by Olivia Chase
Ugh, and I have to go over and talk to this douche later to help me decorate Aubrey’s car tonight. Twenty bucks says he finds some way to get out of it. Throws me a charming smile and asks me in his sweetest tone if I could pretty please just handle it myself, because he’s oh-so busy with whatever the hell guys like him do with their time.
Probably getting wasted, or banging some girl in the closet—that big-breasted bridesmaid, in fact, by the way he’s eye-sexing her.
The crowd quiets down.
Jax puts down his fork and smirks. “Finally. You guys are loud enough to put me to shame.” Shoots that charmer smile of his again and, of course, everyone laughs. I’ve been in Rock Bridge a total of four hours so far, and I’ve already heard all about The Legendary Jax Beckett. Man-whore extraordinaire, and co-owner of a bar appropriately called Outlaws, with older brother Smith and youngest brother, Asher, who’s sitting to Smith’s left.
Jax continues speaking as the laughter dies down. “Okay, we’re all here because tomorrow, my brother is marrying Aubrey, a woman who obviously has no idea what she’s getting herself into with our family.”
Aubrey rolls her eyes at his smirk and shakes her head. “Trust me, I know. We all do.”
The table gives another good-natured laugh.
Smith shoots Jax a heated glare, to which Jax chuckles and holds up a hand in defense. “Anyway, I never thought the day would come with the infamous Beckett bachelors would be saying goodbye to one of their own.” Something odd flashes in Jax’s eyes, but he blinks it away and makes his smile wider, teeth gleaming in the glow of the hotel restaurant lights. “Smith couldn’t have found a woman better suited for him though. Aubrey’s strong, caring, and anyone with half a brain can see how much she loves him. And I see firsthand the way her love has changed my brother from a man focused solely on work to a man living his life. Hell, it almost makes a guy like me want to settle down.”
Aubrey strokes the back of Smith’s neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. He turns and gives her a smile just for her. The heat between them is palpable and I feel myself blushing, just seeing what’s passing between them.
The bridesmaids all swoon at Jax’s words, a couple of them pressing their hands over their hearts and peering up at him.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes hard at them, at him. He’s saying the right words, seeming like the best brother ever, but it’s totally a veneer. Can’t these girls see that? This entire speech sounds like it’s been crafted to land him in bed with someone.
Jax goes on, talking about his brother and Aubrey’s future, cracking a joke or two, never forgetting to connect eyes with everyone at the table. When his gaze lands on mine, he pauses, blinks, and his smile grows slow and predatory as his eyes narrow.
God help me, I know better. I know better, but something about the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to devour me, makes my lower belly tighten in response. I force myself to give him a disinterested look in return.
He smirks, and I simultaneously feel the urge to kiss him and smack that knowing look off him. Damn him. I keep the blandness on my face, thinking about the most boring things I can—rice crackers, dry wheat toast, elevator music—until he slides his gaze down the line. Finally, Jax lifts his almost empty wine glass and says, “To Smith and Aubrey. May they know infinite happiness and love.”
The crowd applauds and cheers and toasts, and as Jax settles back into his seat, the girls across from him practically throw their clothes at him in an effort to praise him.
I purposely don’t look at him the rest of the dinner.
The wedding party has a block of rooms at a locally owned hotel on the edge of Rock Bridge. There’s a garden gazebo with an expansive, landscaped lawn and pristine lake, where the wedding is supposed to be held—assuming the weather holds the way it’s predicted to.
Then the reception dinner following immediately after the ceremony will be in the hotel’s large dining hall, which has already been decorated to the nines and is awaiting tomorrow’s festivities.
After the rehearsal dinner, I meander outside past the small cluster of smokers, cinching my light blue jacket a little closer around me, and step into the gardens housing the gazebo and lake. The spring night feels good, though a bit nippy.
