I might’ve only met her two days ago, but I knew so much about her. I knew her favorite color, what she smelled like, how she liked to be touched, where she worked, that she loved cars as much as I did. She cried during Celine Dion concerts, and she counted cards like a motherfucking boss.
She made me a better version of myself.
Last night, I’d dreamed that she said she wanted to keep me. And for the first time ever, I wanted to belong to someone.
I wanted to belong to her.
But she lived here, and I lived in Oklahoma. Two completely different worlds. Regular relationships were hard enough to navigate, but long distance?
We were doomed for failure.
And I cared too much about Brynne to put her through that.
I wouldn’t let this awesome weekend get tainted with the inevitable end. Resentment would turn into fights. Fights would produce harsh statements we didn’t mean and heartbreaks that might never heal.
If anyone could make Brynne stop believing in love, it was me.
With my mind made up, I made a quick call for a cab, then I dressed quietly next to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I stared at Brynne for a while—too long, in fact. Probably past the point of socially acceptable.
I didn’t even care if I was being creepy. Minutes ticked by as I selfishly soaked up these last moments we had together.
“Brynne.” I woke her with a kiss because I wanted to feel her lips against mine.
Blinking sleepily at me, she smiled. She brought a hand up to run her fingers through my hair and trailed her touch over my jaw.
When she took in the fact that I was already dressed and ready to go, that smile dropped. “You have to go now, huh?”
I nodded. “My flight leaves in three hours.”
“Okay.” She sat up and the sheet fell away, revealing her breasts. “Do you need me to drive you back to The Millennium?”
“No. I figured you’d want to sleep in, so I called a cab about ten minutes ago. They should be here soon.”
“Oh.” Her frown deepened. “Well, I’ll walk you to the door.”
I drank in her naked form as she grabbed a red silk robe from her dresser drawer and covered her body with it. Her movements were stiff, and for the first time, there was a heavy awkwardness in the air.
I hated it.
Of all the times she’d tried to keep herself from getting too close to me, this one bothered me the most. But it was also the most necessary.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing her hand as we walked down the hallway. Much to my relief Brynne squeezed back, and I was reminded of the first overly intimate handshake we shared at Little Black Dress. It felt like a lifetime ago.
When we got to the front door, she let go and reached for the knob. Pausing, she looked up at me.
“Do you want my number?” she asked, and I hated the unsure expression on her face. I didn’t want her to tiptoe around me. I wanted the bold, funny, optimistic woman I first met in the bar.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Will you use it?” She squared her shoulders.
There was the boldness I liked so much.
“I don’t know.” If I owed her anything, it was honesty.
It would take a massive amount of self-control to stop myself from calling her, but I had her best interests in mind.
She nodded, forcing her features to appear impassive, but I didn’t miss the way her chin trembled. “Then I don’t think you should have it.”
Ouch.
Wincing, I rubbed at my sternum like she’d delivered a physical blow, but I nodded in understanding.
“Thank you for everything,” I told her, sincerity lacing every syllable. “You totally saved my ass from being the shittiest best man in history. You’re the reason my brother had such a great time this weekend. You’re the reason I had such a great time, too.” I huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. “I’ve never been more grateful for a hangover because it led me to you, and you’re so amazing.”
God, that was the lamest goodbye speech ever, but I meant every word. I wanted to keep going. I wanted to let every lame, honest, awkward thought stumble off my tongue, but Brynne cut me off before I had the chance.
“Well, if you ever find yourself back in Vegas, you know where to find me.” She opened the door wide in an obvious send-off.
Stepping close, I cupped her face and gave her a searing kiss. I pushed my tongue past her lips and she pushed back. We devoured each other, like one final moment of passion could last us a lifetime.
But eventually, we had to separate. I gave her bottom lip one last suck, and I kissed the tip of her nose before stepping back.
“Bye, Brynne.” The words felt like razor blades in my throat.
“Bye, Carter.”
Conflicting emotions fired at me as I walked away.
It was the right thing to do.
No, it was the wrong thing to do—I knew it deep inside.
But I did it anyway.
Well, my Monday sucked so far. Usually I enjoyed my days off, cleaning and possibly shopping. So far, all I’d done was bake about two hundred cookies. Baking always made me feel better when I was sad.
And right now, I was devastated.
Why didn’t I give Carter my number? All hope of keeping in contact with him was gone. Because of my ridiculous pride.
What did I want him to do, beg for it?
Yeah, I guess I did. I wanted him to fight for me, which was a silly delusion. It stung when he said he didn’t know if he would call, but at least he didn’t lie to me. At least we had honesty. During our short time together, none of it was wasted on empty promises.
Blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, I surveyed the plates of chocolate chip morsels stacked around the kitchen. I didn’t even have the appetite to eat them.
I was too unsettled. Sick to my stomach. Fatigued.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was heartbreak.
Desperate ideas floated through my head. I could track Carter down on social media. Wait—I didn’t even know his last name. But I worked in the hotel he stayed at. Surely I could bribe someone to look into the room records for me.
