. Giving her a head start, I wait until I can’t see her anymore before I sneak back to my room. At least Saylor didn’t have a phone with her, so I don’t have to worry about dick shots on the Internet.
Forget my father. Images like that would embarrass my mother so horribly that I wouldn’t be able to ever look her in the eye again.
Yeah, I’ll admit it. My mother is my weak spot. She’s as kind as my father is crafty. To this day, I don’t know what she sees in him, but I do know they fell in love when they were practically kids.
And I can admit my dad’s not a total prick. He’s faithful to my mom and there’s never been a scandal about him and young interns. Or any interns, for that matter.
But he still can’t wrap his head around why I keep telling him no when he sends me prodding emails asking for status updates on my decision. Why I have no desire to continue to rub noses with the Who’s Who of American politics and world leaders.
Frankly, I can’t stand the pretentiousness of it all. The posturing, the quid pro quo at every turn, and the absolute certainty that only their point of view is gospel.
Unfortunately, I made a promise to follow in his footsteps and he’s never forgotten it. My dad doesn’t care that my version of public service is actually acts of service within the community, not making laws to screw over the people who voted and didn’t vote for me alike.
Hard to Fall Page 2
