by N. R. Larry
“My brother is a warm-blooded man, and we’re not sixteen anymore. Go ask him.”
I shake my head.
“Bro, come here!” Aud shouts.
My eyes widen in alarm. “Don’t you dare,” I mouth under my breath.
Her eyes shine with mischief while her gorgeous brother returns and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “Yes, peanut?”
“Lee is bringing his puta to the wedding. You need to entertain Maddie tomorrow.”
My mouth opens and closes. “I—You don’t need—I’m perfectly fine without—”
“I’d be honored.”
A fiery lump makes its way down my throat. Mal winks, and heat seeps down my spine. He has never looked at me this way before. It must be the dress.
Mal passes his front arm across his forehead. “Are we done?”
“Yes.” My arms hang on either side of a reception chair, and I kick off my sneakers.
The evening—and most of the night—passed in a cloud of last-minute preparations. Jill left around midnight to get some beauty rest, but Mal and Aud stayed. We rearranged the space in the reception hall and balcony to allow for the lengthy guest list. Everyone in town will be there, picking apart Jill’s choices and criticizing my marina. Most of them probably expect me to make a scene, but I won’t give them the satisfaction.
The kitchen is squeaky clean, awaiting the arrival of the caterer tomorrow morning.
A cloudy sky plunged the usually moonlit night into darkness but for the twinkling lights on the terrace.
Aud slumps into the seat next to mine and steals a slug of my beer. “Why did Jill insist on having a rehearsal dinner?”
I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a yawn. “Beats me.”
“If I ever decided to get married, I would elope,” Aud says.
Mal grabs his keys and wallet sitting on the counter. “I’m beat. Goodnight.” He bends down to kiss Audrey’s cheek and does the same with me.
His lips are inches from mine, and he lingers a second too long. His large hand settles on my waist. “I’ll keep that loser away from you. Promise.”
A hot, heavy breath flutters up my neck as I nod.
The door closes behind him a few seconds later, and I stare ahead obstinately, afraid of Aud’s reaction.
“You and my brother sitting in a tree,” she chants in a high-pitched voice.
I jump to my feet and grab the empty beer bottles laying around. “Please, he’s just being nice.”
“I saw you earlier. You checked him out. You’re ready to move on.”
I crouch behind the counter to toss the empty beer bottles into the recycling bin, shielding myself from her view. “Mal is hardly a serious prospect.”
She hunts me down and braces her arms against the quartz. “He’s fun and uncomplicated. You don’t need another fiancé, you need to fuck,” she says passionately. “You need to permanently erase Lee’s traitor penis from your memory, to come hard against a hand that never wore a promise ring, to—”
“Alright, alright, enough!” I straighten up. Dizziness and drunkenness have suppled my bravado, and my belly is still in knots from Mal’s goodnight kiss. “I really do, though. Need to fuck.” I whisper the last part.
The mix of alcohol and embarrassment condenses into a fit of giggles.
“Who knows, maybe you could reform my brother,” she says as she pours us a last-call shot.
I raise it in the air. “Strop dreaming, there is no woman alive who could turn Mal into a family guy.”
“Then have fun trying.” The glasses clink together in cheer.
The heat of alcohol barely registers against the scorching prospect that I, Madison Hellis, could be in bed with Malcolm Medina as soon as tomorrow night.
God, I need to shave.
Black Knight
Jill thunders on the terrace with both hands on her hips. Her blonde hair is up in an elaborate pattern, and her make-up is already done. “I can’t believe you two are hungover for my wedding.”
Aud pushes her thick sunglasses up her nose. “The wedding is tomorrow. It doesn’t count.” She cowers into the comfort of her black hoodie, hunched on a patio chair.
Aud and I ate a late breakfast on the balcony. Sunshine streams through the pergola. The leaves of the vines cast small shadows on Jill’s annoyed face. People come and go on the pier behind us, wheeling in coolers and bags full of food in preparation for the weekend.
