Wilde About Carson: The Brothers Wilde Series — Book Three

by Faircloth, Cate

  “Wow, Carson.” I get in. I told him a while ago he didn’t have to open my door for me every time, and he only recently got it.

  “It was the closest thing to a bat-mobile.” He pulls out of the spot and races off, literally. I guess so he can use the Ferrari for what it was made for. It’s all black, matted out, perfectly inconspicuous.

  “I see that. You look insane.” I look over at him. The all-black suit is very similar to the real thing, he could star in Hollywood. And he can’t turn his head like Batman too.

  “I know, you do, too. Jesus, Em, there is no way you aren’t breaking hearts tonight.”

  I giggle once. “I’m just going to enjoy myself. Is there a contest? You know, for best costume.”

  “I don’t know.” Carson chuckles. “I wouldn’t put it past him to come up with something crazy like that, though.”

  “Maybe.” I yawn.

  “Tired already?” Carson teases me.

  “No just… it was so much work getting ready.”

  “I can imagine. No music requests?”

  I smile. “You can have your pick… this time.”

  Once we arrive, we get valeted and walk in to the booming party. We are barely late, but it’s already so full and lively. Everyone is dressed up, having fun, and dancing. I already need a drink.

  “Bar,” Carson leans down to tell me in my ear.

  I nod. We’ll probably find his brothers wandering around somewhere. Until then, I take down a shot and then sip at my overly sweet paloma.

  “Why do you always get that snooty drink?” Carson nudges me at the bar. He seems taller with the costume, the cape, and headpiece. All I can see is his mouth and half his chiseled jaw, his lips pulled into one of his smirks, the one he uses to tease me.

  “Because I like the drink. I like the snooty drink.” I giggle over the glass and have more.

  “Whatever.” He sighs, all dramatic and such.

  “I see Holden. He came as Loki, and Dylan came as Thor.” Carson laughs looking over my head.

  I turn and spot them. Dylan looks hot as always but even more hot dressed as Thor. Holden too, he makes a very good Loki. All his brothers are good looking, I know this. Carson too. Sometimes I forget, then I get shocked like I am now.

  “They look…” I laugh and shake my head. “Where is Evan?”

  “Probably already ran off with someone.” He chuckles.

  I look for him anyway and finally find him by the array of food, all Halloween themed. He came as Sherlock Holmes, so I can tell it’s him with the comb back, gelled hair, and pipe.

  “There he is. And I need food.” I smile at Carson and down my drink.

  “You go, I’ll bring drinks.”

  I smile wider because that makes me happy. Food and drinks. I need to unwind, and I really need a fun night.

  * * *

  Holden is quite the party planner. Well, I guess, technically, Elizabeth did all this since she manages the PR of the company and probably did all the behind-the-scenes work. But still, Holden can at least get a little bit of credit. Even though he is keeping to himself with Dylan, it is like they have an understanding and only don’t bicker with each other. Evan is talking women up. Everyone is having a good time. It’s probably the alcohol, though. And Carson and I are doing what we always do at parties—acting like complete fools.

  We’re dancing, drinking, unwinding for the first time in what feels like a really long time. I have always been a better dancer than him, and I try to show him some of my moves, but he’s a lost cause. Plus, these costumes are really tight.

  “You don’t have to make a speech or something, do you?” I tug him down to me by his shoulders, even in my heels he has three inches on me. I yell in his ear, the sweat of his neck hitting my cheek. He smells like pine, mint, and cologne. It sucks guys always smell so good even after sweating.

  “No, you want to go?” he replies back in my ear.

  “In theory.” I pull back to smile at him, he grins at me, and we slow down off the hard beat of the music.

  “Come on, we used to go for hours.”

  “That could mean so many things.” I laugh, shouting back. “It’s hot, my feet hurt. This latex is about to become a part of me.”

