Averill _A Secrets Novella

by D. B. James

  “Maybe this is a conversation best had sober, but it is a conversation we’re going to have at some point.”

  As the words leave my mouth, I feel a tingling sensation run down my spine. Rhys is here.

  “Tiger Lily, did my eyes deceive me or did I see Mystique parked near the bridal salon?”

  Shit. I forgot we drove her around the time our second pitcher was placed on the table.

  “How many drinks have you had, Rhys?” Smooth—blame it all on him. He’s seeing a different blue car parked down the street. Yep.

  “That’d be zero. Come on ladies, Sadie is in the truck waiting. Let’s get your drunk, lying asses home.”

  He reaches down for my hand and helps me from my chair. When I’m standing, he leans down to whisper in my ear. “I should spank you for taking her again, although I did leave the keys in plain sight and I do know how you like to steal her. Technically, it is my fault.”

  He lets me go and proceeds to help Tessa from her seat. He loops one of her arms through his and does the same with one of mine before leading us out the door. After helping us both into the truck, he swiftly hops in behind the steering wheel.

  “Tessa, I don’t suppose you’d like it much if I called and asked if Brant would drive you ladies in my truck while I drive Mystique home, would you?”

  It’s sweet he asked her before calling him. He’s putting her happiness first, which causes me to grin. Sadie doesn’t waste much time before snuggling into my lap and falling asleep. She doesn’t care what’s going on around her. One of her humans may be drunk, but she’s content.

  “No, go ahead and call him. It’s okay, I swear,” she promises.

  What? Where has Tessa gone? What has booze done to my Brant-hating friend?

  Remind me to get Tessa drunk more often—she spills her secrets and is agreeable to spending time with Brant. Maybe she should be drunk when I spring the Cancun idea on her.

  “I’m sorry, Rhys,” I say, because I am.

  It’s not like I intended to get drunk while trying on my wedding dress one final time before wearing it on my wedding day. It’s the two ladies at the bridal salon’s fault—they pushed the champagne on us. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know they didn’t pour it down my throat, and I also know they didn’t make me cry—Tessa did when she saw me in my dress in person for the first time. She’s only seen pictures of my dress before today.

  “What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But you said you’re going to spank me for driving Mystique,” I pout. He’s never spanked me before, and I’m assuming he means he’ll spank me in a sexual way.

  Tessa bursts out laughing from the back seat. She’s laughing so loud, it’s starting to hurt my ears. It’s like she’s laughing directly inside my head, and she sounds like a damn hyena. Great, it appears I’ve moved from drunkenly watching flowers dance to feeling hungover, all in the span of fifteen minutes.

  “Holt spanks me, Av. Trust me, it’s hot.” How she gets the words out in between bouts of laughter is beyond me.

  Rhys remains silent. He looks from me to her and shakes his head. Without commenting, he dials Brant. Ten minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of his condo, waiting for him to run out and join us. Rhys promised him beer and pizza for helping out, and I’m thankful he didn’t offer for me to cook—I doubt I could be trusted to scramble an egg at the moment.

  “T-Lil, what’s up?” he asks while sliding into the back seat. Not one word is uttered by him to Tessa. Great.

  “Other than currently feeling drunk off my ass, nothing is up—well, besides the fact that Rhys said he’s going to spank me for taking Mystique out today. I’m still confused on if he means he wants to spank me, spank me, or spank me. Tessa thinks it’s the latter and is a huge fan of its hotness.”

  His reply is half laughing, half choking. I don’t think he’s taking my dilemma seriously at the moment, which is sad because I’m dead honest. Don’t they say drunken tongues tell no lies? Or something to that effect. Who knows? It’s probably my frazzled, overdrunk brain making shit up.

  “Did Rhys let you know I’m fine with puppy-sitting while you’re away on your ridiculously long honeymoon?” he asks.

  “Nope.” The word pops from my mouth, instantly making me repeat it again and again. “Nope. Nope. Nope. NoooooPE.”

