Devious Wingman: A Cocky Hero Club Novel

by Hagen, Casey

  Best friend and business partner or no, Emory always came first. Her happiness, her well-being—that was the single most important thing to me now.

  Devotion to her lived in me to the point where I’d been downright cold to the women in my past by comparison.

  Yeah, I’m just a fucking Romeo.

  How repugnant was I to turn Hawk and Tate drama into some advantage in keeping Hawk away from Emory?

  But hey, look at me doing it anyway.

  “Let’s get through the next few weeks, constructing the new offices, hiring on more help, and if you’re still restless, well, we can send your ass on some zen retreat or some shit. You can get in touch with your inner child,” I said.

  “Or we could just get drunk,” Hawk said with a swivel of his head and a flash of a smile.

  “Drunk works too.” I nodded at the controls. “What do you say we focus on landing this shit?”

  “Sure thing,” Hawk said, his focus snapping to the control panel.

  But the disquiet Hawk described, it rumbled inside me too. Like something loomed and the trajectory I was on couldn’t continue in the current direction.

  If it was connected to Emory, I was in trouble. Because there was no way forward…not without hurting someone I cared about and possibly shifting the course of entire relationships or destroying them entirely.

  The worst part, I’d done it to myself and I was making choices that had hefty consequences for the only people in the world I cared about.

  16

  I’d never been so damn happy to be on the ground. I needed a few freaking minutes where I wasn’t volleying between telling my girl zone to heel and wanting to smack Falcon in the head with a hammer.

  Okay, rubber mallet. It’s not like I wanted him dead.

  I just wanted to hurt him a little. Nothing permanent, just a little food for thought next time he walked out on me.

  Scratch that.

  He was never walking out on me again because I wouldn’t be letting him back in the vicinity of my girl zone.

  Our jet glided to a smooth stop and in a couple seconds I was out of my seat belt and swaying on my feet, but only a little, and not because I was a lush.

  I know what you’re thinking.

  Don’t judge me.

  Graham and Soraya glanced at each other, their damn silent language conveying who knows what as they shot curious looks at Falcon and pitying glances at me.

  So I might have imagined the pity. I don’t know. I didn’t know anything anymore.

  Maybe this would all be good. I’d focus on all things wedding…and God knows doing so should work as some sort of repellent against Falcon if he happened to get a burr up his ass to sniff around me again.

  He’d probably hide in his room and avoid us altogether. I could concentrate on my job and he’d be safe from feelings and, and, and…who the hell was I kidding, this was going to be an absolute disaster.

  I had nothing. No resolution to the colossal mess I’d made when I’d propped my elbow on the edge of his car door window. I’d unleashed a torrent of stupidity and lust, sending us spiraling farther away from truce.

  Give me an alcoholic father, a vicious ex-wife, a narcissistic grandmother holding the purse strings, and I could maneuver them right where I wanted them.

  But emotionally stunted, stubborn, know-it-all, control freak, hell-bent on being a martyr Falcon and I had nothing.

  He was the one damn person in this world I’d never been able to maneuver…because if I could, he’d be right alongside me. We’d lie together in the same bed every night. We’d share meals, friends—we would be building a life.

  Maybe it was time to accept he was right…we really weren’t meant to be anything more than this. I was his. He was mine. But the right time, the right circumstances, they didn’t exist.

  I thought I was hot shit last night tempting him, baiting him, finally getting him where I wanted him and what did I do? I blew the chance to show him my real feelings and in doing so gave him the open to punch a hole right into my chest.

  How did I blame him for being the idiot when I’d gone full-blown idiot too?

  Well, just because I had that little revelation didn’t mean I had to admit it to him.

  No. Thank. You.

  Because he’s walked out and that made him more of the dill hole in all of this.

  The seal of the plane door hissed, popped open, and the front of the cabin filled with the blazing Arizona sunshine and a blast of dry desert heat.

