by Erika Wilde
After a round of goodbyes, Dylan waited for Serena to say something to her date, but instead she started to walk away with him. The last thing Dylan wanted to do was interfere, but the thought of something happening to her as a result of Ashton’s reckless behavior had him stepping forward, intending to stop them, just as Serena did the same.
He waited and watched as Serena withdrew her hand from Ashton’s, and her date gave her a quizzical look.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She swallowed nervously. “I think I should drive you home tonight.” Her voice was low in an attempt to keep things private between them, but Dylan was close enough to hear . . . and see the stiffening of Ashton’s body.
“Is there a reason why?” Now his tone was defensive and just on the edge of being belligerent. As if he knew exactly where this conversation was heading and was preparing himself for a fight.
“Because I think it’s the smart thing to do considering how much you’ve had to drink,” she said quietly but kindly.
He scoffed at her. “I’m fine, and I don’t appreciate you being the alcohol police and telling me how much is too much for me to drink. I’m a grown man, for crying out loud.”
Serena’s chin tipped up in that stubborn way of hers, and she held out her hand toward him. “Give me your keys, Ashton. Please.” Her voice was calm but firm, making Dylan proud that she was standing her ground.
Ashton smacked her hand away. “I’m not giving you my goddamn keys,” he said, the hostile tone to his voice drawing curious stares from departing guests. “And you’re embarrassing the shit out of me right now. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her toward the backyard gate, causing her to falter in her high-heel shoes.
A red haze of barely leashed anger flashed in front of Dylan. He wasn’t normally prone to violence, but he immediately bolted forward, his temper rising as he watched Serena struggle to break free from the other man’s grasp. There was no way in his lifetime that he was going to allow any guy to treat any woman, and especially his best girl, with such disrespect and aggression. Ever.
“Oh, fuck,” he heard Aiden mutter from somewhere behind him, but his brother’s concern was the least of Dylan’s worries.
Reaching Ashton, who’d turned into a flaming asshole, Dylan clamped a hand down on his shoulder, forcing the other man to a stop. “Let her go.” It wasn’t a request, but a demand.
Ashton spun around, shrugging off Dylan’s hold and tightening his grip on Serena’s arm, to the point that she winced in clear discomfort. “Are you kidding me right now? I’m taking my date home.”
“Do I look like I’m joking, asshole? She’s not interested in going anywhere with you.” Dylan wrapped his fist in the other man’s shirt and pushed him back, just hard enough that Ashton stumbled and finally released Serena, enabling him to regain his balance before he fell flat on his ass.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Ashton said, loudly and furiously, as he suddenly came at Dylan. Although he hadn’t shown signs of being intoxicated earlier, his coordination wasn’t at its best now, and Ashton’s arm swung out awkwardly, yet his fist managed to clip Dylan in the jaw.
Dylan heard Serena scream his name, but with the first punch thrown, all bets were off, and Dylan hurled toward Ashton to return the shot, only to be brought up short by someone grabbing the back of his suit jacket.
“I don’t think Leo would be happy to hear that his brother was in a brawl at his wedding reception,” Aiden said, the big-brother voice of reason. Then, he glanced at Ashton, his tone far more direct and unyielding. “As for you, I suggest you leave the premises, or I’ll be more than happy to make a call to the police and have them escort you out. It’s your choice.”
Ashton glared at Dylan before shifting his gaze to Serena and issuing one last nasty barb. “You’re not worth the trouble.” Then he stalked toward the gate leading to the front of the house and his car.
“Neither are you, pencil dick,” Dylan called after him, which earned him a flip of the bird and a big ’ol fuck you from the other man.
Aiden shook his head. “Jesus, Dylan, how old are you?”
Dylan smirked at his brother, despite the slight ache in his jaw. “At the moment, fifteen.”
“No shit,” Aiden said with a laugh, then went to rejoin his wife, who’d moved herself and a sleeping Isabella far away from rest of the group, just in case a fight broke out.
“Oh my God, Dylan, are you okay?” Serena rushed up to him, concern knitting her brows as she touched her fingers to his jaw, where he’d taken one for the team.
Her fingers were soft and cool as they caressed the spot, and he had to admit that he liked her fussing over him way too much. “I’m good,” he assured her with one of his charming, dimpled grins. “Though I might need you to kiss it and make it better,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes at him. “How about I take you home and put some ice on it instead.”
“Okay, but I kind of like my suggestion better,” he joked, then settled his arm along her shoulders and tucked her against his side, knowing exactly how the night was going to end.
With Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and Hallmark movies.
4
By the time Serena finished watching a sappy, romantic, albeit predictable movie with Dylan a few hours later, while listening to his funny commentary on what was going to happen between the characters before it happened, which admittedly made her laugh, she actually felt marginally better about the less-than-ideal way her evening with Ashton had ended.
But now here she was again, back to square one on the dating scene, which she was beginning to loathe, she thought with a sigh.
“You okay?” Dylan asked, turning down the volume on the TV.
