by Tara Wylde
The same can’t be said for Suzie. The longer we stand here, the more brittle her smile becomes.
“Congratulations, Suzie,” I tell her. “I’m sure you’re going to have a wonderful marriage.”
“Thanks.” Suzie’s gaze bounces from me to Ryan and back again. Her eyes narrow. “Lucy, I know you’ve done so much already, and I’m truly grateful, but I was wondering if maybe I could ask one more, teeny tiny favor from you.”
“What do you need?” I can feel Ryan’s gaze boring into the back of my head.
“It’s not much and I promise it won’t take long,” Suzie says. “It’s just now that I’m thinking about it, I want to make some changes to the playlist at the reception. If I text the changes to you, would you mind talking to the DJ?”
“That sounds simple enough.” And far easier than most of the “favors” she’s asked me for these past few weeks.
A bright smile spreads across Suzie’s face, though her eyes don’t glow quite as brightly. “Thanks, Lucy. I really do appreciate it.”
Lucy
“Heat Flare? You know him?” Dillion doesn’t look away from the television where two college football teams stand around in huddles.
“Yeah,” Maxie says.
She bends and picks up the empty fried chicken box he’d tossed on the floor. If she didn’t pick it up now, he’d just walk around it for weeks. Like he does all the other clutter that fills his home. Whenever she’s at his place, Maxie often feels more like his maid than his girlfriend. And she just doesn’t get it. To her it seems like a guy with the ability to manipulate the molecular structure of steel should have no trouble dealing with a little trash. “I met him a few days ago. He saved me from a runaway hot dog stand.”
The memory sends a wave of heat to Maxie’s face and to some other interesting places. So of course, that’s when Dillion finally decides to tear his eyes away from the game and look at her. She hoped he’d assume that her flush was the result of being embarrassed about nearly losing an encounter with a hot dog stand and not jump to the conclusion that it has anything to do with Heat Flare.
“That’s the only time?”
“Er, no. I ran into him again today,” she admits even as she hopes he won’t ask any questions about that particular encounter.
“He say why he’s in town this time?”
Maxie’s brows shoot up. “This time? Are you saying you know him? That he’s been here before?”
“Yeah.” Dillion turns back to the game. “He shows up every so often. Sometimes he’s just passing through. Other times he stays a little longer.”
“Who is he?”
Dillon shrugs. “Don’t know anything ‘bout his alter ego. Minor superhero. Still trying to make a name for himself. I think he comes here so he can get some pointers from me on how to boost his image, but since I don’t have time to deal with him, he flies off and bugs someone else. He was doing some work with Mole Man a year or so ago.”
Maxie purses her lips. As far as Dillion is concerned, all superheroes are minor in comparison to him. He thinks they all look up to him. For a long time, Maxie assumed he was right, but maybe that was because she hadn’t met any other superheroes. Because nothing about Heat Fare felt minor.
In fact, now that she was comparing the two of them, it was Dillion who seemed to be coming up short.
“Hey, girl,. Bea runs a spoon through a crockpot full of meatballs and grins at me. “I thought you weren’t coming to this thing.”
I shrug and swipe a celery stick. “Ryan talked me into it.”
Lindsay finishes arranging a plate of cookies and hands it to a member of her waitstaff, one of the few who isn’t currently laid up with the flu. “You look amazing.”
“Stephanie is a genius.” I do a little twirl, causing the full skirt to swirl around my knees. Several people who are nearby smile in response. “I can’t believe how good she managed to make me look.”
“She’s good,” Lindsay agrees, “but she didn’t make you look good. You’re lovely. All Stephanie did was work out how to enhance your best assets in such a way that you can finally appreciate them.”
Her words send a small glow through me.
“What I want to know,” Bea says, “is why you’re over here and not smooching with that hot guy who brought you to this thing.”
Her words remind me why I came over here in the first place. “Suzie has a few thoughts about how she wants both appetizers arranged.”
