Wish on You (Bliss Brothers Book 6)

by Amelia Wilde

  “Not as much as I would have liked.”

  Charlie leans forward in his seat and puts his face in his hands. Yes, he was a complete tool when Everly and I showed up in Roman’s office, but looking at him now makes me empathize with him. His frustration is carved into the curve of his back. Beau reaches over and pats at him, and Charlie whips his hand away.

  “Don’t despair, son,” says Bill, craning his neck to speak to Charlie. “Only a delay, not a dead end.”

  “What does that mean?” Charlie says from behind his hands.

  “Your request is simple enough. The notary has confirmed that all of you are present and accounted for, and you’ve made a joint application to open the trust for the purpose of reviewing the documentation. You did everything right. You don’t need to do anything else, unless you’re attempting to make changes, in which case the process is slightly more involved.”

  “And the documents are…” Roman’s voice betrays only a tiny hint of the strain of anticipation.

  Bill turns red and sticks a finger into his collar, pulling it away from his neck. “You have to understand—I’m mortified about this.”

  “No need.” Roman holds up a hand. “What happened?”

  “Our storage facility has been reliable for years. Decades. But last spring, it was flooded. You remember the rainstorm that—”

  “We do. We totally remember it,” says Beau. “The documents for the trust were destroyed, then?” He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  “They weren’t destroyed, no. We’ve been making digital backups of our files for, oh, eight, nine years now.”

  “And?” Roman prompts.

  “And they’re having a bit of an outage. It’ll be a couple of days before they’re back online and we can download the documents. I’ll send them to you the moment I have them in a secure email.” The older man looks ill. “I hate to disappoint my clients. I hope you can understand—I’ll be looking into another digital repository as soon as I can, and—”

  “That’s all right, Bill. Give me a call when you’re ready to send the email.” Roman stands up and Bill follows suit. The two of them shake hands, and then the rest of us fall in line. It feels like the end of a middle school basketball game.

  We leave Bill’s office, and my legs feel like they’re filled with cement. Charlie’s face is set on the way to the parking lot and he stalks ahead, practically running to his car.

  “Charlie,” Roman calls. “Stop.”

  “Don’t do it, Roman,” says Beau. “Let him go. You can’t smooth this over with a dick pic.” Beau laughs at his own joke, and it’s so infectious that I can’t help smiling.

  “What are you grinning for?” Charlie snaps at me. “You’re the reason we have another delay. I’m about to stroke out, asshole.”

  “We can all see that,” I shoot back. “You should have sent that in one of your five hundred texts.”

  “Doesn’t five hundred texts communicate a sense of urgency, dick?”

  “Hey,” Huck says. “This is a parking lot, guys. We’re not supposed to murder each other in a parking lot.”

  “I’m not going to murder him,” says Charlie. “We need him. Remember? All six of us, or nothing can get done.” He glares at me, and this time I’ve been home long enough to see past his anger. Charlie hates being the weak link almost as much as I do. The fact that he had to wait for me to figure this out probably kept him awake at night all summer.

  He’s still being an ass, though.

  Roman steps forward and puts a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You’ve got to let it go.”

  Beau steps forward and puts a hand on Charlie’s other shoulder. “You’ve got to be one with the wind and sky.”

  Charlie groans. “You’re the worst person ever to exist, and you’re tied with Asher.”

  “No,” says Roman. “We’re not doing this. Dad’s not here anymore to be the peacemaker, and Mom’s not going to do that. She’s finally getting to live her dream, and I don’t want to have to call her and tell her that her remaining family has been wiped out by the dumbest feud in the entire world.”

  “Who’s feuding?” I burst out. “I was doing my job, the same as all of you.”

  “Were you?” asks Driver, with no malice in his voice. “I mean, we’d have no way of knowing that, unless you gave us some proof.”

  “Are you submitting mileage at the end of every trip, Drive?” I counter.

  “I was when Roman went full dictator in June.”

  “Guys.” Roman’s voice is so similar to dad’s that my brain tries to fit them together. “Enough of this. We cannot be at each other's throats for the next two days. We’re almost at the finish line.”

  “Great,” says Charlie. “I’ll be in my office until then. Don’t call me until we have what we need.” He shakes off Roman and Beau’s hands.

  “Not a chance, brother. You can go there now, but we’ll see you tonight at Bellissimo. Everyone is going. Partners, girlfriends, and…” Roman hesitates. “…spouses all invited to attend. We are brothers. We’re going to get through this together.”

  “Yes.” Beau thrusts a fist in the air. “Freedom!” he shouts, his voice echoing through downtown Ruby Bay.

  Huck snorts, Driver snickers, and Charlie rolls his eyes.

  “Sure,” Charlie says. “Spouses.”

  “Knock it off, Charles,” Beau says merrily. “Focus on the food and libations. Take a page from my book.”

  “Your book is a pamphlet.” Charlie climbs into his car, shuts the door, and drives away.

  “So sharp-witted,” Beau says to me. “For what it’s worth, Ash, I think Everly’s nice.”

  “Oh? Have you talked to her?”

  “At least…she’s nice-looking.” He winks at me, then jogs around and hops into Roman’s car. “See you at dinner.”

