by Lauren Rowe
Ryan and Tessa express agreement with that sentiment and tell me a funny story about an interaction between their son—seven-month-old Zachary—and little Gracie. But I’m only half listening, to be honest. Because Zander’s hand has migrated lower and is now resting on my right ass cheek, out of sight from everyone. And the sensation of him secretly groping me, right in front of all his friends... and Barry across the room... is making my clit pound mercilessly.
I look at Zander, my chest heaving, and the look on his face is so sexy—so hungry—I have to bite my tongue not to moan at the delicious sight of him.
Josh shows me a photo of his beautiful daughter.
“Wow. She looks exactly like Kat,” I say.
“Yeah, I’ve come to the conclusion Kat’s a starfish,” Josh says. “I think she grew Gracie out of her side like an extra arm bud. Clearly, I had absolutely nothing to do with her.”
Everyone laughs, including me, even though I’m highly distracted by the fact that Zander’s hand just left my right ass cheek and is now squeezing my left. I glance at Zander, telepathically telling him, I want to fuck you. And he sends the message right back to me.
When I tune back into the conversation, everyone is talking about the fact that the eldest Morgan sibling, Colby, and his wife, Lydia, just had a baby girl a month ago—Mia—their first biological child together but the fourth child in their family.
“Does baby Mia have a Morgan-approved nickname yet?” I ask, just as Zander’s hand floats back up to the small of my back.
“Mamma Mia,” Kat says. “You’ll meet her and all the Morgan kiddos tomorrow night at dinner.”
Ryan says, “Yeah, if you don’t particularly like kids, Aloha, I’d suggest you get shitfaced drunk or stoned out of your mind before heading over to the house tomorrow night. Because at this particular moment in time, the Morgan family is absolutely overrun with little ones.”
I laugh and tell the group I love kids and can’t wait for dinner tomorrow night. And I’m shocked to realize both statements are true, even the second part—even though, for almost a month, I’ve been dreading going to the “stupid” lasagna dinner I agreed to while drunk off my ass. Now that I’ve met these amazing people, the idea of getting to spend more time with them, especially at their childhood home, with their real mom while eating homemade food, doesn’t feel like a chore to me anymore. It feels more like an honor.
“Oh, hey, thanks so much for that tweet you posted about Keane,” Ryan says. “And for the one you posted about Dax’s album, too. My whole family went bananas both times. So cool of you to do that.”
“I didn’t send either tweet as a favor. Believe me, I was doing my fans a favor, both times.”
Ryan leans forward conspiratorially. “I hereby officially invite you into our family, Aloha. Please, take Kat’s spot. With those two tweets alone, you’ve already proven yourself a far more valuable family member than our sister ever was.”
Kat snorts and swats at her brother’s muscular shoulder, not looking the least bit offended. And for the hundredth time since this party with the Morgans and Faradays started, I’m smiling so big, my cheeks hurt.
“I might very well take you up on that offer, Ryan,” I say. “Sorry, Kitty Kat, but I’ve always wanted siblings. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“Hey, I get it, sistah,” Kat says, putting up her palms. “I don’t blame you. Siblings are the best.” She scowls comically at Ryan. “Unless, of course, the sibling in question is Ryan Ulysses Morgan. That guy’s a total dick.”
Everyone laughs, including Ryan.
“Aw, there’s room for everyone, guys,” Tessa says. She smiles warmly at me. “Take it from me, Aloha, there are infinite ‘spots’ in this family. There’s no need for anyone to be bumping anyone else off. Right, Zander?”
“True, true,” Zander says.
Aw, Zander’s words are lovely. But guess what’s lovelier? The fact that, as he’s saying them, he’s squeezing my left ass cheek again, sending electricity zinging straight into my clit.
There’s more natural shuffling of conversation partners. I find out that Kat and Sarah—sisters-in-law—were actually besties in college before they met their twin-brother husbands. I also find out the Faraday twins and their wives co-own a bar called Captain’s with Ryan and Tessa in Seattle. And that Ryan and Tessa met because Tessa used to be Josh Faraday’s personal assistant. Also, that Kat was the one who introduced her friend from work, Hannah, to Josh’s college friend, Henn.
