by Ash Harlow
I fill the sink with warm water and hand him a wash cloth. “Wipe the gunky bits off, and I’ll show you a neat trick,” I tell him.
He catches my gaze in the mirror and we both laugh.
“For getting rid of stains,” I explain.
“Would it be inappropriate for me to tell you I was hoping it was a different kind of trick?”
“Yes, it would,” I say, hiding my smile as I dig about in the drawer for makeup removal wipes. He’s good looking, no wedding ring, but I guess he’s here with a girlfriend.
“I’m Tyler,” he says.
“Virginia,” I tell him, pulling a wipe from the packet.
“So, Virginia. Is the best man your boyfriend, or…?”
“Not exactly. The opposite, to be honest.” I don’t want to think about my crushed Luther-crush right now. I size up Tyler as I work on the marks on his jacket and tie. His body feels hard in all the right places, and I’m so annoyed by the way Luther rejected me I’m enjoying the little boost to my ego Tyler’s interest gives me.
“That looks as good as new,” he says when I finish. “They’ve got a roaring fire going outside, come and have a drink with me.”
“Sure,” I tell him. We leave the restroom and a large part of me hopes Luther can see how well I’ve moved on, and exactly what he’s missing by being such an ass tonight.
Tyler leads me outdoors. The weather has stayed clear, and the Milky Way is like a bright paint splash in the ink-dark sky above us. There’s a guy seated by the fire, and I slow my step. It’s the man who overheard my embarrassing fantasy description to Luther.
I tug on Tyler’s jacket. “Looks like that spot by the fire is taken.”
“It’s fine. That’s my friend, Brock.”
“You found her,” Brock exclaims when we approach.
Oh, god, I’m famous already. My cheeks heat, and I’m sure they’re turning scarlet, but it’s quite dark so I’m hoping he won’t notice.
“I did,” Tyler says. “This is Virginia. She threw cake at me. I think that’s good luck.”
Brock laughs and holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Brock.”
“Nice to meet you, again,” I say, giving his hand a quick shake.
We all sit, and Brock pours wine into three glasses as if he knew all along that I’d be joining them.
He passes me a glass. “That was an interesting story you were telling your friend. I was sorry to only catch part of it. Do you want to fill me in on the parts I missed?”
“No,” I say, laughing a little, trying to make light of the fact that I’m still deeply embarrassed. “Luther and I are always teasing each other like that.”
“Well, feel free to tease us anytime. We’re great listeners.”
I take a sip of my wine. I really have had more to drink tonight than I’m used to. “So, which part of the bridal party are you connected to?” I ask, trying to shift the subject.
“Darcy. We’re cousins.”
“Oh, so you two are brothers?”
“No. We’re cousins, too. What about you, Virginia? Do you live locally?”
“Born and bred in Waitapu.” I always feel like a bit of a country girl when I say that, because I’m guessing these are city guys.
“Do you get up to Auckland at all?” Tyler asks.
“No, not really.” Never, to be honest. I hate the city.
“Come up one weekend. We can show you around, take you to a few nightclubs, that sort of thing. You’re too gorgeous to be locked away in Waitapu. What do you do for work?”
I’m thankful for my new position with Darcy which gives me a more interesting-sounding career than just picking up whatever odd jobs—usually child-minding and cleaning—that I can. “I’m working with Darcy in PR,” I explain.
“You should definitely come to Auckland,” Brock says. “We can introduce you to people, get your career flying.”
“I don’t have enough experience yet.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, with looks like yours, you don’t need experience,” Tyler says.
Brock jumps in like they’re tag teaming the conversation. “Tell you what, once Oliver and Darcy have left, why don’t we go into Waitapu and you can show us the bars.”
“This isn’t Auckland, guys,” I say. “I think the bars will be closed by now.”
“Right. We need to get you a new town, Virginia. One that doesn’t close at sundown. New plan. We’ll grab some wine and a driver, and you can show us your town. Give us the tiki tour.” Tyler gives me a wink that’s borderline creepy, but I’m probably being over-sensitive.
