by Ash Harlow
Table of Contents
EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE ~ STELLA
EPILOGUE ~ REUBEN
Clusterf*ck
Copyright
INTRODUCTION
1 ~ LUTHER
2 ~ GINGER
3 ~ LUTHER
4 ~ GINGER
5 ~ LUTHER
6 ~ GINGER
7 ~ LUTHER
8 ~ GINGER
9 ~ LUTHER
10 ~ GINGER
11 ~ LUTHER
12 ~ GINGER
13 ~ LUTHER
14 ~ GINGER
15 ~ LUTHER
16 ~ GINGER
17 ~ LUTHER
18 ~ GINGER
19 ~ LUTHER
20 ~ GINGER
21 ~ LUTHER
22 ~ GINGER
23 ~ LUTHER
24 ~ GINGER
25 ~ LUTHER
26 ~ GINGER
27 ~ LUTHER
28 ~ GINGER
29 ~ LUTHER
30 ~ GINGER
31 ~ GINGER
32 ~ LUTHER
33 ~ GINGER
34 ~ LUTHER
35 ~ GINGER
36 ~ LUTHER
CRAVE
STELLAR LOVE
Who on earth is Ash?
ARC TEAM
Clusterf*ck
Luther & Ginger
Ash Harlow
Table of Contents
Clusterf*ck
Copyright
INTRODUCTION
1 ~ LUTHER
2 ~ GINGER
3 ~ LUTHER
4 ~ GINGER
5 ~ LUTHER
6 ~ GINGER
7 ~ LUTHER
8 ~ GINGER
9 ~ LUTHER
10 ~ GINGER
11 ~ LUTHER
12 ~ GINGER
13 ~ LUTHER
14 ~ GINGER
15 ~ LUTHER
16 ~ GINGER
17 ~ LUTHER
18 ~ GINGER
19 ~ LUTHER
20 ~ GINGER
21 ~ LUTHER
22 ~ GINGER
23 ~ LUTHER
24 ~ GINGER
25 ~ LUTHER
26 ~ GINGER
27 ~ LUTHER
28 ~ GINGER
29 ~ LUTHER
30 ~ GINGER
31 ~ GINGER
32 ~ LUTHER
33 ~ GINGER
34 ~ LUTHER
35 ~ GINGER
36 ~ LUTHER
EPILOGUE
CRAVE
STELLAR LOVE
Who on earth is Ash?
ARC TEAM
Copyright
© Ash Harlow 2017
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
INTRODUCTION
Virginia. Ginger. Hot Spice. Starlet curves, golden hair and a crush on me like a wrecking ball.
And she's my nanny.
She thinks I hate her. Yeah, my act is that good.
But nobody knows how hard it is to resist the temptation of the one woman I want, but can’t have.
I don’t make problems, I fix them.
I keep secrets like others keep pets.
When I’m called on to fulfill a promise I made five years ago, I need Ginger’s help, and I’ll pull out all the stops to make her agree.
There’s only one complication:
I took charge of a little family secret of hers. A secret that’s grown every year. A secret that Ginger doesn’t know she’s helping me conceal.
If she finds out, our cozy little arrangement will turn into one.
Big.
Clusterf*ck.
1 ~ LUTHER
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Oli? I’ve got Joe on standby with the helicopter. Last chance, mate, if you want to change your mind,” I say to my best friend waiting anxiously for his bride, Darcy, to arrive.
“Why would I want to change my mind when I’m about to marry the most perfect woman in the world?” Oliver asks.
Only Darcy would choose to have her wedding outside not only in the dark of night, but in the midst of winter. To add to the drama of dark and cold, we are on a clifftop overlooking an ocean that hammers at the rock face below.
I try again. “As your best man, and your lawyer, I wouldn’t be doing my job if—”
“If you didn’t spell out some facts, warn me about divorce statistics, the assets I’d lose if Darcy walks out, the rate of infidelity in marriage—”
“Give me a break, Oliver. That’s not what I was going to say.”
