“No!” She shuffled her feet. “Yes.”
It was entertaining to watch a woman get caught in her own lies. “Trina suggested her wedding?”
“Not going to happen, Liam. I don’t know you well enough. It’s Trina’s day. Nope, nope, and nope.”
He put one foot in his truck. “Whatever you say, Princess. You figure it out and I’ll be there.”
She tossed her hands in the air and turned back toward the stairs.
“Avery?” He called her attention back as he climbed into his truck.
“What?” She was flustered.
He liked her that way.
“You’re beautiful.”
She opened her mouth like a guppy gasping for air, twice, and then jogged up to the house.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m not bringing him!” Avery exclaimed.
“I don’t see what the big deal is. Any man in your life is going to have to meet us eventually.” Trina sat in the back of the limousine, wearing a white cowgirl hat, white boots, white skirt . . . white everything. They were starting their night with a decent meal, and then on to the strip club, the dance hall, and whatever bad decisions they could find before the night was over.
“He isn’t the man in my life. We’ve already gone over this.”
“You were on the phone with him before we left the ranch,” Lori pointed out.
“I was talking about work. He’s helping me with a project.” Thursday didn’t pan out, so she had to call him.
Lori, Shannon, and Trina all exchanged glances.
“You guys are hopeless,” Avery told them.
“I think Trina’s wedding is the perfect place to flesh out a new man,” Shannon told her. “Think about it. Men and weddings . . . they are either into the idea or completely turned off by them. By the end of the weekend you’ll know if he is even marriage material.”
“I don’t want to get married,” Avery reminded them. Not that her friends were listening.
“Not to mention that your status in life is going to be an issue,” Lori offered.
“My status?”
“Your wealth. The lifestyle you like to live. I don’t have to tell any of you how a woman having her own money emasculates many egotistical, chauvinistic men.”
Shannon nodded. “Even if the guy isn’t a chauvinist, they still have a hard time dealing.”
Avery thought about their one meal out and how Liam refused to let her pay for her half of the meal. It was strangely satisfying to have him take the check. Outside of getting men to buy her drinks in bars, where she looked like just another girl in a miniskirt instead of a woman who drove up in a quarter-of-a-million-dollar car and returned to her two-million-dollar condo, Avery always found herself pulling out her wallet.
“The decision is up to you,” Trina told her. “But I think it would cut a lot of BS if he could handle a weekend wedding with all of us around. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time.”
“Thank you for your endorsement and parental guidance, now can we get on with the party?” Avery leaned over and turned on the stereo, filling the limo with music that had them singing along. Lori opened the champagne, and by the time they reached their first stop, they were laughing and out of breath.
“Hey, Michelle?” Liam captured his sister’s attention from the textbook she currently studied.
“Hey, what?”
“Have you ever been to a bachelorette party?”
“A couple. Why?”
He shrugged. How bad could they be? He thought of the hired strippers and the clubs he’d gone to in his years of playing partygoer when his friends bit the marital bullet. “Nothing.”
She lifted her gaze.
“Nothing, huh?”
“They can’t be as crazy as a bachelor party.”
Michelle smirked. “You go ahead and believe that if you want.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Does this have anything to do with Miss Avery?”
Cassandra had let the Avery cat out of the bag the morning after Liam had had his niece record the message.
“No.” He shook his head and then slowly started to nod.
“I think the party intensity has a direct coordination to the closeness of the friends that are going.”
“Explain, please.”
Michelle leaned back in her chair. “Well, if the bride has a handful of really close friends and, let’s say, a strip club is involved . . . well, those parties are often forever remembered and only talked about by those that were there.”
“What happens in Vegas?”
“Right. Now, if there is a large party, a dozen or more, things tend to be a little more politically correct. No one wants rumors to get started right before a wedding. Truth is the bride almost never does anything crazy . . . but the single girls, or those that have been married forever, those women tend to go nuts. Like a bachelorette party is a permission slip for impropriety. I bet the women have a better time than the guys do. Men get drunk and watch a woman dancing on a pole. Women get tipsy and pay for lap dances for their friends.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Sounds fun. I haven’t been out on a night like that in years.” Michelle drifted off in her own thoughts.
The images pixelating in Liam’s head started to come into focus. He could see Avery being the life of the party. He also envisioned her putting a guy in his place if he went too far.
Unless she wanted him to go far . . .
He had no hold on her. So why was he thinking about what she was doing and whom she was doing it with?
“Do you know where the party is?”
He shook his head. “Somewhere in Texas.”
“Texas?”
“Yeah, her friend lives in Texas.”
Michelle scooted her textbook closer. “I can’t help you with Texas. I would imagine there’ll be men dressed in boots and hats and little else.” She sighed. “I like that idea.”
Liam moaned.
Michelle kept her eyes on the pages in front of her while she spoke. “You know the best way to make sure a woman isn’t surfing for a date other than you?”
