“Well, it was wonderful to see you, especially looking so stunning. I quite miss our little…talks.” Anton’s eyes traced Bailey’s body. “Until next time.” He began to follow Sloane and then turned, almost as an afterthought. “Jack.” He nodded at me.
“Andy.” I nodded at him. This wasn’t my first day.
He gave a dismissive chuckle and continued on his way.
If I thought punching him in the middle of this party would do any good, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But it would only have embarrassed Bailey and proven to these assholes that I was the uncultured hick they thought me to be.
Instead, I pulled Bailey forward and steered her toward the door, grabbing two champagne flutes in my free hand on our way out and not bothering to stop when the server protested.
I popped the cork on the bottle of champagne I’d ordered from room service. The attendant had offered to open the bottle for us, but there was no way he was getting even a small peek at my blond goddess.
Bailey held the two flutes in her hands while I poured.
“To weddings,” I said, taking one from her.
She grinned and clinked glasses with me before taking a sip from hers. “Oh, that’s not half bad. You know, I’m usually a beer girl, but the champagne has been going down smoothly tonight.” She started to bring the glass back to her lips and then stopped, her smile faltering a bit.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I mean, I actually don’t really like beer all that much. I don’t know why I said that.”
I grinned and took a sip of my champagne. “Well, that’s a shame, cuz I’m a beer guy all the way.” I lifted my glass. “This fancy stuff is okay now and then, but give me a good IPA any day.”
She looked down at the bed and rearranged the sheets around her, a half-smile on her face. Her eyes came back to me where I stood at the edge of the bed dressed in just my boxer briefs.
“So, Jake, I hear you’re going to be working with Fiona’s boss. Landscape design?”
I sat down and stroked her leg through the bedsheet. “That’s the plan. I apprenticed in it several years back and then got my certification. It took a while to figure out what I wanted to do, but I finally found it.” I traced a finger along her thigh. “How about you?”
She seemed surprised I asked. “Oh. Um, I went to school for interior design and space planning. You know, so I could pitch in with the family business.” She grinned. “Wielding a hammer wasn’t really for me.”
I laughed. I couldn’t see this sexy, feminine siren wearing a hard hat. “I would think the stockings might look strange with work boots,” I joked.
She smiled and looked earnestly at me, tilting her head to the side. She opened her mouth to say something and then seemed to think better of it.
“And besides,” I leaned in for a kiss, “you’d distract the hell out of every male there. They’d have to depend on the female crew members to get all the work done. Doesn’t sound very fair to me.” I kissed her again, lingering this time.
“Not fair at all,” she responded distractedly, letting her fingers run down my arm.
“I think it’s cool that your whole family works together. The loyalty you all have is really something. I’m afraid I can’t say I’ve always put my family first, to put it mildly,” I admitted.
She stopped the movement of her fingers and looked me. “You mean because you’ve been away?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a long story…” I trailed off.
“I may have heard a little something about that.” I was pretty sure everybody had heard a lot of something about it. “But, you know, all family is complicated.” She looked down at the sheet again and I tucked a lock of wayward hair behind her ear.
She smiled and resumed her tactile exploration of my arm. Her fingers stopped on my tattoo. “What’s this?”
I glanced at it out of reflex—not that I didn’t know exactly what was there. “It’s just from the Marines. We all got them. Everyone in my unit.”
She traced it with her index finger. “Did you have to go overseas?” Her eyes found mine again, concern clouding her features.
“I did, but not to Iraq or Afghanistan. I ended up in Indonesia, aiding after the tsunamis. Then they brought me back stateside to help after Katrina.”
“God, that must have been so hard. Seeing all those people lose everything—their families and homes.” She shook her head.
I stroked the inside of her arm. “It was tragic, you’re right, but you can’t let yourself get lost in that when you have a job to do. It would end up paralyzing you, and then what good would you be to anybody?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how you did that.”
“Well,” I responded, “don’t start hero-worshipping me or anything. I got out after my four years were up. Other guys are still in there, plugging away. They’re the ones who deserve the respect.”
I looked up and her eyes were pinned on me. “I admire anyone who fights for what they believe in—anybody who is strong in character, who knows what they want and doesn’t let anything stop them.”
“Sounds like you’re thinking of someone in particular.” I raised an eyebrow at her.
She lost her intense expression and laughed lightly, shaking her head again. “No, just wishful thinking.”
I gave her a puzzled look, but she cut me off with a kiss.
Chapter Sixteen
Rule: Male Best Friends Should Not Wear Panties
BAILEY
“So, you care to explain any of that?”
Jake hoisted himself up onto the tailgate of his truck and sat next to me. We were in the parking lot of the gallery with the hitch down and the pilfered champagne flutes sitting on the truck bed between us. He’d rushed me out of the gallery when I’d been lost in my flummoxed state and I’d hardly noticed where we were going. My mind had been a swirling mess of panic, anger, and humiliation. Turned out my risk had come back to bite me in the ass.
