by Piper Rayne
Stepping up close, to my surprise, she doesn’t poke me in the chest. She waits to make sure I’m listening. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that. What happened between us was a mistake. And if I did sleep with Brent, I was acting like every woman you bring home, and you have the nerve to judge me? Just because you weren’t the one I chose to fuck? Stop acting like I broke your heart because I wouldn’t sleep with you.”
My heart is pounding like a tribal drum and I can feel heat rising up my neck. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I get that I’m a conquest. The uptight older sister who you think your dick will unravel. And then once you’ve had me, you can move on to greener pastures and put a checkmark next to my name.”
“You’re delusional.” I grab her hips and push her against the counter, driving my half-hard dick into her pelvis as I lean in close. “This doesn’t affect you at all?”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t mean anything. You’re hot. I never said you weren’t.”
“So let’s work this out. Come upstairs with me.”
She huffs and looks across the room before bringing her vision back to me. “No.”
“What are you afraid of?” I hover over her, my hands sliding down her backside.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Denver appears at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his eyes from just waking up.
I step back.
Savannah turns around, acting as if she’s picking up her coffee. “Nothing.”
“Why are you arguing?” he asks while yawning.
“I spilled some coffee on Liam’s precious hardwood floors.” Savannah heads to the stairs, our eyes testing one another over Denver, who still hasn’t fully opened his eyes. “You look like shit by the way.”
“Thanks.” He stretches his arms over his head and takes in his sister’s appearance. “Looks like you finally got laid. Hopefully it improves your mood.”
Denver steps into the kitchen and grabs a cup before he pours himself a coffee.
“You’re all a bunch of assholes.” Savannah disappears upstairs.
“Sometimes I wonder what happened to her. Why is she so high-strung when the rest of us are pretty chill?”
I sit back down with the paper. “Give her a break. A lot was thrown at her at a young age.”
Denver contemplates my words for a moment, then he nods and sips his coffee. I should thank him for interrupting us. I was about to do something I’d regret after she had sex with Brent Jacobs last night.
Maybe it’s time to give up the fight.
Ten
Savannah
It’s been almost a week since my date with Brent, and I’ve dodged Liam all week. Eventually I’ll have to meet with him about the charity auction, spend time alone with him. I’m not sure I can control myself. I can’t shake the feeling of having him pressed against me in the kitchen, and my mind has wandered with daydreams of what would’ve happened if Denver hadn’t interrupted us.
The excuse of Brooklyn and Wyatt’s reception helped, but after tonight, I’ll have to figure out how to turn off this attraction I have to him. The flirtatiousness between us has gone on long enough and seems to be turning into something caustic. Our biting words always felt like some kind of fucked up foreplay. But lately, everything feels more serious and more destructive.
Phoenix walks up as I arrange the presents on the table so they don’t topple over. “Sav, you have to do something about this deejay.”
“What?” I say over the music.
“The tracks he’s playing are horrible, and the way he goes in and out of songs is choppy.”
I shrug. “The deejay wasn’t my department.”
I pick up a big box. My guess is a blender from the shape and weight of it.
“Brooklyn and Wyatt are too busy talking, but look.” Phoenix swivels me around by my shoulders. “No one is on the dance floor.”
Phoenix is right. No one’s on the makeshift dance floor under the twinkle lights I helped hang. Dinner is over. This is when guests should be enjoying themselves.
“Fine. I’ll say something as soon as I finish this.”
“I’ll finish.” Phoenix takes the box from me. “The deejay is a 9-1-1 level catastrophe, Sav.” She lightly pushes me toward the dance floor.
I make it halfway across the floor and exhale a deep breath when Dori stops me. “The deejay has nothing prepared. He said he only has the songs Brooklyn okay’d. I told him I wanted to do the chicken dance and he said that the bride said no. I told him my granddaughter wouldn’t say no because she knows I love that song.”