“What’s that?”
“Text her, call her . . . tell her to have a good time and that you’re thinking about her.”
“Sounds too easy.”
“If she’s at all thinking about you as much as you’re obviously thinking of her, and you reach out . . . chances are she’ll avoid the private lap dances.”
“Private?”
“Yeah, the kind where they ask if you want to go to a private room.”
Liam stopped smiling. “They do that?”
Michelle looked up long enough to roll her eyes. “Where have you been?”
Liam reached for the phone in his back pocket and stepped out into the backyard.
Currently onstage, the Cowboy Connection was living up to his name. Avery had to appreciate a man wearing chaps with a thong underneath.
“That man can move,” Andrea, one of Trina’s aunts-in-law from her first marriage, was well on her way to being sloshed. She and her sister, Diane, were screaming the loudest and tipping the most. It was hysterical to watch. For once Avery wasn’t kicking back drink after drink. While she wouldn’t currently get behind the wheel of a car, she wasn’t drunk. Even Shannon seemed to be a few more ahead of her than normal.
Their waiters, all wearing next to nothing, kept coming by their party to pour their drinks and flirt. Now that they’d been in the woman-filled room for an hour, and the crowd had grown considerably, the noise level was close to deafening. Avery decided it was time for some bride attention.
Once Mr. Cowboy finished his set and his chaps had found their way to the side of the stage, Avery flagged over their concierge. At that moment, two of the best dancers flanked Trina and took her to the stage.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes!”
Trina didn’t put up much of a fight. Blushing and more t
han a little tipsy, Trina sat center stage.
“Welcome Trina to the stage.”
Their party cheered the loudest.
“You’re looking a little nervous, darlin’.”
Trina couldn’t talk. She was too busy smiling.
“When is the big day?” Stud Number Two asked.
“Next Saturday,” she said into the microphone.
“That gives us plenty of time,” Stud Number One said.
The music started, and the men turned on like a switch had been thrown.
Like something out of Magic Mike, there was flesh, and push-ups . . . and taking Trina out of the chair and laying her on a bench. She would reach out when encouraged, and laughed with the fun of it all.
Somewhere in the middle of Trina’s wedding dance, Avery felt her phone buzz in her pocket.
Flushed and slightly embarrassed, Trina left the stage and dropped into her chair. “I’m going to make that up to you,” she told Avery.
“I look forward to it.”
“Where were you guys when I was getting married?” Andrea said.
“In elementary school?” Lori teased.
Avery moved back to the man in charge of their party and pulled out her wallet. With lap dances ordered for them, the married women offered weak protests and then gave in.
Lost in watching, Avery felt her phone buzz again.
She checked the number and smiled. “Hold on,” she told Liam after she picked up. Avery moved to a balcony, where some women congregated to smoke or just escape the noise for a few minutes. “Hey,” she said once she could hear him.
“Sounds like quite the party.”
“We’re having a night to remember.”
“Really? I’ve never been to a bachelorette party.”
“That’s because you’re not a stripper.” She peeked through the glass.
“I thought only men went to strip clubs.”
“You’d be wrong.”
“My sister corrected me.”
Avery smiled at the thought of him asking his sister about the shenanigans of women at a prewedding party.
“So why are you calling, Liam?”
“Uhm . . . well,” he stuttered. “To say I was . . .”
“Checking on me?” He was totally checking on her.
“Of course not.”
“I don’t believe you.” Avery leaned against the wall, her back to the door.
He paused. “I’m thinking about you.”
Avery fell silent, her heart skipped a beat. “You knew I was out with the girls.”
“Yeah. I won’t keep you. I was thinking about you and wanted to let you know.”
Did she tell him she had thought about him multiple times during the night? Like when one of the bigger strippers had managed a backflip on the stage while taking off his Velcro shorts. The image of Liam bending over backward had her grinning.
“There you are.” Trina’s voice penetrated Avery’s brain. In a few steps, she was beside Avery, hands on hips. “Who are you talking to?”
“I’ve got to go,” Avery told Liam.
“That’s him, is-isn’t it?” Trina slurred her last words.
When Avery didn’t comment, Trina reached for her phone.
Avery attempted to grab it back and gave up when Trina put the phone to her ear. “Is this Liam?”
Trina grinned like a kid. “Uh-huh . . .” She pulled the phone away from her ear. “He sounds cute.”
Avery tried to grab her phone again, failed. “What are we, thirteen?”
With her ear back to the phone, Trina went on. “I’m not drunk. Okay, maybe a little. Oh, don’t worry. My fiancé’s bodyguard is right outside.” She pulled the phone away from her face again. “He’s worried about me. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Give me the phone.” Avery placed her palm out.
Trina lifted a finger in the air. “You’re coming to the wedding, right?”
Avery’s jaw dropped.
“Well, consider yourself invited. I can’t wait to meet you.”
Avery mouthed the words I’m going to kill you.