Moonlight sparkles in the crisp black sky, and stars glitter above me. The sky is clear and perfect, and I can’t stop staring at it. I’m tempted to lie down in the grass and slide my fingers across the blades, but I can hear voices off near the hotel entrance. I don’t know a lot of people here and I don’t want to embarrass myself.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I find a cement bench near the dark gazebo and sit down to peer at the screen. It’s a text from my sister Della.
How’s Aubrey? Is she gorgeous as usual? Send me shots, please! I’ve only seen what she’s posted on Facebook.
I smile. My sister really wanted to come in from upstate New York to the wedding, but since she couldn’t take off work for the event due to just starting there, she told me to keep her updated and send tons of pictures. I reply to Della with a few pictures I took of the happy couple at the reception dinner, then write, This hotel is PERFECT for a wedding. It’s going to be gorgeous with the budding flowers and the gazebo. Wish u were here, sis! How’s Cam?
A minute later, a picture of a drooling dark-haired toddler fills my screen, and I laugh. God, I love that kid—he’s a handful, to say the least. My sweet nephew has decided he likes chewing on table legs and even has the dog doing it now. Mom is stroking out and threatening to muzzle Cam, as you can imagine.
SEND HELP AND WINE, she texts beneath the pic.
That’s hilarious. I miss him, and u! I text back. See u guys in a few weeks for graduation—can’t believe it’s already here!!!
My phone buzzes again. I’m so excited, too! Oh shit, Cam’s eating something off the floor. Gotta go! XO
I laugh again and tuck my phone away. Despite the struggles that come along with being a single parent and just barely in her twenties, Della is getting herself together. She’s got a full-time job now working as a receptionist for a physical therapist’s office, and Cam’s in daycare. Living at home is giving her a chance to save up her money—her plan is to move out and get her own apartment in a year.
My parents were crushed when she confessed she was pregnant, with the daddy nowhere to be found after she told him he knocked her up. But our folks rallied behind her when she said she wanted to keep the child and insisted she move home to get back on her feet. During my school breaks over the last year since Cam was born, I road trip it home and cherish my time with them.
Sometimes, when she thinks no one is looking, I see Della eyeing Cam with the saddest eyes, and it shatters me to pieces. I know what she’s thinking. She should be doing this parenting thing with a partner and not needing her sister and parents to take his place.
Not that Della doesn’t love us—she does, fiercely, and she’s expressed her gratitude time and again to my parents and to me for our help. But it’s not the same as having a person by your side to navigate parenthood with.
Thinking about Della makes me think about her stupid ex, which makes me think about irresponsible men—and the guy I’m supposed to decorate the car with tonight. Right before dinner ended, I pulled Jax aside and asked him to meet me in an hour at Aubrey’s car. He blithely agreed, brushing me off with a wave of his hand, then went right back to talking to the cluster of women around him.
I linger outside for as long as I dare, enjoying the silence around me. There are only a couple of other people out here now, near the far entrance of the hotel, their voices little more than soft murmurs.
I really hope tomorrow goes well. Aubrey wanted me to sing, and despite my nerves, I agreed.
I clear my throat and whisper-sing the piece I chose, just to make sure my voice is ready and I have the song memorized, even though I’ve practiced it a hundred times over the last week. As I sing, the words fill me—a song about love, hope,
forever.
A mental image of Smith from earlier, looking at Aubrey like she’s the center of the universe, makes the words trail off, and I go silent, my throat tight. Does that sort of love exist for everyone, or just for them?
Will it even last? Is he true?
I can’t help but hope yet again that he doesn’t break Aubrey’s heart the way my poor sister got hers crushed.
Aubrey feels he’s worth the risk. What does it matter what I think? I’ll just be here to support her no matter what.
I rise from the bench, dust off the back of my skirt, and head toward Aubrey’s car. I already put the decorations in a bag in the back, and the Beckett’s feisty Aunt Sylvia gave me the car key. I pop the trunk open and tug the bag out. Rest my hip against the passenger door, legs crossed at the ankles.
And wait.
And wait.
Ten minutes pass.
Then another five.