  “Put on something nice. We have a date.”

  Everly’s eyes light up, and my own heart brightens at the sight of it. I should be nervous about this dinner. All things considered, I should have refused to go. I should give Charlie more space and time, and I should wait until this whole trust thing has blown over before I make my way back into the thick of things with my brothers.

  But my fingertips tingle with a ridiculous excitement. A dinner with my brothers means that I’ll have to be close to Everly. I’ll have to hold her hand, and brush my lips against the creamy skin of her temple, and breathe in the scent of her hair.

  “Really? Where at?” She stands in the center of the kitchen, a dishcloth in her hands.

  “Bellissimo. A restaurant downtown. It’s not that fancy, but…we will be performing. All of my brothers and their significant others will be there.”

  A wicked flame scratches to life in her eyes, but she hides it by looking demurely down at her feet. “I don’t know if I’m up for that,” she say softly. “Maybe we should practice.”

  Every speck of my soul bends toward her like I’m light refracted through a prism, and that prism is aimed at Everly.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.” My voice is husky. There’s no disguising it.”

  “Hmm. It is against the rules, so long as we’re standing in a private space. We could go out to the porch, and then we would be required to get a practice session in.”

  “What if I don’t want to take you out onto the porch?”

  She lifts one shoulder and I shove my hand in my pocket to keep from tracing the curve of her neck. “Then we’d have to bend the rules.”

  Oh, it’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong. But I cross the kitchen and wrap one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. “Just this once,” I murmur into her lips.

  The dishcloth falls to the floor. “This once,” agrees Everly, and then her mouth is on mine and the heat of her body calls to the core of me, and by the time we break apart I’m lightheaded and battling a serious blood flow issue.

  Everly rises on tiptoe and kisses my cheek. “I’ve got to
get ready,” she says. “Thanks for the practice.”

  10

  Everly

  Bellissimo is the kind of cute Italian restaurant I’ve always wanted to sit in at a big table with lots of friends and family. Basically, one of my dreams in life is to be in a real-life Olive Garden commercial.

  Dinner almost feels like that, just slightly more awkward.

  Charlie is subdued on the other side of the table. He keeps his eyes on his own plate.

  That doesn’t stop Asher from playing the part of the devoted—dare I say obsessed—husband.

  I felt the way his body responded when he kissed in the kitchen, and most of me doesn’t feel guilty about that. I wanted to kiss him. God, I wanted it so badly, and every time he walks into the room I get another chip in the windshield of my self-control.

  Halfway through our entrées, he leans in close. “How’s the food?” The heat of his breath against the shell of my ear makes my nipples peak beneath the little black dress I chose for the occasion, but Asher’s not done. He nips at my earlobe, and I know he feels the resulting shiver underneath his hand, which he’s rested on the small of my back. It’s like he knows I’ve been sitting with perfect posture on the edge of my seat just to invite him to do that.

  “That’s not fair,” I whisper back.

  “It wasn’t fair in the kitchen earlier. Consider this karma.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Charlie watching us through narrowed eyes. He’s the only one looking—the rest of the brothers are involved in a debate about how many times they’ve been to Bellissimo as a group.

  “It’s, like, twenty times,” Beau argues.

  “It’s not. We used to eat at that other restaurant in Lakeview for special occasions,” says Roman.

  “Not more than we ate here.” Beau sticks his fork into his fettuccini, twirls it around, and savors another bite. “I’m right, and you’re wrong. Back me up, Charles.”

  “You’re right,” Charlie says flatly.

  His girlfriend, a woman named Leta who has a broad smile and pink hair, elbows Charlie in the ribs. “Lighten up, love. We’re all enjoying dinner.”

  “I second that,” calls Roman’s girlfriend Jenny.

  “Third.” Driver sits next to Holiday, who’s pregnant with his baby, as I learned at the beginning of the dinner. I always thought pregnancy glow was a media myth used to sell tabloids, but it’s not. Holiday has proven that. “You’re stressing out the baby, Charlie. Every time you scowl at Driver, she kicks.”

  “She?” Driver needles. “I thought we weren’t making assumptions.”

  “I’m an equal-opportunity assumer,” says Holly. “I’ll say he next time. You can count on it.”

  I wouldn’t mind being pregnant with Asher’s baby.

  The thought floats forward from the back of my mind, translucent and subtle like a jellyfish on an ocean current and stings my heart like I imagine that innocent-looking jellyfish would do.

  If I were pregnant with Asher’s baby, I’d have a place at this table. A real place. Not a place that’s only good for thirty days. Less than thirty days, now.

  “Are you all right?” Asher’s hand on mine alerts me to the fact that I’m crushing my fork in my grip.

  I struggle for breath against a heaviness in my chest that’s caught me totally off-guard. Me? Wanting a baby? Wanting Asher’s baby? It’s no surprise that I wish I could sit at this table every day for the rest of my life, suspicions or not. My mom was in and out of our lives, traveling for work, for as long as I can remember. My father didn’t have siblings, and he didn’t like visiting people anyway. It’s always been me and Brooke, together against the world. Reluctantly together, in Brooke’s case. She wants everything at maximum difficulty so she can prove she doesn’t need anyone or anything.