I bet Brooklyn did indeed tell the deejay no chicken dance. At Austin’s wedding, Dori wiggled her ass down into a crouched position and it took all four Bailey brothers to get her back up.
“I’ll talk to him. Go have fun with your friends.”
She walks away.
I only get a little farther when Calista runs up to me. “‘Baby Shark’! Deejay no.” She shakes her head.
I bend down to her level. She’s turning into the spitting image of Rome and Denver. “I’ll talk to him.”
She hugs me, and I hold her close. “Thank you, Auntie.”
“You’re welcome.”
She twirls away from me, and I follow her until I see Dori stopping her before she can escape the dance floor.
“Sav?” Juno comes up to me, and I raise my hand.
“I’m talking to the deejay. Relax.”
“What?” She sips her champagne. My guess is she’s had about five glasses already. The woman loves champagne. “I was going to ask about Brent. He called me to say he’s tried to reach you several times, but you haven’t returned his calls or texts.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure about him.”
“Why? He said he really enjoyed the date and has been hoping to do it again.” She follows me to the deejay.
I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Especially with Liam showing up today in a perfectly fitted suit. It only serves as a reminder of us from Austin’s wedding a few weeks ago. The way the jacket slipped off his strong shoulders and onto his bedroom floor. How his hands cupped my face when he bent to kiss me.
“Can we talk about it later?” I ask.
“No. I want to talk about it now.”
I stop and look at her. Maybe more than five glasses, since she’s already ornery. Juno can’t handle too much alcohol. “I said later.”
I arrive at the deejay’s table and realize he’s practically a baby. The kid’s face is flushed, and his forehead is sweaty while he fumbles with the contents of his table for something.
“Hi. I’m Savannah Bailey.”
“Sav?” Juno whines next to me. I put my finger in the air.
“Oh, I need something from you.” His eyes light up and he snaps his fingers, then pushes his hand through his large mane of red, unruly hair. “Mic.”
“Okay but first—”
“Do either of you know a Liam Kelly? He has to be mic’d too.” His finger is running down a sheet of paper while he reads it. “And Dori Bailey?”
“She’s doing a speech?” I ask.
“That’d be why I have to mic her.” He might as well have said duh.
“Whoa.” Juno rears her head back and bites her lip as though she can’t wait to see what unfolds from his snarky attitude.
I inhale a deep breath. I will not make a scene and ruin my sister’s reception. “My niece wants ‘Baby Shark’ played.”
He’s already shaking his head before I finish speaking. “No can do.”
“Excuse me?” My forehead wrinkles in confusion.
“I hope you have ‘Baby Shark.’ Today is not the day to mess with her,” Juno pipes in, but I cut her a look. She holds her hands in the air with a whatever attitude, grabbing another glass of champagne from a passing server and setting her empty one on the tray.
“The bride gave an approved list of songs. That’s what w
e’re playing,” the kid says.
“And you didn’t bring anything else?” I ask.
“Listen, guy,” Rome interjects, coming up to join us. “I’ll pay you fifty dollars to play ‘Baby Shark.’” He’s already digging out his wallet as baby Dion whines from where he’s strapped to Rome’s chest in one of those fabric wrap things.
“Oh, give me the baby.” Juno puts her champagne glass on the deejay’s table and holds out her hands.
Rome shifts his gaze to her. “Sorry, lush, maybe tomorrow.”
“What? I’m not a lush.” Her words slur a bit, proving that Rome is making the right decision.
“Yeah, okay. Why don’t you go find Colton? You can tell him how you really feel.”
Juno puts her hands on her hips. “Rome Joseph Bailey!” Her voice rises and the song stops at the exact same time.
I glance behind us to see a bunch of the guests staring at us. Colton’s making his way over from across the tent.
“‘BABY SHARK’!” Calista screams, running over and wrapping herself around her daddy’s leg.
Rome hangs his head, waving the fifty-dollar bill in his hand.