Jill dumps a pair of shoes on the table. “Here. The black heels you asked for. Try them on.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” It’s warm and yet dry because of the wind, and I tighten the colorful scarf around my head before I lean down to try the shoes on. I tossed and turned in my bed until morning came, unable to stop thinking about Lee, his evil French date, Mal, and the hypothetical moving-on sex I hope to have. There’s an enormous boulder pressing on my chest, and I have no clue how to remove it.
Arms crossed, Jill purses her lips. “Walk a little, I think they’re too big.”
I wave away her concerns. “They’re fine. I’ll wear them now, see?” I stow away my flats into my bag. “I need a shower and a nap pronto if I hope to survive the night.”
“Then hurry and make yourselves presentable before people start to arrive! Geez!” Jill says before storming off as abruptly as she came.
I exchange a glance with Aud. “Bridezilla is a real thing, then.”
“It’s a disease called Bridal-itis. It makes you uncomfortable around this area,” Aud motions to her crotch.
With a snort, I elbow her side.
“Afternoon, Miss Hellis.” Lucas Barron appears next to us. His husky Scottish accent slams into me and my hangover harder than it did yesterday.
A black tee clings to his ridges and grooves like a second skin, and a pair of stylish sunglasses blocks the view to his piercing gray eyes. I’m grateful for the respite, still unnerved by the intensity of his gaze.
A tight smile is all I can muster in response, but Aud bounces to her feet. She hurriedly pries the clip holding her hair up, and her luscious black curls cascade down her back. “I’m Audrey. Who are you?”
“Lucas Barron. At your service, ma’am.”
They shake hands.
Aud unabashedly roves the Scot’s body up and down and up again. “Are you staying long?”
“A few days, maybe a week. Your marina is a gem.”
She licks her lips.
I hold back an eye-roll. “That’s nice to hear.” I put a hand on Aud’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but I have to get ready for our best friend’s rehearsal dinner. Good evening, Mr. Barron.”
Aud nods slowly, and I take my leave. On my way through the wrap-around porch, I glance at the Scot’s Catalina. It’s a beauty, for sure, but something about him still nags at my brain.
My brows furrow. A loose rope hangs across the wharf in the second row. With all the people walking up and down the main dock, that thing is a safety hazard. I slip my electronic key into the slot and open the door leading to the pier. The guilty party is a 32-foot Bayliner owned by Mr. Paul, an adorable but incorrigible retiree. A sigh escapes me, but I re-tie the knot and arrange the end of the rope in a circular fashion.
A frighteningly familiar voice reaches my ears.
“Did we have to come here early?”
The French accent is unmistakable, and my blood ices in my veins. Charlize.
“I wanted to say hi to Kyle,” Lee says.
Adrenaline pumps through my heart and soul.
“Your ex lives here,” she adds.
“Forget about her and look around you. Don’t you think it’s romantic?” The sweet pitch claws at my heart.
I wish I had a hole to crawl into, or possibly a butcher knife.
Taking small steps, I crouch behind Mr. Paul’s boat. Sweat drips down my back. I hold the stainless tie-down cleat with both hands, my fingers turning white in the process. My calves burn, and I curse myself. I know better than to wear heels on a wharf. My fathe
r must be turning in his grave.
The couple strolls past my hiding spot, and I count to a hundred in my head.
“You shouldn’t wear heels in a marina.”
A hiccup escapes my throat as the ominous Mr. Barron startles me from behind.
He offers me his hand, but I stand up on my own and dust off my pants. “Hello again, Mr. Barron.”
“Do you make a habit of hiding from your exes, or is this one special?”
Heat creeps along my neck, and my jaw clenches. “It’s none of your concern.”
I move to walk away. My left foot gets stuck, and I stumble. My lips part in surprise at the nasty tearing sound that follows.
Barron arches a brow. “See what I meant?”
My mouth opens and closes. I ogle the heel stuck between two the planks with disbelief. I barely moved. How on Earth did I manage to stick it in the only dangerous spot?
“It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He pries the shoe out of the wood and throws it over this shoulder, directly into the water. It breaks the surface with a dull plop.