Goddamn that asshole, Anton. This whole evening had been one giant mistake. This whole “experiment” with Jake had been a mistake. What had I been thinking? That I could use sheer will to redirect my fate, to change my entire personality and lot in life? I was so stupid. One crazy night of hot sex with a stranger, coupled with some flirting and a shared meal would not change anything. I was out of my depth. Again.
It was probably for the best that I’d come to my senses before my emotions could run any deeper into all that was Jake Beckett. I heard my heart whimper at the thought and ignored what that might mean.
I looked down at my silky black dress and snakeskin heels and let out a mirthless laugh. They were mocking me. I shook my head and kept my eyes down.
“No,” I said, “I can’t really explain anything.”
“Bailey, you’ve got to give me something here. Anything.”
I just shook my head again.
“Are you still dating that asshole?”
What? After that awful scene, that was what he wanted to know?
“What? No. Oh, God.” I covered my face with my hands, horrified that Jake knew I’d ever been with Anton at all. That goddamn painting! Worse yet, how could Jake think I’d be dating Anton and have sex with him at the same time?
“Oh, God,” I repeated as the thought dawned on me that Jake was probably having sex with all sorts of women. I was way out of my league. I needed to go home.
“Talk to me.” He tried to hand me one of the glasses of champagne as some kind of peace offering. “I’m trying to understand this.”
I brushed his offer aside and slid down off the truck and onto the concrete, almost falling as my heels awkwardly hit the pavement. He reached out to steady me but I righted myself and took a step back.
“There’s nothing to understand. I’d like to go home now if that’s okay.” My stomach churned and I feared we’d repeat the shoe-puking scene.
“Bailey…” he started, but I cut him off.
“
Please.” I could feel tears welling in my eyes.
My tone must have been quite pathetic because, after a pause, he hopped off the truck and went to the passenger side to open my door. I got in and put on my seatbelt, keeping my eyes glued to the floor mat the entire time.
I heard Jake sigh before he closed my door and rounded to the driver’s side to take me home.
I don’t know what became of the stolen champagne glasses.
“Open the damn door, Bailey. I know you’re in there!”
No. Not now.
I was minding my own business, all snuggled up on my couch with my blanket and my giant box of tissues. I even had an Indiana Jones marathon going on the TV. I felt a new kinship with Indy now that I’d experienced reptile-induced terror first hand.
A fist pounded on the door. I did not need to deal with humans right now. Especially one in the form of a pussy-whipped gym rat.
“Go away!” I shouted before reaching for another tissue. On top of the giant hit to my personal life, the universe had decided to throw me another bonus and grace me with a damn cold. I was congested, exhausted, and snotty on top of everything else.
“I have a key and I’m not afraid to use it!”
“I have a baseball bat and I’m not afraid to use it either!”
“Why do you think I haven’t used my key yet?”
Wuss. “I thought you said you weren’t afraid, Buffy!”
“Bailey, just open the damn door! I forgot my key and your neighbors are coming out!”
Well, shit. I peeled myself off the couch and went to let the big lug in.
“What do you want?” I didn’t even spare him a glance. I just retreated to my blanket fortress and un-paused the TV. The bad dude’s face was about to melt off and I didn’t want to miss it.
Mark stood silently in front of the couch for several minutes. I finally started feeling unnerved so I paused the show again and looked up at him. He had some short scruff on his face to match his buzz cut and his brown eyes were creased in a look I didn’t see very often from him. Worry.
Shit.
I set down the remote.
“Fine. You want to know what happened, I take it?”
“You could say that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Last I heard, you and my brother were attempting to date. Then I get a call from him that some asshole ambushed you at a party and you turned mute and froze Jake out. And, worse yet, you let that douchebag from the party get to you.”
I scoffed and tried to brush it off. It didn’t work.
“That doesn’t sound like you at all. What the hell happened? You’ve been acting odd for months now, and every time I try to pin you down about it, you suddenly return to your usual snarky self and I let it go.”
I sneered at him and tried to stand up. Mark stopped me by dropping down next to me and physically holding my legs down.
“Not this time. Spill it. What the fuck is going on?”
I let out a breath and tried to tamp down my annoyance at his nosiness. “It just didn’t work out with Jake, that’s all.”
“Nice try. You just met him like a month ago. This goes back way before that. Truth time. Go.” He reinforced his grip on my legs and I shot him a death glare. What, was he going to waterboard me next?
“Fine. The asshole at the party was this guy named Anton. He’s pretty big in the local art scene. We used to have a thing.”
“A thing?” Mark’s forehead furrowed.
“Yes, Mark, a thing. You know, boys have penises, girls have vaginas…” That got me my own death glare.
“Go on.” Damn, he was pushy today.
I went for flippant. “It ended and I moved on.”
“Ha, not so fast. What aren’t you telling me?”
I tried to get up again, but the damn idiot’s arms were made of steel. “Get off me!” I smacked his beefy arm.
“Not until you tell me what happened.” He was cool as a cucumber while I was starting to burn up. Why couldn’t he just let this go? We never talked about my “feelings,” and I preferred it that way. It was the whole purpose of having a guy as a best friend! Vaginas gossip and share; penises watch football and fist bump—or something like that.