I quickly relay Suzie’s suggestions. Lindsay snorts and Bea rolls her eyes. “Those are all piddly little things that no one will ever notice. I can’t believe Suzie even thought of them, much less asked you to discuss them.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bea is watching something on the other side of the room. “Could be that she just wants to make the moves on your boyfriend.”
As one, we look at Ryan, who is leaning against a pillar and talking to Christian, Vicki, and a few other guys who look about the same age, probably old classmates. Suzie stands next to him instead of with her new husband, who is half a room away. As we watch, Suzie laughs at something Ryan says, and lightly touches his upper arm.
Bea smirks. “That looks pretty flirty.”
“No way,” Lindsay argues. “She just got married. Eli is here. She’s just being friendly.”
“Looks like more than that to me.” Bea turns to me. “Luce, what do you think?”
Before I can think of any type of response, Ryan glances up and sees us watching. He says something to his companions, and walks away from them and toward me.
“Oh. My. God.” Bea drops the spoon she’s holding. It clatters against the side of the crockpot. “Ryan Jakes is coming over here. I’m going to get to talk to Ryan Jakes.” She grabs Lindsay’s wrist. “Linds, can you believe we’re going to get to meet Ryan Jakes?”
“I’m pretty sure I talked to him at least once or twice while we were in high school. I doubt this will be different.” Despite her laid-back words, there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.
Is this how it always is whenever Ryan goes anywhere? Women getting all weird over him? The thought gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Ladies,” Ryan says to my friends before he turns to me with a warm smile that makes my knees quiver. “Lucy.” His velvety voice drops an octave and triggers a warm flush that sweeps throughout my entire body as he reaches up and rests a large, warm hand on my shoulder.
Bea and Lindsay are talking to him, making introductions, but I can’t focus on a single word they’re saying. The only thing I can think about is Ryan’s hand.
It’s warm, so warm it feels like it’s branding my skin beneath my shirt. I sneak a peek out of the corner of my eye, I don’t see any smoke, even though it feels like it should.
I resist the urge to squirm as the heat from his hand spreads, traveling lower, reaching my chest and causing my breasts to tingle as my nipples harden.
A hand on the shoulder is nothing more than a casual gesture. Hell, even the most alpha of males will clap their male buddies’ shoulders whenever they’re celebrating, commiserating, or just greeting one another. But this doesn’t feel like a casual touch between two friends.
Shock waves of awareness vibrate through me, starting at the top of my shoulder where his hand rests and spreading throughout my entire body until I’m ready to jump out of my skin. And, as if that isn’t bad enough, my nipples tighten as my knees wobble. Blushing, I close my eyes and hope he doesn’t notice.
“Hey, Luce?” Ryan leans closer, his fingers curling, the ends hooking on the underside of my collar bone, more securely around my shoulder. “Are you okay?” Concern colors his voice.
“I’m fine.” My voice is little more than a high-pitched squeak. My blush deepens. What the hell is wrong with me?
I swallow and struggle to gather my dignity. “Just a little warm is all.” My heart continues to hammer, but at least my voice sounds closer to normal. Thank God for small favors.
And be alone with him? Absolutely not! Based on the way I reacted to an innocent touch, I’ll probably end up jumping him the minute the door closes behind us.
“Um, no.” I open my eyes and find myself staring directly into Ryan’s Caribbean blues. My heart temporarily stalls before leaping back into action with a bone jarring thud. I curl my hands into fists to disguise how they’ve started to shake. “But something to drink would be great.”
Ryan flashes his trademark grin and strokes a finger down my nose. “One drink coming right up.”
Ryan
The cold glasses I’m carrying chill my fingertips as I make my way back to Lucy.
I’m not surprised to find her deep in a discussion with an owl-eyed woman I recognize as the florist.
