The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3)

by Haleigh Lovell

  “Are you ladies ready?” Bianca’s voice cracked across the air like a whip.

  Collectively, the women on the dance floor shouted, “We’re ready!” and Lucy quickly got into a football huddle position.

  “All right.” Bianca took a deep breath and raised her arms up high. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three!” She flung the bouquet over her shoulder and it went soaring through the air in a perfect arc with all eyes glued to its form.

  Before my very eyes, Lucy morphed into a muthafuckin’ wide receiver in the end zone of a football field. She sprinted forward, neatly deflecting one defender, holding off another with one hand, then untangled herself from a cornerback right before leaping up and changing the direction of her body in mid-air, catching the bouquet right at the peak of its flight for a spectacular touchdown grab.

  The crowd went wild, roaring their approval as Lucy took a bow. “Thank you,” she said eloquently and took another bow, aiming her magnificent ass directly at her captivated audience. “Thank you, thank you.”

  Holy fucknuts, I marveled. She got her Pippa Middleton moment.

  Almost instantly, every guy in the room was drawn to her like a moth to an iPhone with the brightness level turned all the way up.

  They flocked around her, flirting enthusiastically while she swatted them away, giving them clear indicators that she wasn’t interested.

  “Hi, hi, hi!” said one dude. The fella looked like he had unhealthy boundaries with his mother. “Over here, over here,” he repeated again and again until he got Lucy’s attention.

  “Hey!” she snapped at him. “Stop being so thirsty!”

  “Excuse me, miss.” This other guy was standing with his hand raised. “Excuse me? S’cuze me, miss? S’cuzzzzze me.”

  Lucy’s mouth pinched in annoyance. “Are you asking for permission to go use the restroom in the middle of class? Yes, you can go. Dammit, just go! GO!”

  I kept from laughing but just barely.

  Watching douchebags get rejected is my new favorite pastime.

  Although I’ll admit I almost felt bad for that poor sod, only partly because he looked like his soul had been crushed to smithereens.

  As he slunk off, Lucy cut her gaze to the imbecile on her left. “Do you drink milk?” he asked her. “Because it sure did your body good.”

  “Wow, sir. Wow.” Her voice was ripe with mockery. “Men should take notes from you since you have all the eloquence of a brass doorknob.”

  Another oaf sidled up to her and flashed a shit-eating grin.

  The dude was a Crest Whitestrips cautionary tale.

  Sadly, he was one of those assclowns who thought more gel was better than less gel so in short, his hair resembled an elaborate coiffure of concrete.

  Somebody please make his hair cease and desist.

  “Back up, toots,” she warned him off when he got too close. “Tell me, did you style your hair with a blowtorch and then lock it in place with some quick-drying deck sealant from Home Depot? Because I think there’s a terrorist cell working out of your bouffant. I might have to alert the authorities.”

  “RIP, Lego Head,” I muttered under my breath as he skulked off. “You flew too close to the sun.”

  Candidate number five—or was it six? I’d lost count at this point—showed up to woo her. “You look familiar,” he said.

  “So do you.” Lucy studied him intently, her gaze becoming thoughtful, then considering. “You look like my Baptist minister. Were you excommunicated?”

  I laughed, my shoulders shaking. Props to the minister, though. It was really bold of him to show up in a woman’s blazer.

  The next fella shuffled forward and simply asked for a dance. Poor guy didn’t know what he was in for. I braced myself for the wrath she was about to unleash upon him.

  “Ugh.” Lucy cast him a look, mildly irritated. “Take a number, pal. Actually, don’t take a number. I’m saving all my dances for my boyfriend over there.” She gave me a little wave. “Isn’t he so handsome? Mmm-mmm.” She smacked her lips. “What a sexy beast he is.”

  I waved back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sleazeball stalking up to Lucy. His shirt was unbuttoned all the way to his navel and he immediately gave me the douchebumps.

  Without thinking, I stepped in to intervene. Halfway, my stride hitched and I stopped mid-step. I could see that Lucy was clearly enjoying herself, picking fights left, right, and center with all these creeps and turning them into minced meat with her acid wit.

