Gorgeous: A Commander in Briefs Novel

by Kristy Marie

  We take the steps slow so Anniston doesn’t fall over her dress, and when we reach the bottom, she turns, grabbing my upper arms so I face her. “Are you going to be okay?” she asks.

  The answer to this question has everyone tiptoeing around me. They think I will lose it when Ans marries Theo, but times have changed.

  Do I love her? Absolutely.

  Do I think Theo deserves her? Grudgingly, yes.

  Will my life change after she’s married? We’ll see, won’t we?

  “You’ll always be my commander,” I say instead.

  My answer makes her smile. “That’s right. We’re a team.”

  A family.

  The only people that matter to me.

  I shake off the emotions, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go get you married so we can dip into Theo’s millions.”

  We laugh along the way to the backyard where we pause at the flower-lined aisle stretched across the field. Theo is pacing at the front until Hayes pulls him to a stop, forcing him to turn and look at his bride.

  For once in his ADHD life, Theo stands frozen, not moving a muscle as the music starts and Anniston takes a step forward without me. Apparently, she’s ready to get to her man. I pick up the pace, trying to slow her down to the beat of the march, but she doesn’t care. She moves at a steady clip until we reach the podium and the preacher asks, “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”

  Anniston turns to me, waiting. Clearing my throat—I should have grabbed a mint—I announce clearly, “I do.”

  And then I place her hand in Theo’s.

  “Sir. Sir. Can you open your eyes for me?”

  I probably could but I don’t want to. I want the woman, with the voice of an angel, to keep talking to me, the beautiful cadence of her voice lulling me into a deeper trance. I feel her presence move closer, the heat from her body warming the frostbitten skin over my arms where the blanket didn’t quite reach throughout the night. Soft fingers, filled with warmth, press against my neck, her unsteady breaths grazing across my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

  No sooner than she touches me, she pulls her fingers back and places them on my forehead. I want to close my eyes and relax into her touch, but the beeping of her phone pulls me back to the land of the living. Unfortunately, I’m still alive, and the last thing I need right now is a trespassing charge. “I’ll move. Don’t call the police,” I grumble out, my voice sounding as if I’ve been smoking since puberty.

  Blinking a couple of times, I try to clear the grit and dryness from my eyes, and my God … those wide, mesmerizing blue eyes stare back at me curiously. Blonde tendrils escape the gray beanie pulled over her ears, accentuating the flush of crimson along her cheekbones. Ethereal beauty is the only way I can describe it. I’m staring at an angel in the flesh.

  An angel who is about to call the police.

  I blink back at the swollen lips pursed between wanting to speak and being in shock at seeing a vagrant on her property, and then allow my eyes to wander as far as they can in an effort to get a look at the hand still resting on my forehead. She pulls back quickly and stumbles.

  “You’re freezing. I think you’re hypothermic,” she explains, her cheeks blushing even more from the wind.

  I frown, making a weird noise in response to her concern, and attempt to sit up.

  “I’m fine,” I lie, waving off her concern, but it sounds like “Ifiiime.” My words slur together and I feel like it’s time to get the hell out of here before I scare her even more. I attempt to put pressure on my stiff legs, but a searing pain shoots through them, and I groan. With reluctance, I lay back down on the hard ground and just wait. This is going to take me a minute.

  “You’re not fine,” the angel admonishes, giving me a look as though it’s pointless to argue with her.

  Lying down feels so good.

  If she would just give me a few more minutes, I could rest up enough and have the energy to endure another few miles in the cold. My eyes drift closed just as she startles me awake by yelling, “Do not fall asleep!”

  I can’t deal with this right now. I’m so tired. Dragging my heavy arm over my eyes, blocking out the sun and her beautiful face, I act like a complete asshole. “Leave me alone, lady.”

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” she argues.

  Damn it. Do the people in this town really have nothing better to do than to chase off the homeless?

  “No,” I mumble against my arm, clarifying, just in case the “no” wasn’t clear enough. “I won’t go.”

