****
By Thursday, Trisha was tired. Tired of Clarissa’s bullshit antics and blatant flirting, brushing up against Brett whenever possible, positioning herself with him when they broke into groups for outings. Her insides would twist into a tight knot and a foreign anger heated her blood at the sight of the blonde making a play for her man.
Fake engagement or not, Brett was her man. At least while she was at Royal Pines. She was sleeping with him. She panted his name while his mouth did delicious things to her body, and it was her name he ground out when he was buried deep inside her.
Until she left for college, Brett was hers, and she was his…end of story.
It was tough watching the poor guy try to be diplomatic when she knew he wanted to send the woman packing. She was tired of watching him endure that crap. Tired of watching him be nice to avoid a law suit.
She was just plain tired.
What happened to the vibrant, happy girl she used to see in the mirror? She was growing out of touch with that Trisha. Why?
Yawning, she contemplated the questions as she carried her lunch tray toward Brett’s table in the chow hall, intending to sit in the spot he’d saved for her when Ms. Pushingmybuttons beat Trisha to it.
She stopped dead, fighting that rising anger so quick to make an appearance these days. The stalker wasn’t helping, not when she brushed his arm with her boobs, leaning into him to whisper something naughty no doubt, while her hand did who knows what under the table.
Judging by the tight jaw and pulse bunching in Brett’s neck, he knew and wasn’t happy.
That’s it. Her spine stiffened.
She was done. All bets were off.
Marching right to him, Trisha thrust her arm between the store-bought boobs and Brett’s biceps, pushed the woman’s tray to the right, and set hers down. “Excuse me,” she said, wedging her way in, not caring there wasn’t much room on the bench for a flea, let alone her rear. But she shoved in anyway.
“Don’t bother. There’s no room here. Let’s move,” Brett said, standing up, holding his hand out to her. “We can sit with Finn and Cammie.”
Smiling, she held his hand as she stepped over the bench seat, hip-checking the chick again. “Sounds good.” She grabbed her lunch and followed her man to Cammie’s table without looking back.
“Nice use of your hip, Marine.”
She sat across from her friend, set her tray on the table, then fist-bumped her fellow marine with a “Oorah,” uncaring that Clarissa could see them. She was done treating the chick like royalty.
Finn grinned. “It was great. Clarissa almost wore her lunch.”
Brett turned to her and grabbed her hand, no grin or smile visible on his face. “I’m sorry, Trisha. That spot was for you.”
“I know.” She patted his hand. “You can’t help it if you’re irresistible.”
His brother snorted. “If that’s what you are, then I’m glad I’m not. That lady has been nothing but trouble for years.”
“That’s what I don’t get,” Trisha said, digging into her open-faced, turkey sandwich. “I know her dad and yours were friends, but really, why do you put up with her?”
Brett sighed. “Her father is also a senator. We don’t need the bad press, and believe me, she’d do it, too.”
Trisha’s stomach churned. He was right. The spoiled brat would twist words and events to suit her own needs. It made her sick.
Now she understood. His hands were tied. He was part owner of a business that relied on word of mouth. The Brennans couldn’t afford the bad press, as he’d said. Still. Trisha couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. She met her friend’s gaze across the table. Cammie’s brown eyes were dark and narrowed, and her mouth tight. Yeah, the woman was pissed. It was a good thing Clarissa didn’t have her sights set on Finn.
But they were set on Brett. Her knotted stomach churned as heat seeped into every pore.
“It’s not right. It has to stop.” She shoved her tray away and stood. “I need some air. Excuse me.”
There had to be something she could do to rectify the mess. He was not only her friend and lover, Brett was also her former captain, the man who had always had her back, and he needed help, and dammit, she wasn’t going to sit back and allow the woman to continue to harass him year after year.
She shoved the door open to the bathroom, happy to find it empty. Good, she wasn’t in the mood to be pleasant. She needed a few moments. Splashing cold water on her face, she inhaled, then exhaled slowly, releasing some of her tension and unwanted anger. The woman wasn’t worth it.