  I grabbed my bag and waited for our pilots to head out first. Hawk smiled and waved, and Falcon…well, he did what Falcon always does. He focused on me several beats too long to be impersonal with that loaded stare of his hidden behind sunglasses.

  How convenient for him.

  His cool detachment only activated my urge to snarl and made me question any caring and emotion he’d shown me.

  I didn’t have shades, but then, I’m not the rat bastard who snuck off while I thought my bed partner was sleeping so I could look his sorry ass right in the eye and know I wasn’t the ultimate worm in this.

  Why would he deserve to see what I carried in my heart anyway? Because he wrapped my bruised toes and because he tossed me slivers of attention when it was convenient for him or when he thought Hawk might be moving in?

  Because he flashed tiny glimpses into his soul, each telling me I might be as important to him as he was to me?

  Lies. All lies.

  Those slivers might have swayed me, only he didn’t do it to get closer to me. He did it to keep me from getting closer to Hawk. He played with my emotions, getting my hopes up, all as part of a game. He used me as a pawn at his every turn.

  Ugh, and he did it while making me vibrate with explosive lust while his hand squeezed my throat.

  He’d totally ruined that brutal sex move for me now.

  Again, I was reduced to a plaything; he could take me or leave me whenever he wanted.

  And that pissed me off more than anything. The way he’d diminished me to some piece of ass he staked a claim on. Not that he’d made it clear to Hawk.

  Nope, he’d aimed his staking claim skills right at me where they did double duty as a declaration of possession, and I fell for it.

  I was no one’s piece of ass. I sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s possession.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  I made sure I led the way to the front of the plane. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of thinking I was hiding behind my friends. Head held high, I marched down one, two, three steps, my smirk in full force as I looked right at that stubborn jaw of his.

  Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him.

  His jaw ticked and I wondered if I could punch him in the gut just once on my way by, but Hawk stood there, straight and tall, his hands linked behind his back the same way Falcon did.

  The same way Ethan and Falcon posed in the picture on the mantle at my parents’ house.

  I closed my eyes as a breeze billowed through and Soraya hit the top step behind me. The combination gave the stairs enough sway and bounce that my heel caught on the tread.

  And since I was midstep and as mad as a bridezilla who’s future mother-in-law showed up at the wedding wearing white, my ornery attitude propelled my upper body forward past my feet, the momentum thrusting me off the end of the steps, in full position to take a face-plant onto the searing tarmac.

  My mouth fell open and a squeak jumped from my throat as I threw out my arms—because hey, why not try to make the typical mistake of catching myself and go into this week with a stop at the ER to pick up a couple casts for broken arms, leaving Soraya wiping my ass for me all week.

  Maybe I’d knock my teeth out for good measure. Nothing sexier than the whole jack-o’-lantern look. I could shove a few Chiclets in the gaps—if they still made them.

  Life flashing before my eyes on my way to certain death?

  Nah. That was so last century.

  Nope, my psyche skipped th
e possibility of death and jumped right to the freeway of spinsterhood, the on-ramp three months in traction in a hospital bed.

  Oooomph!

  The air whooshed from my lungs and the remnants of bad life choices—otherwise known as a half-bottle of champagne—churned in my gut as a hard arm cut across my stomach, saving me from my Chiclet fate.

  Falcon snatched me right off my feet, tipped me upright, and set me firmly down on my heels without a single sound.

  I wasn’t that light which meant he was definitely that strong. Another reason to want to knock the wind right out of him.

  “Thank you,” I muttered in absolute defeat as I straightened my clothes. I glanced up to see him give me a hard nod before stepping back next to Hawk, the very picture of customer service.

  “Nice catch, man,” Hawk said behind me as I walked away, my cheeks flaming.

  “Just doing my job,” Falcon said, his voice cool.

  Yeah, just doing his job.

  Well, I should take a lesson from his cool indifference and just do my damn job as well.

  As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I’d do. No more Falcon until we boarded the plane again on Friday.