  I lower my arm from my face and force open an eye just in time to see her roll hers, giving me a look that I’m sure makes men bow at her feet. Lucky for her, I don’t care.

  “I’m not leaving you here to die,” she explains, growing more agitated with my blunt answers.

  I try not to show my emotions. It’s a matter of life or death in the military, but for some reason, this woman makes me want to argue. Who does she think she is ordering me around? I’m not a Marine anymore. I’m a civilian, and not even a contributing one at that. I narrow my eyes and meet the defiant set of her jaw.

  She’s stubborn, I’ll give her that, but so am I.

  “Go away,” I repeat as firmly as I can, but it comes out slower than usual and more muffled.

  With a resigned huff, she rolls her eyes at me and reaches for my arm, wrapping her tiny hands around me. “Come on, dude. Let me get you warmed up, then. I promise to let you go so you can die another day.”

  Am I in the twilight zone? Is this chick for real? Is she really trying to manhandle me up and help me?

  For a moment all I can do is just stare at her, my gaze tracking back and forth from her hand on my forearm to her determined eyes. And then she pulls as hard as she can. She doesn’t even jostle me. I may be boxing below my class right now, but at six-foot-two, I’m no lightweight. And this angel here, as determined as she might be, isn’t going to move me from this spot unless I allow her.

  “We can do this my way or the hard way. Either way, You. Will. Do. It. Now. Come on!”

  If I wasn’t nearly hypothermic, I think that bossy statement would have made my dick hard. A few years ago, I would have loved to break a little firecracker like her, but that’s not who I am anymore. The angel, adorned in running gear, gives me another pull, and against my better judgement, I let her pull me up. My legs feel like jelly when I finally struggle to my feet, and she quickly nudges her body under my shoulder, supporting my weight as best as she can, and we start taking slow steps. I try really hard to keep from leaning on her since the smell of coconut seeps out from her pores as she struggles to walk with me. It’s obvious this girl has no self- preservation. Helping a stranger out of a ditch … where is her husband? Or boyfriend? Someone should be looking out for this crazy, selfless girl.

  One foot in front of the other, I drag my frozen feet across the grass, unconsciously deciding that I’ll indulge her and see her home safely before leaving. Fuck! My gear. I’ll have to go back and get it. Not that I had much, but I definitely need my blanket. It’s not often you find one of those.

  We stumble several more times before finding a good rhythm and balance to our weighted steps.

  “What’s your name?” She tries to make conversation as our steps crunch along the frozen ground.

  Maybe I’m tired of being rude or maybe I feel guilty for not using my manners—my mama would be horrified—but I decide to indulge her curiosity and tell her my name. It comes out broken like I have a stutter. “C-C-Cade.”

  My guardian angel, who has no sense at all, takes a sharp breath and holds it a few seconds before looking me straight in the eye, like whatever is in that beautiful head of hers is now decided.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cade. I’m Anniston McCallister.”

  My life changed forever on that freezing February morning. Anniston McCallister took a scrawny, half-dead man who didn’t care whether he lived or died in that ditch, brought him to her house, forced food down his th
roat, and commanded him to be the man he is today. There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t try to be the man she believes me to be. She’s made sacrifices for me and the guys to have a second chance at life, and I want to make her proud.

  “Come dance with me, Gorgeous!” The beauty in a dress that enhances her angelic nature waves me over, shoving a scowling Theo to the side.

  I wave her off and shake my head. I’m not dealing with a grumpy Theo this evening.

  “She won’t stop until you do it.” Thad, Theo’s twin brother and former manager, quietly tells me what I already know. I know she’ll come pull me out of the chair if I don’t come dance with her. But I try to keep my newfound friendship with Von Bremen intact by keeping my hands off his woman. It’s taken us a while to get to this point so I have to make sure he sees that Anniston is forcing me to dance.

  Never looking at Thad, I say over the top of my beer, “I know, but your brother looks about ready to explode. I don’t need his drama right now.”

  Thad chuckles, confirming that I’m accurate in my assessment of his brother’s state of mind. “You’re right. He’s liable to cut you.”