“What were you going to say?” Oliver slides his cuff up his wrist and checks his watch, speaking again before I can answer him. “What if she’s late? If Darcy’s late, this whole evening fails.”
I’ve never seen him this rattled and my mind’s going nuts, concocting stories I could tell him to really wind him up. But tonight, my friend needs sedating rather than torment. “For fu—” I catch myself just in time. I promised Darcy I wouldn’t swear at her wedding. “Listen to me. Your future won’t rest on whether the vows are spoken as the moon rises.”
“Darcy has planned this event down to the final second.”
“In which case, she will be on time. And once more, Oliver, remember, you have to stop calling it an event. It’s your wedding.”
“What if she doesn’t show?”
“Then we’ll go to a bar, and I’ll get you very drunk.”
He flinches. “You’re not helping.”
“Because your question is redundant. Darcy will show. She loves you, and wants your babies.”
“She said that to you?”
He sounds incredulous, as if Darcy is someone he has a crush on, but he doesn’t really know her. If he was looking at me instead of glancing over his shoulder every three seconds, Oliver would see my eye roll.
Oliver is a frighteningly stable person. Even in the most difficult moments of his life, he maintains a sense of calm that is unnerving. And it’s not a wall he hides behind while he secretly seethes. He’s simply a solid block of calm. Until tonight. Who knew love would shake him this way?
“Yes,” I tell him. “Darcy and I meet for coffee every Tuesday to talk about babies, what we’re going to cook for dinner, and how disappointing it is that you’ve got such a tiny dick. Promise me, Oli, that the real you still exists somewhere because if Darcy sees you in this wobbly state, riddled with self-doubt, she will abandon you at the altar. I’ll be one step behind her.”
“Darcy has never complained about my dick.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I’m happy for Oliver. I keep telling myself that. Marriage and children are something he’s always expected in his life. Even a cynical bastard like me can see that he and Darcy complete each other. In that respect, I’m thrilled for both of them. But this is a turning point in one of the most important relationships in my life.
I have always come and gone from Oliver’s house as I please. As I have done since we were six years old. From today, that stops, completely. What Oliver and Darcy don’t realize is that it really stopped once they became serious. But I eased myself out. Only turned up when I knew it was appropriate. This has been a major adjustment for both Oliver and I, so I ensured the transition was smooth, because I fucking love that man. I love him almost as much as I love the other person who has a piece of my life.
Rachel.
My love for Rachel is different, though. Oliver, I love like a brother. But Rachel? Rachel slays my heart. I’m known for being protective, but I’m also not
stupid. My career as a lawyer is important. It allows me to keep people safe, to pull strings and smooth paths, and clean up the little bits of filth that stick to the edges of even the most well-intentioned person. Good people make mistakes. I fix those little errors of judgment so that good people can continue living good lives.
I’d throw that all away if Rachel needed me to. I’d kill for her without hesitation.
I’m wondering if that’s how Oliver feels about Darcy, just as the lights dim until the area where we wait is illuminated only by the tiny flames of hundreds of candles.
“Here we go,” I mutter.
Oliver blows out his breath, straightens, and in that moment, his identity is restored.
Music plays. Something appropriate for the wedding of course, because Darcy chose it. I couldn’t be happier for Oliver. We’ve been friends for life and this marriage thing is perfect.
Perfect for him.
Me? I don’t do marriage, I don’t do relationships. But I’m not a monk and I do like to fuck. Not around this town, however. In this town I keep my dick in my pants, and my personal life uncomplicated. Believe me, it would only take the merest slip of control in a certain area and I’d be done. When I find myself wavering in that direction, I seek Oliver’s company.
That stops today. And there’s no fear that I might now fail, because this morning, I had a warning phone call. A heads-up, be prepared sort of call. There’s a strong possibility that very soon Rachel will need me.
Oliver is on my left and our friend and partner in a number of businesses, Cole, is on my right. The three of us turn as though we’re linked with the music and watch the procession.