  He laughs with me and nods. We leave the crowd of dancing people and get one last drink before he makes a round of goodbyes. I don’t have many friends at work—my department isn’t very friendly. A lot of people don’t like their boss being older than them, I suppose. So, Carson makes his rounds and accepts the thanks of happy employees. It’s nice.

  “You two headed off for… fighting crime?” Evan chuckles over his scotch glass, probably one too many.

  “No.” Carson looks away from him and at me, “Let’s go.”

  I wave to Holden and Evan, Carson doesn’t bother with Dylan, and then we leave. Carson never planned to drive back because we are both definitely tipsy. A car takes us back to his place. We decided a long time ago that impromptu sleepovers were better at his place, since I can wear his clothes, and he can’t wear mine. We are both stumbling through his living room, up the stairs, laughing. The last time we were both like this was senior year of college after graduation and everything was over. We got… really wasted. The memory makes me laugh.

  “Are you laughing at the carpet again?” Carson asks me. I turn up and look at him, and then I laugh again, hurting from my belly.

  “No.” I giggle.

  We get to his closet, and I end up leaning over the futon he has in there.

  “Ow.” I rub at my head even though it doesn’t hurt when he tosses clothes at me. Subconsciously, I forget where I am and just start changing, but it’s hard to even get the damn thing off.

  “I need help.” I don’t even see Carson anymore. I hear him around the other side of his cabinet. His closet looks like a… maze right now.

  “With?” Carson reappears, sans shirt in gray flannel pants. Very… leave-nothing-to-the- imagination pants. My head is swimming.

  “The zipper. Costume. Thingy.” I giggle to myself. He chuckles stepping behind me to help me out. He gets it undone easily, but I only have the front strapless type bra on so the back is exposed. I feel like I just released a vortex of heat when it finally opens—this thing sucks heat in and doesn’t let it out.

  “Thank you.”

  “Yeah.” He half yawns, but I can’t really see what else he does. He’s behind me, and I don’t have the energy to turn around.

  “Stop yanking at it like that.” Carson laughs at me.

  “It’s really stuck,” I whine.

  He laughs and turns me to face him.

  “You have to peel it. Like a… banana.” He can barely get the words out before he snickers himself to death. And I fall along with him trying not to look down at his… I really drank too much.

  “You peel. I’ll watch.” I think the words come out before I think. I’m not really doing much thinking.

  “Peeling…” He smiles.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “What, you aren’t wearing a bra?”

  “No.” I giggle. “One of those sticker things.”

  “Oh, so you don’t have poking headlights.”

  We both laugh really hard. He closes his eyes, and I let him peel the damned latex off me.

  “That’s not a real thing…” I tug one arm out and reach for the shirt, “… and we need to do something about our breath. And empty stomachs.” Our laughs mix together again. He gets the other arm out, and I pull it too fast stumbling over my own imbalance.

  When I get my feet out, it gets worse, and I stumble into him. He catches me with his eyes closed, but I don’t know if they still are because my face is on his chest, my cheek right at his sternum. My first inclination is to move, it really is, but I just… my body just lets go of itself, and I feel his arms around me again just like at the pool. And I can’t move. I don’t really want to. His warmth is… it’s new, even in my cocktail haze I recognize it as more than a d
runken stumble. His hands, on my waist, his body on my effectively half-naked body, my arms clutching his pulsing, flexed biceps. I don’t want to let go, and I don’t know why. I don’t know much of anything right now.

  “As a good friend and a gentleman, I just want to let you know my eyes are still closed… and I might fall over any second now.”

  I’m glad Carson said something, so I can lean back and look up at him to smile. His dark lashes fan over his cheeks, rosy and flushed right now from the rush of alcohol. I lick my dry lips and detach myself from him enough to put on his shirt, old and green. And a pair of my shorts I must have left here a long time ago. Reaching under my shirt, I peel away the technologically advanced bra and can finally relax.

  “Okay. I’m decent.” I watch Carson. He pikes his brow and pops a smirk.

  “Sure about that?”

