by C. M. Albert
“And now?”
“Well, she’s still annoying,” I said. “But she certainly grew up.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“She was thirteen that summer, Dex. But I’d seen her around the resort since she was just a kid. Seven maybe. She was just an annoying brat who seemed to show up wherever I went. Remember the summer you came to visit with your folks? It was my last summer there, and you were older than me. I looked up to you so much. You were so much cooler than I was. I barely had my shit together.”
“That was a fun summer,” Dex said, chuckling. “We got into some good trouble.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I was a punk back then, Dex, but I knew my place. All summer long that year Presley tried to make small talk with me. I was polite, but she really had some sass, you know? I was trying to be all cool around you and the guys, and I had this scrawny girl following me around with moony eyes. All the guys gave me shit for it.”
I shook my head. “I knew she was into me. It was pretty freaking obvious. But she was thirteen, Dex. Even if she’d been a local, I wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot pole. She still wore her hair in those damn braids. Do you remember those?”
I groaned, my mind swapping the memory of her back then with the woman Presley was today—wishing I could be so lucky to see her in a bikini and braids again.
Dex laughed. “I’m guessing you don’t see her as an awkward thirteen-year-old kid anymore?”
“How could I? She’s a freaking bombshell. All that soft, shiny hair. And those sexy green eyes. Christ.” I ran a hand over my face. “Did you ever know I had a crush on Lauren when I was a teenager?”
Dex’s eyes bulged wide as he gaped at me. “Lauren Kincaid? No shit. Is that why you got so weird when I asked you to stand in for Richard?”
I nodded. “Presley wasn’t even on my mind when I said yes. I honestly forgot all about her—didn’t think she might’ve actually grown up and grown into herself. I was just thinking about Lauren. How fucked up is that?”
Dex chuckled. “It’s not. Not really. I mean—Lauren has always been hot. Some might say she’s a little old for you, but I can’t say I blame you.” Dex nodded toward the dance floor where Lauren and Richard were slow dancing. Her body sensually swayed from side to side, her whole back bare in her wedding dress. We could see the muscles in her shoulders and the definition in her upper arms as they draped around Richard’s shoulders. She pulled his head down and whispered something so private in his ear that when he looked up, his face looked as if it was on fire. Lucky bastard.
“Here’s to Lauren and Richard,” I said, raising my glass to clink against Dex’s beer bottle. “And to looking forward, not back.”
THE PARTY WAS winding down. When Dex and Bianca said their goodbyes, I was ready to call it a night too. I’d met several new prospective clients, and already had four jobs booked over the winter. But that’s not what made the wedding worthwhile.
Presley had taken me completely by surprise. That kiss on our entrance? Completely spontaneous and impulsive. Yeah, it was a jerk thing to do. I’d be in her stepmom’s wedding album forever now—our kiss sealed in time. That peck was supposed to put Presley in her place and nothing more. Instead, it fanned something inside of me. And I didn’t know why. I’d never thought of Presley this way before. Not ever.
But after that kiss in the garden. . . all I wanted to do was find her again, pin her up against the wall, and drop to my knees. I could still smell her on my clothes. Light, citrusy, sexual. She was so sassy and bratty when she was a kid—trying to run with the older local boys on the island. She never wanted to hang out with the girls who came with their parents, and she always managed to get under my skin somehow.
Twelve years later, and she was under my skin again. Only this time, for very different reasons. I had two choices. I could write Presley off forever, just as I had to write Lauren off. Or I could go find her. Take another taste. See if she was worth taking home.
I drained the rest of my glass and stood up, determined to find her. But she was literally nowhere to be seen. I walked the gardens, checked the dance floor, scoured the bars. I was ready to throw in the towel and leave when Willa staggered from the kitchen, one of her long braids coming loose from the intricate updo she was rocking.
“Hey, Willa,” I said as she passed by. She hadn’t seen me, so she stopped, trying to focus on me. “Are you drunk?”
