by S. E. Rose
I notice we are nearing shore. “Well, cheers to a successful takeover then,” I clink my glass with hers.
“Well, as long as everything goes off without a hitch this weekend, then I’d say yes, things will be successful,” she agrees.
I’m not sure what she means, and Diane comes over and interrupts us before I can prod any further, but what she has said has left me with more questions than answers. Bottom line is that I need to get answers and make sure Lee finds out before he says, “I do.”
The yacht docks about five minutes after Diane walks over, which gives me a chance to break away from Felicia, so I can gather my belongings and disembark.
“Anything?” Harrison whispers as we walk toward the waiting bus.
“Some interesting tidbits, but we need more. There’s something going on. I just don’t know what,” I tell him.
“Dude, the rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night,” he says. “We are running out of time!”
“I know,” I answer. “I know.” I stew over everything on the way back to the hotel. Fortunately, Diane sits next to Felicia and Grant sits next to Reagan, so I’m left with Harrison and my thoughts. I need to do some research when I get back to the hotel room.
“You OK?” Harrison asks as we pull into the hotel.
“Yeah, I just need to do some work on the computer,” I say.
“Well, I’m gonna hit the pool for a bit before dinner,” he says. “We have eight o’clock reservations at that French restaurant with Grant and Reagan. And then everyone is hitting the club again tonight.”
“OK,” I say.
I make my way back to our room, turn on the laptop, and begin digging up everything I can on three particular companies.
Reagan
“I need a nap,” I say as I toss myself on the bed.
“When did you get so old?” Grant muses.
I stick out my favorite finger, and he laughs. “I’m going to the pool for a few minutes,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “The pool, huh?” I ask.
“Well, maybe I’ll run into a certain someone, you never know,” he says with a wink as he leaves me to take a nap.
I’m falling…falling. I wake up and realize I just rolled off the bed in my sleep. I quickly look around, but Grant isn’t back yet. I sigh, lying back down on the floor. I have no idea what I’m doing. I literally made out with Zach against a yacht hull today. I’m seriously contemplating having sex with him tonight. I probably will never see him after this trip. Plus, I’m about to attempt to break up a wedding that I’m only a plus one at.
I groan. Normally, I’d call Grant to work my shit out, but Grant’s in this deeper than I am. Plus, I find it odd that his grandmother wanted to talk about family inheritance while on vacation at her grandson’s wedding. Something isn’t adding up.
I get up and walk out to the balcony. The sun is going down a bit, and the cool ocean breeze makes the temperature tolerable. I lie down in the hammock and look up at the sky. I’d call my brother, but he’d just say he doesn’t want to hear about vacation flings. I’m deeply stewing in my personal dilemmas when Zach’s head pops out of his room. I literally jump and fall out of the hammock.
“Ouch,” I say as I fall on my butt.
“You OK?” Zach asks.
I stand up and rub my sore behind.
“I’ll live,” I answer.
“Yeah, but are you OK?” he repeats.
I look up at him confused. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say again.
“You looked deep in thought over there,” he says.
“Oh…I guess I was,” I reply, biting my lip.
Before I can stop him, Zach is crawling over to my balcony. I stand mesmerized by his muscles and also stunned by his action.
He tips my head up when he reaches me. Our eyes lock.
“Don’t overthink this, Reagan,” he says.
I frown.
He rubs his thumb over my lips. “Don’t,” he says again.
“But—”
“No buts,” he stops me. “I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I like you, and I want to get to know you better.”
I cock my head to one side. I look at him, really look at him.
“Zach, what is going on between us?” I ask.
He opens his mouth to answer, and then I lose the battle of wills going on in my head. I jump into his arms. Somehow, he manages to catch me and not fall over as I press my lips to his. He doesn’t move for half a second before our kiss becomes borderline frantic. His one hand holds me under my ass, while the other grabs my hair and pulls my head to give him better access to explore my mouth with his tongue.
I feel him walking and then the cool air of my hotel room hits my back as he walks us through the threshold of the sliding door and somehow manages to close it behind us. In three steps, he makes it to the bed and lays me down on it. His body covers mine as he continues to feast on my skin, my lips, my jaw, my neck.
I squirm against him, shamelessly grinding my hips, looking for some sort of relief for the pressure building between my legs. God, what is this man doing to me? Every time he touches me, I start acting like a shameless hussy…hell, I’m even using phrases in my head like “shameless hussy.”
“I’ve wanted you since I saw you on the beach,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “I’ve been trying to be patient, but I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.” His plea is repeated from this afternoon, and I know he is serious. And quite frankly, I think I am too. Normally, someone saying that to me would be a turnoff, but I’ve wanted the exact same thing since I saw him jogging here the first day.
“Then don’t wait,” I moan as he sucks the top of my breast.
His hand finds its way up to my bikini bottoms, which I’m still wearing from earlier. He dips a finger inside it and groans.
“Jesus, you’re still so wet,” he says.
“Please,” I whisper, my desperation taking over.
He plunges a finger inside me and pulls down the strap of my sundress along with the cup of my bikini top, so he can feast on my nipple. I’m sinking into the bed, I’m so close, I’m—
The door flies open, and we spring apart.
