by Hall, S. E.
***
Whitley, much like myself, is a lightweight. And the brighter color the drink, the quicker she seems to suck ‘em down. With all our men off working on “Operation Whitley,” we have Tate behind the bar, his eyes boring holes in us, and Brock breathing down our necks. But other than that, Whitley, Bennett, Avery, Kirby and I are on the loose…and it’s not pretty.
Fun as hell. Hilarious. But not pretty.
“Let’s dance!” Kirby pretends to ask us, slinking away, going trolling before anyone can ever answer.
I can’t put my finger on it yet, but something has changed with our catcher and not in a good way. Avery follows after her, but I’m good right where I am, perched on my stool with my fruitalikey, aka I don’t know what’s it’s called but it’s good, in a glass.
“I’m gonna go kiss Tate,” Bennett slurs, heading for her bartender.
“Thanks for inviting me, Laney. I’m having a great time,” Whitley gushes, slurping her cup dry. “Excuse me just a minute, though,” she pulls out her phone, “I have to check on Tiny. I don’t know that Evan will keep a close enough eye on him.”
“Who’s Tiny?” I ask her.
“My pet pig. I rescued him from Parker’s,” she announces proudly while texting.
I spew my drink in shock. “Parker gave you a pig? And you’re keeping it in your house? In town?”
“Stole, gave, whatever.” She shrugs. “But yes to the rest.”
“Damn, Whitley.” I smile, fascinated really. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad we became friends. You’ve got Evan home babysitting your stolen pig. You go, girl!” I offer her the high five she has certainly earned.
“Thanks!” She turns her cup upside down, then back over, as if she just can’t fathom why it’s empty.
“Um, Whit, do you want another drink?”
“Yes, do you?”
“Sure. Brock?!” I yell, the large man appearing instantly. “We need another drink. Would you prefer I go to the bar and get it or do you want to do it for us?”
Saves a lot of arguing if I give him choices.
“Stay. I’ll get it.”
“Dane’s pretty protective of you, huh?” Whitley asks.
“Very,” I nod, “but I like it. It makes me feel important and safe. Just wait, Evan will be the same way with you. He’s a little sweeter about it, where Dane’s all caveman, but same theory.”
Brock sets our drinks in front of us. Added bonus of The K—we never wait for drinks. “Thanks, Brock,” we chorus, which he acknowledges with a grunt, then moves back to assume the façade that he’s giving me space.
“Ahhh!” Whitley presses her fingers into her forehead. “Brain freeze.”
Not that I have a reason now to keep from it, but I can’t help but like her. She’s like Bennett once you get to know her—just happy to be here. “So how’d you like Parker?” I ask. “How’d his mom seem?”
“Parker’s great and I love his fiancé, Hayden!”
Drink spewing again, this time accompanied with a fit of coughing. “Fiancé? Parker’s engaged?”
“Ohhhh, I thought you knew! Oh, Laney, I’m sorry. I know he’d want to tell you himself and I spoiled it for both of you.” She looks like she might actually cry.
And you know what endears me to her even further? Ten out of ten girls on the planet who are now involved with your ex, who know damn good and well that he still has more memories of you than them, would be insecure and spiteful, happy even that they just one-upped you by knowing a secret from “your” friends before you did. But Whitley? Nope, she’s sincerely worried about me and Parker.
“Whitley, relax,” I reach over and pat her hand, “I’m not upset at all. I’m just surprised. He’ll tell me and I’ll act shocked, okay?”
She nods, still looking unsure and apologetic.
“It’s fine, I swear. So tell me about Hayden; I only met her briefly. She’s nice?”
“She’s so nice, and pretty, and she loves Parker so much. I think you’ll really like her. She takes very good care of Parker and Angie and seems very down to Earth. She is definitely his gibbon!”
The girl has consumed her fair share of cocktails, and I know better, but I have to ask. “His what?”
“His gibbon,” she chirps (which I now think of affectionately as her signature sound and not as the parakeet of older days), “like Phoebe and the lobsters.”
