by Kennedy Fox
“We only have one night, right?” He arches a brow, waiting for my confirmation, and when I nod, he continues. “Which means I’m going to make every minute count.”
He cups the back of my neck and captures my mouth with his in a feverish kiss. Hands and lips cover my skin, playing and sucking until both of us have had our fill.
Which seems never-ending, considering he takes me three more times before the sun rises.
The obnoxious thumping in my head is the first thing I notice when I startle awake. Once I peel my eyes open, the sun rising and glaring through the barely there curtains is the second thing I notice.
I drank way too much last night, which I haven’t done in a long-ass time. The last time I let loose like that was years ago when a bunch of my classmates and I went out to celebrate acing our exams. Between work and family engagements, I only drank a glass or two of wine at a time, so the fact that I’m not puking my guts out right now is a miracle.
It takes me a second to realize where I am. Blinking to clear my vision, I look around the room and remember he took me to his room at the B&B last night. Wait. Who is he? I know he told me his name, and I probably even screamed it a few times, but for the life of me, I’m drawing a blank.
Ethan? Nathan? Drew? Fuck.
It doesn’t matter anyway since I don’t plan on hanging around. I broke my own damn rule, and now I need to get the hell out before I’m face-to-face with him.
Slowly, I slide my body out of bed, grabbing the fallen sheet from the floor and wrapping it around my chest. I grab my clutch before tiptoeing to the bathroom and quietly shut the door behind me. Once I pee and fix the rat’s nest on my head, I reach for my phone and see Kiera’s already texted me.
Kiera: Please don’t hate me.
* * *
Kiera: I can explain everything. I promise!
* * *
Kiera: Where did you end up?
* * *
Emily: I’ll kick your ass later for ditching me, but right now I need a ride out of here!
* * *
Kiera: Where are you??
* * *
Emily: At the B&B.
* * *
Kiera: I can be there in a few! How’d you end up there anyway?
* * *
Emily: Well after you bailed on me, I met a guy and well… I woke up in bed with him.
* * *
Kiera: WHAT! OMG!
* * *
Emily: I know!! Now I need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up.
* * *
Kiera: What, why? Is he ugly?
I roll my eyes. Of course, she’d ask that.
Kiera: Wait. Who is it?
* * *
Emily: Uh, I don’t remember his name exactly. I got really drunk. I think it’s Drew? He was wearing a tux and in the wedding party.
* * *
Kiera: You need to get the hell out of there ASAP, Em. No joke. Do not let anyone see you!!
* * *
Emily: OMG you’re freaking me out! Why?
* * *
Kiera: Drew is MARRIED! To Courtney!
Oh my God. My entire body starts to shake. Courtney is the Bishop sister.
Emily: That can’t be right! He wasn’t wearing a ring…
* * *
Kiera: It’s easy to remove a ring, Em! If he got drunk and slept with you, everyone is going to FREAK OUT! Get the hell out of there!
* * *
Emily: I’m going to get dressed. Meet me in 5 minutes!
* * *
Kiera: I’ll text you as soon as I’m there.
My heart is racing, and I don’t know whether to cry or scream—or both. What the fuck? What kind of man cheats on his wife at the wedding of her brother? Where the hell was Courtney and the kids? I rack my brain to think of when I saw her last, but nothing comes to mind. Could she have left early to put the triplets to bed? I only met her briefly, but she and Drew were both in the wedding party, and I remember seeing her walk down the aisle with her long blonde hair and wide, giddy smile.
Oh my God, what have I done?
I tiptoe back out into the room and grab my dress and shoes. Once I’ve slipped my clothes on, I look around and see Drew’s tux spread out on the floor. Anger fills my veins as I think about what my ex did to me and how shitty it felt to be cheated on. Why would this guy risk his whole life for a one-night stand? It was both of our ideas to keep things casual, but to cheat on your wife with her entire family nearby?
What a motherfucking douchebag. The thought brings up the moment I realized my ex was a cheating asshole, and that anger resurfaces, sending me into action.
Just because I’m bailing doesn’t mean he should get away with this. Who knows how many other times he’s cheated or plans to in the future.
I quickly gather up his clothes and shoes and walk out with whatever dignity I have left—which isn’t much, considering the circumstances. I make sure to set his phone and wallet down on the nightstand, but let’s see him talk his way out of this one. He won’t be able to leave without telling people his one-night stand stole his clothes.
Take that, you cheating bastard.
I quickly go down the staircase and keep my head low, so no one stops me. I don’t want anyone looking at me and wonder why I’m fleeing. Once I’m outside, I spot Kiera’s car and run barefoot until I hit the door. Rushing inside, I slam it behind me and finally breathe.
“Go!” I tell her, not wanting to chat about this entire fucked-up situation.
My heart races as she speeds out of the parking lot, and I clench the tux and shoes to my chest. When we’re finally a couple of miles down the road, I exhale.
“What are you holding?” Kiera finally notices my full arms.
I cringe, realization setting in to what I’ve done. “His tux.”