“Just the bitch I wanted to see.” Clarissa’s snotty voice bounced off the wooden walls a second before the click of the door locking echoed between them.
Chapter Twelve
“Uh, bro…your stalker just followed your girlfriend into the bathroom.”
Brett stiffened, having witnessed Clarissa rushing across the room to disappear through the same door as Trisha.
Ah, hell.
His gut tightened for both women for different reasons. He started to rise when a soft but firm hand clamped around his wrist and yanked him back down.
“Don’t,” Cammie said. “Clarissa just made a huge mistake. Trisha can handle this.”
He expelled a breath and nodded. “I know. I’m more worried about Clarissa. We don’t need a lawsuit.”
“Trisha was your morale officer,” Finn reminded. “That makes her the most diplomatic of all your marines.”
He bounced his gaze between his brother and his best friend, both wearing identical, hopeful expressions.
They didn’t get it.
“Yes,” he replied. “But she hasn’t been so chipper lately. I’m worried she may snap.”
Please, God, don’t let Trisha snap.
“Is she that bad?” Cammie asked, concern darkening her gaze. “She’s seemed a little withdrawn lately, but…well…I kind of thought it was because of you.”
“Me?” He reeled back, his stomach bunching further. “Why? Did she say something?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I just meant because you both have feelings for each other.”
“And you’re sleeping together,” Finn added.
Brett groaned. “Yes. Thanks for constantly pointing that out.”
A shit-eating grin consumed his brother’s ugly face. “You’re welcome. Just doing my brotherly duty, you know, payback and all.”
Christ, was Finn ever going to let that drop?
“I’d say Brett has had enough payback, hun,” Cammie said, her gaze bouncing between him and his dumbass brother. “He’s suffered enough.”
Finn shook his head. “No. Hell, no. He’s suffered enough for what he put me through but not you.” A grimace rippled across his twin’s face, giving Brett a glimpse of the formidable SEAL. “He made you wear a bow, Cammie. A damn bow! As if you were a piece of property. That isn’t right or forgivable. Not by a long shot.”
Brett’s concern over the women in the bathroom was momentarily forgotten. “Jesus, Cammie. That was never my intention,” he said, reaching across the table to grab her hand. “It was just a joke on Finn, and okay, maybe a drastic one by telling my mom you two were engaged, but I swear, I never meant to degrade you in any way.”
She smiled and opened her mouth, but his brother cut in. Again.
“Well, you did, bro. You took it too far. Disrespecting Cammie was unacceptable.”
He held Finn’s angry gaze. “You’re right. It was unacceptable and also not my intention,” he repeated, transferring his attention back to his friend as he squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Cammie. Please forgive my stupidity.”
“It’s okay.” While smiling at him, she reached next to her and placed a finger on Finn’s opening mouth to keep him quiet. “You forget I know you. Very well, Brett. So, I knew the bow and working on the ranch was all to get a rise out of your stubborn brother. I was not, however, happy with having to lie to your mother.”
; He nodded. Cammie always believed in being straightforward.
“But since she cleared that up, and you’ve just apologized, I’d say we are all even.”
“Hell no, we’re not.” The former SEAL pulled his fiancée’s finger away and shook his head. “An apology is not enough for what he did to you.”
“Yes, it is, Finn.” She tugged free to cup the angry man’s face. “It’s enough because of what I’ve gained from wearing that bow. Working on this ranch. Pretending to be your fiancée.”
In an instant, Finn’s gaze softened, and the tightness disappeared from his shoulders. Yeah, his brother was putty in the lieutenant’s hands.
Warmth widened her smile. “I gained you, Finn. I’m marrying the man I love next weekend. Believe me, I can forgive Brett for a hell of a lot more, considering what I’ve gained.” Then she kissed the mesmerized guy stupid, if the dopey look tugging Finn’s face was any indication when she drew back. “So, no more cowboy payback, you hear me? We’re good.”