She glanced at him and smiled, grateful that he was always there for her, that he was a man who wouldn’t, and didn’t, hesitate to step into a potentially volatile situation and be her knight in shining armor and defend her honor—even if he’d never return her deeper feelings for him.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I always am, though I’m seriously thinking of hiring a private investigator to vet my future dates,” she said, only half joking.
He laughed. “I’ve been thinking and I have an idea. Maybe you just need a palate cleanser before starting the dating process again.”
She raised her brows, trying to follow his idea. “Kind of like indulging in a mint sorbet in between men to remove any lingering bad taste in my mouth so I can enjoy the next guy with a brand-new perspective?”
“Yeah, exactly like that,” he said with a nod.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
He shifted on the chaise part of the couch where he was reclining to better face her, causing the muscles in his arms and stomach to flex. When they’d both arrived at Dylan’s place, the first thing they’d done was change out of the dressy clothes they’d worn for the wedding. Like always, she’d picked one of his comfy T-shirts to slip into, and he’d returned to the living room in a pair of gray cotton shorts. The fact that his chest was bare made him temptation personified, and during the course of the movie, she’d casually looked her fill of his lean, toned abdomen and that trail of dark hair that provided an enticing path to parts of his body she’d only fantasized about. A lot.
“So, Eric and I are heading to Las Vegas next weekend,” he said, forcing her attention back to what he was saying. “Mainly, it’s because I have a meeting with the marketing manager at the Sapphire Casino and Hotel to finalize the contract on the app Stone Media is creating for them and their guests. It’s a quick, one-night, turnaround trip. We’re arriving Saturday morning around nine so I’m there for my one o’clock meeting, and we’re leaving Sunday afternoon. Why don’t you and Chelsea come with?”
A frivolous weekend away from the same old grind sounded fabulous. “Are you serious?”
He gave her a cute, lopsided smile and slid his index finger down the slope of her nose in a playful manner. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t s
erious, silly girl. You and Chelsea would have your own room for the night, and you can hang out at the pool or indulge in some retail therapy or do a spa day and just relax and rejuvenate while I’m taking care of business. Then, once I’m done with my appointment, it’s playtime in Sin City for the four of us. I’ve already been comped dinner tickets at Sapphire’s five-star restaurant, and we can check out the night club they just opened. Who knows, you just might find the man of your dreams there.”
She laughed at that. “Doubtful.” Because the man of her dreams was sitting right in front of her, oblivious to her feelings for him.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think it sounds great . . . as long as Chelsea and I won’t be cramping your and Eric’s style?” The last thing she wanted to be was a tagalong.
“Not at all,” he said, and she knew him well enough to know that he was being honest. “I think it’ll be fun. Just four friends hanging out, gambling, and maybe even being a little wild and crazy in a place where nobody knows us.”
It had been a long time since Serena had let her hair down, so to speak. In fact, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d just let loose, without analyzing the consequences. She’d always been the quintessential good girl compared to her sister, always responsible and focused, and never coloring outside the lines because she’d had her life laid out in front of her in a particular order. Graduate from high school. Move out on her own while attending college and getting her teaching degree. Establish her career . . . and get married so she could have babies and a family of her own.
Yeah, that last part wasn’t falling into place like she’d imagined, she thought with that too familiar frustration and disappointment. But for one weekend, before she continued her quest for Mr. Right, she just wanted to be a little carefree, spontaneous, and uninhibited and not be so straight-laced, and what better place to do that than Vegas?
“Okay, we’ll go,” she said, excited at all the possibilities that awaited her. And if she was lucky, Vegas was going to be the place she got her groove back.
Retail therapy had never been Serena’s thing, mostly because she couldn’t bring herself to spend money impulsively. She was too sensible and practical, and there were always those painful memories that lingered from childhood, of her mother buying things she couldn’t afford, but always worrying about paying for rent, the utilities, and food. There had been times when the latter had been sparse, and Serena had been fortunate that Dylan’s mom would insist on her eating dinner with the family, but it taught her to be smart with her finances, and that meant purchasing things at a discount, or when they were on sale. She rarely paid full price for anything.
Chelsea, however, didn’t have that same separation anxiety with money as she did, and every time her friend whipped out her credit card for a purchase in one of the upscale designer boutiques located in the forum shops in Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, Serena cringed and went into sticker shock at the total amount displayed on the register.
They’d only been in Vegas for a few hours, but as soon as their plane had touched down, Chelsea had dragged her off to shop for a few hours, while Dylan and Eric had gone to the Sapphire Casino and Hotel to check in, and for Dylan’s meeting with the marketing manager. They’d promised to all meet up at five for dinner, then on to the nightclub for an evening of cocktails and dancing. Which left Serena and Chelsea a good six hours to fill.
“Aren’t you going to try on anything at all?” Chelsea asked, her hands already ladened with shopping bags.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Serena asked, raising a brow at her friend as they strolled past Tiffany’s, then the storefront for Dior. “Do you not know me at all?”
“Yes, I know your spending habits, or lack thereof,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against Serena’s. “But here’s a concept for you. Live a little, and for the weekend, stop taking everything so seriously. Just because you try on an outfit doesn’t mean you have to buy it. But we’re in Vegas, and when will you ever get the chance to wear a hot, slinky, one-of-a-kind gorgeous dress like that? Just for fun?”