She giggled. “I might be. Maybe. Just a little.”
“Can I get you a ride home?”
“Oh, you’re such a gentleman, aren’t you, Carter?” At least, I think that’s what she said. Her words were a little slurred. “Look. I have to go to the little girl’s room. Would you be a doll and go check on Pres?”
“Uh, sure,” I said, looking around. “And she’d be where, exactly?”
“Oh,” Willa said, laughing again. She pointed to the double doors she’d just exited, then stumbled toward the ladies room.
Oh boy. I just hoped Presley wasn’t in as bad of shape. When I pushed through the swinging doors, there she was, sitting on a kitchen prep table, her chiffon dress hiked up around her knees. She had a cigar dangling between her lips and a set of cards in her hands.
“Uno!” she called out triumphantly.
A guy in a white kitchen uniform and a high-and-tight buzz cut swore and drew a card. There were five people playing, and a dozen beer bottles lining the counter behind the sink. Presley laughed when she saw he didn’t get the card he wanted and had to take a swig from a communal bottle of tequila I just now noticed.
Two others laid their cards down, then looked at Presley expectantly. She still hadn’t noticed my arrival. Her strawberry blond curls had come undone from the fancy half-updo she’d had earlier. Her rhinestone hair comb was sitting on the table in a pile with about fifty dollars in cash, a watch, and a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups.
I didn’t dare ask.
I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, enjoying this new side of Presley I’d never seen before. She was cutting loose and having fun! Presley threw down her last card—which looked like a Wild card, meaning there was no way she could’ve lost—and she hollered. She stood on the table and I noticed she’d never put her strappy, sexy sandals back on. She was barefoot and happy as she tossed back the tequila bottle and took a victory guzzle.
“Presley! Presley! Presley!” they all chanted. She laughed, tequila dribbling down her chin as she spun in a circle with her arms out. Then she saw me. I ran over just in time. She wobbled, off balance from the spin, and started to fall. I caught her in my outstretched arms like she was a sack of flour someone just tossed to me. She threw her head back and laughed wickedly. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to lick the tequila off her chin and plunge my tongue into her sexy mouth, muffling her laughter and turning it into a pleasurable moan. She was so dangerously sexy like this.
“Come on, princess. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“Boo!” the others shouted at my retreating form.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, not giving a shit that I was taking their fun-time girl from them. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“Willa and I . . . we got a room together. I think. Where’s Willa?” she asked, looking around. “Willa!” she called out louder.
“Shh!” I said. “Your mother will kill you if she finds you like this.”
“She’s not my muther,” she slurred. “She’s my stepmom. So it’s okay if you liked her, too. Right? It’s not like it was my mom,” she over emphasized, laughing hysterically against my chest. Oh boy. This was gonna be a long night.
“I don’t like Lauren, princess.” I sighed. “Willa is in the restroom, I think. Want to go get her?”
“You can’t go in the ladies room!” she chortled. “Hey, do you know your five o’clock shadow overslept?” She rubbed my jaw. “It’s hal
f past ten already.” Then she dissolved into a fit of giggles again.
Thankfully, Willa came out of the bathroom just then. “Presley! I was looking all over for you!”
No, she wasn’t. She’d been in the bathroom. I wanted to roll my eyes and was seriously doubting my sanity. How in the world did I end up with a drunk Presley in my arms at almost one o’clock in the morning? And it wasn’t even in a good way.
“We need to go back to the room,” Presley said. She bucked her body in my arms. “Giddy up!”
Willa snickered. “Nah, girl, I’m headed home tonight.”
I shook my head. “No. No way. You are too drunk, Willa.”
“Take it easy, Dad,” she said. “My roommate is here. See?” She pointed into the reception area, and I saw a young lady grinding up against an older man on the dance floor.
“You sure she’s going to your place tonight?” I asked, skeptically.
“For sure,” Willa said. “I pinky promise.”