My heart gives a couple of solid thumps before I steel myself and push whatever the fuck I’m feeling back behind the thick, dark drapes.
The aisle is lined with tiny candles flickering like strip-lighting on an aircraft, illuminating the path to the emergency exit. The soft outdoor lighting has been switched off. One yellow spotlight, like a laser pointer, traces the path just in front of Darcy’s bridesmaid. Each step she takes never quite reaches into the circle of light. She looks like a cat being teased.
It’s Ginger making her solo entrance, and only part of me likes what I see. The rest of me is fucking stunned. I don’t know what they’ve done to achieve this transformation. Don’t get me wrong, Ginger always looks amazing, but tonight she looks like a goddess. She’s going to kill me in that dress. It’s my lifelong mission to keep my hands off her. But tonight, fate, or Darcy’s cruel sense of humor, has paired the two of us at this wedding.
“What the hell have they done to Ginger?” I hiss at Oliver.
Under normal circumstances, he’d know exactly what I meant, but tonight there’s no response, because his eyes are fixed at the point where his bride will appear.
Fuck it, I’m on my own.
2 ~ GINGER
When Darcy asked me to be her maid of honor, I recall squealing. Seconds later, I realized Luther would obviously be Oliver’s best man, which meant we’d be partnered together at the wedding. That made me squeal even louder in my head. Since that moment, I’ve prepared for this day as if I was the bride.
I’ve watched my diet, exercised, made sure I had enough sleep, although being in bed usually means falling into a fantasy about Luther, in which case, sleep is delayed until the fantasy is taken care of.
I’ve even played it cool around Luther.
Spending so much time with Darcy meant Oliver and Luther were often around. Knowing this night together at Darcy and Oliver’s wedding was guaranteed, I was able to focus on not being such a nervous wreck in Luther’s company. For a week, I tried playing hard to get, but that didn’t really work. Somebody has to pursue you in order to give them the brush-off and Luther was treating me the way he always has. Like an annoying distant relative who pops up at inconvenient times.
Still, the way he watched me walk down the aisle a couple of hours ago will stay with me my entire life. Even in the low light I saw something flash across his face before he tried to fix it into his customary scowl. Darcy chose the most amazing dress for me. So amazing, it neutralized Luther’s scowl. Tonight, I’ve caught him watching me a couple of times and I can tell he likes what he sees.
The ceremony was like a beautiful fairytale, and it ran like clockwork. I think Darcy could successfully run a campaign to invade a small country. She started her plan from where she wanted it to finish, and worked backwards. That meant getting married on the night of a full moon, and she and Oliver said their vows right on time as the moon rose. Somehow, she planned the weather perfectly. A crisp night with views that seemed without boundaries, and a heavy yellow moon that gradually appeared over the horizon like a well-oiled stage prop.
By the time their vows were complete, and Oliver and Darcy had kissed for such a long time that I noticed Luther’s sharp tug on Oliver’s jacket, the moon shone a broad silver path across the sea. It made the aisle we’d walked down look as though it stretched to eternity.
The vows they shared made me give thanks to the woman who invented waterproof mascara.
Darcy, of course, looks magnificent. Oliver hasn’t stopped smiling at her all night, and he keeps whispering things to her that make Darcy kiss him in response, and whisper things back. They’re standing. It’s time for their dance which will be as beautiful as the rest of the evening. No wedding planner for Darcy. She organized this entire night herself, and paid me to help.
Designing the invitations was the first time I’ve ever been paid for a piece of my art. I wanted Darcy to have the design as a gift, but she insisted on paying me. So, instead of having the illustration printed, I hand-drew and colored each one. It kept me busy, and gave me an excuse to stay out of the house for long periods. Away from Mom.
Mom complained, of course, but because I was doing work that paid, she kept the grumble-level low.