  “Just call me Big Papa.” He leered suggestively. “Girl, you look so good, you can be my side hoe.”

  “Hoe? HOE?!?” Lucy fired back. “Do I look like a garden tool to you? You’re really dumb, aren’t you?”

  “Huh?” He blinked at her, confused. “I meant hoe as in whore. Prostitute. Hooker. Y’know, someone who has sex for money.”

  Despite his obvious, pulsating aura of douchitude, Lucy didn’t back down. Instead, she eviscerated his ass and tore him a new butthole.

  “Houston, we have an idiot!” She glared at him, seething. “Boy, you are so dumb. Have you no respect? The correct term is sex worker. And if a hoe is a person who’s employed by the sex industry, then what the hell does that make me, huh?” she demanded. “A nonprofit corporation?”

  “Girl, don’t be mad.” He softened his voice in an attempt to placate her. “I’m a hoe too and I call everybody a hoe. You and me, we can be homies and together we’ll be homie-hoe-tastic.”

  “Mother of God.” Lucy made an exasperated sound. “That sounds like some homeopathic bullshit to me.”

  “What?” Now he was even more perplexed. “Homie-hoe-pathic?”

  “Aw, for fuck’s sake.” Lucy expelled an annoyed groan. “Homeopathic as in homeopathic medicine, which, you know, has been killing us all since time immemorial. Or perhaps it’s just evil scientists trying to encourage the placebo effect. Huh? Ever thought of that?”

  Her mind was working too fast for that jabroni to keep up.

  A baffled look crossed his face and all he managed to say was, “Hoe! So you gonna dance with me or not?”

  “I think the fuck not,” she snapped. “You ain’t no CEO. You’re a CREEP-I-O. Come any closer and I will cut your balls off.”

  His eyes went cold at the bite in her voice.

  Okay, she’s a right nut. Girl’s gone rogue and this douchebag has lost his cool.

  Time for me to step in.

  In two long strides, I covered the distance between us, tucked her arm through mine and dragged her away. “That situation back there—you handled it?”

  “It’s handled,” she answered like a boss.

  “Good,” I said. “Then I say we get the fuck outta here.”

  “Whooo!” She blew out a breath and adjusted her boobs that were now spilling out of her corset. “That was so much fun, wasn’t it?” Floating on euphoria and still riding off the high, she prattled on excitedly, “Did you see my remarkable catch? Fuck Tom Brady! I’m the greatest quarterback of all time!”

  “Erm, it’s the wide receiver who catches the pass from the quarterback. So if anything, Bianca was Tom Brady and you were...” I thought of a wide receiver on the New England Patriots. “Josh Gordon?”

  “Ah, same thing.” She brushed my words aside. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other. So you know what? I’m just gonna carry on being the fuckin’ legend that I am. Because what I did back there, son, it was the best catch in NFL history. You can’t deny that.”

  “I won’t. You’re a damn gift to this earth, baby.”

  “Thank you. Because... yeah,” she mused aloud. “Quarterback, wide receiver... six of one, three multiplied by two of the other. Quarterback, tight end... six of one, two hundred and sixty-six subtracted by two hundred and sixty of the other.”

  “I’m actually shocked you can still do mental arithmetic.” In fact, I was surprised she was still standing.

  “And did you see how I was the belle of the ball back there? I had so man
y suitors lining up to dance with me. Every guy with a pulse was clamoring for my undivided attention. But did I fall for their thirst traps? Nope-ty-nope. No, siirreeeee, I did not. Besides, they were all miserable sods and absolute bell-ends! And of course my loyalty is firmly with my lovable rake right here.” She reached up and tousled my hair as if I were a child.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said flatly. “My hair is now a disheveled mess.”

  “No, it’s not.” Her mouth curled slightly. “It’s cute.”

  You’re cute.

  “Now you must dance with me, Edric,” she said insistently. “You must. Do you know that I dance beautifully? These hips don’t lie. Fun fact: I had four bones surgically removed from my body in order to move as if a graceful swan had sex with Shakira. So promise me you’ll dance with me.”

  I couldn’t hold back the smile edging up my mouth. “Later,” I lied.