“Suzie has decided that at the end of the reception, she wants to go up to her room and have a nice soak in the hot tub,” I overhear Lucy tell the woman. “And she thinks it would be great if there were rose petals in the water when she gets up there.” Lucy holds up a plastic room key.
“I’m not doing it,” the florist responds. “The only reason I’m here at all is to collect any of the flower arrangements she decides she’s not keeping and to bring them to a couple of the nursing homes. She didn’t pay me to do anything in her room. And I’m not even sure the hotel allows rose petals in the hot tub.”
Lucy’s shoulders sag. “I understand,” she says meekly. “Would it be possible to buy a small bag of rose petals from you? Then I can put them in the water.”
I roll my eyes and grind my teeth together.
I’d bet my next paycheck that this is just another thing that Suzie dreamed up, not because it’s something she actually wants, but because it will keep Lucy busy while simultaneously demeaning her. I just wish I could figure out what Suzie’s motivations are.
“I suppose that’s possible,” the florist replies. Her brows draw together as she considers Lucy’s words. “I think there might be an extra bag of petals in the back of the van. If not, I can call someone and have them go to the shop and put one together. But it will cost a lot.”
“No problem.” Lucy reaches for the top of her dress and draws a credit card from the bodice. I recognize the image on the card. It’s the same one that was printed on the credit card Lucy used to purchase her gas last night at the station. It’s not Suzie’s but Lucy’s personal card.
I close the short distance between myself and the two women in three long strides.
“Hi, I’m Ryan Jakes.” I introduce myself to the florist as I pass the large drink I had the bartender make up into Lucy’s hand.
The florist’s eyes bore into my face as she flips through her memories, trying to match me with something she’s seen. “Weren’t you in that weird show, the one about the mechanics?” she finally says.
I flash her my trademark smile. “Not my most recent work, but you’re one hundred percent correct. I played Dillion McAllister, the little brother in it. That was my breakout role.”
The florist opens her mouth, ready to say something, but before she can put the words together, I place my free hand on the small of Lucy’s back, urging her in the direction of the door that led to the elegant porch.
“Normally, I’d love to hang around and chat, but I’m dying for a private moment with my girlfriend.” Funny how the word feels more and more natural each time it’s uttered. I’m starting to have a difficult time remembering that my entire relationship with Lucy is a farce. “You understand, don’t you?”
I don’t give the florist a chance to respond or Lucy a chance to protest before I guide her out the door and into the cool evening air.
As the balcony door clicks shut behind me, Lucy takes a few more steps, moving out of range so that the hand that had ridden on the small of her back falls to my side.
She turns to face me. “What was all that about?” she says without any heat in her voice.
My irritation spikes. “Remember our conversation in the car, how we were crashing this wedding and that we were going to have a good time?”
Lucy nods.
“You seemed on board with the idea.”
“I was,” she confirms.
“So then why the hell is it that since we walked into the church, you’ve done nothing but take orders from Suzie and run around?”
“I … she just asked me for a couple of favors.” I hate how her voice has gone all small and submissive.
I close my eyes and struggle to get a grip on my irritation. I don’t like how Lucy refuses to tell Suzie no, but the person I’m really angry with is Suzie, who continuously treats Lucy like her own personal servant.
“Luce, you don’t have to take this from her. You’re allowed to tell her no.”
“But my job,,,-”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not a good enough excuse. You work for her father, not Suzie. And even if she was your actual employer, your job title doesn’t include being at her beck and call. You’re an office manager, and I’m betting, based on how organized you seem to be, I’m guessing a damned good one at that.”
Lucy doesn’t respond.
“And what about that?” I nod at the credit card she’s still holding in her hand. “That’s your personal card, isn’t it?”
She nods.
“Luce, you were about to charge a small fortune to it. Why?”
“Suzie’s dress doesn’t have pockets, so it’s not like she has her credit card on her. She’ll pay me back.”
“When?”
“When she gets back from her honeymoon in Barbados.”