I take another sip of my champagne to wash away all thoughts about Mom who I really shouldn’t be thinking about right now. The final part of the evening—the wedding dance—is about to begin. I’m swinging between nausea and excitement. Darcy and Oliver first, then the rest of the bridal party will join in.
Luther and I will dance together. He’ll have to touch me. The idea stops my breath and if I’m not careful, I’m going to faint.
Twice a week for the past month Darcy and I have met at the small dance studio in Waitapu where Marcia Sneddon has taught us to waltz. The men refused to come. Oliver claimed he already knew enough about dancing and Luther merely scoffed, muttering that he doubted there was anything Marcia Sneddon could teach him.
I know that Darcy went home after each lesson and practiced with Oliver. She says he dances beautifully. I simply drove slowly past Ormidale, Luther’s mansion, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. It’s not stalking. The drive home from the dance studio takes me right past his house—if I choose the scenic route.
The emcee has just announced the wedding dance and I think I’m going to explode. We all stand as Oliver leads Darcy to the dance floor. I slip a quick look in the direction of Luther, but his eyes are steadfastly focused on the bride and groom.
Luther in his tuxedo makes my mouth go dry. And it’s a measure of his friendship with Oliver that he’s managed to keep all his crazy energy contained for the entire evening. I haven’t even heard him swear. I think the promise of no f-bombs was his wedding gift to them.
In about three minutes, Luther will come to take my hand and lead me to the dance floor. I’m praying to the heavens to hold off any natural disaster they might have lined up, like an earthquake, tsunami, or the release of a pack of rabid hounds, until I get the opportunity to have one dance with Luther.
Of course, I understand that etiquette rather than adoration is the reason he’s dancing with me, but for the moment, the dream I’ve had for five years, of being in Luther’s arms, is going to happen. Etiquette can take a flying leap off the cliff as far as I’m concerned. I’m going to savor this for the
rest of my life.
It feels completely inappropriate for a wedding, but I’ve been experiencing what can only be explained as uncontrollable bursts of sexual desire for Luther, all night. Not like that’s new, but tonight it’s completely out of control. I closed my eyes during his speech and imagined the words were directed only at me. All that loyalty, and love, and happily ever after. He talked about not finding the person you can live with, but finding the person you can’t live without. Total heart-melting stuff. My eyes flew open at that bit, and I tried to draw him to me using manifestation and law of attraction techniques which typically failed. I should have gone with the alternative—waving my hand and shouting yoohoo, I’m over here, Luther!
Darcy and Oliver haven’t missed a step on the dance floor. I swear the guests are spellbound. It’s like watching one of those reality TV dancing shows, but with more appropriate costumes, more love, less bitchiness. I know every bar of this song, and every step of this dance, and I think I stopped breathing about five seconds ago because it’s coming to its finish, and in three-two-one…
“Virginia.”
Virginia? Luther’s voice is unusually gruff as he takes my hand, guides me from my seat and leads me to the DANCE floor. The way he used my proper name unsettles me more. My palm is damp and anxious. His is dry and comforting as he turns me so that we’re facing.
“Are you nervous?” he asks quietly.
“A lot of people are watching,” I say. I’ve been so lost in my fantasy for the past ten minutes that I’ve not really considered the other guests are now an audience.
“You know how this works. Follow my lead and I’ll take care of you.” His mouth drops close to my ear. “Make Mrs. Sneddon proud,” he whispers.
They’re not the most romantic words, but the mere tease of hot breath in my ear makes my body tingle. I don’t swoon. I want to, but I hold it together, storing his words, the tone and delivery, at the back of my mind for later use.
His palm engulfs my right hand in a loose clasp, but the way his fingers and thumb close around my hand feels oddly protective. His other hand rests at my shoulder blade, his wrist pressed to my side. It’s like the hum on a wire between our points of contact, made worse (or better) when the music starts and Luther pulls me closer and our opposing halves touch all the way from our thighs up. My pussy throbs and as we move around the dance floor I know that if I slightly misstep I could for just one moment have his thigh pressed between my legs.