  “Where are we going now?” she asked as we stepped out into the moonlight.

  “McDonald’s.”

  “Yayyyy! Everyone makes jokes about how bad it is but at the end of the day, we all love it. I know I’m lovin’ it.”

  “Same.”

  “Oh, I know! Let’s say ‘Mc’ before everything we order. I’m gonna say, ‘Hi, I’d like a McCheeseburger without McOnions and McPickles, but with McKetchup and a little McMustard. And a large McSprite thingamadoodler and a McDr. Pepper with a McStraw. Also, I’d like some McWater. Yes, I will be paying with a McCredit card and I’d like you to scan my McMobileApp so I can earn McPoints. And please don’t forget McNapkins. Have a McTastic day!’”

  “I’m impressed. That took some commitment.”

  “I know, right?” she said smugly while walking barefoot in the grass. “Real dedication to my craft.”

  “Here,” I said, dangling her strappy heels from my fingers. “You should probably put these on now.”

  “You’re probably right.” She took her heels from me and was just about to slip them on her feet when Time of My Life began blaring from the loud speakers.

  The strappy heels dropped to the ground with a soft thud and Lucy lost her goddamn mind. “Ohmigaaaahd. The lift!” Madly gesticulating, she cried fervently, “We have to do the lift. The iconic lift!”

  “What lift?” I asked, but she was already tearing across the lawn barefoot, heading straight for the duck pond.

  Shoving a hand through my hair, I let out a string of curses. Then I raced after her, turf flying behind me as I ripped through the lawn at full speed. The last thing I heard before Lucy disappeared from sight was a loud splash.

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lucy

  GAWD. I clutched the sides of my head and sat up groggily. My head . . . I was convinced evil elves with jackhammers were drilling through my skull.

  Where am I? I looked around and did a quick scan of my surroundings.

  Phew! I’m here. My shoulders relaxed and I slumped back against the hay bales. Inhaling deeply, I let the smell of the barn fill my lungs.

  It calmed me. Soothed me.

  Ahhhhhhhhh. I took another sharp inhale and tried to master my breathing. Wait. I scrunched my nose. Why do I smell like stagnant pond water?

  My hair, damp and uncombed, fell across my face in a matted mass. I ran my fingers through the strands, or tried to, anyway. They got stuck in the tangled mess almost immediately.

  I winced, working my way out of the knots when Edric stirred beside me.

  Stretching his arms out wide like a pterodactyl, he let out a dinosaur yawn. “Good morning.” His voice was coarse and scratchy from sleep.

  “Morning,” I said as if it were completely natural that we had just woken up in a barn, dressed in formal wear and smelling like pond sludge.

  Nope. Not weird at all.

  Oh, ya’ know, like this was just any ol’ regular schmegular day.

  “Now I know how baby Jesus felt sleeping in a straw-filled manger.” He stifled another monstrous yawn. “It fuckin’ sucks, man. Props to you, J.C.”

  “Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you ever stop complaining?”

  “Arrggh. Why can’t I see shit?” He rubbed his crusty eyes with the back of his hands. “The world is slowly coming together... your blurred face is coming into focus now... and holy shit!” He recoiled from me. “Damn! Look at that eagle’s nest on your head.”

  “Huh.” I scratched the bushy clump of hair that was all snarled and twisted. “What the hell happened last night?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No.” I shook my head slowly. “Can you give me a recap? Bring me up to speed.”

  “Why, I’d love to,” he said too quickly, too eagerly. “Now would you like the short recap or the long one?”

  Hmm. Funny how he was dead tired just a moment ago and now he’s all bright-eyed and alert. He’s almost zealous, foaming at the mouth.

  “Why don’t you give me the short recap first and then I’ll decide if I need to hear the full summary of events.”

  “Okay.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “Short recap is you became that pig from Australia.”

  “Which pig?”

  “The pig that stole beer from campers and got drunk and fought with a cow, and then swam in the river before collapsing drunk under a tree and falling asleep,” he reported with a smile. “That pig.”

  “Wait, what? I did not.” I gave his shoulder a playful smack and we burst out laughing. When our laughter had finally petered out, I stared at him unblinking. “Wait. Did I?”