Her eyes widen as she bursts out laughing. She’s nearly rolling over and beside herself when she watches my deadpan expression.
“You fucking ran out with his clothes? The hell, Em?” She’s still laughing as she scolds me.
“Well, I was pissed to find out he’s married! He deserves it,” I explain matter-of-factly. I throw them in her back seat as well as the shoes before slipping my heels on.
“Are you sure his name was Drew?” She narrows her eyes.
“No.” I shake my head. “I just know that he was in the wedding party because he was wearing the same tux.”
“Well, there were eight groomsmen. So let’s figure this out. Process of elimination.”
I nod. “Okay. Well, I know it wasn’t Jackson or John.” She gives me a side-eye glance that tells me it better not have been either of them. “I wasn’t that drunk.”
“Drunk enough to forget his name.” She chuckles, and I frown. “Okay, sorry. That was mean.”
“Continue…”
“That leaves his older brother, Evan, his brother-in-law, Drew—which I’m praying to God it wasn’t—Alex’s cousins, William and Mason, and his two friends, Dylan and Jake.”
“None of those names ring a bell, to be honest,” I admit.
“Process of elimination,” she reminds me. “Let’s start with Drew. Did he have a ton of tattoos on his arms and chest? He has dark brown hair and is really built.”
I blink, picturing his naked body and trying to remember if I saw any ink on his body. “I don’t think so, but I’m not positive.” I close my eyes and think back to when he bit my shoulder, and my fingernails dug into his biceps as he fucked me hard. “Wait, no. His arms are bare.”
“Are you sure?” There’s a hopefulness in her tone.
Nodding, the image clearer in my mind now. “Yeah, I remember his arms now. Ink free.”
She releases a long breath, and her shoulders relax. “Then it couldn’t have been Drew. He has a tattoo sleeve on one of his arms.”
“I would’ve remembered that much ink,” I say.
“Thank God.” She sighs. “I was going to have a stroke if it really was Drew.”
“Yeah, I’m glad too.” My entire body relaxes knowing I didn’t help a married man cheat on his wife. “But then who the hell was it?”
“Five more to go through.” She chuckles, finding my misery humorous when I glare at her. “The first time you slut around, and you can’t even remember his name. I’m sorry…not sorry.”
I roll my eyes, hating that I didn’t have enough willpower to stick to my damn rules. “This is why I vowed for no more relationships or men. It always comes back to bite me in the ass.”
“Not to mention you stole an innocent man’s tux.” She snorts. “You know that needs to be returned, right? Otherwise, there’s like a five-hundred-dollar fee.”
“I’m not returning it!” I squeal. “Am I just supposed to walk in and be like ‘Oh hey, I took this but wanted to return it. Sorry.’”
“Well, none of the other groomsmen are married, so technically, you did steal it.”
My head falls back on the seat as I groan and curse for getting myself into this situation. “Can’t you do it for me? Just say that you found it or something.”
“But that doesn’t sound nearly as much fun as making you do it.” She smirks.
“Kiera Georgina Young! I have bailed you out of so much shit, you owe me!” I point my finger at her. “Should I remind you of Billy Peterson our junior year and the two-hundred-dollar bra you left in his room that you made me sneak in and get back for you?”
“Ugh.” She groans, curling her lip up in annoyance. “I hate when you use my middle name.”
“You deserve it.”
“Fine, but then I’m asking whose it is and figuring this mystery out once and for all.”
“I don’t even want to know,” I say, wishing I could erase the memory of last night. Even though the parts I can remember were really hot. I turn and look at her. “Wait. You want to tell me where you were last night?”
Her cheeks redden, and it’s all I need to know it’s a juicy story.
“Spill it.”
Chapter Five
EVAN
A headache that’s about to split my head in two wakes me from a deep sleep. My inner doctor tells me I drank too much alcohol and should’ve had more water. I roll over, expecting to feel a body next to me as the memories from last night flood in. Peeling my eyes open, I place my hand on her empty side, which is cold but oddly still smells like her.
Looking around, I don’t see her clothes on the floor, and that’s all the confirmation I need to know she’s gone, which is for the best considering I don’t have time for anything serious. Stella was nothing more than a memory, a good one at that, but that’s all she can be now. To think, if she would’ve still been here, I might’ve gone against everything I believe and asked her out again. There was something about her I liked, and I stretch and smile at the thought. Thankfully, she did leave, and now we can go on about our lives. I almost understand why Jackson does this often—almost.
I reach for my phone and realize it’s close to nine in the morning. I can’t remember the last time I slept in like this, but apparently, I needed the rest—especially after last night. Pushing off the blanket, I look around the room for my shoes, pants, and shirt and am slightly confused when I don’t see any of my fucking clothes anywhere. They should be on the floor somewhere by the bed because I remember the exact moment when I took them off. Knowing this must be some sort of cruel joke, I stand, butt-ass naked and search around the room. After opening the drawers and looking in the bathroom and closet, I realize they’re gone, just like Stella.