  “Sorry Rhys, I think I broke your fiancée.”

  “Nope,” I reply back like a smartass, because I feel like it. Hey, don’t fault the drunk girl—I’m having fun.

  “I think this is the drunkest I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing her. She’s amazing when she’s had a few drinks. We…um, may have gotten a tad bit carried away at the bridal salon with the free champagne, but in our defense, it’s an absolutely spectacular dress. We cried like idiots and the sales ladies passed us more and more champagne. Eh, it was totally worth it,” Tessa admits.

  No one says another word for the remainder of the drive to pick up my fiancé’s precious car. I know why I didn’t say anything else, but I can guess why the two in the back seat stopped talking.

  I wonder if Rhys feels their sexual chemistry.

  Making a mental note to myself, I vow to ask him about it later—after the buzz from multiple drinks fades away. One great thing about my getting drunk fast? It fades almost as quickly. I used to find this particular quirk of mine frustrating, because hey, who wants to go out, have one drink, and be considered drunk? Not me. It means I can never go out to dinner and have one glass of wine then drive myself home safely afterward. Now though? It doesn’t bother me much at all, because I have Rhys standing beside me. He loves me, quirks and all.

  When we reach the car, I swiftly open my door and slide out of the passenger seat, making sure to bring Sadie along with me.

  “What are you doing, Averill?” Rhys asks while walking around Mystique, checking her over for any damages that could have been inflicted while she was parked outside in the elements.

  “Riding with you.”

  That should’ve been obvious. It makes no difference if I’m a passenger in the truck or in this beauty. What does make a difference is the man behind the wheel, plus the fact that I don’t trust him not to be sneaky and try to glimpse inside the huge zippered hanging bag in the back seat containing my dress.

  “Okay. We can stop to grab the pizza I promised Brant for dinner then he and Tessa can meet us back at our house. Have them take Sadie please, not because I don’t want her near, but because she may need to use the potty and they’ll be able to get her home faster.”

  All valid points. See? My drunken buzz is starting to fade away. Maybe we’ll be able to have a conversation about our friends. If he agrees with my Cancun idea, we’ll have to find someone else to look after Sadie for the first week of our honeymoon. After Cancun, we’re going to travel through Italy for almost a full month. Rhys has never taken a vacation. He’s traveled, yes, but it was always for the army or for work. The only trip he’s taken for pleasure was to Alabama, where he ended up proposing to me, but on that trip, he worked on cases from his laptop.

  Don’t get me started on the Ireland trip. Rhys worked his ass off during his unplanned visit, and I felt like his phone was going to end up permanently attached to his ear.

  This time though? He’s turning it off. We both are.

  We’re taking the time to focus strictly on us.

  It’s going to be absolute heaven.

  It’s nearly 6 PM by the time we make it home with pizzas and a case of beer. When we open our front door, it’s to the sound of raised voices.

  What the hell?

  They didn’t hear us come in, and the voices are coming from down the hall. I turn to Rhys and place a finger on my lips, wanting him to keep silent. Standing there quietly, I try my stealthiest to be nosy—maybe I’ll learn why they don’t get along. Neither one will tell us what the problem is with the other. I’ve always assumed it was due to their sexual chemistry and Tessa turning him down, but we all know what they s
ay about people who assume making asses of themselves.

  Instead of doing what I asked, Rhys announces our arrival by closing the door louder than called for and making his footfalls a tad heavier. “Pizza’s here, come get it while it’s hot.” Once the words leave his mouth, both voices go silent, replaced by tiny puppy yaps from Sadie letting us know at least she’s happy we’re home.

  I’d be upset with him, but he probably has a valid reason for doing it. Maybe Brant has confided in him more of his side of the issue than Tessa has me. All I know is, an invitation was put out there and was shot down. She gave him the nickname “Ace” because of his cockiness when it came to her, him thinking he had her nailed like an “ace in the hole”.