  “You did.”

  “Dear God.” I clapped a hand to my mouth. “Tell me everything. I didn’t break the law, did I?”

  “No, but you did have quite a bit to drink.”

  “Pssh!” I waved his words aside. “Red wine is basically heart medicine.”

  “You had tequila shots.”

  “How many?”

  “You know how you’re a betting woman?” he ventured. “No judgment, of course. I’m a betting man myself.”

  “Yeah...”

  “Well, before we hit the party—you know, Bianca and Lorenzo’s wedding reception?” He waited until I nodded before adding, “We played shots roulette.”

  “That’s a fun game!” I cried.

  “You lost every single round.”

  “Oh...”

  “So by the time we got to the party, you’d had five shots and you went rogue. You were out of control.”

  “How out of control?”

  “Huh.” A slow grin began to spread across his face. “Where do I even begin? Let’s see, you thought our waiter was Pablo Escobar and you ordered two lines of coke from him. Then you corrupted the mind of a sweet old lady who you somehow confused for Barbara Walters.”

  “She’s a legend,” I breathed.

  “That’s debatable.”

  “So how was I corrupting this sweet old lady’s mind?”

  “One minute you were telling her about cocaine, the next minute it was weed, and then you were spewing out the names of all these cannabis strains—some of which I’ve never even heard of, by the way. And don’t ask me how or why, but at some point you started talking like a freakin’ Rasta.”

  “Praise Jah.”

  “Praise Jah, all right. It was fucked up on so many levels.”

  “Is that it?

  “Far from it. So fast-forward to the bouquet toss—”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “I caught it?”

  “You caught it like a muthafuckin’ champ!” He raised his hand, I raised mine, and together we high-fived the air and yelled, “BOOM! MUTTAHFUKKAHS!”

  Yep, that’s our signature handshake.

  “Were you proud of me?” I asked.

  “So proud.”

  “You know what that means, right?” I winked at him and elbowed him in the ribs.

  He didn’t even wince. “What?”

  I smiled at him, making my voice warm and winsome. “We’re gonna get married.”

  “N
ooooooo.”

  “Yesssssss. I caught the bouquet, dammit! So I’m the next one to get hitched!”

  “No.” His voice was firm. “No.”

  “Why not?” I taunted.

  “Who in their right mind would want to marry an angry gerbil? Not me.”

  “What are you talking about? I thought I was a boozy pig last night. So which one was I—an angry gerbil or a boozy pig?”

  “Both.” He leveled a cool gaze at me. “You should’ve seen yourself last night.”

  “Elaborate.”

  “You were hot-headed and nutty, starting petty fights left and right with all these guys who were lining up to dance with you.”

  “All the men were lining up for a chance to dance with me?” I blinked. “Wow. I must’ve been sumthin’.”

  “Oh, you were sumthin’ special, for sure. All these losers came crawling out of the woodwork for you.”

  “What brought them out of the woodwork? My dazzling personality?”

  “Your melons and peaches.”

  “What?” I squawked.

  “Your corset,” he stated plainly. “When you dove for the bouquet, your corset came undone and you were basically flinging those melons around like it was harvest season. And then after you caught the bouquet, you took a deep bow and your ass was in the air like a spotlight beaming brightly, lighting up the entire sky.”

  “Like a Bat-Signal?”

  “Like a Bat-Signal. And after that, it was raining men for you. I could practically smell the desperation seeping out of their pores.”

  “Oh, my fucking God.” This was too good to be true and I was loving every second of it. “Not to make this about me, but to make this about me... all these fellas who were so keen and desperate for me—were they hot?”

  “Well, it depends on your definition of hot. One dude was slightly cross-eyed. His left eye needed to throw a party and invite the right eye over. Another fella looked like a mama’s boy who was fed chewed-up, regurgitated grub his whole life.”

  “Like how a mother bird feeds her son?”

  “Yep.” He gave a definitive nod. “Mama-bird style.”

  “Ooooh.” I was practically salivating at this point. “Tell me more. I can’t believe I had so many suitors to pick from. So many choices.”