Which was why I was ready to turn it up at the reception.
I looked fabulous in my mint-green dress, which Tasha and I had picked out weeks before, and was ready to toss back some drinks and dance until I was the last woman standing.
I didn’t begrudge my sisters their happiness, of course I didn’t, but it still didn’t feel good to not even have any prospects, while they were both newly married to the loves of their lives.
I shot a couple longing looks at Mick, who managed to make that suit look incredible, even though I’d just seen him in it at Tasha’s wedding. How come men could do that? Buy one suit to wear to every event, and get no flack, while if women got caught wearing the same dress repeatedly, it was like there was something wrong with her?
Why couldn’t I find the perfect dress . . . one that made me feel sexy, comfortable, and confident, and wear it to everything?
Stupid double standards.
I walked straight to the bar and ordered a Lemon Drop with the sole intention of getting drunk, and made a list of rules for myself.
You will not fawn over Mick.
You will not get so drunk that you throw up.
You will be the funny, fun, party sister, not the green with envy, bitter, crying in the corner sister.
And, again, you will not fawn over Mick. He made his policy clear, and I had too much pride to go after a man who didn’t want me.
“Thanks,” I told the bartender, then looked out over the prettily done-up space.
We’d gone with an outdoor space and hired a friend I’d met at convention, Laurel. She was from Cherry Springs and owned Party with Laurel. When we’d decided to use an outside company, so the staff could come to the wedding as guests, rather than work it, I’d known Laurel would be the perfect choice.
The décor was elegant, feminine, and perfect, just like Millie.
As promised, I drank, danced, gave a touching toast to Millie and Jackson . . . basically had the time of my life, at least, that’s what I was projecting . . . and when it came time for the bouquet toss, I was front and center.
I may have elbowed a guest or two, but let out a shout when I caught the bouquet.
Going with the façade of carefree twin, I blew kisses to the crowd and watched with a large grin while Jackson turned and threw the garter right at Mick, who was standing off to the side of the crowd, scowling at his friend.
My stomach dipped when he caught it, and I felt the alcohol warming my veins as I sashayed onto the dance floor and sat on the chair waiting there.
I looked up at Mick, catching his intense gaze, and saucily put my stiletto on his thigh.
His hand was hot on my bare skin as he pulled the garter up slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.
I could feel my pulse throbbing in my neck, and my breath grew shallow, as my entire being focused on his hand and what it was doing. I didn’t care that we had a rather large audience, all I wanted with every fiber of my being was for his hand to keep moving north, while he kissed me for all the world to see.
Of course, that didn’t happen.
Once the garter was in place, Mick gave me one last long look, then spun and strode off the dance floor, leaving me sitting there like an idiot.
My face flaming, I stood up, smoothed down my dress and carried my bouquet over to the bar, where I handed it to the bartender and ordered another drink.
“May I have this dance?”
I spun around, half hoping to find Mick asking, even though I knew it wasn’t his voice. It was Hector, Jericho’s very handsome best friend and sous chef.
“Why, yes, I’d love to,” I said, trying for coy, or at the very least, not to slur my words.
I slammed the Lemon Drop and placed my hand in his and let him lead me on to the dance floor.
I’d half expected to do the whole, my hands on his shoulders, his hands at my waist, dance, like in high school, but instead, he took me to the middle of the floor and proceeded to take my breath away as he waltzed me around the floor.
I was no longer pretending to be the fun-loving twin at Millie’s wedding, I was grinning broadly at Hector while he spun me around the floor, enjoying the wonderful feeling of dancing with someone who obviously knew what he was doing.
Moments later, Jericho and Tasha joined us.
“Did you guys take dance lessons as kids?” I asked Hector.
“Yeah, it was a good way to stay off the streets, plus, there were lots of girls there,” Hector said with a grin, eyes twinkling.
“Ah, makes sense,” I replied. I knew a little about Jericho’s upbringing, and that he and Hector had basically grown up on, and survived, the streets of Philly. “I originally started playing soccer as a kid to impress a boy.”
“The things we do for love . . .”
I glanced around us, noticing we’d caused quite a disturbance and most of the guests were watching us as we danced, including Millie and Jackson. Jackson’s arm was around Millie’s shoulder and she was leaning in to him as her gaze moved from me to Tasha and back again.
I smiled at her as I twirled, then I caught sight of Mick standing by the bar. He was holding a glass of amber liquid and frowning in my direction.
“Dru?”
I turned my attention back to Hector and asked, “Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you’d like to have dinner with me some time,” he said, and my stomach dropped.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t extremely handsome, because he was, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t interesting, smart, and a total catch, but . . .
My eyes landed on Mick again, before shifting back to Hector.
He noticed my hesitation, then looked at Mick and said, “Ah, got it.”
I sighed.
“There’s nothing happening between us, but . . .”
“You’re interested,” Hector guessed.
“Yeah, even though he’s not.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Rather than argue and give more away than I wanted, I simply said, “But, if you’re looking for a friend, I’d love to have dinner sometime.”
Hector nodded. “I’d like that.”