“Wow, you’re all intertwined like a giant pretzel,” I say, laughing.
“Yep, and all roads lead to me,” Kat says proudly. “The minute I met Tessa, I knew Ryan would flip out over her. And the minute I met Henn, I knew he’d lose it for Hannah.” She leans forward. “That’s my gift: matchmaking.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “My sister always says that, but, trust me, she’s a broken clock right twice a day.”
“Not true,” Kat insists. “I always know when two people are destined to be together.” Her eyes pointedly shift from me to Zander and then back to me again. “Always.” She winks at me, not subtly, before turning her attention back to the group.
Holy hell. The Bet. How could I forget about that? And the fact that almost all of these people are in on it? Shit. Why did I join in on that stupid bet? Back when I did that, I was just being sassy. Snarky. Silly. Arrogant. I was collecting pickles! But now that I’ve gotten to know my darling pickle... now that I know his heart is mine for the taking, everything feels different—no longer like a lighthearted game of capture the flag. But, come on, how was I to predict back then things could ever begin to feel so... serious with Zander? So... real?
I glance at Zander and my heart skips a beat. If I were a betting woman—and let’s face it, I am—I’d bet my entire stack of chips Zander’s already lost the bet. And that all these people know it. But since the thought terrifies me as much as it excites me—since I can’t honestly say I know what I’m feeling or how long it’ll last, whatever it is—I force the whole thing down and return to thinking about how much I want Zander to fuck me.
“Maddy and Keane made it to the skybox!” Hannah booms excitedly, holding up her phone. She smiles at me. “It was so wonderful to meet you, Aloha, but I’ve got to go meet my sister at—”
“Oh, don’t go,” I say. “Bring Maddy and Keane here.”
Hannah’s face lights up. “Really? You’re sure you don’t want to relax for a bit before—”
“No, no. Let’s keep the party going.”
Out of nowhere, my tour manager, Crystal, appears and places a warning palm on my forearm. “Honey, I think you should see your friends after the show to give you plenty of time to relax before—”
“I’ve got all day off tomorrow to relax. I want to see my friends.” I address Kat. “Is the entire Morgan clan in that skybox tonight?”
“No, not the entire clan. Dax is still on tour, as you know. And Colby and Lydia are hunkered down with little Mamma Mia tonight. But my parents are there with my aunts, uncles, and my cousin Julie and her husband. And I’m sure Zander’s mom and sister have arrived by now. Zander, have you heard from your mom and sister?”
Zander holds up his phone. “Zahara just texted me a minute ago. I was about to slip out for a couple minutes to say hi to them.” He looks at Barry. “If that’s okay with you, boss.”
“Of course,” Barry says. “In fact, take the whole night off, Z. Watch the show from the skybox with your friends and family. I’ll guard Aloha during the show.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“Actually, you know what?” Barry says. “Take tomorrow off, too. Report for duty again first thing Monday. I’m not leaving Seattle until then, so if Aloha wants to leave the hotel at any time tomorrow, I’ve got her covered.”
My heart bounds into my mouth. “That’s sweet, Barry. But I won’t be leaving the hotel tomorrow. I’m just gonna catch up on sleep and relaxation all day before heading to dinner at
the Morgans’. I won’t need coverage all day or night.”
“All right,” Barry says. He claps Zander’s back. “Looks like you’re officially off-duty until Monday morning, Z. Drink and be merry all you like. Let off steam. You’ve earned it.”
I force myself not to look at Zander. If I do, my face will surely give me away. “I think that’s a great idea,” I say calmly. “Zander’s most definitely earned a little time off.”
“Hey, Barry,” Kat says. “Why don’t you come to dinner tomorrow night at my parents’ house? I’ve been helping my mom cook lasagna for two days, so I know for a fact there’s more than enough food. We’d love to have you.”
“Thank you,” Barry says. “I’d love to.”
I look at Crystal to find her nonverbally chastising me for not getting a little rest before the show. But screw her. Life is short. And these people are fucking awesome. “Crystal,” I say. “We’re gonna have ourselves a little pre-show party. Get some 22 Goats tunes cranking, order a truckload of champagne and snacks to be brought in here, and then bring every human in that skybox to me as soon as humanly possible.”
Chapter 33
Zander
Oh, God.