She reached out her pinky and stared at me. “Go ahead,” she said, nodding toward her finger.
I had no clue what in the hell she was doing.
“Just wrap your pinky around hers. It’s a binding oath she can never break,” Presley said solemnly. Oh, Christ.
I wrapped my pinky around hers and “shook.” She pulled a key card from her clutch and handed it to me. “We’re in room 1111. Oh, and guess what?”
“What?” I asked, losing patience. Not to mention Presley was now running her fingers over my ears and it was hella distracting.
“It’s on the eleventh floor,” Willa said, laughing hysterically.
“Thanks, Willa. I think we’ll be able to find it.”
“Take care of my girl, okay? No monkey business. She doesn’t need you to break her heart again.”
Huh?
“I mean it, Mister Slip-In. No slipping it in tonight, got it?”
“Oh my god, Willa!” Presley said, suddenly aware of her friend again. “Go!”
I burst out laughing and glanced down at Presley. Her legs dangled over one of my arms, and her back rested against the other. Her one-shoulder dress covered her cleavage tonight, and I could feel the warmth from her body as she curled into me.
I made sure Willa made it back into the reception area. When she was successfully with her roommate, I made toward the elevator.
“If I set you down, can you stand?” I asked as we entered the small space.
“Hmmm?” she said, eyes closed, half asleep.
“Never mind.”
We got off on the eleventh floor and it was completely silent in the hallway. Thank goodness she’d closed her eyes in my arms and wasn’t still hollering it up at the top of her lungs like a sorority girl gone wild.
Somehow, I managed to get the keycard in the door without banging her head into it and pushed it open with my dress shoe. It was late, and I still had to catch a ride home. My jaw dropped when I entered the massive suite. This wasn’t a “room.” It was bigger than most of my old apartments. The walls were painted rich, matte black, and large crystal chandeliers were scattered throughout the space. The sitting area had two trendy, low-back sofas, a conversation set of chairs, a dining table, and finally, a stunning set of gold, highly arched French doors leading to the bedroom. I hoped. The walls were ornate with woodwork and on the opposite end of the room were floor-to-ceiling windows that ate up the entire wall.
Fuck. Presley really was Miss Moneybags if she could afford a suite at the Excelsior for the night. It made me wonder if Lauren and Richard were staying here, and if so, what the presidential suite looked like.
The sleeping area was at least painted a more muted tone, but the headboard was a rich, tufted gray monstrosity that reached all the way to the ceiling. The bottom of the bed was black, as were the two leather sitting benches at the foot of the bed, and the low-back sofa facing the wraparound windows. Presley’s bedroom was on a corner, which would let in beautiful daylight in the morning. Right now, the bright lights of New York’s skyline twinkled all around us.
I laid Presley gently on the bed, realizing she was already sound asleep in my arms. When I tried untangling myself, she nuzzled in closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Stay,” she whispered.
Dear god, help me.
“Pres—”
There was no way I was staying with her in this condition. She was too vulnerable and too . . . nuzzley. I wasn’t a strong man. And it was bad enough I’d stolen our first kiss. There was no way our first fuck would be one where she was loaded and wouldn’t remember it in the morning. No, if I were to take Presley to bed, I would mark my territory, and she would remember every fucking second of it. That was for damn sure.
“Just hold me, then? While I fall asleep?”
I sighed. How could I say no when she asked me so nicely? I gently ran my hand over her hair, letting my fingers trail over the small of her back, until she finally fell asleep. I must have accidentally dozed off, too, because when I woke, my arm had fallen asleep from the weight of Presley curled over it, and she was snoring lightly. Somehow, she made even sleeping and snoring look cute.
I eased my arm out and held my breath. When she didn’t wake, I walked over to the blinds and closed them, then found a pad of paper and scrawled a note so she didn’t panic in the morning. I got a glass of water and left it on the bedside, along with two Excedrin I found in the bathroom.