I put my hand over Rome’s as I say to the deejay, “We’re not going to pay you to play a song. You’re already being paid for this gig. If you need the song, one of us has it on our phones.”
“But the bride…”
The deejay’s words trail off when Liam comes up to my side. The kid takes in his broad shoulders and bulging biceps. If I was a scrawny kid, I’d be scared of Liam too.
“I’ve got this handled.” I put my hand in front of his face.
He lowers my hand from in front of him. “Then why is ‘Baby Shark’ not playing?”
“Come on, Juno. Calista wants to dance with you once the song comes on.” Colton escorts a very pissed off Juno away. Thank goodness, because I wasn’t going to be the peacemaker of an argument between her and Rome.
“Liam? As in Liam Kelly? I need to mic you.” The deejay reaches under the table and pulls out some portable mics, setting them on the table.
I lean in closer. “Listen.”
“Just take my money.” Rome sways in an attempt to soothe Dion.
The baby may not be happy, but he looks super cute with his pudgy cheeks and the noise-canceling headphones over his ears to protect him from the loud speakers.
“You’re going to play ‘Baby Shark,’ and while that’s playing, you can mic us. After ‘Baby Shark,’ we’ll do all the speeches. Got it?” My hands rest on my hips now. I’ve had enough of this guy.
The kid looks at Liam for confirmation, so I step in front of him. But now his chest is to my back and my entire body ignites in flames so hot, I fear I’ll melt to the floor.
“Don’t look at him. I’m the one in charge here.”
Because Liam is taller than me, the deejay continues to stare at Liam over my head as though he’s the one to make the final call.
“He’s not even a Bailey!”
Everyone in the tent goes quiet. There’s no more conversation, no silverware or glasses clinking.
Lowering my voice, I lean super close. “Play the damn song for my niece.”
The deejay frantically scours his phone and plugs one thing into the other until doodoodoo is amplified throughout the tent.
“See, that wasn’t that hard.” I grab the mic. “Now let’s put these on.” I push one into Liam’s chest and storm off to the side.
“Thanks, Sav. Look how happy you made your niece.” Rome dances over to his daughter.
I watch the two interact while Juno’s trying some move that looks like she’s conducting a rain dance. At least they’re all smiling and happy.
“Always putting out fires,” Liam says, standing with me to the side of the deejay table.
“I hope your speech is good.”
Liam’s hands are tucked into his suit pants and he rocks back on his heels. “Wanna make a wager that mine is better?”
“No.”
“Scared?”
“Do you always have to be so childish?”
The deejay clips a mic to me and tries to find a spot to attach the battery pack.
“Can’t I just use a regular microphone?” I ask.
“These are new. And the other deejay has all the old mics at some other event.”
Liam huffs. “Don’t mind her, she’s a control freak.”
“This is my first solo deejay job,” he admits with shaking hands as he tries to attach the battery pack to the back of my dress.
Well, don’t I feel like slime under a shoe now. “I apologize.”
“Well, the little girl looks happy and that’s the reason I went into deejaying. I wanted to make people happy. Being a dictator wasn’t a goal, but I saw my boss get his ass reamed by a bride once. They can be scary.”
I laugh and so does Liam. Our eyes catch for a moment.
“Weddings are stressful. But aren’t these microphones a pain?” I ask.
“Of course you have an opinion on it.” Liam shakes his head at me.
Just when I thought we could be cordial. Liam is catching me on a shitty day. I had to see my older brother get married weeks ago, and now I’m celebrating Brooklyn’s wedding. I’m happy for both of them, but all those worries and insecurities are crashing down on me. I’m going to be my sisters’ bridesmaids, but I’ll never be the one wearing white.
The deejay looks at me as he clips the mic to my dress.
“You’re annoying me,” I say to Liam.
Now the deejay looks back at Liam, waiting to see what he’ll say. I’m sure we’re entertaining when you’re not the one who has to suffer from all the unresolved feelings between us.
“But Brent doesn’t?” he asks.