“Hey!”
“They were ruined.” He shrugs nonchalantly, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief. “How much do you want to get back at your ex?”
“If you’re fishing for an invitation to the wedding—”
“Hush. Come with me, lass. I have something to show you.”
The confidence in his words ripples across my sheltered heart, and curiosity wins out. Again, a terrible sense of familiarity nags at every crevice of my being.
I follow him to his boat. A portable standing garden with fresh herbs is set up on the port side. There’s mint, jasmine, lavender, coriander, and a few others I don’t recognize.
A chill runs up my arms on the way down to the cabin. The interior of the yacht is sleek and modern, and yet the array of scarves turn the shiny new space into something of a gypsy tent. Red, blue and black fabric hangs from the ceiling, and there’s more stuff lying around than in a flea market. A painted skull glares at me from the corner of the room, stuck between a leather couch and a vivarium covered with gnarly plants. A stone mortar and matching pestle are drying next to the sink. If he were to kill me now and set sail, he’d get away with it.
I cross my arms. “What are you, Mr. Barron? Some kind of traveling salesman?”
“Aye. I help people achieve their goals. And if you must call me Barron, please drop the formal part.”
“Is that why you bonded with my Dad? You both had hoarding tendencies?” The trinkets cluttering the living area leave me perplexed. Gold bracelets, silver chains, wooden instruments and Russian dolls lie in plain sight. My sight jumps from one thing to another, unable to make sense of it all. “Alright, Barron. How could any of this junk help people?”
He sets a wooden, beautifully carved box on the table. Red jewels shine from the lid, and my brows furrow.
A surprised breath rocks my lungs when he opens it, my skepticism erased by the eerie sight of a ruby-red pair of shoes. They shine in the darkened cabin as though they possess their own light.
“Wow. They’re…” I start.
“Perfect, I know.” He passes them to me.
“But they’re too small.” With a pang of regret, I turn them over in my hands.
“Try them on and see for yourself.”
My tongue presses against the roof of my mouth. “I know when shoes won’t fit me, Barron.”
“Trust me.” His voice chimes like a hypnotic bell.
I can’t help but obey and slip my toes into one shoe. The edges blur for an instant before my foot slides all the way in. The back molds perfectly against my heel even though it was at least 3 sizes too small to begin with.
I gasp and run my fingers against the shiny leather of the other shoe. “How?”
Barron kneels down and trails his hand up the back of my leg to the sensitive skin behind my knee. With his other hand, he helps me put the second heel on and squeezes my thigh.
Goosebumps run up my arms. “I should go.”
“Listen closely, Madison.”
His voice echoes in every pore of my being, and I look down at him once again. There’s something irresistible in having this mountain of a man on his knees before me.
“These shoes are special. Magic. They will make yer wildest dreams come true. As long as you have them on, anyone you choose will crave you beyond reason. You want yer ex-fiancé to kneel at yer feet and beg for forgiveness? He’ll do it. You want the big guy from yesterday to be yer Prince Charming? Hell, you want both of them to fuck you senseless? No problem.”
“You’re kidding.” My voice rings high and squeaky.
Despite myself, I’m listening to this nonsense. This terrifyingly handsome Scot is on his knees in front of me, and I think I believe him. There’s a nefarious energy, a ripple in the air that makes my mouth dry, my skin warm, and my nipples hard. A current runs from his fingers to my legs.
“Their effect will last forty-eight hours.”
“Are they going to turn into a pumpkin afterwards?” I joke, trying to break the spell.
A throaty chuckle reverberates across my hip before he lets me go. He stretches to his full length, hovering above me. “You’re going to have the night of your life.”
The hushed words scratch at something deep inside me. “Are you going to ask me for something in return?”
“Aye.”
“Is this the part where I promise you my soul?” The worst part is: I’m not sure I’m kidding.
“A kiss will do for now, lass.”