Each minute that ticks by makes my blood boil a little bit more. I knew it. I knew he wouldn’t be here. Everything about Jax is so predictable. He’s probably still drinking—when I left the table, he was throwing down beer after beer like it was his job.
Or maybe he’s passed out somewhere by now.
I go back into the restaurant, which has a few laughing and talking people clustered around tables and at the bar. No sign of him. I weave through and peer in every corner just in case he’s there making out with someone…or doing more.
Where the hell is he?
My jaw tightens as I stomp up the stairs one flight then toward our block of rooms. Aunt Sylvia told me his room number over dinner, giving me a knowing look and admitting that Jax could be “flaky” sometimes and I might have to hunt him down. Right. Flaky.
I go up to his door, just a few away from mine and across the hall, and give a couple of hard raps on the wood.
There’s a sound like murmuring voices on the other side, and then nothing.
I knock harder and don’t stop until the door is ripped open and Jax is standing there in nothing but his unzipped jeans and mussed hair. He blinks in surprise, his eyes a little bleary, then gives me a slow, sexy smile.
“Room service?” he asks me in a purr.
Behind him, a light voice says from the bed, “Jax, hurry, I’m getting lonely over here.” I see bare feet with pink toenails sticking out the end of the king-sized bed, sheets rumpled around slender calves.
I take a deep breath and release it, willing myself to calm down. Of course he’s here, with a girl. Of course. Because Jax is nothing more than a walking, talking cliché. Why would I have thought otherwise?
“You’re supposed to help me with the car decoration,” I say as calmly as I can, holding up the bag I’m clenching in my other hand. “Do you even remember me asking you that? Or did that somehow slip your mind in the last ninety minutes due to your many distractions?”
He laughs, his eyes sparkling at my sharp tone. Nothing phases this guy. Everything’s a big joke to him. “Of course I remember. I just…lost track of time.”
“Jax!” The voice is more insistent now. “Who’s at the door? Is it booze delivery? That would be awesome.” She giggles.
Jax eyes me up and down, his look languid and warm, and I hate myself when my body gets this strange hot flash all over. “Fuck, I bet you taste better than aged whiskey on my tongue,” he says to me in a low voice, his eyes growing dark. “What’s your name again? It’s a city or something, right?” He tilts his head to the side, not taking his eyes off me.
“Never mind,” I tell him in a huff. I clench the bag in front of me, more a gesture of self-defense than anything else. “I’ll just do it myself.”
I spin around to go and hear his soft chuckle follow me down the hall. “If you insist, darling. Thanks for taking care of it.”
“It’s Brooklyn,” I retort, not turning around, keeping my back stiff. “Not ‘darling.’ I have a name.”
Jax gives another husky laugh, which grates at me, and then the door clicks closed behind him. I head outside to do the decorating myself.
A half hour later, I pull back from the car and eye it. Perfect. The forecast said there should be no rain, so I took a chance and covered it with crepe paper and white paint, filling the inside with balloons and even a few condoms tied off and taped to the dashboard. I’m a little winded from blowing so many up by myself.
Don’t think about Jax, I order myself as I snap a few shots of the car and send them to my sister. She’ll get a kick out of it.
It doesn’t matter. I got it done, and after tomorrow night, I most likely don’t need to see that douche ever again. He’ll be an irritating memory, nothing more.
In a few weeks, I’ll have my bachelors finished, ready to take summer break, and then start the masters program at my college. My life is moving forward in a positive direction; letting some drunk man-ho rattle me isn’t my style.
After all the crap that happened to Della, she made me swear not to be like her. To not give up my virginity to someone unworthy just because he has a gorgeous smile and a way with words.
I can only imagine how many people have fallen for Jax. Maybe he keeps trophies from all of his victims, the way a serial killer does. The serial man-slut. The thought makes me laugh and flinch at the same time. Whatever. He’s not my concern. He can do whatever he wants, so long as I’m not impacted by it.
I’m going to go to bed—tomorrow’s the big day, and I need to look my best.
Jax
Fuck.