Here we go with this Brent shit again. I should lay out what happened that night, but I’m not going to. He doesn’t deserve it. “You sure spend a lot of your time thinking about Brent.”
He narrows his eyes as the deejay puts the mic on him. “Can you give us a moment?” he asks the deejay.
“Sure thing. You’re all hooked up, but I haven’t turned you guys on yet. I’ll let you know when you’re good to go. I think I’ll play ‘Baby Shark’ one more time for the little girl.”
I smile at the kid. “Thanks. She’d love it.”
He excuses himself, and Liam grabs my arm, pulling me behind the backdrop for the deejay.
I whip my arm out of his grasp. “What?”
“You know exactly why I’m thinking about Brent. Are you going to see him again?”
I rear my head back. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
He steps into me, his hands on my hips, and pulls me to him. “Stop pretending.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me right now. That if I ran my fingers up and under your dress, you wouldn’t shiver from my touch. How wet are you right now, Sav?”
I inhale a deep breath and study him. This infuriating man is not going to let this go. “It doesn’t mean it’s because of you. I could be remembering my night with Brent.”
His fingertips press into my skin a little harder, but he laughs. “Is this all because I don’t wear a suit to work every day or have some fancy desk job?”
“What? No. Why would you even say that?”
“Is that the type of man you want? Because a man like that can’t take care of your needs. The man who can is standing right in front of you.”
My eyes dip to his lips.
A loud crash rings out from the other side of the backdrop, but I can’t tear my eyes off Liam. I want to admit my attraction and lose myself in him for a night. Let him make me forget who I need to be for everyone else in my life. Put what I want first for a change and to hell with the consequences.
“Savannah?” Grandma Dori yells.
“Sav?” I hear Brooklyn say right after her.
“I don’t know where she is, but the present table is a mess,�
� Holly says with despair in her tone.
Oh fuck it.
I smash my lips to his, allowing his tongue access to my mouth. I grab his shoulders while his hands mold to my ass. Our lips are frantic and needy and hungry for one another.
“Don’t stop,” I pant when his lips travel to my neck.
“Say the magic word.” I feel him grin against my hot skin.
“Please,” I beg, and he lowers his body, thrusting his hard length into my center.
God, this feels so good.
“Your wish…”
I grab the back of his head and pull his face up to meet my lips again. He rests a hand where my neck and collarbone meet. His calloused palms are rough, and I grip him hard, wishing I could strip him down right here. His mouth slides off mine and he casts open-mouthed kisses along my jaw to my ear. A low growl erupts from him and my insides clench.
“Tell me you didn’t fuck him,” he says in my ear and my body goes cold.
“What?” I whisper, our bodies still entangled. Is this about some pissing contest and marking his territory?
He draws back and our eyes meet under the glow of the lights inside the tent. “I have to know.”
“Why?” I step back, my body missing the strong support of his.
“Because I keep imagining his hands on you and I don’t like it.” His jaw sets in a rigid line.
“Let me ask you a question—do you think I did?” I cross my arms, waiting for his answer.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Well, all signs point to yes, so…”
“That’s what you think of me, huh?” I try to walk away, but he grabs my elbow, circling me back around. “You think I’m someone who would skip from bed to bed? Maybe you think that because that’s what you do. We were together and then a few days later you were hitting on Marlene at the bar. Well, I’m not like that. Sex means something to me, and I don’t give it up freely like you.”
He crosses his arms. “Let’s not beat around the bush. That’s not you. Tell me what you really think of me.”
All of the frustration and anger and outrage that’s been building expands to the point where I can no longer cage it in. “You’re a whore! You’re a man-whore who goes through women like Tic Tacs! But the minute you think I did something even remotely the same, you judge me for it. I’m nothing more than a conquest to you, and once you’ve conquered me, you’ll be on to the next. The only reason you’re chasing me is because I won’t sleep with you. Tell me, did you make a bet with someone or something?”