  In fact, she’ll probably be pissed that I saved the ranch for us instead of letting her muscle through the hardship.

  Is that what I really want—a baby? Or is what I really want to be closer to Asher in a more literal way, my skin against his?

  I breathe in, and I’m filled with his scent. Soap, cologne, and intrigue. He smells like a last-minute ticket to Europe. He smells like an adventure.

  “I’m fine. I’m so fine.” I turn and meet his eyes. “Except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  I lean in to his ear and choose my words carefully. Desire threads its way down the front of my belly and between my legs, heating me from the inside out. I need to release this, and I need to do it with Asher. I’ll never be satisfied otherwise. I’ll never get over this otherwise. I need to know. Need. “I need to break the rules.”

  Asher shoves open the door to the hotel room and whirls around to close it behind us. The key card falls to the floor with a whisper of sound and then he’s lifting me, pinning me to the door. It’s shockingly cold against the bare skin of my back and I gasp.

  He drags his mouth across my collarbone and slips his fingers beneath the neckline of my dress. “I consider the hotel technically public,” he says, his low voice vibrating in every nerve. “But we both know this is against the rules. Are you sure you want this?”

  “I’m sure.” The ache between my legs is unbearable and I wrap them around his waist, holding on tight. “I’m sure, Asher. Please. Please. I need this from you. I’ve been alone.”

  The word alone sends him into motion again, yanking down the front of my dress and my strapless bra along with it. His mouth connects with my nipple and his tongue swirls around it and I am going to explode. I am actually going to explode, right here against the doorway, and leave nothing but a puff of smoke behind.

  He works his way to the other breast and I brace myself against the door, arching toward him. Bed. We should get to the bed. But then Asher kisses me, so hard and possessive that it hurts, and I never want to leave this space again in my life. Keep me up against this door. I bite at his bottom lip and he responds by pushing back into my mouth, dominant and strong.

  “If I was a better man, I’d take more time,” he growls.

  “Don’t.”

  He shoves the skirt of my dress up to my waist. I feel the moment when he discovers that I’m not wearing any panties.

  His hand hesitates for a split second, and then it dives between us, working frantically at his belt buckle. He’s deft, and his pants fall to the floor along with his boxers in a matter of seconds.

  He’s also huge.

  I hold on for dear life while Asher lines himself up with my opening. I’m wet, soaking with want and need and sadness and relief.

  Then his hands are on my hips, impaling me on his cock, and my body is a firework at its peak, shattering into the blackness of the night sky.

  He fills me, and I am nothing but his skin on mine, his mouth on mine, his eyes drinking me in at every available second. Asher thrusts hard, not holding anything back, and my body rocks against the door in a steady rhythm. Someone outside could hear that we were fucking. They could hear the little noises that escape from the back of my throat. I moan louder. Let them hear. Let them all hear. I’ve waited long enough for this. I’ve waited so long. No man has ever…no man has ever…

  Except Asher.

  The friction against the door musses my hair, I can feel it, and I have never felt so beautiful or so wanted before in my life. Asher’s fingers dig into my thighs as he works me over him.

  His release comes hard, pressing the air out of my lungs against the door.

  Then my feet are on the ground.

  Then he’s turning me.

  “Hands here.” He presses my palms against the door. “Spread your legs.”

  God, I do.

  He pins my hip with one hand and slips the other between my legs, working my clit, stroking my opening, covering his fingers with a mix of our juices. My hips buck against his touch. “Yes,” he growls into my ear. “Come for me. Come on my hand, you filthy thing…”

  Filthy thing turns me from a single firework into a f
ireworks show. I’m the Fourth of July. Asher’s hand leaves my hip to catch my cry in his palm.

  When it’s over, he holds me close against his chest, bundling me up against him.

  “Asher,” I whisper. “I’m sorry we broke the rules. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Shh.” He kisses the side of my neck. “I’m not sorry. Not in the least.”

  11

  Asher

  For a few moments, as I swim back up into consciousness from a sleep so deep I feel like I’ve been at the bottom of Ruby Bay, I think I’m back in Montana.

  The sheets remind me of the Marriott, with that particular hotel clean, and I bury my face into the pillow. I’m used to hotels. I live in hotels. I’ve been living in hotels for days and weeks and years, and a hotel room is always a clean slate. Thank god, everything is a clean slate.

  But then I open my eyes.

  It’s not the Marriott after all. It’s Bliss.

  I close them again and stretch out my legs under the covers. At least the bed feels like somewhere I belong, only…

  There’s someone else in it.

  Everly.

  Her breathing is slow and steady, and it comes back to me in a cascade of images—fucking her up against the hotel room door, so desperate to be inside of her that I couldn’t take her to the bed like a gentleman. Fucking her on the bed, only to discover that I didn’t feel more gentlemanly when she was spread out on the coverlet, begging me for more. I only felt gentlemanly when I pulled up the covers over her naked body after she fell asleep.

  My cock jolts to life.

  Her naked body is still under those covers next to me, as far as I know. She could have gotten up in the night and put her dress back on, I suppose, but who in their right mind would do that?