I’m so fucked.
As I walk with the entire Morgan-Shaw-Faraday crew back to the skybox to get seated for Aloha’s show, that’s all I can think on a running loop: I’m so fucking fucked.
I thought I’d be fucked when Aloha commanded everyone from the skybox—including my mother—to be brought to her in the meet and greet room, but, still, I held out hope I was just being paranoid. But now that I’ve spent an hour drinking champagne with everyone, and watching Kat eyeball-stalk us and brazenly exchange “secret” glances with Ryan about us, I know for sure: I’m so motherfucking fucked.
The Morgans know. And not only that, my sister knows, too. Only fifteen minutes into Aloha’s champagne party—just fifteen minutes in!—my sister, Zahara, came over to me and whispered, “Oh, Z, you’d better wipe that look of love off your face every time you look at Aloha or Mom’s gonna know what’s up and beat your ass for screwing up the best job you’ve ever had.”
“Don’t say a word to Mom,” I whispered, my eyes reflexively lurching to our mother across the room. As I know all too well, my mother isn’t a fan of people risking their jobs by doing or saying anything she’d label “acting a damn fool.” Plus, my mom, God love her, doesn’t believe a man can fall in love in less than six months under any circumstances and I don’t have any desire to hear her strident opinions on that subject yet another time.
“Well, obviously, I won’t tell Mom,” Zahara said. “But if you really don’t want Mom figuring it out, then you’d better get the Morgans in check. I just overheard Kat and Ryan cracking jokes about some bet involving you and Aloha. That’s not how I figured it out, by the way. All I had to do was look at you and I already knew. But, still, if I were you, just to be on the safe side, I’d make sure those Morgans aren’t gonna start drinking tomorrow night at dinner, or, hell, tonight in the skybox, and start blabbing something you don’t want blabbed, right in front of Mom.”
And now, here I am, so fucking fucked, walking back to the skybox with the whole, tipsy crew—my mother, sister, Keane, and I walking way up front while the rest of our large, champagne-soaked group ambles behind us. And there’s no doubt in my mind I’m heading into near-certain catastrophe in that skybox tonight. And if not in the skybox, then at dinner tomorrow night. Because these people are liquored up and feeling loose and, clearly, they’re all convinced I’m in love with Aloha, whether Judge Peen has made his official ruling or not.
But it’s not just the thought of my mom figuring things out and reading me the Riot Act that’s got me freaking out. Even more so, it’s the thought of Aloha herself learning I’m in love with her from a loose-lipped Morgan, rather than from me. God help me if she were to overhear some Morgans whispering about the bet tomorrow night. Or, shit, knowing Aloha, if she were to bring up the bet herself at dinner, thinking she’s being snarky, and unwittingly unleash the hounds of hell.
Plus, there’s also Barry to consider now, thanks to Kat’s spontaneous dinner invitation to him. Fuck! God help me, if Barry catches even a whiff of some “bet” about Aloha and me, I’m a dead man. Yes, I know I made my feelings for Aloha known to him earlier today—and I’m thrilled to find myself still alive and my balls intact after doing so. But if, at dinner tomorrow night, Barry were to find out I was involved in some kind of bet regarding Aloha...? Baby Jesus, help me. I’m sure Barry would assume the bet was about me fucking Aloha, no matter what I might say to the contrary. And a bet like that wouldn’t fly with Badass Motherfucker Barry Atwater, no matter what ballsy speech I might have given earlier today about “sacred” shit happening behind closed doors between “my woman” and me.
“And her eyes!” my mother gushes. “So gorgeous!”
“Mmm hmm,” I say. “Aloha’s mad beautiful.”
“And so down to earth, too!” Mom says. “I didn’t expect that. Not with all the money and fame she has. But she acted like a regular girl from down the block, didn’t she?”
“Mmm hmm. Aloha’s always like that with everyone. She’s super down to earth.”
“Don’t you just love her?” Mom says. But thank God, she’s talking to Zahara, not me.
“I do,” Zahara says. She looks at me, a gleam in her eye. “What about you, Z? Doncha just love her?”
I scowl at my sister behind our mother’s back and she laughs.