  Unless I got a private opportunity to pummel him for being a twit.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the three of us loaded into the back of a black SUV.

  Across the tarmac, Falcon and Hawk met with a couple men before tossing their bags into the back seat of a sleek red convertible.

  I rolled my eyes and propped my chin in my hands, ready to absorb the view for the next twenty miles and let the wild beauty and atmosphere crawl into my imagination and inspire me from the inside out.

  “Okay, which one of you is going to tell me what the hell is happening?” Graham asked.

  Apparently, Graham didn’t give one shit about my absorption goals.

  “That night at Rigby’s, Hawk is the one who made moves on Emory,” Soraya said, giving her hubby a side-glance.

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said,” Soraya snapped.

  I recognized the tone right away…the only thing missing was ominous music overhead. Already married, they were not my couple and not my problem.

  My specialty lies in before, not after.

  Hell, not even. They had to come to me with their before already on lock…and I packaged it nice and pretty for the whole world to see.

  “I was drunk and missed a few details. Excuse me for not realizing you were going to rain on my matchmaking parade thinking you could slide in and do it better,” Soraya countered.

  Matchmaking?

  “Wait—what the hell are you talking about, your matchmaking parade?” I said, waving a hand between them as they shot piercing glances at one another.

  “That’s a hell of a detail to miss. I almost have to wonder if it was on purpose so I wouldn’t crash your party and show you how it’s really done,” Graham said, ignoring me.

  “How it’s really done? We’re in Arizona for four nights, trapped with best friends and business partners, one of whom she wants and one who wants her.”

  “Wanted and had. I already had him,” I said.

  “That’s so far from how it should be done you might as well be pogo sticking on the rings of Saturn right now,” Soraya said with a scoff.

  I wagged a finger at them. “Excuse me—”

  “How is this my fault? Did it occur to anyone all they had to do was tell Hawk they know each other?” Graham said, glancing at us both, not that he was really asking me. They’d spiraled into their own tit for tat, and I was just here…chillin’ as a bystander.

  “Listen, I guess I should have said something. I was taken by sur—” I began.

  “Maybe she had her reasons,” Soraya said, crossing her arms.

  “I did have my reas—”

  “And why the hell didn’t Falcon say anything? All he had to do was give his buddy a heads-up,” Graham said with a frustrated breath.

  I shrugged. “Well, the guy doesn’t even stick around long enough for a morning cup of coffee so who the hell knows what’s going on in his head—”

  “I don’t know…maybe because you guys are muleheaded,” Soraya spat.

  “He is mule-head—” I said, trying to agree…again, not like anyone was listening.

  “Muleheaded?” Graham said, his tone deathly low. “I’ve always made it very clear what I want.”

  “It’s never been about not knowing what—”

  “Oh, Falcon made it clear what he wants. He wants to cock block her happy box with no guarantee he wants to make it his happy box. At the same time he’s too, too, too…what’s the world I’m looking for?” Soraya said, snapping her fingers in rapid succession four times.

  “Stupid?” I offered.

  “No…God, why can’t I think of it,” Soraya said, wincing.

  “Patronizing?” Graham asked.

  Soraya snorted. “No, although from the sounds, he is that. You two have a lot in common.”

  “Imperious?” Graham asked, letting her dig slide right on by.

  “Am I even here?” I asked absolutely no one since I ceased to exist in my own love triangle, cock blocking, happy box featuring conversation.

  “We hear you,” Soraya said, her mouth tight and her fingers digging into her temples.

  “Good, then hear this. I’ve got a whole dictionary of words for the man. Cocky, insolent, impertinent, contemptuous, vainglorious, pick your poison.”

  “Ooooh, vainglorious is a good word. I need to remember that one. But no, those aren’t it.”

  “Repressed?” Graham offered.

  “Yes! Yes, dammit. That’s the one. Repressed. He’s busting at the seams with all the shit he’s holding back so he’s not taking full advantage of her happy box either.” She snapped her fingers one last time and pointed at me. “And let me tell you, girl, when he finally really blows, my God is he going to blow.”