“Nothing, Nancy Drew! We just broke up. It happens.”
“Why didn’t I know about this guy? I’m your best friend.”
“And have you and Nate go ‘vet’ him for me? I don’t think so.” I gave him a sharp look which he chose to ignore. I’d have to go full-on bitch. “And contrary to what you might think, I don’t tell you everything, you conceited ass.” I tried my best but it didn’t change his course.
“Uh, uh. Not falling for that. How long did you date this guy?” I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and ticked off under his scrutiny.
I looked away. “Why does it matter?”
“It just does. How long?” God, he should take up a second career as an FBI interrogator.
I tried shifting away again, but Mark maintained his firm grip. “Four months. Are you happy now?”
“Four months?!”
My eyes flew back to him in challenge. I was officially pissed off. “Yes, four months. Are you hearing impaired?”
“Stop trying to bait me. It’s not going to work, Bailey.”
I delivered a fake-ass smile. “Mark, as much as I love this little heart-to-heart chat, I’d really like to get back to my show. I’ll lend you a crowbar if you’d like to pull your panties out.”
“No.”
Did he just tell me I couldn’t watch TV in my own home? Or maybe he just liked his panties where they were.
“No? This is my house, you ass.”
“And you’re my friend.” Well, shit. This was even worse than I thought. I couldn’t do this.
“Well, friend. I’d really like you to leave now.” I pushed again at his arms and thought for a moment that he was releasing me. Instead, he readjusted so he was kneeling on the floor in front of me, our faces only a foot or so apart.
“Not until you tell me what I want to know!” Mark’s eyes blazed.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass!”
“And I’m okay with that. What did this Anton guy do to you and why wouldn’t you tell your friends and family about him after four months?”
I was about to remind him what my mother was likely capable of given the barest wind of a man in my life when I realized Mark thought Anton had done something to physically hurt me. Shit. I couldn’t let him think that—it would be cruel. I drove my fists into the couch on either side of my trapped legs. “He didn’t do anything! He was helping me.”
Mark’s expression turned surprised. “Helping you? With what?”
I sighed in defeat. “With getting into the Master of Fine Arts program at UNCT. Or so I thought.” There, the cat was out of the bag. It had been extracted painfully by its mangy tail, but it was out.
Mark suddenly loosened his grip and sat back on his heels. “Why wouldn’t you tell any of us about that? That’s awesome!” He started to smile but it fell when he continued, “Jesus, you almost had me thinking…wait, what do you mean, ‘or so I thought’?”
I looked to the ceiling and let out a mirthless laugh. Now that I was free to move, all I actually wanted to do was pull my blanket over my head and lie down. I sank back into the couch while Mark remained perched on the floor in front of me. If he wanted the story so badly, I’d give it to him. I already felt flayed open so why not twist the knife myself. “Well, Buffy, it turns out that while my pussy might be grade-A material, my paintings are not.”
“What the fuck?” Any relief he’d expressed moments before was long gone. I could feel the vibration from his growled response.
He’d been the one to push for an answer, so he’d just have to deal with it now. I tilted my head and looked at him again. “Oh, come on, Mark. You’re a smart guy.” I knew I was being unfair.
“Enlighten me, Bailey.” His jaw was so tight I worried it might crack.
I s
ighed, feigning a carefree air. “It’s an old story, Mark. Lure the girl in with promises of a bright future, convince her she’s a diamond in the rough. All she needs is a little polish.” I framed my face with my hands sardonically.
“If only she’d shed that pesky day job that’s getting in the way of her potential.” I barked out another laugh and it tasted bitter on my tongue. “Not to worry, though—that day job doesn’t get in the way of fucking her at night. That is, when there aren’t any other ingénues that need a good screwing.” My eyes refused to meet Mark’s, not wanting to see my hurt and humiliation reflected there.
“But, you know, in the end, she’s just not sophisticated enough for the high-brow artist and his shit-hot friends.” I raised a finger as if just remembering the rest of the story. “Oh, and about that Master’s program? Mr. High-Brow just doesn’t feel comfortable recommending her at this time; she isn’t ready. In fact, her work is really quite pedestrian—just like her.”
“Bailey, Jesus, what…” I finally worked up the nerve to look at Mark again. His face was ashen.
I waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Mark. It’s over. Has been for months now.”
“That night,” he interjected, furrowing his brow, “the night of that party at Laney’s when I was supposed to pick you up. I knew something was wrong. Shit. I should have stayed. You looked like you’d been crying. Shit.”
I scoffed again. “As if. I don’t cry.” I curled my lip, fooling no one. “And anyway, there was nothing you could have done. I learned a hard lesson. One I should have already known. My mistake.”
“Bailey.” His voice was soft.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin. “And one I almost forgot, yet again. So, really, it was a good thing Anton was such an asshole the other night. I needed a reminder. Fool me once and all that.”
“Bailey.” His voice was firmer this time.
“So, if I’ve answered all your questions, I’d really like to finish watching my movie. You can stay if you want, but I’m done talking about this, Mark.”
The Lucky One (Carolina Connections Book 3) Page 12