My head is throbbing like a train smashed into my face at a hundred miles an hour. I groan and roll away from the bright light streaming in through the hotel room window. Fumble for my phone to see what time it is.
Well, at least I didn’t oversleep. I have time to get my shit together, shower, shave, and take about a hundred ibuprofen before meeting my brothers for a late lunch pre-ceremony. I sit up, the sheet falling down to my waist, and realize the bed is empty. Just as well—Patty or Patsy or Pinky or whatever her name is had to go do pampering girl shit with Aubrey this morning to prepare for the wedding.
I stand and stretch. Yawn. Grab a handful of pills and down them with water from the sink. Scratch my ass and turn on the shower, then hop in. Fuck yeah, the hot water beating down on me feels amazing and helps restore some of my humanity.
After soaping up and scrubbing most of the hangover away, I set about making myself look presentable. Shave and dress and run my fingers through my hair. I glance at my phone. Only running five minutes behind—that’s good for me. Smith will be proud.
I laugh and slip into my shoes, then click the door closed behind me. No sign of anyone else in the hall, including…what was her name? The brown-haired chick with the hostile green eyes. Brooklyn.
Something about her spurred me into wanting to tease her, prod her, see how she would react. She screams virgin, from her uptight stance to her shock at seeing me in just my jeans last night. I can’t really bust her balls too much though—to be fair, she did take over decorating the car, a task I find on the same entertainment level as going to the dentist or renewing my driver’s license.
No thanks.
I head to the hotel restaurant and see my two brothers in the corner, leaning toward each other and talking. Smith’s tension practically radiates off him, and Asher is trying to calm him down.
I meander over and grab a seat across them, plopping in the chair. “’Sup, bitches.”
Smith gives a deliberate slow look to his phone and says, “Thanks for showing up, wanker. It’s only the most important day of my life. No big deal.”
I roll my eyes. “When did you become so dramatic?” When Smith opens his mouth to say something no doubt hostile, I laugh and say, “Kidding, kidding. I know how important today is for you. I promise I’m not going to fuck it up.”
The waitress comes over, an older woman with a tight bun and stress lines around her eyes. She looks at me. “What can I get ya?”
I give her a crooked g
rin. “Coffee, as strong as you can make it, if you don’t mind. I have no regrets…except some of the shit I did last night.”
That draws a small chuckle out of her. She shakes her head. “You look like you need at least two coffees, sweetness. Coming right up.”
I clutch my heart and dramatically say, “I’m wounded.”
When she walks away, her step is a little lighter.
“Is there literally no one you will not flirt with?” Asher asks.
I wink at him. “Everyone wants to feel beautiful for a moment. I feel like I was put on earth to help women with that.”
“Your arrogance is astounding,” Smith says in a droll tone. “I don’t know why this shit surprises me by now.” He sips his own coffee and eyes the menu. “Anyway. Aubrey’s been working hard at the wedding, so please help make sure nothing bad happens today, okay? She’s stressed about making it all perfect.”
I salute. “You got it, boss.”
Asher nods. “No problem.”
I get my coffee, we order, then spend the meal bullshitting about everything and anything to help keep Smith from flipping his shit—how the Tigers fare for this upcoming baseball season based on the games to date, how Asher’s semester is going, and Smith’s concern about closing the bar this weekend for the wedding—to which Asher and I both tell him to shut up.
Aubrey still has some work to do on him, I can see. But I have noticed he’s relaxed over the last few months, not the control freak he was before. He’s even entrusted me to do more tasks around the bar.
I toss down money to pay for the bill, and we stand. I stare at my oldest brother, who’s about to give up bachelorhood in just a few hours. My chest tightens, and I fight back the response. Just because he’s married doesn’t mean everything is going to change that drastically, I tell myself. But I know that’s not true.
Everything is going to be different.
We’ve always been a tight unit, despite our fights over the years, especially as he took over the parenting role when our dad passed and we were essentially orphaned. And now Aubrey is the most important person in his life, and I can’t help but feel…weird.