I size them up. They’re well dressed, their manners seem fine, and to be honest it’ll be a bit flat once Darcy’s gone. I’m proud of the town where I live and even though these guys might think it’s Hicksville, it’ll be fun to show them there’s more to a town than bars and clubs that stay open all night.
From the distance I hear the percussive throb of a helicopter. I expect it’s coming in to pick up Oliver and Darcy, to whisk them away to whatever exotic place Oliver has booked for their wedding night. I glance around to see if it’s in view yet when I spot Luther at the edge of the marquee, watching me.
Brock has his arm over the back of the seat where we sit, so I nestle into it. He gets the hint and drops his hand to my shoulder. I laugh at something Tyler says and when I lean forward to get my wine, Brock pulls me closer to him.
It’s harmless. These guys are Darcy’s cousins so I feel quite safe with them. “Sure,” I say, wishing Luther could lip-read. “Let’s tour the town tonight.”
The guys exchange a grin, and Tyler winks at me again. Perhaps he has an eye twitch. “We’ll show you a good time, Virginia. You can count on that.”
The helicopter landing is my cue. “That’s enough socializing for me,” I say, standing. “I have bridesmaid duties.” Brock manages to slide his hand down my back, stopping at my ass. I twist out of his reach. “Later, guys.” Without looking back I walk quickly to the main party to find Darcy.
As usual, she’s surrounded by people but when she spots me, she excuses herself and comes over. The noise of the helicopter drowns out what she’s trying to say.
“Where have you been?” she asks on her second attempt. “I heard you threw cake at my cousin.”
We both start laughing. “I’m such a klutz. Your cousins are cute.”
“Meh, they’re okay I guess. Mom insisted they were invited.” Darcy doesn’t really get along with any of her family. She says Waitapu is her new family now. She clasps my hands. “Thanks, Ginger, for being an awesome friend, and for helping me fit into life in Waitapu.”
Warm and fuzzy is definitely a state because Darcy’s words have that effect on me. “I’ve been drinking, Darcy, you’re going to make me cry if you say nice things. But, the pleasure’s been all mine. And, Oliver’s, obviously. I hope your honeymoon is stunning. Go and enjoy yourself, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. We can drink more champagne and look at the wedding photos.”
Maraea joins us and we walk Darcy over to Oliver who is waiting with Luther and Cole. He thanks Maraea and me for everything we’ve done to help Darcy, then asks for his wife back.
“We’re kidnapping her,” Maraea says. “We’ve decided she’s too good for you.”
Oliver rolls his eyes and tugs Darcy’s hands free from our grip. We follow them to the waiting helicopter and just as Darcy’s about to board, one of the staff hands her the wedding bouquet.
“Ready, girls?” she shouts.
A collective ‘yes’ goes up and Darcy throws the bouquet over her head. It comes straight for me and I catch it effortlessly, mainly, I think, because Maraea didn’t even try. Her supreme netball abilities would have guaranteed her catch. Everyone cheers as Darcy and Oliver disappear inside the helicopter and we back away as the rotors spin faster and the roar of the engine drowns out our voices.
The bouquet is wasted on me. I don’t even have a boyfriend.
7 ~ LUTHER
The lights of the
helicopter vanish behind the nearest hill and I set off to find Ginger because that little play with those two guys is not going any further. She’s no longer among the small group of people gathered on the lawn so I head inside.
One of the guys is on his phone, and the other is placing a wrap around Ginger’s shoulders.
Oh, no fucking way.
I march over feeling as officious as fuck. I’m the Little General, and I’m well displeased. My hands are clenched, knuckles tingling at the idea of smacking that leer right off the sleazy prick’s mouth. Ginger sees me approach and pulls her wrap tighter around her. At least her breasts are covered because the idea that those two guys have been looking at them, thinking about them, gives me an urge to add some bruises to their slick city faces.
“Ginger, I need to talk with you. Reception room, now,” I bark. I’m still in General mode.