A cocky smile tugs at the corner of his full lips. A part of me wants to tell him off, and I swallow hard. He grabs the side of my face and pulls me closer. The tips of his fingers brush against my scalp, rough to the touch, but so careful at the same time.
A sharp inhale rocks my lungs as he pauses and raises a brow.
It’s my move. I glance down at the shoes and back again to his damn beautiful mouth. Before I chicken out, I crush my lips to his.
It’s been nineteen months since my last kiss, and a hell of a lot more since my first kiss with someone new. My head spins. My mouth opens, his tongue breaching my defenses.
The kiss is warm, sweet and hard all at once. It gives and steals, and my arms link behind Barron’s head. The hard planes of his chest send a trail of fire to my belly, but all too soon he releases me.
He pushes himself off and back. “Forty-eight hours,” he repeats. “And the shoes must not come off.” His fists are balled like it’s costing him everything to let me walk out of here.
“Yes, fairy godmother,” I mock nervously. Shaken, I retreat toward the sunshine.
Before I leave, I take one glance at him.
The darkness of the cabin casts shadows on his devilish face, and his muscles are still bunched. “Be careful, Cinderella.”
Uno. Dos. Tres
“Why did you duck tape your heels to your feet?”
I wake up with a start, my heart hammering. “Aud?”
“You’re late.” Audrey dangles her phone in front of my eyes. It’s almost six o’clock.
A small cry escapes me. Red-hot embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I rise to my feet. The red shoes are indeed taped to my feet, so my meeting with Barron wasn’t a dream. I stick my toothbrush into my mouth and brush furiously. “I needed a nap.”
“Doesn’t answer my question.” A beige satin gown hangs from her frame, and golden hoops call attention to her ears. I’m glad that she got to be maid of honor. This color would have been atrocious on me. She squints at my feet. “Wow! Where did you find them?”
“Is Jill in a better mood?” I ask, side-stepping her question.
“Mal is already here, and so is Lee. His plus-one looks like an anorexic flamingo.” She grimaces for emphasis.
With a sigh, I brace my hands on either side of the sink. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
After she leaves, I peel off the tape from the heels and shake my head. This is ludicrous; I’m go
ing crazy. Yet, Barron’s promise still pulses across my skin.
The night of my life. Nothing less.
I splash cold water on my face and refresh my make-up.
Mal and Aud are waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. A small breeze blows through the porch, and the dull chatter of the guests on the balcony tickles my ears.
Mal offers me his arm. “Ready?”
I blow air out of my mouth and nod.
The three of us make our way to the entrance. Waiters in shiny black livery are going around the hall with hors d’oeuvres. White satin bows are tied to the back of the chairs, and tall, ivory orchids bloom in glass vases at the center of the tables.
Mal’s hand presses against the small of my back before he guides me to greet the betrothed. I sneak a glance at him, wondering if the shoes are already working.
Kyle is wearing a tux, a feat I know has been hard to manage. He pushes his blond waves back nervously. “Thanks Maddie, everything looks great.”
Jill beams in agreement. “Yes, everything is perfect.”
Kyle holds her hand to his heart, and my chest swells for them. “I’ve had a lot of help. Congratulations to you both.”
A flock of family members are waiting behind us, so Mal and I slip away while Aud beelines for the bar. I steal a glance at the happy couple again. In a day, they’ll be husband and wife.
The thought turns bitter in my mouth when Lee comes into view. We were supposed to be the ones to get married here. He’s sipping champagne with Charlize on his arm, and they head directly towards us.
“Hello, Maddie,” Lee greets me with a soft voice. His bow-tie is slightly skewed, just the way I used to tie it for him.
My back stiffens.
Charlize’s eyes go from me to Mal. “Allo, I’m Charlize.” A diamond necklace shines from her white, delicate chest, and her faded-pink chiffon dress ruffles at her feet.
“I’m Mal,” my faithful date grunts unhappily.
“It’s nice to see you, Maddie. You look lovely,” she says warmly.
She’s no flamingo; she’s a wicked queen. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I sink my nails into my palms. I’m not going to cry.