Not surprisingly, as with most people on a drinking night…the more she talks, the less sense it makes. I roll my hand, enticing her to keep going. What can it hurt at this point?
“You know, the best Friends episode ever with Phoebe and her lobster thing?”
I have no idea, but nod and smile in the interest of time.
“Google says it’s scientifically incorrect, that lobsters don’t mate for life. Yes, I looked it up. But, it does give you a list of animals that do.”
The polite thing to do here is ask for the list, right? Right. And honestly, I want to see if her drunk butt can pull it off. “So what animals made that list?”
Her fingers are already up, ready to count them off, and she couldn’t be more pleased I asked.
“Lovebirds, gibbons, swans, black vultures—I know, but ugly things need love too—French angelfish, wolves, albatrosses,” she smiles at me, “don’t worry, I don’t know what they are either. Termites,” she shivers, “prairie voles, which I looked up and still don’t know what they are exactly, and turtledoves.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. That is a whole lotta information. How do you remember it?”
She shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the whole world that she has that list on standby. “I had to be on the lookout for my gibbon or my swan since National Geographic crushed me and said my lobster was never coming.”
If this girl was any more perfect for Evan Allen, I’d fall right off my barstool. The hopeless romantic meets Mr. Tenderheart.
I miss Dane, really bad.
Laney: You guys about done? Need you.
“Hey, Whit, I’m about toast, gonna head out soon,” I say, watching my phone like a hawk. “We should talk soon, though. Maybe we should throw Hayden a shower or something.”
Parker’s one of my oldest and dearest friends. Who he loves, I know I’ll love, and something tells me Whitley could write a textbook on throwing a wedding shower.
Dane: Are you okay? On my way.
Laney: Fine, just miss you.
Dane: Give me 15 minutes. I’ll make it up to you.
“That’d be wonderful! Oh my God, let’s do it!” she gushes. “Hayden will love it and I have some great ideas! Oh, Laney, thank you!”
“Idea away, chick. Parties are soooo not my thing, but I’ll help with everything else.” Let the record show she has been warned—Laney only offered her strengths. “Dane’s on his way, so I’m gonna go wait by the door. You staying or?”
“I’ll wait with you and call Evan.”
I catch Bennett’s eye as we make our way to the door and wave goodbye, then freeze in place, seeing red. Whitley, looking at her phone and unprepared, slams into my back with an “umpff.”
Seeing my demeanor, her eyes go wide. “What? What is it?”
Bennett caught it too and runs over, which actually means prances over as quick as she can on the toes of her killer heels. “Laney, what’s wrong?”
“Tell me I’m seeing things.” I point, feeling sick to my fucking stomach. Their eyes follow the end of my finger, searching, and two gasps echo each other when they find the object of my leer.
“What is she doing? Oh my God, Laney, what do we do?” Bennett’s on the verge of tears on the spot, hating the pain of others.
“Did they break up?” Whitley’s face is puzzled. “And doesn’t she feel a breeze? I mean, leave something for the imagination, please.”
“Baby,” warm breath on my nape instantly soothes me, “I’d know this ass anywhere.” I feel a hand squeezing the object of his recognition; I’d know his
voice, his touch, anywhere. Part of me may have known the second he walked in. Dane.
“Did the other guys come with you?” I ask past the lump in my throat, distractingly excited for a moment.
“Zach and Evan did. Sawyer had a hookup waiting, why? Oh, Whitley,” he says, “Evan asked me to send you out. He’s parked right in front of the door waiting,” he gets caught up in a chuckle, “he didn’t think he should leave Tiny alone in the truck lest he face your wrath.”
“Laney, do you want me to stay? What are we gonna do?” Whitley asks desperately.
“I don’t know yet, but you go ahead, Evan’s waiting. Have a good night, Whit. Dane, can you walk her out?” I hug her, knowing whatever Evan has in store for her will be amazing, even though my thoughts are clouded by the bitch across the room and her treachery.
Whitley breaks our hug with a bonus squeeze and whispered thanks. “No, Dane, stay. I’m fine, he’s right outside the door.”