“No—”
Her finger returned to the stubborn SEAL’s mouth.
“But—”
Finger still in place, head cocked, gaze narrowed, she stared at the idiot. “Finn?”
“Okay.” His brother sighed. “No more payback.”
Smile twitching her lips, she brushed them across her fiancé’s cheek. “Thank you.”
Hot damn…it’s a miracle. Finn backed down from an argument.
If he wasn’t so concerned about Trisha and Clarissa clashing in the bathroom, he probably would’ve ribbed the shit out of his brother.
But he was concerned about Trisha. His attention returned to the bathroom door. Still closed.
They’d been in there too long.
Unease rippled down his spine. He clenched his teeth and stood. “I need to check on Trisha.”
Two steps later, the bathroom door opened, and a pale Clarissa emerged, heading straight for him.
Ah, hell.
He braced himself for a scene in the middle of the busy chow hall, aware of Finn and Cammie standing behind him, and Trisha exiting the bathroom, her chin lifting when she spotted him.
He ran his gaze over her, noting she wasn’t bleeding, no bruising on her knuckles, no tightness claiming her features. Thank God. She didn’t appear angry. He expelled a breath just as his least-favorite guest stopped in front of him.
“Sorry to be such a nuisance, Brett. It won’t happen again,” Clarissa said, face turning a deep shade of pink. “Something’s come up. I have to leave.” Then she turned and walked straight out of the room, only slowing slightly as she passed Trisha on the way out.
“Holy shit,” his brother muttered behind him.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, still blinking at the empty doorway.
Cammie’s hand cupped his shoulder. “See? I told you Trisha would handle it.”
His fake fiancée approached, gorgeous blue gaze open and direct. “Sorry I was so long. Clarissa had a complaint, and well, it’s my job to listen to them.”
“What happened?” Finn asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded, stepping closer. “What did you do?”
Trisha shrugged. “She tried to play who has the baddest daddy…and lost.”
“Not smart. Then what happened? Give us details,” Cammie prompted.
“She spouted stuff like her daddy was a big senator, and she could get this place shut down if I didn’t stop coming between her and Brett.”
“What did you do?”
“I laughed.”
“Oh my God, I wish I was in there.”
“Me, too.”
“Me three.”
Brett leaned closer. “Then what happened?”
“I told her I was a marine and didn’t respond to threats. She said I’d better respond to hers because she wasn’t fooling around. That’s when I explained, nicely of course, exactly what my daddy did for a living.”
“Oh my God, I wish I was in there.”
“Me, too.”
“Me three.”
A smug smile tugged Trisha’s lips. “So I told her he prosecuted criminals and explained what she’d been doing to Brett was a criminal offense. One that I was pretty sure her daddy wouldn’t like leaked to the press, especially with reelections around the corner. Then I informed her my father was good friends with her father’s opponent, and I had the man on speed dial. That’s when I took out my phone and asked her if I should call and tell him what she’d been doing here the past few years.”
Cammie and Finn both chuckled.
“Funny. She seemed to have something come up all of a sudden because she said she was leaving. So I said, okay, but find Brett first and apologize for degrading him. Treating him like a material object.”
“Yeah, it’s not nice, is it, bro?” Finn nudged him.
“No, and I’ve apologized, and now, I need to talk with Trisha. In private.”
He grabbed her hand, led her out of the dining hall, and passed Mrs. Laramie at reception where, holy shit…Clarissa was paying her bill. Barely able to wrap his brain around that fact, he continued down the hall to his office, then shut the door.
Once inside, she broke free and began to pace. “I know. I know. You’re mad. You wanted me to put up with her bullshit. But I couldn’t, Brett, and I’m not going to apologize.”
“Apologize? Are you kidding me?” He grasped her shoulders to stop her pacing and blinked at her. “I don’t want an apology. I want to thank you. That’s why we’re in here.”