  When I attempted to bring up the Cancun idea while waiting for the pizza, Rhys was against it. He vetoed it before all the words even left my mouth. For all I know, maybe Brant is dating someone I’ve yet to meet, or he could be gay. Not like it matters—I’m good with anyone who’d make him happy. It’s whatever floats his boat, but I know deep in my gut Tessa is his penguin. If only they’d stop fighting enough for him to offer her a pebble—or not, since they’re not actually penguins. You get the idea.

  All I want is for my two friends to stop acting like such stupid assholes and open their eyes to what’s right in front of them: their other half.

  Is it such a bad thing to want them to be happy together?

  Maybe it’s because I’m stupid in love with Rhys and I want someone else to feel what I feel every single second of every single day.

  It’s not too much to ask for, I know it’s not.

  Maybe it won’t happen over the next few days, or fuck, the next few months, but mark my words, it will happen.

  T-minus two days until I become Mrs. Averill Lily Gallhagar.

  Two days.

  Ack!

  My parents are arriving this afternoon. Originally the plan was to have them stay here, along with Rhys’ parents, and we’d leave to get a hotel suite, but somewhere along the way, those plans were changed—something about Mr. Gallhagar and his sour attitude about what my dad did to a fellow soldier. Since it ultimately did lead to my dad being dishonorably discharged, he has a valid point.

  Separate hotels for the parents and our house to ourselves, it shall be.

  Mostly.

  Tessa is still staying here.

  It’s not like I don’t love her and want her here—I do.

  It’s the fact that Rhys won’t do anything sexual to me requiring any…force.

  Maybe force isn’t the correct word.

  He won’t take me rough. No hard fucking while she’s here is the more blunt way to say it. He’s been making slow, sweet love to me for days, and I’m tired of it. Sometimes a lady wants hard and fast. At this point I’m going out of my mind—I’d even let him ravage me against a car door in a church parking lot again.

  Rhys settled up everything he needed at his office yesterday, so he’s free of work for five glorious weeks.

  Sadly, I am not.

  Threads & Trends isn’t set to work without me there until tomorrow. Today I have to go in to make sure the schedules are complete and payroll goes out for my employees for this last week. If not, I’ll have some irate workers on my hands, and not the sort of workers I’d entrust my shop to in my absence if I forget to pay them.

  Tessa could go in today and easily handle all this for me while I stay home and ask Rhys to take me ‘sailing’, preferably on ‘rough waters’, before our parents come barreling into our world for the weekend.

  I couldn’t possibly ask it of her…could I?

  While I’m lost in thought, she comes sauntering into the kitchen.

  “Morning, Av.”

  “Morning, Tessa. How’d you sleep?”

  She’s quiet while waiting for her coffee to brew, but a moment after she takes her first sip, she replies, “Okay, I guess. My small shouting match with Brant kept me up most of the night. Do you have anything you’d like me to do today? I could use the distraction.”

  “Funny you should ask…”

  I’m not going to ask her outright to go run my store for me; she’s supposed to be on vacation. The last time she visited me here, I was opening my store, and I swear she worked there more than I did those couple of weeks.

  “I’m your matron of honor—or is it maid of honor?” She turns to glance at me and having no clue, I shrug. “Well whichever one it is doesn’t matter. What matters is, I’m supposed to do errands, shopping, miscellaneous crap for the bride to help make her life easier. What do you need?”

  “It’s not wedding related,” I blurt out.

  “Your point?” she retorts.

  “Okay, fine. I was internally debating about asking you to go run the store today, finish up what I have to do before leaving it for my honeymoon. My reason for not wanting to go in myself is purely selfish.”

  “Spit it out. What’s the reason?”

  My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. I’m embarrassed, but we did talk about sex yesterday. It was easier to talk about then due to the alcohol, but still. She’s my best friend, and this shouldn’t embarrass me.

  “I want to have loud, fast, hard sex with Rhys. Since you’ve been staying here all he’ll do is make slow, passionate love, the kind where neither of us is as vocal as we like. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still incredible, but I want to be ravished.”

  There, I said it.