Making a sound of exasperation, I threw my hands up. I refused to be a psycho about this. Carter was gone. He left, just like I knew he would.
Two days ago, I’d been worried about letting a possible psycho dude into my home. It was almost laughable now, because Carter was anything but unhinged. Sexy, complex, and really great in bed. But definitely not crazy. If anyone had lost their marbles in this situation, it was this girl right here.
Shaking my head at how silly I was being, I dug a Tupperware container out of the cabinet and began packing the cookies inside.
It never would’ve worked with Carter and me, so there was no point in dwelling over the loss of something I never even had in the first place. Someday I would be able to look back on this weekend and smile. By then, I’d probably be with someone else.
That thought didn’t make me feel any better. For once, looking forward to something better—someone better—didn’t comfort me at all.
I needed a distraction.
Frowning down at the container in front of me, I realized it was full. There was no way I would fit two hundred cookies in there.
Leaving the last three plates out in the open, I got a sticky-note from the drawer and wrote ‘Please eat me’ on it before tacking it to the tiles on the backsplash. I had no clue if my roommate even liked sweets, but someone needed to eat this mess.
I entertained the idea of taking a shower, but it reminded me of Carter. I could take a nap, but guess who my bed smelled like? Carter.
I needed to get out of this apartment.
Running my thumb over my tattoo, I tried to soak up the beautiful words that had gotten me through hard times before. Like somehow I could absorb them or make them sink in until I believed it.
Not even bothering to change
out of my red polka-dot pajama shorts, I grabbed my purse and keys, and I headed for the door. An aimless drive around the city always helped to clear my head.
I was just about to reach for the doorknob when a knock came through from the other side. Peering through the peephole, I gasped at the sight of dark scruff and hazel eyes. I swung the door open with more force than necessary, throwing me off balance.
I stumbled back a step.
“Carter,” I breathed out, glancing behind me. “Did you forget something?”
“No.” He flashed that mega-watt smile. “But on the way to the airport, I saw four red Ferraris.”
My eyebrows pinched together. “You came back here to tell me that?”
“No.” He shook his head, seeming flustered. “I missed you. I missed you so much, and I saw those cars and every time all I could think about was how you were going to upgrade. How you’d move on to the next best thing after me, and I don’t want that. I want to be your Ferrari.”
My heart pounded from his beautiful words. Was I dreaming?
“Carter—”
“There’s something I need to ask you.” He stepped over the threshold, and my mind tried to catch up to what the hell was happening.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I pointed a shaking finger at him. “You better not be proposing. I’m all for commitment, but that’s a one-way ticket to crazy town and I’m not ready to make that trip yet.”
Throwing his head back, Carter laughed. And laughed. And laughed. The happy sound caused violent fluttering in my abdomen, like a hundred psychotic butterflies were ricocheting off the walls of my ribcage.
When he finally calmed down, he moved in close and kissed me on the nose. “God, you’re cute.”
My insides melted, and for a moment I second-guessed my statement about turning him down. If he was insane enough to ask me to marry him, I just might be crazy enough to say yes.
But then he said, “I’m not proposing, but I would like for you to come to my brother’s wedding this weekend as my date. I’ll pay for your flight if you can get off work.”
“Your date?” My lips tilted up.
“Yes, my date. My girlfriend. Mine.” He grinned. “Babe.”
How could a girl say no to that?
Flinging myself at Carter, my arms went around his neck while his hands landed on my ass. As I kissed him, I murmured, “Yes” against his lips.
Then I pulled back. I searched his eyes. Although I saw mostly happiness there, I also saw fear.
“Are you scared?” I asked, rubbing my thumb over his jaw in a soothing gesture.
“Fucking terrified,” he replied honestly. “But I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I just know it’s too good for me to pass up. You make me believe in something I wasn’t even sure existed. I’m warning you though—I might be bad at this. Sometimes I might say the wrong thing or piss you off without even realizing it. You’re going to have to be straightforward with me, and we’re going to have to fight for each other. I’m willing to try if you are.”
“I want to try.” I nodded, smiling like a loon.
“I have a few conditions,” Carter began, and I raised an eyebrow. “I want daily FaceTime chats, I’ll come here two weekends a month, and if you’re working you’ll serve me free mimosas until I can’t see straight. And then I’ll give you a very generous tip.”
I giggled. “Deal.” Then my face got serious. “Wait, if I come to the wedding, won’t I be meeting your entire family?”
Carter grinned. “Yep.”
“And you’re ready for that?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I’m hoping to round up some of my relatives for a poker game. Uncle Artie needs to have his ass handed to him. Any chance you can make that happen?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”
Sniffing, he craned his neck to look over my shoulder. “Something smells really good. Are you baking?”
“Yeah.” I motioned for him to come inside. “Are you hungry? Because I sort of made a shit ton of cookies.”
“Why?” His eyes widened when he saw the state of my kitchen.