“Oh…I th—”
Unable to fight the need robbing him of thought, he thrust his hands in her hair and brought his lips down on hers, capturing her words in a hot, hungry kiss he could no longer hold back. His desire for the clever beauty consumed and grew. The more she’d revealed to the three of them, the deeper his craving, until all he could think of was the need to be alone with the incredible woman.
“Why didn’t you say so?” she asked, drawing back slightly, then with a sexy little sigh, she slid her hands up around his neck and melted those blessed curves against him.
God, yeah. That’s what he wanted. Needed. Had to have. He answered by tipping her head to deepen the kiss, his body heating at the feel of her tongue sliding against his, ripping a sound from deep in his throat.
She made a low, purring noise and tried to climb up his body. Hot damn, he loved when she climbed. Groaning into her mouth, he stroked up her ribs and caressed the soft skin under her breasts.
Another sexy, little moan hit his ears a second before she rocked against him, testing his control. He was out. Empty. Done. He wanted to take her then and there. Wanted to slip into her soft heat more than anything in his life.
Trembling against him, she drew back and sucked in some air. “I like the way you thank.”
He smiled between breaths. “That was just a prelude. Trust me, I’m a hell of a lot more grateful than that,” he stated, reaching for the hem of her Royal Pines polo.
She stilled. “The door—”
“Is locked,” he assured, having done so when they’d first arrived and his mind was still coherent.
“But the guests…we have to take them—”
“Fishing. I know. The trout can wait,” he assured. “Now, where were we?” Lifting the top over her head, he bared her mouthwatering curves stuffed into a black lace bra.
“I believe you were about to thank me,” she replied, hopping up onto his desk, breasts rippling, doing their damnedest to make him swallow his tongue.
But he needed his tongue. Had plans for his tongue and the rest of her sweet body.
He yanked his shirt off and stepped between her legs. “Oh, hell yeah, I’m gonna thank you,” he muttered, dipping to drag his mouth down her throat, tasting the pulse beating at the base of her neck while he reached behind her to sweep papers and folders onto the floor. “I’ve got a lot of gratitude to give you.”
****
The morning of Cammie and Finn’s wedding arrived with
bittersweet emotions for Trisha. Her dear friend was marrying a good man, and heaven knew the couple deserved to be happy. And she was happy for them, but sad, because it meant her time at Royal Pines had whittled down to one week. Less than a week, really. She had to leave Wednesday to drive back to Texas to pick up her stuff and move into her apartment before orientation on Friday.
The invisible bands squeezing her chest tightened with brutal force. Her engagement might be fake, but the man, and the feelings he garnered, were very real. For the past five weeks, she’d spent day and night with Brett, discovering new things about each other, some good, some bad, but one thing was clear, together they were great. It was going to be tough to give up the daily great.
But today was not the day to dwell on the bitter, just the sweet. She, Cammie, Finn, and Brett had the day off. The rest of the guides would take care of the Saturday morning roundup and see this week’s guests off, leaving her to get ready for the wedding and spend time with her brother.
She greeted her handsome, dark-haired, green-eyed sibling in the lobby with a hug. “Good morning, Liam.”
Even though he’d arrived yesterday, she hadn’t seen him much before Brett and Finn had whisked him away to discuss future plans for the ranch, and she and Cammie had a rappelling adventure to guide. By the time they returned and cleaned up, there had only been minutes to spare before both bachelor and bachelorette parties began.
“Morning, kiddo. You’re looking a little tired,” he said, grasping her upper arms as he drew back to stare down into her face. “Rough party?”
She laughed as they hooked elbows and proceeded to the dining hall. “No, great food, sexy actors on screen, chocolate martinis, it was all good. How about you?” she asked, noting with a tightening in her stomach that the trademark devilish gleam was absent from his green gaze. They sat at an empty table. “You’re looking a little tired, too. Was your night rough?”
“No.” He smirked. “Considering it was a bunch of SEALs and marines eating pizza, drinking beer, and shooting pool without a fight breaking out, I’d say it was definitely not rough.”
She laughed. “True. More like a miracle.”
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