“I’m leaving—”
“You’re not. Come with me.”
The guy with the cake stains on his jacket steps in front of her. “Easy, mate. Lighten up, huh? Everything’s cool. Ginger’s going to show us around Waitapu.”
“She’s not showing either of you anything,” I snap.
“You don’t get to say who I hang out with,” Ginger hisses at me.
I close my eyes and draw a long breath. I don’t want to be a dick here, but she’s not leaving with them. “One minute of your time, please, Virginia.” I grab her by the upper arm, which is probably way too harsh, and march her through to the private reception room which is thankfully empty. I close the door and when I release her, she rounds on me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snarls.
“Will you calm down?”
“Will you?”
“Jesus, fuck—”
“Don’t swear.”
I push my hand through my hair and take a moment to gather myself. We’re alone here. Those guys can’t get to her. The door needs a code punched for entry. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Apart from my arm which will probably be bruised tomorrow, yes, I’m fine.”
“Sorry about that.”
She lifts her palms to me like she’s offering a blessing. “What are you doing, Luther?”
“I’m protecting you. You are not getting into a car with those two men.”
“You made it quite clear that you aren’t interested in me, so, you don’t get to choose who I go out with.”
“Those two assholes out there—”
“Darcy’s cousins,” she cuts in. “So you should probably be a little more polite about them.”
“Thank you. Those two related-to-the-bride assholes out there are players.” I pause and give her time to make a pissy face at me. “They’re known in clubs in Auckland for singling out a woman and taking her off for a threesome. Is that what you want? Because that’s how they play and, by all accounts, that’s what they had planned for you. Not one man, Ginger. Two of them, at the same time. I think they call it a spit roast. They like to film themselves, too.” The color drains from her face. “No, I didn’t think that’s what you were after tonight. You just wanted to make me jealous, or prove to me that you’re attractive to other men. I know all that. You’re a beautiful woman, and you don’t have to hook up with other guys to make me notice you.”
“Oh, god, I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not. I was a dick, and you reacted. I’m as much to blame.”
“This is still a problem, Luther.”
I pull out my phone. “I’m fixing it.” My PA, Sammy, also organizes our security. One quick word with him and Darcy’s cousins are no longer in the picture.
Ginger’s got her hands on her hips, elbows wide, doing that angry-cat thing where she’s trying to make herself appear bigger than she really is. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” she says.
“Tell me.” I’m waiting for her to stamp her foot and I have to focus on a spot over her shoulder so that I don’t laugh.
“The problem is you can’t watch over me like this because one day, there’ll be this guy who is the one, and you’ll wreck that for me. I don’t want you barging in all the time. You’re acting like the kind of overbearing brother who looks sweet and protective on paper, but no girl actually wants.”
“Tough. You’ve got me.” I step towards her and her elbows jut even further. It’s cute. “And let me tell you, there’s nothing brotherly about what I’m thinking right now.”
Oh, fuck, here I go again, except this time, I have no intention of throttling back because I’m not setting her loose to find another man tonight. I could keep her with me in this room until all the guests have departed, then organize a car to take her home, but that little thing we had going earlier taunts me. I don’t miss opportunities and right now I’ve got this need to stake my claim on Ginger. I’ll find a way to tolerate hell tomorrow. Tonight, I’m going to see if she wants to be mine.
I’ve closed the gap between us and this time she doesn’t back away. Her eyes narrow. I think she’s trying to look fierce, and I want to laugh again. That would probably scare the shit out of her because I don’t laugh around Ginger, I scowl.
Using my hands to cover her jutting elbows, I press down. She resists, digging her hands into her hips.
“Unlock these wings, Ginger,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because you look like an adolescent albatross trying to get airborne.”
She snorts with laughter, dropping her arms and somehow my hands find their way around her back so that I’m holding her. She still wears her wrap and I want to slide it free and feel her bare skin.
Ginger tips her head back and looks at me. “Tonight, somehow you’ve managed to surpass your usual surliness and insult me in—hang on, let me count the ways. Probably seven.”