Grant and Harrison stand in the doorway, mouths gaping. Grant covers Harrison’s mouth as Harrison starts giggling…yep, giggling.
“Were you two—” Harrison starts from beneath Grant’s hand.
“Rounding third base?” Grant finishes.
I look over at Zach whose face is as red as mine.
I do the only mature thing and throw a pillow at them.
“Jesus, privacy much?” I say as I adjust my sundress behind Zach’s hand that conveniently is covering my boob.
“Well, it’s not even dinner yet. I sort of figured you would wait till tonight, but my bad,” Grant says as he starts rummaging through the clothes he’s hung in our closet.
I groan and give Zach a “sorry” look. He kisses my cheek and whispers, “We’ll finish this later,” in my ear.
I nod, and he stands up, adjusting himself before heading to the door where Harrison is still stifling his laughter.
“Laugh it up, fuzzbucket,” he says and walks out, Harrison grins at me, then winks and exits.
“I hate you sometimes,” I say like a petulant child as I throw myself back down on the bed.
“Whatever, you shameless hussy,” he quips. And now I know where my inner voice comes from. I groan again and get up.
“I’ll wait on the balcony while you shower. Lord knows I need a minute to muster my sanity,” I grumble as I walk back to the hammock to wait my turn for the shower.
Zach
“Dude, you are the worst wingman in the history of wingmen,” I groan to Harrison as we get ready for dinner.
He laughs. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that you guys would be in a hot and heavy make-out sesh when we opened the door. I mean, Jesus, I’m not even straight and I was starting to get a boner just from watching you two,” he says.
>
I throw a plastic bottle of shampoo at him.
“Hey, watch the face,” he says as he jumps back.
“It wasn’t even close to your face, asswipe,” I mutter as I try to comb my unruly hair.
“You look fine,” Harrison says. “You always look fine. I mean shit if you weren’t such a good friend and straight…”
I hold up a hand. “Nope, nope. Don’t even go there,” I say.
He laughs. “Don’t worry, beyond being physically beautiful, you are not my type,” he assures me as he claps me on the back and goes to grab his wallet and phone.
“You ready?” I ask him.
“Yep,” he says. “We are playing switcheroo with the rooms tonight, yes?”
I nod. “I hope so,” I say. And I really do.
Chapter 13
We knock on Grant and Reagan’s door, and Grant opens it. He motions for us to come inside. I turn to see Reagan fighting with a zipper on a dress that should be illegal. It’s black, short, strapless, and has some sort of glittery-looking pattern on the side of it, flowers, I think. She’s wearing a simple silver necklace that accentuates her beautiful neck and shoulders, and her hair is up with curls falling down around her face. It’s her high heels that grab my attention. They make her look taller, and her legs look so damned shapely in them. A million dirty thoughts run through my head as I walk over to her and gently tug the zipper up while placing a light kiss on her shoulder.
“Thanks,” she whispers in a breathy voice that seems to be talking straight to my cock.
“You’re very welcome,” I reply.
“Uh, if you kids are done with your pre-dinner kissing, can we get this show on the road?” Grant asks as he taps his foot.
Reagan turns to face him and rolls her eyes. “You are the worst wingman ever!” she says. I look at Harrison, and we burst out laughing.
“What?” she says. “He is.” I just nod and shake my head as we all head over to the restaurant.
I purposefully keep my hand on her lower back as we walk. I’m itching to move it up a few inches, so I can touch the smooth skin exposed above her mid-back, but I’m trying my damnedest to be a gentleman. She holds hands with Grant, but they swing them back and forth like little kids playing. I don’t know how people don’t see it. It’s so obvious now that I know, but I guess people see what they want to see.
We are led to a table in the corner. I know Harrison requested something that’s hidden so we can discuss our intel from today’s activities. We have less than forty-eight hours now. The clock is ticking, and we need to figure this out now.
I pick a good bottle of wine. We’re all rather quiet until it arrives along with some fresh bread.
“I’m famished,” Grant admits as he digs into both the wine and the bread.
“Me too,” Harrison echoes.
And with that, we all laugh and begin to eat and drink. It’s after the first bottle when we finally start to debrief each other.
“OK, so what do we know?” Reagan asks.
Grant begins, “One, we know that Felicia’s dad is willing to merge with your family’s company if it merges with Maggie’s dad’s company. Two, we know that Maggie and Lee get extra money if they have a kid. Three, we know that Lee thinks Maggie is preggers, but she’s not.”
“What did your grandmother want at breakfast?” Reagan asks Grant.
He shrugs. “She said there are some formalities with my inheritance, and she wanted me to sign some papers. I told her to bugger off, and it could wait till after the wedding. She basically said if I don’t sign by then, I’ll lose my inheritance,” he says. “She’s just being a bitch. I glanced at the papers, I think it’s just updates because of Lee and Maggie’s marriage.”
“Doesn’t that seem odd to you?” Reagan asks.
Grant shrugs. “There’s always paperwork of some kind,” he quips. “Besides, I took photos when she wasn’t looking to send to my attorney.”
Reagan’s eyes grow big. “Can I see them?” she asks.