  Anniston frowns at me and I try holding a smile so she knows I’m not upset. If she thinks something is wrong, she’ll shoo all of her friends and family out of here and we’ll end up in a deep conversation. But instead, she whispers something to Theo and he nods, rolling his eyes at me before stalking to the table.

  “Congratulations, bro,” Thad starts but Theo waves him off, pinning me with an annoyed look. “Go dance with her so I can fuck her. I’m tired of waiting.” I can’t help but grin when he snatches my beer and downs it in one go.

  “Hurry, Jameson, before I change my mind.”

  Most women would be appalled at what he just admitted, but if I know Anniston that’s exactly what she whispered in his ear to get him to come over here. I don’t let her angelic nature confuse me. She’s just as wild as Theo.

  Shaking my head, I stand and let Theo plop down in my seat. “I would hate to come between you and pussy.” He nods; agreeing that depriving him after Ans held out on him last night would be detrimental to his physical well-being.

  “Stop talking and go make me laugh at your terrible rhythm,” he mutters, shooing me with his hands.

  I ignore his remark and tell Thad and his girlfriend Audrey goodbye before I turn and head toward a smiling Anniston.

  “Gorgeous,” she drawls, extending her hand to me.

  Interlacing our fingers, I pull her close, hip against hip.

  “Commander.”

  Her eyes sparkle under the extra lighting we had installed exclusively for the wedding, and she pulls her hand from mine, touching my face with her palm, asking me the same question she always does when she’s not sure where my head is at.

  “You still with me?”

  I nod and spin her around, making her laugh. “I’m always with you, Anniston.”

  B,

  Has your ass ever been tired? Like, literally tired? Well, Major Jameson has worked me so hard that even my balls cried this morning. Cried, I tell you! I know you’re probably laughing right now but seriously, every inch of me hurts. The kind of hurt you know will stay with you for weeks. All I can hope is that Jess will be impressed with my new bod. Yeah, I said bod. Make sure Jess is home when we Skype this week. *wink wink* And no, I don’t only want to see her. Don’t be emotional.

  I miss you, loser.

  #thefoodheresucks #pleasesendcookies

  Private Brannon

  “Here you go,” I say for the millionth and two times to the nice man in a black suit.

  “This looks wonderful, thank you.”

  I smile, accepting his praise and trying like hell not to watch them.

  He’s dancing with her.

  Cade is dancing with Anniston.

  I know it’s not logical that I feel jealous at seeing them sway and dip, laughing about who knows what. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t help feeling a little butthurt about watching them together. Maybe it’s because that should be me with him. Had I found him first, maybe it would have been.

  That’s not what happened though.

  I was too late.

  “Where are the cookies?” I tear my gaze from the dancing Gods to find Theo, raking his eyes up and down the dessert table.

  “Did she seriously order Cade’s pies and no cookies for me?” Theo huffs over the cherry pie, running his finger along the outer edge of the pan. “She is getting punished tonight. This is bullshit.”

  “I can make you some,” I offer. Sue would be proud. Making the biggest celebrity in our small town happy is no easy feat. He ponders my suggestion for a moment and then waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get some cookie tonight.”

  “Are you being disgusting to a lady again?” The other guy at the table with Theo this morning—Hayes, I think—interrupts, nudging Theo’s shoulder.

  “Did you know she didn’t order cookies?” Theo asks him, still not letting the cookie thing go.

  Hayes ignores the question and gives me a megawatt smile that I’m sure drops panties every time he lets it loose. “Let me apologize for my rude friend and properly introduce myself. I’m Connor Hayes, but everyone calls me Hayes.” He extends his hand over the table and I have to remove my glove to shake it.

  “I’m Breck,” I return, but he knows that since Mason already announced it in the kitchen earlier.

  “You have pies,” he says with a chuckle. It seems he remembers my newfound tagline.

  There’s no sense in denying my awkward. “Yep. That’s me.”

  Hayes hums and eyes the pies spread across the white linen tablecloth.