  It wasn’t uneasy.

  She replies with one solitary word, and it’s all I need to set my plan of action into motion.

  “Okay.”

  Not waiting to give her time to have a second thought, I grab her and haul her into my arms, squeezing her tightly in a hug, repeating my thanks over and over again. She attempts to worm her way out of my arms, but it only makes me squeeze her tighter.

  “Can’t…breathe…Av…”

  I loosen my arms, letting her go, and once I do, she’s able to breathe freely.

  “Sorry, I may have gotten a tad excited.”

  In my defense, she did just agree to go into my shop and cover for me while I have some crazy intense sex with Rhys—my reason for getting excited is warranted.

  If you were in my shoes, trust me, you’d be jumping up and down with excitement at the thought of an hour or two alone with your man. Maybe you’d end up nearly squeezing your best friend to death—who knows?

  “Fill me in on what you need done while I drain a cup or two of coffee. I’m not sure this falls under normal maid of honor duties so you’ll owe me a favor for doing it.”

  After she’s nearly finished with her first cup, she stops to stare at me. It’s slightly unnerving.

  “Yes…?”

  “Oh nothing. It’s just, when I take you in at this moment, I see this glow. It’s been following you around since the night you picked me up from the airport. Sometimes I like to sit and stare at you, marvel at how the glow came to be.” Instead of turning away like I thought she would, she continues to stare at me. “I think it’s your happiness shining through.”

  Instead of answering her, I simply nod. Her words deserve an answer, but she’s rendered me speechless.

  She’s brewing her second cup when I start talking, telling her what’s left to be completed at the store before I can officially leave my baby in someone else’s hands for a few weeks. I also take the chickenshit way out and never bring up her comment about my happiness shining through. It’s a bitchy move, but I’m still at a loss for how to address it. Maybe a simple ‘thank you’ is enough, but I feel like it needs…more.

  Thirty minutes later, I stand watching Tessa back my car down the driveway. She hasn’t even shifted it into drive before I’m off to find Rhys at a brisk jog.

  “Babe, are you in the basement?” I call out into the blissfully empty house.

  Sadie lifts her head to stare at me from her doggie bed in the corner of the living room. She yawns and curls up into a ball, swiftly falling back asleep.

 
“Babe…?” I sing out, my voice sounding like a cat in heat.

  He’s either in the basement or in the garage. Since I don’t hear any clanging around, my vote is the basement. If he was in the garage, he’d be fooling around working on Mystique, though she doesn’t need any more work done at the moment.

  Opening the basement door, I call out one more time before descending the stairs. “Are you down there, Rhys?” Hearing the music, I know for certain he’s in his newly renovated home gym. The loud music flowing up the staircase explains his lack of reply to my previous attempts to determine his whereabouts.

  Once I’m at the bottom of the steps, I hear him singing along to the song pumping through the speakers. He claims he’s a rock fan, but deep down my man likes country music. He’s singing slightly off key to a newer Kenny Chesney song, one about pirates and walking barefoot in the sand. Honestly, I have no damn clue.

  What caught me off guard was the day a couple weeks ago when I walked in on him working out and singing along to every word of a Miranda Lambert song. Rhys is a country music junkie—he’d never admit it, but I think it’s awesome.

  Walking in, I see his back is to me and he’s lifting weights. Not wanting to scare him, I walk over and make my presence known before talking. “I think we need to get you a pair of chaps. You could wear nothing but them while singing me a Luke Bryan song.”

  “Never. Besides, they’d probably chafe me in strange places.” As he’s saying this, he winks at me.

  “Gah, stop it with the wink!” I protest weakly.

  “I’ll sing you a Luke song, but it’s a hell no to the chaps. What are you still doing home? I thought you had a few hours of work to do before we start picking up all the parents from the airport.”

  He grabs a towel off a rack of clean ones and begins to wipe the machine down. Once he’s done, he grabs another towel and proceeds to wipe the sweat off his body.

  “I took advantage of Tessa staying here and sent her to work for me.”