“Night, Whitley,” Bennett offers sadly and Dane looks back and forth between us all, confused and unsure if he’s to stay or go with her.
“What just happened here? Laney,” he turns me to face him, staring hard into my eyes while his are deciding between angry and scared, “talk to me, now.”
I turn again, leaning back into his chest, needing the connection. I point again, and wait for it to click. “Fuckkk,” he mutters.
Kinda what I was thinking.
“What do we do?” I ask him, praying that like always, he’ll have the right answer.
“Are we sure it’s her? She is a twin.”
Oh, I didn’t think of that! A spark of hope blossoms in my chest.
Bennett’s already shaking her head back and forth. “Not unless they switched clothes in the bathroom for some reason. That’s what Avery wore tonight.”
“I’m not sure then, but I know what’s not going to happen,” he growls, closer to my ear, “you are not getting in her face or kicking her ass, ‘cause I know you’re dying to do just that. I say we stand here until Zach finds us and let him see for himself.”
“You can check that box,” Zach interrupts from behind us. “I see.”
We all flip around at the sound of his voice, collectively flinching at the despair etched across his face.
“Don’t listen to him, Zach, I will absolutely go kick her ass if you want me to.”
He chokes out a chuckle. “I love you for offering, but no more things flying at your face for a while, huh? Let’s just go. I’ve seen enough.”
Oh, we’ve all seen enough. She’s wearing red panties tonight, but I shouldn’t know that…nor should half this bar.
“You sure, man? I could have the dude thrown out,” Dane offers.
“Why would I have him thrown out? He doesn’t know I exist, and he’s not the one who owed me any loyalty. She is.”
“And we’re positive it’s her?” Dane tries again, looking at me and Bennett. “It could very well be Kirby.”
Zach just stands there, staring, so we let him. The second there’s a break in the music, he screams, “Avery!”
The blonde pressed against the back wall, skirt hiked indecently and sucking the skin off some dude’s neck, breaks and looks out of reflex.
“I’m positive,” Zach mumbles.
Dane and I wave to Bennett and follow him out. I give Zach the front seat and keep them talking about the work they did at Whitley’s the whole ride to drop him off. It sounds like a little wonderland what they’ve set up. Evan never ceases to amaze me with his grandiose acts of romance, but the desolate vibe in the car simply cannot be lifted.
I hug Zach when he exits, me climbing out to take the front seat, and whisper, “if you change your mind about the beat down, you just let me know. She fucking sucks and you’re amazing. I’d consider it a personal favor if you let me make her hurt too.”
“Love you, Laney.” He kisses the top of my head, shoulders slumped as he walks away.
“How drunk was she?” Dane asks me when I’m settled and buckled.
“I don’t know, they left the table to dance.” I push the button to let the top down on the Camaro, by far my favorite of his cars. Right now I’m just craving the rush, the escapism of the warm night air blowing through my hair. “How drunk did she need to be? I don’t think you can get drunk enough to cheat on your boyfriend, let alone be dry humped publicly.”
“Glad you feel that way, baby, and totally agree.” He takes my hand and kisses it. “Dumb question, forget I asked.”
“Let’s just drive for a while,” I suggest, my voice lazy, “I love this car.”
“I have something I want to show you; we’ll drive there. I wanted to show you in the daylight, but this works too.”
“K,” I sigh, not caring at all. He can drive me anywhere and I’m good with it. “We need to find someone to set Zach up with, soon. I don’t want him unhappy. You have any more hot girls like that Jenee that work for you? How about one of them?” If he thinks I missed the shift in his shoulders or the frown that flashed across his brow, he’s wrong. “What?”
“Nothing, yeah, I’ll think about it.”
Nothing my ass.
“Nice try, Dane. What?”
“Baby, nothing,” he replies, kissing my hand. “I love you and I love how you look out for your friends. I’ll tell Sawyer to work on it.”
“I knew it! You slept with her.” I knew the minute I met her, and yes, I used the line of conversation to my advantage to confirm the suspicion that’s been eating at me.