  “How long are they going to dance? I’m ready to leave. The wedding is over, right?” Theo says aloud to no one in particular.

  “Can I taste that pie?” Hayes asks, pointing to the one apple pie that remains untouched.

  I nod, tearing my eyes away from Cade once again, “Sure. How big of a taste?”

  The cockiest smile I have ever seen spreads across his face. “The size of your fingertip.”

  Heat floods my face as I let his words sink in. Does he really want to take the bite off my finger?

  Theo snorts, not looking at us. “You have a death wish.”

  Hayes laughs him off and nods to the pie. “Can I get a little taste, Breck, who has pies?” His question is laced with underlying meaning, and I pick up on it loud and clear as my vagina, God rest her soul, fist bumps me.

  “Uh.”

  Don’t be a coward, B. He just wants to suck it off your finger.

  It’s a totally normal thing to do at work.

  If you’re a stripper, maybe.

  What do I do? It’s not like he’s ugly. He has pale blue eyes and juicy lips that should never be given to a man. I bet they would feel fantastic suck—I clear the hormones from my head and decide that I’m taking one for the team. Sue would appreciate that I made our client happy.

  “Okay.”

  See, I got this.

  I almost trip getting to the pie and Hayes smiles instead of laughing.

  “Do you want me to, uh?” I don’t know what I’m asking here. Do I shove my finger in it and pull out his bite, or do I cut a piece like a professional and spoon some onto my finger? I don’t get to clarify, because Hayes, the charmer he is, knows exactly what I’m asking, his eyes already narrowing, his tongue snaking out over the plump pillows he’s using as lips.

  “Stick two fingers in really” —he demonstrates with his index finger and forefinger, dipping them low as if he has a pie in front of him, making a “come hither” motion back and forth—“really slow.”

  I gulp and Theo mutters out, “I’m taking all your clients when he beats you into a wheelchair.”

  “Do you want to leave or not?” Hayes says to Theo, his eyes never leaving my fingers which are poised over the pie. “Go ahead, darlin. Give me a taste.”

  God help me, I do it like he
asks, making the motion with my two fingers back and forth just like he showed me, in and out of the warm pie. He groans, placing a hand on the table for support. “That’s my girl. Now, ease them in.”

  Hayes leans forward and parts his mouth slightly at my fingers which are dripping apple bits and sugar all over the table.

  Holy shitballs.

  I wonder if Sue will still think this is me taking one for the team?

  I’m thinking it’s a no but I’m not a quitter, so I push at Hayes’ lips and … fuck me. They feel so soft, softer than mine. I wonder what brand of lip balm he uses or if he’s lucky and never has a dryness problem. That would be totally unfair.

  “Incoming,” Theo warns, but I don’t know what it means as Hayes wraps his hand around my wrist and guides my fingers past his lips.

  And then he’s gone, leaving my fingers dangling awkwardly in the air.

  “You’re getting on my nerves,” Cade growls at him, shoving a laughing Hayes away from the table.

  “I just wanted to taste your favorite pie since you think so highly of it,” Hayes responds, but how he says it seems like code.

  Cade lunges for Hayes but Theo steps in between them and adds fuel to Cade’s fire. “Better be careful, Jameson, or someone may sample all of Breck’s pies. They’re looking mighty delicious tonight.” Theo licks his lips and Cade shoves him into the table, causing it to rattle the utensils.

  “Don’t start with me, Von Bremen.”

  Geez. Is the testosterone high in here or what?

  “These look delicious, Breck. Can I have some of the strawberry one?” Anniston pushes through the three scowling men and grabs a plate. I wipe the remnants of the apple pie off my hands and cut her a small piece. “Oh no, cut me a big piece,” she says.

  An amused noise escapes me. I can appreciate a fellow foodie, even though she’ll probably run it all off later.

  “No problem.”

  I add another slice, and she slides some of the pies over and takes a seat on the table. “Mmm…this is sooo good,” she drawls, grabbing the guys’ attention. “You can lick it off my finger, handsome.”