Serena followed the direction of Chelsea’s pointing finger to a mannequin in a window display that was wearing a stunning body-hugging dress that was definitely nightclub appropriate. “It’s gorgeous,” she murmured.
Chelsea grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the store before Serena could protest. “Come on, you’re trying it on. Just for fun, and because Vegas is all about having fun and being daring, right?”
“Right,” a young, modelesque saleswoman replied with a grin before Serena could utter a word. “You only live once, so embrace the spontaneity.”
Serena refrained from rolling her eyes, knowing that the girl was angling for a sale and doing her best to convince her and Chelsea to indulge. Which wasn’t going to happen.
“Exactly!” Chelsea said, as if she and the other woman shared a brain and thought the same way. “My friend would like to try on that sparkly beige dress in the window.”
Serena shook her head. “I really shouldn't.”
“Oh, you definitely should,” the saleslady refuted as she walked over to a rack holding various sizes of the same outfit. “Because that dress was made for a body like yours.”
Before Serena could put up an argument, she was being ushered into a large changing room, along with the dress and a matching pair of designer shoes because Chelsea wanted to see how everything looked together—for fun, she insisted once again.
Serena sort of felt bad that she was taking up the saleswoman’s time when it wasn’t going to result in a sale. But as she put on the luxurious but overpriced dress, which slid over her body like it had been made specifically for her curves, and secured her feet into the surprisingly comfortable black strappy heels, then looked at her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit that she was stunned by how hot and sexy she looked.
From breasts to thighs, the material molded to her body in a way no other dress in her closet ever had. The bodice was cut into a deep vee in front that showed off her cleavage, and the top was held up by spaghetti straps that crisscrossed along her bare back so that she couldn’t wear a bra. With every move she made, the tiny champagne-colored sequins shimmered seductively, and the heels accentuated her long, toned legs. She felt like a million bucks, which was probably the equivalent of the shoes and dress put together.
“Hurry up, already,” Chelsea called out impatiently from the waiting room. “I want to see!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
Serena walked out of the changing room into the sitting area, and Chelsea gasped when she saw her.
“Wow.” Her friend’s eyes widened with shock. “You look . . . just . . . wow.”
A laughed escaped Serena. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless before.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in something so provocative before,” Chelsea bantered back as her gaze took in the entire outfit. “Now that is a Vegas dress, as well as an I’m-looking-to-get-laid dress.”
“Oh, definitely,” the saleslady agreed with an eager-to-make-a-sale nod. “You look so hot.”
The last thing Serena was searching for on this trip was to have a one-night stand with a stranger, which wasn’t her style, anyway. And it didn’t matter what the dress and shoes conveyed, because she’d only tried them on for fun. But as she looked at herself one more time in the full-length mirror in the waiting area, she couldn’t help but wish she could wear the outfit tonight, because she was curious if it would illicit any kind of reaction from Dylan.
Probably not, she thought with a disappointed sigh, because when Dylan looked at her, he only saw one thing. His best friend. And not the woman who was hopelessly, stupidly in love with him.
She returned to the changing room and removed the dress and shoes, and when the saleslady knocked on her door and requested the items, Serena slipped them through the crack in door, figuring the other woman wanted to get them back out o
n display. She finished putting on her plain, practical T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sandals and met Chelsea out front.
“Ready to go?” her friend asked.
“Yep.” Serena turned to the woman who’d been so patient with them and gave her a small wave. “Thank you for your time.”
“Sure thing,” the saleswoman said cheerfully. “Enjoy your dress and shoes.”
Wait . . . what? Just outside the store, Serena came to an abrupt halt as the other woman’s words sank in. Then she glanced down and saw a new bag added to the others that Chelsea had been holding prior to them entering the shop.
Her jaw nearly dropped to the ground. “Oh my God, tell me you did not just buy that outfit!”
Chelsea blinked at her much too innocently. “Of course I didn’t . . . Dylan did.”
“Dylan?” Serena glanced around, expecting to see her best guy friend lurking nearby, but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, this was about the time he was supposed to be getting ready for his important business meeting. “He’s not even here. How is that possible?”
Now, Chelsea looked a little impish. “He gave me his credit card after we landed at the airport, when you were in the restroom, and told me to make sure you bought yourself something fun and Vegas appropriate to wear tonight. I think we accomplished that task, don’t you?”
“I don’t think Dylan was anticipating spending what those two items cost.” She ran her fingers through her hair, her stomach cramping at how much Chelsea had just spent. “It’s ridiculous and I need to take them back.”
“You will do no such thing.” Chelsea walked to a nearby bench and sat on one side while unburdening her hands of all the shopping bags she was hauling around. “Sit down.”
Serena frowned at her friend but settled in for their disagreement. Before she could say anything, Chelsea spoke.
“Look, Dylan said you’d be stubborn about it, so no big shock there. And I figured making the purchase on the sly was the easiest way to achieve the goal without having an argument between us in the store in front of people. He wanted to do this for you, and he said if it made you feel any better, you could consider it your birthday present.”