“Fuck!” I yell out in frustration, hoping no one heard me because the walls are thin. Remembering I left my overnight bag at home and didn’t have time to go back and grab it, I have no other choice but to call for help.
In an angry rage, I pick up my cell phone that’s conveniently next to my wallet on the nightstand and check my latest texts to see if there are any clues as to who this woman was. Nothing. Not one hint.
Stella and I kept things simple, leaving out all personal details, and not even twelve hours later, that decision has already come back and bit me in the ass. Not really knowing what else to do, I call Jackson in hopes he’ll be awake and can bring me some clothes. I’ve bailed him out of shit plenty of times before, and at this point, he owes me. Of course, he doesn’t answer, and I have to listen to his stupid voicemail where he does nothing but laugh before the beep.
“Jackson. What the fuck? You’re supposed to answer when someone calls you. It’s kind of important. Call me back.” I end the call, then make my way down the list.
John’s phone rings and rings, and he doesn’t answer either. I listen to his overly professional voicemail, then leave him a message too. “Call me back.” I hang up and sit on the edge of the bed, wondering if I can take the sheet from the bed, wrap it around my body, and make it to my truck without anyone noticing. Fat chance considering the B&B is full of family members and friends. My choices are limited, and I’m halfway tempted to call Alex, but it’s such a dick move considering he’s probably sleeping in after his big night.
Not knowing who else to call, I find Dylan’s number. Just like the rest of them, he doesn’t answer. Thank God this isn’t some big emergency, or I don’t need to be bailed out of jail or something.
The only other choice I have is to call Mama or Courtney, and I don’t want either of them in my damn business. I’d hear question after question about what I did last night and why I need clothes brought to my room. As I glance around, hoping I missed them tucked in a corner, the realization of what my missing tux actually means hits me. Stella stole it, and if it’s not returned, I’ll be required to pay to replace it, which isn’t cheap. The thought infuriates me. What the fuck was she actually thinking? More importantly—why?
“This is bullshit,” I say under my breath and try to muster the courage to call Courtney.
I find her name in my favorites, and just as I’m about to press send, an incoming call from John flashes on the screen. At least I can count on someone to return my call.
“Hey, what’s up?” John asks.
“I need a huge favor,” I say.
He laughs. “Go on.”
“Can you bring me some clothes and shoes? Please?” I sit on the edge of the bed naked and wait for his response.
“Why?” He lets out a small chuckle.
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Can you just do what I ask?”
“Only if you tell me why.”
I huff. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”
“Considering I’m going to have to stop what I’m doing on my day off to bring you clothes at the B&B, I think it’s the other way around. Waiting…”
Groaning, I explain how my clothes are gone, and I can’t leave the room. He bursts into big hearty laughter, and the sound of it actually pisses me off.
“You do know that tux has to be returned Monday by ten, right?”
“Well aware,” I mutter, trying to hold back my frustration.
“Alright. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there.”
Though I want to question why it’s going to take twenty damn minutes, I don’t. Instead, I thank him before hanging up. Knowing I have a little time before he arrives, I take the opportunity to hop in the shower and wash Stella and the memory of her from my body. After I’m done, I dry off and wrap a towel around my waist. Just as I walk into the room, a knock is heard at the door.
I open it and see Jackson standing in front of me. Just by the shit-eating grin on his face paired with his pants tucked into his boots, I know immediately it’s not John. The old switch and bait won’t work on me. “Where’s John? And you look like shit.”
He rolls his eyes and hands me a plastic grocery bag with clothes inside along with a pair of old cowboy boots. “Rough night. But apparently not as rough as yours,” he mutters, seeming amused.
I set the boots on the floor, then take the clothes from the bag and am shocked when I see a plaid, long-s
leeve flannel shirt, a pair of white underwear, and blue jeans with rips in the knees.
“Are you kidding me?” I turn around and glare at him.
With his arms crossed over his chest, Jackson simply gives me a sly smile, and I know he’s enjoying this way too much. “John said you needed clothes. Did you specify what you wanted?”
“Was a pair of boxer shorts, pants, and a T-shirt too hard to grab? Maybe some running shoes? Or something normal?” I ask, looking at the cliché cowboy suit lying on the bed. This outfit was picked out so he could get a good laugh today. I know him too well to think otherwise.
“Are these Dad’s underwear? What the fuck is this?” I hold them up and look at him.
He tries to hold back laughter to the point where it looks painful. “Beggars can’t be choosers; I think that’s how the saying goes.”
“You’re a dick,” I say, just as he bends over letting out a booming laugh. I push him out of the room and lock the door. Asshole. I’m seriously going to have a chat with John the next time I see him.
The towel falls to the floor, and I put on the clothes he brought me. My anger level rises as the pants hug my nuts like spandex. They’re so fucking tight I can barely walk. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see how absolutely ridiculous I look. I’m a walking Texas cowboy cliché with the flannel shirt, tight jeans that are cutting off the circulation of my dick, and the shit-kicking boots. All I need is a big ten-gallon cowboy hat and a fucking gold belt buckle the size of a plate.