When the dance ended, Hector walked me off the floor, thanked me for the dance, and excused himself.
Deciding the dancing, and probably the booze, had gone to my head a bit, I decided to get out from under the tent and the lights and take a little stroll. If I was going to close down the party, I needed to make sure I didn’t fade too quickly.
As I left the sound of the wedding reception behind and faced the trees, I heard movement behind me.
I whirled around to see Mick.
“Shit, you scared me,” I said with a little laugh, my hand coming to rest over my pounding heart.
Mick didn’t stop in front of me like I expected, instead coming right for me and placing one hand on my lower back, while the other tangled in my hair at the back of my neck.
I looked up at him, eyes wide, pulse jumping, and asked softly, “What are you doing?”
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he replied intensely, then lowered his head and claimed my mouth.
I gasped, utterly taken aback, and Mick took the opportunity to explore. It was like rockets were shooting off in my body. I was hot, shaky, and eager as I wrapped myself around him like a pretzel and gave as good as I was getting.
I worried that he’d realize what he was doing, remember his rules, and stop the glory that was happening, but he didn’t.
His lips were firm, but soft, and he kissed like he was made of testosterone and magic.
It was the best kiss I’d ever had, and if there had ever been any question as to whether or not Mick and I had chemistry, it was squashed. A quivering mess beneath our feet, much like my heart.
Mick’s hands never moved, just held me close, the print of his palms searing into my skin like tattoos I hoped would remain forever. My hands, though? They were everywhere. In his hair, on his shoulders, roaming over his biceps, back, and final
ly . . . his butt.
That’s right, I grabbed his butt and squeezed it.
It was the firmest, most perfect ass I’d ever felt in my life, and I found myself wondering what he did to get it that way, when he deepened the kiss and I lost the ability to do anything but live in the moment.
I don’t know how long he ravaged my mouth or I violated his body. It felt like seconds . . . hours . . . and I could have stayed there all night.
Unfortunately, like all good things, it came to an end.
Mick
I’D SPENT THE WHOLE DAY ignoring the elephant in the room, or should I say . . . the elephant in the plane, hotel, and car.
I kissed Dru last night, and it was hot.
I had no intention of kissing her, had told myself repeatedly since she’d hired me that I couldn’t, but seeing her at the wedding, looking gorgeous and dancing like a princess with that guy who works with Jericho, really lit something in me.
Easing the garter up her leg hadn’t helped.
I’d almost caved right then, but it was seeing her in the arms of another man that did it.
I was going to leave, had every intention of doing so, then I saw her sneak away from the party and, like a moth to a flame, followed after her.
We’d kissed like we invented the damn act and when I left, it was without saying a word. We’d just kind of looked at each other, each backing away slowly, before I turned and left the reception.
This morning, when I’d picked her up to go to the airport to head to Chicago to confront her dad, we’d both acted like nothing had happened.
Except it had. And it had been brilliant. And, we both knew it.
We landed at O’Hare, grabbed our rental car, and stopped by the hotel to check in, then headed right for her father’s place.
We’d made chit chat. Talked about the wedding, but had effectively avoided talking about the one thing I was sure was at the forefront of both our minds . . . the kiss.
“Are you nervous?” I asked, still skirting the issue.
“Mmmm, a little,” Dru replied, her attention rapt on the city we were passing.
“And what turnout are you hoping for? Just to see him and talk, or is there something more?” I asked, curious, even though it shouldn’t matter to me one way or the other.
I never got too personal with clients, but Dru seemed to be the exception to every rule.
She fidgeted with her hands and said, “I don’t know if I really have any expectation. I know him enough to know he’d never live up to any of them.” Dru sighed. “I guess I mostly want to ask him why he left and never looked back, to tell him that our mom is gone, and to find out about the brother you mentioned. Other than that, I don’t want or need anything from him.”
I nodded, thinking that was a good answer, but wondering if she was telling the whole truth. Not just to me, but to herself. I worried that there was a piece of her that was hoping her father would take one look at her, pull her into his arms, and promise to be the dad she always wanted.
From what I knew of this guy, that was never going to happen, and I didn’t want to see Dru hurt.
“All right, well, here we are,” I said as I pulled up alongside the curb in front of a large brick house.
I saw Dru take a deep breath as she took in the house.
“Wow, that’s big,” she said with a raw chuckle. “Quite different from how we grew up.”
“Look, Dru, you know it’s no mistake that his first name is Johnson, cause the dude’s a total dick . . .”
Dru’s chuckle warmed me in a way I wasn’t prepared to think about, so I kept talking.
“Sounds like you and your sisters were very close to your ma, and wanted for nothing, right? So, maybe your life would have been better if this guy’d been in it, but chances are, he’d have just made things harder, so maybe he did you all a favor by pulling his disappearing act.” When she would have protested, I said, “Just gimme a minute,” and kept going. “Not to say any of you deserved the shit he pulled, cause you didn’t . . . no kid does, but the man can’t keep it in his pants for five minutes, and chances are, he woulda just kept hurting your mom, and that wouldn’t have been good for any of ya. Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t give him a shot and see what he says, or that you shouldn’t miss the fact that your dad wasn’t around . . . hell, I miss my pop every day, not that this douche could hold a candle to him . . . but still, I get it. I’m just saying, don’t dwell on what you didn’t have. Focus on what you did and don’t let him get in your head. Get what you need out of this meeting. Don’t worry about what he’s feeling. Okay?”