Mom continues, oblivious to the nonverbal conversation happening between her children. “I was relieved to hear Aloha’s explanation of that ridiculous ‘boy toy’ video. Nice to finally put that fiasco to rest.” Mom glares at me like I did something to offend her in relation to that stupid video.
“Mom, I told you a month ago Aloha was just drunk and acting a fool in that video. I’m not in any way, shape, or form Aloha’s ‘boy toy.’” Oh, God, please, let that be a true statement.
“Yes, I know what you told me,” Mom says. “But it was nice to hear Aloha tell me herself.”
I roll my eyes for my sister’s benefit and she laughs.
Mom grabs my arm as we walk. “Just be on your toes with that one, Zander. I know Aloha seems accessible and friendly—like she’s ‘one of the gang.’ But never lose sight of the fact that you work for her. She’s your boss. You need to be on your best behavior with her at all times, no matter how casual and comfortable she makes you feel.”
Zahara shoots me a look that says, And here we go.
“I don’t work for Aloha, technically,” I say. “I work for the label. Barry is my boss, not Aloha. She’s what we call ‘The Package.’”
Zahara shoots me a snarky look that says “Oh, yeah, Mom’s totally gonna buy that crock of shit,” and I glare at her, telling her not to say a motherfucking word.
“Zander, don’t play word games with me,” Mom says. “I don’t care who signs your paychecks. I’m talking about common sense. Common sense is the best sense of all, so how about you use it.”
“Yeah, Zander!” Keane calls out from behind my mother, out of nowhere. “Don’t play word games with yo momma. It’s common sense, son, so use it!”
I look over my shoulder at Keane and he flashes me a dopey, stoned look that tells me the huge weed brownie he scarfed down a while ago during Aloha’s champagne party has kicked in like a Mack truck.
Aw, poor Keaney. I don’t blame him for self-medicating tonight. Apparently, his agent said the final decision will be made today or tomorrow on that huge TV series he’s been waiting to hear about. The one with the big movie star that would require Keaney to bawl his eyes out. As Keane well knows, the part will likely change his life if he gets it and devastate him if he doesn’t.
“Thanks for your support, Keaney baby,” my mother says, chuckling. “Sounds like you helped yourself to some of Miss Aloha’s fine champagne, just like me, huh?”
“I sure did, Momma Shaw. Lots an
d lots of it. And you’re very welcome for the support, you goddess, you. I love and respect you and always have, because you’re a beautiful, wise, and powerful woman.”
Mom guffaws. “Oh, Keaney. Always such a charmer.”
“Yup, I have ebullient charm,” Keane says, his dimples popping.
“Yes, you do, sweetie. You most certainly do.”
“He’s a charmsicle left out in the sun,” I say dryly. I look at Keane. “It means you’re dripping with charm, son.”
Everyone laughs, but nobody more raucously than Stoned Keane. And, of course, my mother simply pats Keane’s arm and tells him how much she adores his goofy laugh. Seriously? How is it possible, through all the years of Keane being stoned as shit around my mother, she’s never once suspected it? If I were Keane, I’d be offended about that, actually, because it means my mother thinks he’s naturally that stupid.
“What’s funny?” Mom says, looking behind her. “What did you do back there, Keane Elijah?”
“I made a funny face at Zander, ma’am,” he says. “But only to lighten the mood because things felt a little bit serious there for a half-second and that felt like a pity considering the celebratory nature of the evening.”
Mom laughs and shakes her head. “Well, amen to that. Tonight is a celebration! Ha! I can’t remember the last time I drank this much champagne. Woo-wee! That was some good champagne.”
“Woo-wee!” Keane agrees.
“I like your girlfriend, by the way, honey,” Mom says to Keane. “She’s sweet. And sooo smart.”
“Woo-wee!” Keane says. “Smartest girl I ever met. That’s for sure.”
“And I like the way you fawn all over her, even more than she fawns all over you. That’s the mark of a healthy relationship: when the man is just a little bit more smitten than the woman. That’s how you know it’s gonna last.”
I look behind me in the corridor, to make sure the adorbsicles and very tipsy Maddy Milliken isn’t overhearing this. And it’s clear she’s not. Maddy’s walking quite a ways back with Hannah and Henn, both of whom look as buzzed as Maddy.