  I shove his hard chest playfully, and he doesn’t move, no surprise. He opens his eyes, all bright and gray and… I don’t know.

  “We need coffee and carbs.” I nod.

  “Stat.”

  A few hours later after a few sandwiches and black coffee, we sit completely lucid in the living room on his fluffy gray carpet. I knew I designed this place well. I love what I did here. I love that we’re friends, always. Our fun rules aren’t just rules we made up along the way, they… they work for a reason. And touching, we always touch. We always hug and cuddle together, but I don’t with anyone else. It doesn’t stick with me for moments after like this. It wasn’t the alcohol, it was the pull, and I was completely aware then.

  “What’s wrong? You want dessert, too?” Carson nudges my knee. He is on the corner of the sectional, so I can look directly at him.

  I hug my knees up to my chest, leaning my head back on the cushion of the couch.

  “No, I’m just… waiting to be tired.”

  “Hard partying does that to you. Did you have fun?”

  “Yeah, I did. Holden was right. I’m so ready to buy all the foreign holdings.” I laugh at my own joke. Carson does too.

  “He usually is right.” Carson snacks on popcorn from one of those skinny pop brands. He only keeps it here for me, though. He’s all about high carbs, the annoying eat anything and not have to pay for it.

  I sigh and sit onto my side, so I can look directly at Carson. He does meet my gaze, and he must be able to read my expression. Questions.

  “Are we going to pretend we weren’t half naked, holding onto each other. Twice.” I bite my lower lip inside and wait for his response. His lips twitches as he is trying not to laugh.

  “We were a little drunk, Em.”

  “Not in the pool.”

  “Jetlagged.”

  I almost laugh. “Do you have a reason for everything?”

  “Yes, I do. I survive on contingency plans.”

  “So, you think it was nothing?” I ask him almost afraid of the answer. My voice trembles to prove it.

  “Yeah, I think it was nothing.” He shrugs. “It was a moment. Do you think it was nothing?” He leans with his hand on the ground leaning closer to me.

  I get lost in his eyes wondering if I should lie or turn this into a thing. I don’t think I should, and I don’t want to. Not with Carson. But… this is Carson and me. For the first time, I am really contemplating whether or not we will make… if we will get over the crazy things going on in my head. I just have a lot going on, that has to be it. I miss being in a relationship, that has to be it.

  “Yeah. It was nothing.” I shrug at him releasing my lip I bit too hard.

  Carson smiles and nods. I see right through it the same way he did with me. We can always see right through each other, right through everything. And we’re never wrong.

  And we always know when the other is lying.

  13

  Carson

  To say it’s hard to bounce back from last night is an understatement.

  It wasn’t anything too complicated, or too intense, or to me anything that is too out of the ordinary. Friendships as long as Emily’s and mine have had their fair share of awkward or too close moments, but I have always just ignored them. On top of that, I was borderline drunk. We both were, and we were just having fun.

  But I didn’t expect her to lie.

  It sucks that I can tell everything and more about her even when I’m not trying. If she felt something about it, she would have told me—should have. Being honest about everything is the only way to make it this far and stay close friends. I know she knows that, so I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t tell me if she had something to say about it, and it worries me. What sucks even more, though, is that the only persons I talk to besides Emily are my brothers, especially the ones I work with. But since they have talked me to death and back about Emily, I’m not inclined to fuel that fire.

  I spend Sunday working out and reading to clear my head and keep it off Emily at the same time, and whatever she has going on. The working-out thing isn’t a surprise to most, the reading is, but it’s nothing special, just print articles I get in the mail. It’s something to do while the television is on, and I’m not interested in staring at a screen all day. But Emily and I at least have dinner on Sunday like we do occasionally, but it might only be because I picked up enchiladas and rice, her favorite meal that she won’t admit to, and forced my way in. Not like we didn’t have a good time, just that she was kind of off the entire time.