He doesn’t say anything. Why would he? He can’t deny it and he damn sure doesn’t want to affirm it, but he doesn’t have to.
“How long ago?”
“Before I knew you.”
“Well obviously,” I snarl, “how long before you knew me?”
“Laney, why are we talking about this? I don’t ask you—”
“You don’t? Really? I seem to recall reciting a play by play for you in the hot tub. Not that I had any actual sex buddies to tell you about. I can’t even describe to you my joy at the thought of you being with her like you have me.” I sniffle and wipe a fake tear. “And the fact that she works for you, is still in your life, just warms my fucking heart. Now, HOW. LONG?”
He stops the car and turns abruptly in his seat, trying to pull me in his lap, but I slap away his hands.
“Stop it!” I snap at him but he overpowers me and has me in his lap effortlessly despite my squirming and feeble attempts to escape, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him.
“This isn’t about us and you know it. You’re mad at Avery and sad for Zach and you’re taking it out on me. Just because he couldn’t trust her doesn’t mean our relationship is doomed.”
I’m not kidding anymore—how does he do that? In-fucking-furiating.
“I was never, ever, with her, or any other girl, like I am with you. Not even close. Yes, I fucked Jenee, maybe four times, the last time a couple of months before I met you. She’s attractive, she’s discreet, and she was there. But I never made love to her, or anyone, and I will never be with another woman for the rest of my life.”
I should be okay now, quit throwing a tantrum and realize he’s right; I’m not mad at him tonight. I shouldn’t care a bit about his past and should bask in the fact that I know he loves me and speaks the truth.
Coulda woulda shoulda.
“I am the luckiest man in the world that no one has ever loved you like I have, that I never have to think about that. When we’re eighty, I will still be the only man who has ever been inside your sweet body, and I realize how amazing that is. And if I’d known you were on your way to me, I would have waited for you. If I could take it back, I would. But I can’t, so you tell me something I can do to make it better.”
Fire Jenee.
Just kidding.
Except not at all.
“How often do you interact with her? She works for you…do you see her every day?”
“I almost never see her.
And as of right this minute, I will never see her again. I can fire her, transfer her, anything you want. Anything for you,” he rubs the back of his hand down my cheek, “you know that. Just say the word.”
“Was she the last one before me?”
“Yes.”
This is where I resolve it in my mind and move on. Except the whole part about me not doing that.
“Was she good? Better than me?”
Oh shut up, you know damn good and well you’d be wondering the same thing.
“She was exactly like any other person I was with; anatomically the same, pleasant and purpose-serving and cool about the situation. Jenee was actually the only one who meant it when she said she didn’t need more, there was no stalking me or bugging me for more afterwards. But Laney, simply kissing you is better than sex with anyone else. So when I’m inside you, completely in love with you, nothing will ever fucking compare. My God, baby, you have to know I’d die if it was the only way to get to love you again, even just one more time.”
He means it, and it works, unleashing in me the Laney who wants to own this man, wants him to own me. I glance around, no idea where we’d stopped, and see no one, no lights, just some dark street.
“Raise the top,” I boss him, running my tongue along his neck.
I’m about to remind him what it feels like to be with me. And show him it doesn’t always have to be sweet lovemaking either. I can be his love, delicate and gentle, or anything else he needs, but right now I’m about to alpha mama all over him.
I unbutton his shirt, kissing every glorious inch of his chest as it’s exposed, his fingers digging into my hips with more and more urgency. A rumble starts growing in his throat and he pushes himself up into me as hard as I grind myself down onto him. Aroused and tingling from scalp to toes, I moan brazenly and feel a rush of heated moisture between my legs from our taunting game of up and down, push and pull, cat and mouse. Next is the button on his jeans, and when he tries to still my hand by covering it with his, I defiantly flick my wrist, and his hand, off mine.
“Yes,” I bite out, deadly serious. I dare him, meeting the fire in his brown eyes with my own, to even think about stopping me again.