“Probably not seven, Ginger, more like four, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re going to apologize? Wait, I’ll get my phone, I need to record this.”
“I wasn’t proposing an apology.”
“Typical,” she says. “So what are you proposing.”
“How about a mind-blowing orgasm. One for every insult.” Yep, I’m on the bullet train to hell.
Her eyes go wide, mouth opening, shutting, opening again. I imagine she’s wondering if I’m going to pull out again if she says yes. Or maybe she wants to slap my face. Or laugh at me.
Finally, she speaks. “Is there a catch?” she asks carefully.
She’s a catch, but I’ll never tell her that. “Yeah, there is. Same catch that I proposed earlier. One night of fucking and at daybreak it’s back to normal.” Except it’ll never be normal again. I know that, but I’ll deal with it. I’ll break her crush and she’ll see that I’m not the good person, the kind, sweet, tender lover she probably imagines I am.
“What if I say no.”
I wasn’t expecting that, and it makes me like her even more. “If you say no, I’ll get my driver to drop you home, and we’ll stay parked outside your house until dawn, to make sure you don’t sneak out for a kinky ménage with the city boys.” My hands slide down to her hips, and hers slip up to rest on my shoulders.
“I wouldn’t do that, Luther.”
“Glad to hear it.” We watch each other in silence, our breathing synchronized, and I’m sure she’s filled with the same doubts that bother me. “You need to understand about tomorrow, Virginia,” I say softly. “That’s real. It won’t change because I’ve had my cock buried in your magic pussy. If you don’t want to deal with that, then I’ll take you home.”
She drags her bottom lip through her teeth. “We better get moving. You owe me four orgasms and daybreak’s not far off.”
8 ~ GINGER
I’m trying to be cool but my mind’s going at warp speed. For five years I’ve dreamed about this moment. I’ve lain awake in bed and imagined Luther’s hands on my skin, his hard cock pushing into me, his sweet-dirty words, his mouth, his everything.
&n
bsp; Tonight, I’m getting it all. I get to see his naked body and all of those tattoos. I bet there aren’t many trial lawyers who rock up to court with more ink than the criminals they’re defending. His beautiful cock will be mine. I’ll have his undivided attention for the next seven hours.
I am not thinking about daybreak.
We’re in the car, nearly at his house. He’s stroking the back of my neck with one finger and every time he reaches the base, a shiver shoots down my spine and my clit pulses. My pussy actually aches. I feel as though I’m going to have orgasm number one right here in the back of one of the Lodge SUVs. I don’t know if that’s embarrassing or admirable. All I can say is that no man has ever had this effect on me.
It’s finally happening. This. Luther, me, after all these years. It’s finally happening.
“Are you still living in the boat house?” I ask as we pull up to his gate. I know the answer, but honestly, I’m trying not to say something completely stupid.
The driver opens the door and Luther steps out, then takes my hand to assist me. He thanks the driver and the vehicle slips off into the darkness. At last, we’re alone.
Luther guides me along a flagstone path. “Just the finishing touches and Ormidale will be ready for occupation,” he says of the large house we’re passing. Lighting is cleverly tucked within the native gardens we pass through and soon we’re descending steps carved from a small rockface, to the boathouse.
A boathouse is not as primitive as it sounds. The exterior is rustic. Old iron, timber framing that has to be more than a hundred years old and has weathered a thousand storms. Inside is glorious. I don’t know anyone who has visited and not fallen in love with Luther’s boathouse. But I can do that in the morning. At daybreak, my fairytale is over and everything returns to normal. I’ll take a good look at the detailing of the boathouse interior at dawn, while Luther scowls at me.
For now, there’s only one detail I’m interested in.
We enter through a side door and Luther immediately lights two old Tilley lamps which throw long shadows and a yellow glow.
“Are you warm enough?” he asks, stoking embers on an open fire lit earlier, and throwing a couple of fat logs on for good measure. It’s surprisingly cozy in here and I imagine, despite its rustic look, the boathouse is well insulated.