I was told that three weeks had been set aside for the honeymoon, meaning that by the time Suzie returned home, Lucy would have already gotten the bill. Based on her car and the clothing she wore, Lucy doesn’t have a ton of extra money laying around.
“How many times have you used your card to finance something?”
“A few.” She drops her gaze and stares at her pretty painted toes.
I drag a hand through my hair. I have a bad feeling about who is ultimately going to be responsible for those bills and somehow, I think Lucy also does. “Lucy, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
Instead of answering, Lucy lifts the drink I got her and studies it. The corners of her mouth twitch. My heart flutters a little. The only thing I’ve wanted to do today is see her laugh. That little smile is a step in the right direction.
“A root beer float?” she says, her tone lighter than I’ve ever heard it before. “Really? I don’t think I’ve had one of these since I was a kid.”
If she wants to change the topic, fine. But sooner or later, we are going to finish this conversation. Not for one second do I think Suzie ‘s behavior deserves to be forgotten. “I figured you’d be expecting champagne.”
“Or something like that.”
“I hate being predictable, and since the bartender was making floats for the kids, I thought this would be more fun.” I grin as Lucy raises the glass to her lips. “I should warn you, though, this is the adult version.”
Now her eyes narrow and she studies the dark fluid contained within the heavy glass. “Exactly what makes it an adult beverage?”
“Bourbon.”
She nods. “That’d do it.”
Grinning, I watch her take a sip.
She coughs. “Wow, it’s a little strong.”
“I can take it back. Have the bartender dilute it with some more root beer.”
“No. Don’t do that. It’s good. I just didn’t expect the bourbon.” She lifts the glass again and drains nearly half the contents. “I really like it.”
I blink at the glass. “I can tell.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” Lucy takes another, slightly smaller, sip.
“I was visiting a friend in Chicago. His wife owns a speakeasy called The Blind Pig. Bourbon root beer floats was on
e of non-menu drink specials she was serving while I was there.”
“I’m not much of a drinker,” Lucy confesses. She’s already getting just a little flushed from the alcohol. “But this is just the right amount of kick mixed with sweetness. I’m going to have to buy a bottle of bourbon one of these days ‘cause I’ll bet this will really hit the spot when the weather gets muggy in July.”
She glances at the glass of spring water in my hand. “Why didn’t you get one for yourself?”
“I’m shooting that promo video for the hospital later this week, and I want people focusing on the message rather than how I look a little heavier than I did in my last movie.”
Lucy’s eyes sweep up and down my body. Her brow furrows. “You look trim to me.”
“You’re a doll.” I grin at her. “Unfortunately, the camera isn’t forgiving, and I ate way too much junk food when I was hanging out with Christian earlier. He’s a bad influence.”
I look at the nearly empty glass in her hand. In one smooth move, I place my water on a nearby table and catch hold of her wrist. “Of course, if I drink from your glass, the calories don’t count as much, do they?”
Lucy squeals as I lift the glass and her hand to my mouth and steal a mouthful of her root beer float.
“Hey!” Lucy protests. In the very first act of defiance I’ve ever seen from her, she snatches her hand and the glass away from me. She lifts the glass and drains the contents. “There. Now you can’t have any.”
“Greedy and cheeky.” I reach out and run the pad of my thumb over her upper lip, scooping up the small amount of vanilla ice cream that’s caught there as she stares at me with huge, hazel eyes. I hold up my thumb so she can see the white dot that’s about half the size of a chocolate chip. “You missed some.”
I start to bring my thumb to my mouth with the intention of licking it off, but before I do, Lucy grabs my hand.
“Mine,” she says in a strong voice.
My knees nearly buckle as she lowers her head and draws my thumb between her sweet, full lips. She lightly bites down on the knuckle before swirling her tongue along the pad, seeking out each iota of the sugary treat while my heart threatens to leap out of my chest and my cock strains against my zipper.