Dru’s eyes were wide on my face.
She reached out and covered the hand I had resting on my thigh with hers.
“Thanks, Mick.” She looked back over her shoulder at the house, then back at me. “I think I’m ready.”
“I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
Dru gave me a small smile, then took off her seatbelt and got out of the car.
I watched as she walked up the pretty stone path, which was offset by a perfectly manicured lawn and groomed bushes. There were three steps up to a brick porch with a swing, blue furniture, and a fan hanging from the ceiling. She looked at me quickly, before raising her hand and knocking on the frame of the stain glass door.
I watched as she waited, my own nerves beginning to make my leg bounce.
What the fuck am I nervous about?
The door opened and Susan was there. Tall, blonde, and botoxed, she wore a polite smile as Dru started talking, her hands moving rapidly as she did.
Susan’s smile dropped and she took a step back, like Dru was armed or something, yelling over her shoulder as she presumably called for her husband, the man she’d cheated on Dru’s mother with.
Instead of Johnson coming to the door, a young, fit, good-looking guy . . . I’m guessing nineteen or twenty . . . slid up next to his mother, a big friendly smile on his face.
This time, Dru took a step back, and since her back was to me, I couldn’t tell what her reaction was, but the fact that the boy kept smiling seemed to be a good sign. Susan, however, was not smiling. She spun on her heel and stormed away, leaving Dru, and who I’m guessing was her brother, alone at the door.
He was talking excitedly, and I wanted to roll down the window to see if I could hear what they were saying. After about a one-minute internal battle, I had my finger on the button to do just that, when Johnson finally joined the party.
Except, he was a shitty host.
He ordered his son to leave, and although the boy put up an argument, in the end he shot Dru a grin, said something to her, then turned and walked off, leaving her standing there with their stone-faced father.
When I saw Dru’s shoulders droop and the tightness of Johnson’s mouth, I murmured, “Fuck this,” and got out of the car.
There was no way I was letting her deal with this asshole alone.
Dru
JUST BREATHE, I TOLD MYSELF, Mick’s impassioned speech playing in my head on repeat as I raised my hand to knock on the door.
When it opened I was face to face with her. My father’s other woman. The one who’d taken him away from my mother, away from us, and claimed him for her own.
She was tall and blonde, with fake boobs and an obviously touched-up face.
I’d always been terrified of this moment. Of meeting her. Of coming into contact with Susan and finding out she was perfect, or see the glaring reason why we didn’t measure up. Except, looking at her now, I realized I’d been afraid for nothing.
She didn’t measure up to my mother.
Not even on her best day could she beat my mother’s worst.
It wasn’t because of her plastic surgery; whatever, it was her body, she could do what she wanted. No, it was in the way she sneered when she realized who I was. It was the utter lack of guilt, or remorse, for what she’d put my family through.
As soon as I explained who I was and why I was there, she bello
wed for my father, not bothering to invite me in or even offer a smile. She just stood there, looking at me like I was trash that needed to be taken out.
I was about to open my mouth and unleash every vile thought I’d ever had about the woman, when a handsome young man stepped into the doorway.
His eyes were just like Tasha’s.
“Hey,” he said, his voice friendly. Then he looked at Susan and asked, “Ma, aren’t you going to ask her in?”
Obviously, Susan had raised him to have manners, she just seemed to have forgotten how to use them herself.
“O-kay,” he muttered, then shot me a grin and said, “I’m Brody . . . I heard what you said to my mom . . . You’re one of my sisters?”
I took a step back, shocked that he knew who I was, barely registering it when Susan let out a huff and spun on her heel to go find my father, who she was still yelling for.
“You know about us?”
“Yeah, just found out recently, actually,” Brody said, talking excitedly. “I overheard my parents having an argument . . . When they said something about his other kids I asked him about it. I can tell you, I was completely floored when he admitted to having three daughters. There are three of us, you know . . .”
“Three of you?” I asked, my jaw dropping.
“Yeah, me and my two brothers. They’re away at school, and I figured it’d be best to tell them in person, you know. I don’t wanna drop a bomb like, we have three sisters, in a text or something.”
Three brothers.
“So, which one are you? One of the twins?” he asked, his exuberance infectious.
“Yes. I’m Dru. My twin is Millie and our younger sister is Natasha. You’re the youngest?”
“Yup. One more year and I’ll be free from this place, too. I’m going to school with my brothers.”
Before I could ask him more, the breath left my lungs as my father joined us.
He looked exactly the same, yet totally different.
His belly was a little rounder, and there was some gray in the hair at his temples, but other than that, it was him.
A Splash of Vanilla (Three Sisters Catering Book 3) Page 5