“Sure, but trusts and estates isn’t really your thing,” he says as he taps out a text to her. “There, sent.”
Reagan glances at her phone. “I’ll read it tomorrow. I don’t want to look at this after drinking,” she says.
“Whatever,” Grant says and holds up his finger to let our waiter know we need more wine.
“What are you getting?” Reagan asks me.
I look down at the menu, but before I can answer Harrison grabs all our menus.
“I’m ordering for all of us,” he says.
We all stare at him.
“Trust me,” he says. “My parents have an apartment in Paris, this is my thing,” he adds.
For a split second, I think Grant might jump across and kiss the fuck out of Harrison, but he seems to pull himself together at the last minute.
Harrison proceeds to order us a litany of items, and he does it in French. Thank God the waiter speaks French. Not only does he order us all a four-course meal, but he has also paired wines with each course.
This is going to be one long evening of drinking.
Reagan
“I can’t do it,” I groan as I attempt to shovel in the last of my dessert. We’ve been eating for two hours. The restaurant is closing down, and I am pretty sure they are going to have to get a wheelbarrow to get me out of here.
“Let’s go walk off dinner,” Grant suggests. “We can go down to the beach.”
“I FLOVE that idea!” Harrison says as he claps enthusiastically.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Zach concurs.
We all file out of the restaurant and make our way down to the beach. I plop down onto a chaise lounge that’s been left out on the beach. My throat feels a little scratchy but I ignore it and chalk it up to hotel air-conditioning.
Zach takes off his socks and shoes, and rolls up his pant legs, wading into the water.
“That feels amazing!” he says.
“Hey, guys, come up here,” Grant calls from a pool on a hill. We all scurry up and lie down on the giant ledge surrounding it. It’s the one pool that’s down by the water and has been built on top of a rock outcropping at the edge of the beach area.
We are all lying in a row, our feet in the pool, and our heads, side by side.
“Can this get any more messed up?” Harrison finally asks, breaking the silence.
“What do you mean?” Grant replies.
“I mean, here we are at our friend’s, your cousin’s, wedding, and we are trying to sabotage it. Plus, we are all lying about who we are with. It’s like the worst after-school special ever,” Harrison grumbles.
“But we can’t let Maggie marry him, Harrison. She’s up to something, and she’s definitely not marrying Lee for love. It’s fucked up, dude,” Zach argues.
“Agreed,” Grant says. “I love Lee. I mean, we aren’t as close as we were as teenagers, but he’s one of the good ones, and he deserves better than marrying Maggie for some business reason.”
“I just wish we knew what was really going on,” I pipe up. “I mean, all of this seems suspect, but without some concrete evidence…” I trail off and clear my throat because it really fucking itches.
“You’re right,” Zach agrees. “We only have thirty-six hours left.”
We all stare into the night sky. I feel like we are looking at a big hourglass, and it’s nearly run out of sand. I don’t even really know Lee that well, but he’s a nice enough guy and I certainly don’t want him marrying a bitch like Maggie.
“Let’s not think about it for the rest of the night. We’re gonna overthink it,” Grant says.
“Actually, I sort of agree with you,” Zach says.
“Let’s play twenty questions,” Harrison says out of the blue.
“That’s random,” I say sniffling.
“It’ll be fun,” he whines like a child. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” I say, clearing my throat again.
“OK, I’ll go
first,” he says excitedly and claps his hands. “What is your favorite movie?”
We all look down at Grant. He’s on the end, so I guess we’ve all decided he goes first.
“The Birdcage,” he says.
“That’s a good one,” Harrison agrees. “I love Beaches.”
Zach laughs. “What about Rambo? I thought that was your favorite.”
“Oh yeah, Rambo too,” he says.
“Interesting choices. I’m not sure you could have picked two more opposite films,” I quip.
Harrison chuckles. “What about you?” he asks.
I ponder it for a minute. “Harry Potter,” I finally say.
Grant groans. “Seriously?” he asks.
“Hey, I didn’t question yours,” I scold him.
“Fine, what about you, Zach?” Grant asks.
“Rudy,” Zach answers.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” I say.
“My turn,” Grant pipes up. “Favorite candy. Mine is M&M’s.”
“Smarties,” says Harrison.
“Reese’s cups,” I say.
“Nerds,” Zach responds.
“Favorite color,” I say. “Mine is blue.”
All three guys say “blue” at the same time, and we all laugh.
“Favorite curse word,” Zach says.
We all yell “fuck” at the top of our lungs and burst into laughter.
“Favorite sexual position!” Grant yells.
“Doggie,” he and Harrison both yell simultaneously.
I shrug. “Missionary,” I say quietly.
Zach squeezes my hand. “I like that too,” he says.
“You guys are boring, at least pretend you like reverse cowgirl, the boat, the helicopter, or something,” he says.
“I’m sorry ‘the what’ or ‘the what’?” I ask.
Harrison is shaking with laughter. “We need…to buy…her the…Kama Sutra,” he says in between fits of hysterics.
“Hey, just because I’m not some sexpert or something, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have sex,” I grumble.
“If it makes you feel any better, I have no idea what ‘the boat’ is,” Zach says to me.