The sink was full of batter-coated dishes. Flour was sprinkled on the floor. And of course, the bajillion cookies.
“I needed something to keep me busy.” I nervously fidgeted with my hands before clasping them in front of me. “I missed you, too.”
We stared dreamily at each other for a few beats when I realized that it was nearly noon.
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “You’re missing your flight!”
He shook his head. “I got one for later this evening, so I’m all yours until about five o’clock.”
This was the best extension ever. The goofy grin on my face wouldn’t go away.
“What’s your last name?” I blurted out.
There was so much I didn’t know about him, and time was ticking. Let the interrogation begin.
“Hayes.”
Brynne Hayes. The name was running through my mind before I could stop myself. It had a nice ring to it.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“It used to be blue. But now it’s red,” he replied, dropping his gaze to my lips.
Speaking of red, I was pretty sure that was the color of my cheeks.
“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I picked up a plate of baked goods and offered it to Carter.
“Yeah.” He shoved an entire cookie into his mouth.
I tilted my head to the side. “What is it you do anyway?”
“I sell cars.” He smirked around his bite.
My jaw dropped. “You do not.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re a car salesman,” I deadpanned, wanting clarification. “At a car lot.”
“Yep. I would’ve told you that sooner if you didn’t cut me off every time I tried.”
I threw a cookie at him and he caught it, laughing. “Do you have any idea how big of a turn-on it’s been every time you talk about cars?”
“What do you drive?”
“Range Rover Sport. Dark silver exterior. Beige leather interior. GPS navigation system.”
Drawing in a breath, I nodded as I pictured him behind the wheel of his vehicle. It was masculine, yet not overly flashy. Carter didn’t realize it but talking about cars was a turn-on for me, too.
I wanted to use the afternoon to drill him about personal details, but maybe we’d be doing a different kind of drilling in between conversations.
As if he read my mind, he plucked the sticky note off the wall and tucked it into the waistband of my shorts while waggling his eyebrows. “I think this belongs here.”
I snorted. “Really mature, Carter.”
“Do you object?” With his hands on my hips, he backed me against the counter. “Because these cookies are great, but I know what I’m hungry for.”
Grabbing him by the shirt, I answered him by dragging him down the hall.
If we only had a few hours to get to know each other better, I was going to make good use of the time.
Nine years later
When people think of lucky numbers in Vegas, it’s usually the seven. But for Carter and me, we seemed to do everything in twos.
We committed to each other after two days.
After two weeks, Carter said the big I love you.
He made it two months before proposing, moving in with me, and getting hired at my dad’s car dealership—all in the same weekend.
Two years later, we got married in a wedding chapel, Vegas-style of course. We had our reception at Little Black Dress, and our first dance was to “When You Say Nothing at All” by Alison Krauss. It seemed pretty perfect since the beginning foundation of our relationship was built on looks and touches, not words.
Two weeks after our ceremony, I found out I was pregnant. Then I traded in my stilettos for ballet flats and house slippers to be a stay-at-home mom. It was the best upgrade I’d ever made.
Now, our two children—our daughter six y
ears old and our son four—were playing in the backyard of the house we’d bought in the same neighborhood as my parents.
Sometimes on Saturday mornings—like today—I’d make mimosas for Carter and me, and we’d watch the kids play on the swing set as we sipped our drinks.
My cocktail was a little different today, though.
“So,” I started, shifting on the patio bench with my legs draped over Carter’s lap. “What do you think about us breaking the “two” tradition?”
“What do you mean?” His eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you wanting to get a third vehicle? Because I’d be up for that. There’s this awesome new car at the lot. A Ferrari, babe. It’s a few years old but in great shape.”
Grimacing, I shook my head. “I don’t think that would be practical for the kind of change I’m talking about.”
There wasn’t any way to put the news out there gently. Whenever we’d talked about having a third child, we always unanimously agreed that our family was complete. Things had just started to get easier, with our oldest in kindergarten and our youngest in preschool. I’d even been entertaining the idea of going back to work eventually; probably not as a cocktail waitress. After all, I really did love my ballet flats.
Another baby meant starting over. Sleepless nights. Tedious days.
But I couldn’t deny that my heart had nearly burst with happiness when I saw the positive result on the pregnancy test.
Letting my eyes drift out to the kids, I watched the way Amelia’s brown hair flew behind her as she chased Alex through the grass. Sighing happily, I reveled in their sweet duo of giggles and imagined what it would sound like as a trio.
When I glanced back at Carter, he was looking at my slightly-rounded stomach with wide eyes. Since Alex, I could never get my flat belly back, no matter how many crunches I did. I wasn’t really showing yet because it was too early, but I could tell Carter knew without me even having to say it.
His gaze darted to the champagne glass in my hand, and his voice came out alarmed. “Why are you drinking?”
Snickering, I waved it back and forth. “It’s just orange juice.”
He downed the rest of his in one gulp, then he grinned. “This is way better than a Ferrari.”
His Mimosa_The Cocktail Girls Page 7