  Except last night, I’d been the one holding back and he knew it. I got mad at him for hiding from me and the first shot I had, I did the same thing.

  “For the love of God, can we stop calling it a happy box?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” Soraya murmured with a pat on my leg.

  “I love you, guys. I hope you know that,” I said, reaching for both of their hands and squeezing. “I hope you keep that in mind when I say what I’m about to say.”

  “Uh-oh,” Graham said with a low whistle.

  “Stay out of it. I’m begging you to stay out of this. If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. I don’t hold out much hope for it. And if we manage to make it past every damn barrier we’ve set in each other’s way, I don’t want to have to wonder if it’s real or a product of your scheming.”

  “Oh, honey—”

  “Don’t feel bad for me,” I said, blinking back the threat of tears. “Our history is long and tangled. There’s only one way to work out the knots. We both have to want it. The fact he hasn’t been honest with Hawk should tell me everything I need to know. It should have stopped me from letting it go as far as it did last night.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Hawk?” Graham asked.

  Such a loaded question. “It’s on Falcon to be honest with his friend.”

  “For someone who made his way into your bed, I would have thought he would have come clean. It’s almost like he’s doing everything possible to sabotage himself,” Soraya said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Interesting point,” Graham said.

  “What?” I asked.

  He scratched his chin, those deep, penetrating eyes full of shrewd curiosity. “You have a heavy past between the two of you. Doesn’t it make you wonder if he knows something about the past you don’t…something keeping him from reaching for what’s right in front of him?”

  Silence blanketed the car, and my head pounded in time with my heart. I’d never thought of it that way. I was the little sister; he was the older brother’s best friend. Two different perspectives
, but were they really so different when we were full-grown adults and Ethan wasn’t around? Why would it still be holding him back?

  Could I afford to keep putting myself through hell to find out? Because every round took a toll on me.

  And as much I wondered, it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when I was trying to save my career. I had to get my head in the game and get in full-on wedding mode.

  The past wasn’t going anywhere and apparently, neither was Falcon…for the time being.

  Jojoba plants and an array of cholla cacti dotted the road’s edge on the way out of town. Eventually they gave way to juniper trees and massive ponderosa pines in the distance where jutting mountains cut by deep veins spread for miles. The air cooled and the rustic forests of Arizona unfolded complete with jagged russet-colored rock, a raw reminder of how harsh the landscape could be.

  Full of dangerous beauty where adventure could turn to tragedy in a matter of minutes, it seemed fitting here was where my whole life was going to come to a head.

  Because it was unfolding. The knowledge of that, the flex and pull of my reality changing rippled through the deepest parts of me. This unfamiliar beautiful place would be the setting where my past as it stood now was laid to rest and my future and whatever it was to become would be born.

  17

  The Hideaway on Sunflower Hill sat tucked a good half mile off the main road on the outskirts of the town of Sunflower Canyon. Nestled beyond dotted clusters of brittlebush, the resort-like clubhouse came into view, backed up by a jagged line of mountains in the distance climbing toward the powerful Arizona sun.

  One story, the log and stone building sprawled over the crest of a modest hill. I leaned forward to sneak a better view of the circular drive and the spattering of lethal-looking cacti, agave, and sage bushes.

  The pictures online didn’t do the native plants of Arizona justice. What looked drab in the hundreds of images I sifted through, really could only be described as subtle and understated in person. The muted colors would be perfect for any wedding, in a supporting role, to the droves of blooms hauled in for the special day.

  Rustic weddings in New York all had the underlying backdrop of rich green in the spring and summer, warm golds and reds in the fall, and if the wedding was near a lake, deep blue. But the outdoor possibilities here seemed endless with the mountains in the distance, with the rich rust-colored dirt and low-lying vegetation bursting in the valleys…and that was before I had time to take a significant look.