I glanced back at Presley before I left, unsure how I’d been so confused about being around Lauren just the night before. Now, here I was, sneaking out of Presley’s hotel room at three in the morning, feeling like she had me wrapped around her finger already.
I knew I shouldn’t have taken this damn job.
CHAPTER TEN
Presley
MY TONGUE STUCK to the roof of my mouth and I licked my lips. Where the heck was I? I sat up straight, then lay right back down. The room was still spinning. What time was it? And where was Willa? I glanced around, seeing I was still in my bridesmaid dress. Crap! Did I leave my makeup on too? Why couldn’t I remember getting back and into bed? I guess I should count my lucky stars I wasn’t naked with a stranger lying next to me.
I glanced at the bedside table, seeing a glass of water and two Excedrin there. From Willa? That was sweet. I took a greedy swallow of water, thankful to get some of the sticky taste from my mouth. What all did I drink again? I took the Excedrin and lay back down. I’d figure it out later.
When I woke for the second time, the room was still dark, the heavy black-out curtains closed tight. But I could see thin slivers of light around the edges, so I knew it was time to get up. I looked around the room for my purse, or my phone. I found neither and cursed silently. Did I leave it downstairs? Crap!
That’s when it all came flooding back to me.
Carter Wright.
I’d actually kissed Carter. Then I panicked. And Willa and I went into the kitchen to say hello to her friend, Rack. A bottle of tequila came out, we started playing Uno, and then—I was dancing. I won! I remember looking up into Carter’s eyes. I was in his arms last night. Oh crap! It was bad enough I’d kissed him back in the garden and was almost ready to take him home. But if I’d been that drunk . . . what had I said? Done?
I rolled over and pulled the cover over my head, burrowing under the soft, down comforter. Then I remembered feeling his lips warm on my temple and him gently rubbing my hair as I fell asleep.
A shrill ring had me throwing the heavy cover off and sitting straight up in bed. I reached over and grabbed the white, scrolled handle of the old-fashioned telephone. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Miss Kincaid. This is the wakeup call you requested.”
I had? I had! Oh, shit! I had to get home and finish an article for work. Why did I drink so much? Oh, yeah. Carter.
“Thank you. Can I please have breakfa
st sent up?”
“Absolutely. The usual?”
“Yes, please.”
“Would it be acceptable for us to send up your things from last night, as well?”
“Please,” I said gratefully, hoping one of those items was my clutch, and that the other was my phone.
“It’s our pleasure. Will there be anything else?”
“What time is it, again?” I asked, groaning.
“It’s ten thirty, ma’am.”
“Thank you. Can you have a car pick me up at noon, please?”
“Certainly. Have an exceptional day, Miss Kincaid.”
Exceptional? The only exceptional thing I’d be doing is nursing this hangover and crying over my regret from the night before. That, and maybe eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream once I got home.
I made my way toward the large walk-in shower and peeled off my bridesmaid dress on the way there. When I was done, I quickly dressed and packed my belongings while waiting for room service. That’s when I spotted a note in neat, slanted handwriting.
Presley,
I hope you don’t wake up too hungover. Don’t worry. I didn’t take advantage of you. When I last saw you at The Grove, you were upset with me because I wouldn’t give you your first kiss. I’m still glad I didn’t. (I mean, then you would’ve been pining over me for the past decade!)
Well . . . it was worth the wait. But for some reason, you didn’t seem any less upset afterward. I know. It took me by surprise too.
Kissing you was the last thing in the world I imagined doing, Presley. But now that I have, it’s the only thing in the world I want to do again.
So now it’s your turn, I guess. You can either chalk this up to a mistake or call me. We can’t change the past. Don’t be mad at me for the punk I was as teenager. Or for my schoolboy crush on Lauren. I was just a dumb kid. And I promise, you’ll like this guy better.
I pinky promise to stop being an arrogant asshat if you pinky promise to put away the boxing gloves. Because I want to see you again. Taste you again. Taste you more.