  When Emily is off, she rambles and talks about stuff that is unimportant. Like pop culture celebrities, and the babies they are having. We don’t care about that kind of stuff at all, she especially doesn’t, or the weather, but that’s what she chats me up with. And because I know her so well, I know I shouldn’t pry her about it because then she will get all defensive and avoid me for like a week. It happened when she had sex for the first time, and I suspected it and then asked her about it. I asked her to death about it, and she didn’t talk to me for almost two weeks. So, I know her limits. I just have to live with it until she tells me whatever is bothering her. First the pool, now the closet—like we haven’t changed clothes around each other a hundred times before. Not fully naked, but still. Obviously, something is going on.

  Holden continues distracting me with work, has been since this morning. I started my Monday with him calling me at 4:00 a.m. to sit in on a conference call with the finance holding in Lagos. I sat in my den on the video camera with only my suit top and shirt on for two hours before I even got ready to go to the office. Since 10:00 a.m., I have been in and out of meetings, checking in on my department heads and some of the other employees just to keep my nice streak going. Dad always told us about employee morale and how important it is, and we wouldn’t be at this point or even be able to move forward if our employees weren’t passionate about their work and their leaders, but not too passionate because of the strict no fraternization policy we have. Dad brought it in like maybe three years before he died after two departments virtually turned on each other and made it impossible to get anything done. And Holden kept it going by enforcing real rules and procedures to maintain the policy. So far, he has fired at least twelve people for it, or I guess I should say six couples. It’s important to keep the company a breeding ground for success and professionalization, not… breeding.

  I eat lunch alone not because Emily is avoiding me but because she has her divisional meetings up until three. When that rolls around, I finish my own stuff and consult with Evan on an experimental security policy that will keep each employee’s computer secure and not just the entire server. It will cost millions, and Dylan hasn’t been very giving or willing to listen to anything lately, so neither of us are excited to introduce that to him when the time comes.

  “No office sex with Emily today?” Evan grins standing in front of my desk like he owns the room.

  I glance at him from my computer only to glare at him and then go back to the spreadsheet detailing my daily reports. I hate doing this part, but I don’t trust an assistant enough to do it. All of us don�
�t give much administrative work to our assistants. They are basically over- paid to get lunch orders, coffee, and set reminders. None have complained.

  “We don’t… never mind. I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

  “What? Are you shy about your sex life?” He sits sideways on the edge of my desk effectively knocking papers off the corner.

  I roll my eyes, rest my cheek on my fist like I am just tired. I think I am.

  “No, do you want to hear about the hot, brunette model I was with last night? Because I can tell you.” I smirk. Sometimes I forget about those things because it’s always just sex. I haven’t tried to date since college. But I’m a warm-blooded male, and I have needs.

  “No, but can I have her number?” Evan chuckles. I do end up laughing but only for a moment.

  “No, you cannot. Besides, that’s kind of weird. The whole brothers thing.”

  “Not really. Some explicitly ask for it. But whatever. I don’t really want to have this conversation.”

  “Then why did you come in here? For the joy of irritating me?” I try to talk as I type, but the words get mixed up. I type the wrong thing and start over as Evan laughs, takes my stress ball and starts tossing it to himself. I really don’t think those things remove stress, they are just fun to toss and good for decoration.

  “No. Maybe I’m lonely. Holden is always on the phone. Dylan is an ass these days. You’re the only brother I can talk to here. You know I can’t talk to the regulars.” He makes a fake disgusted sound. He calls the other employees regulars. I think it’s absolutely hazing but at least he doesn’t say it to their face.

  “If you want to talk, we can have a normal conversation. But not about your ill-placed idea that Emily and I have something going on,” I say back. But I don’t sound as convinced as I usually do because I’m not even convinced anymore.

  If Emily really did harbor secret feelings for me, I have no idea what I would do. It seems too much like a fantasy, one of those things you think about but know will never happen. Like being a billionaire—except I don’t have to fantasize about that. But other people might.