“Oh, good,” Trina said. “Okay, I’m going to give the phone back to Avery and hide. Nice chatting with you.”
Avery yanked the phone from Trina’s hands.
“You’re welcome,” Trina said before disappearing behind the door and into the club.
“She’s drunk,” Avery told Liam.
“I like your friend.”
“Good thing I do, too, or I’d kill her.”
“Is there really a bodyguard there?”
Avery thought about Jeb. “Yes.”
“I feel better.”
“Because I can’t take care of myself?”
“Someone is jumping to conclusions again. No . . . I of all people know you can fend for yourself. But a gaggle of drinking females always gathers the attention of drinking males. And since I’m a couple of states away, it’s nice to know someone has your back.”
“Oh.” He really was sweet.
Someone knocked on the glass, jerking her attention back to the party.
Lori waved her back inside.
“I have to go. I’m in charge and need to order more lap dances.”
“Lap dances, huh?”
“Yes. Where almost naked men strut and women scream.”
“You’re torturing me.”
“I am? I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
Avery opened the door to the club, and the thump of the bass strangled their conversation.
“You’re right. I’m not. I’ll text you later and let you know if we need bail money.” She hung up.
“Avery! Get your blonde butt over here and say hi to my friend,” Lori yelled.
It was Avery’s turn for the dancing cowboy in a leather Speedo.
Chapter Fourteen
It took twenty-four hours to sober Trina up enough to send her off with her fiancé and for Avery to fly back to LA. Avery scrambled to cram a full work week into three days and agreed to meet with Liam for a sparring match during her Tuesday krav session. He’d checked in with her twice since the strip club: once after she’d sent him a text with the local sheriff’s department’s phone number as a hoax, saying he could find her there for the next seventy-two hours, and the other time after she’d gotten off her flight back into LA on Sunday night. Now she was racing from her condo to the studio, determined to be on time.
She was five minutes late.
“You’re making a habit of this, Grant,” Brenda snarled at the door.
Liam caught her attention with his smile.
Was it her, or had his shoulders grown in the week they’d not seen each other?
“How was your date?” Avery asked Brenda in an effort to change the subject.
“Your warm-up is on the board.”
Already dressed in spandex, Avery dropped her gym bag at the door and lifted her arms over her head to stretch as she walked farther into the room. “Hey.”
“Hey back. You look surprisingly vertical, considering the weekend.”
Avery glanced at the warm-up. Fifty burpees . . . again?
She sat on the mat, put her legs out in front of her, and reached for her toes. “I wasn’t the one who was toasted. That was Trina. And Lori, surprisingly.”
“Lori the lawyer?”
“Yup. She almost never lets loose that way.” Finished with her stretches, Avery stood to start her routine. “Are you finished with the burpees?”
“Haven’t started.”
“Waiting for me?”
He lowered his voice. “If I finished before you got here, I’d be forced to watch you do yours.” His eyes traveled the length of her. “That’s distracting.”
Heat traveled up her neck.
“Less talking. More doing!” Brenda yelled from her office.
Avery jumped in the air and then shot to the ground for a push-up. “I’m going to buy that woman a T-shirt that says that.”
> Liam followed her burpee lead.
An hour and a half later they were at Pug’s, settled in a back booth.
“I think your client would be an idiot not to remodel that house and get as much as he can for it.”
Liam had given her an estimate with a lot of zeros.
“That’s what I came up with. The real estate agent I spoke with is already encouraging the owner to fix the place up.”
“Does he have the capital to do the work?”
Avery thought the question was comical. “There’s enough wealth inside the house to renovate it three times over. If he didn’t have money in the bank, and I’m sure he does, he could wait for the auctions to close to fund the job. I don’t think it’s about money as much as it is painful memories in the house.”
“That’s too bad. It looks like it could have been a great place to grow up.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“You say that like you know the feeling.”
“I do. If something happened to my parents tomorrow, I’d hire someone like me to do the work and get rid of that house as soon as I could.”
“That bad?”
“I never measured up to my parents. I didn’t follow the rules as a teenager, bucked the private schools they shoved me into. The therapist they made me see said I was looking for their positive attention. Which as an adult I can completely agree with, but it didn’t work. Eventually all I seemed to do was hurt myself instead of them.”
Liam reached a hand out and covered hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I can’t imagine not having parents who adore their children and shower them with affection.”
“One lunch with my parents and you’ll know what that looks like.”
Liam ran the pad of his thumb over the inside of her palm. “I look forward to it.”
“That wasn’t an invitation.”
He rubbed a little harder. “Sounded like it to me.”
It was distracting . . . this thumb rubbing, hand-holding thing he was doing.
“I already told you I’m not the kind of woman you date.”
He stopped rubbing until she met his eyes.
“And why is that, Avery? Are you afraid the affection you seek won’t be reciprocated, like from your parents?”
Chasing Shadows (First Wives Book 3) Page 10