Jules comes up with that snide smirk of hers she’s been sporting for the last few weeks.
“Where’s the L.A. lady whose tonsils you’ve been cock boxing?” She cranes her neck past me.
“Would you stop?” I wince, glancing back to make sure Jensen is nowhere in sight. “That’s disgusting. And does it really tick you off that bad to see me happy?”
Her shoulders sag as she tips her head toward me. A forlorn expression takes over as she sweeps the hair back on my forehead. “You’re my baby brother. All I want in the world is to see you happy.” She purses her bottom lip in a way that lets me know she’s sorry for me. “But this girl? I was there the night she hurt you.” Her finger touches over my cheek. “And I never want to let anyone hurt you like that again.” She blows me a quick kiss as she heads into the house.
It’s true. That night, all those years ago, it was Jules who came into my room and probed until I told her why I was lying on my bed with a tear-stained face. It was the hardest night of my life. I was looking for Poppy and found her by the old oak wrapped in Miles Frampton’s arms, doing his best to suck her mouth right off her face. It still guts me to think about it. I thought she couldn’t want anything with me. It had been too long, and she finally got what she wanted. Miles was a douchebag who eventually went on to impregnate the first girl he banged freshman year at university. Things didn’t exactly work out for Poppy and Miles, and as much as it makes me look like an asshole, I do admit it brings a satisfied smile to my face.
Kali comes up with a few girlfriends in tow and a few guys hanging around the periphery. I spot Cole right away and give him the stink eye. Nobody but nobody gets into my sister’s pants and lives to tell about it. I need to do my best to communicate that fact to him lest he make a move that both he and my upcoming felony record will live to regret.
Mack and her family spill in with a crowd full of guests, and my heart starts to race. I know Poppy is already on her way, and any moment now I expect to see her beautiful face, our last moments as a couple, as anything as far as she’s concerned.
“Jaxy boy!” Mack dives over me with a hug. “You ready to rock this thing?” Her eyes grow twice their size. Mack has always had a touch of crazy about her, and I mean that in the nicest way. Of course, one can argue that Poppy has that very same thing, but I’ve come to adore all of her quirks, all of her little jagged edges that make her uniquely who she is.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” No. I’m not ready. I’m not sure I can let Poppy go for good.
“Great. As soon as they cut the cake, you and Pops will put a stop to the festivities and let them in on the twist of a lifetime.” She shakes her head wistfully while looking at the house festooned in a blanket of white twinkle lights. “Do you realize that those two hired a Marilyn Monroe impersonator for my wedding reception? And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it turned out to be a stripper in drag. We had a dancing shlong in heels!” Her eyes squeeze shut a moment. “I’m telling you, Jaxson. You’re not just doing this for yourselves—you’re doing this for all of humanity.” She shakes her head as she passes me by. “And, oh the humanity!”
“Nice,” I mutter to myself as Conner and Larissa come up next.
“You’re on in five.” He shoots me with his finger. “You sure you’re up for your final performance?” I groan over at the house with its open mouth and cheery lit windows for eyes.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be up for what’s going to happen tonight.”
“Oh, come on.” Larissa rolls her eyes. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s as stunning as usual. I understand the appeal, but what she holds on the inside is nothing near what Poppy possesses. Nope. Larissa and I are never happening again. Once Poppy leaves, she might as well take my heart, my dick, and my balls right along with her. I won’t be needing any of them. “It’s just a little breaking up.” She gives my cheek a quick pinch. “I’ll let you do a little making up tonight, if it makes you feel better.” She gives a finger roll of a wave as she scuttles on inside.
“And there you go.” Conner doesn’t hide the fact he’s ticked.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“No, it’s okay. I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.”
Conner and I are like brothers, and I would never want to see him with a snake like that.
“You’ll find someone good, dude. You’re a good guy. You deserve someone who appreciates you for who you are.”
He groans at the thought. “I’m good with hanging out on my own for a while. But I want those things for you, too. Maybe when my sister heads back to L.A., you and I will head out on the prowl again. This time we’ll find the right girls. I know we will.” He gives my arm a light sock as he heads on in.
A mob of people drifts past me, ambling into the house as if exemplifying the fact there’s an open bar tonight.
I peer out at the crowd, at the valet parking, the endless parade of women clacking by in heels, and then I see her—a vision in white. The most beautiful girl on the planet heading this way with her arm threaded through her mother’s. Poppy Montgomery outshines an entire galaxy of stars.
She gives a sly smile, and her eyes light up like embers.
She’s perfect, and every last cell in my body demands to make her mine.
But that’s not what tonight is about. That may never be what we’re about. Right now, she’s my girlfriend, my shining light, my everything.
In other words—it’s show time.
Playful Misconduct
Poppy
There he is, Jaxson Stade, in his dark sexy suit, with his dark hair, that sexy smile, and those hard Italian leather shoes that make me want to get on my knees and kiss them, and then kiss his knees, and then work his pants open and kiss far sexier, hairier, harder things. Disgusting. I know. But that’s just how my brain operates around the god of Stade Steel. No matter how angry or affronted by him I may be—and I am both mind you, I can’t seem to shut off the hormone show that continues to rage within me. It’s a shitty deal, in a shitty situation, and one I’ll have to shelf because he’s coming at me with that wicked grin as if nothing had gone haywire between the two of us ever. He’s a damn good actor. I’ll give him that.
“You look delicious.” His brows tweak when he says it as he pulls me into a deep, strong hug. His fingers press tight over my back as if speaking to me in their own language. “And, Charlene—you beam on this, the almost-day of your birth. Happy birthday.” He offers her a hug as well.
I doubt he’s inflicting the keyboard hug upon her, trying to give her a code to decipher. If it’s not one mind game between the two of us, it’s another. I wouldn’t have pegged that weird silent period we endured for so long as a mind game, per se, but all of this chemistry we seem to have—albeit I might be wrong and this could be entirely one-sided—but I’m officially categorizing everything that’s ever gone down between us as one serious mindfuck.
Mom pulls us both in, connecting us at the elbows as if expecting us to click into place like Lego pieces. “Would you look at that? Jax, with you in that handsome suit and, Poppy, in that white dress? You look like you’re ready to walk down the aisle right this minute!” She clasps her hands over her mouth, and tears spontaneously bloom in her eyes. “I’ll need a drink to settle me.”
Wait a hot toddy minute. Mom is the one who suggested I wear white this evening. The thought occurs to me that Jax and I might be walking into what amounts to an ambush wedding. It wouldn’t at all surprise me to be bested by the best pranksters just this side of the Mississippi.
“I’d better go mingle with my guests.” She nods toward Jax as if he were royalty before ditching us for far more geriatric pastures.
“Delicious?” I huff as soon as she’s out of earshot. “Really, Jax? Had lunch yet?”
A devilish grin takes over his far-too-comely-to-ever-be-safe-for-my-vagina face, and I want to cry. But I don’t. In typical Poppy Montgomery fashion, I get even angrier to the point steam is literal
ly seething from my nostrils. Most likely it’s due to the fact we’re still dealing with subarctic temperatures, but I’ll go with it because it totally fits the scenario.
“Yes, delicious.” He gives me the once-over with those blue topaz eyes. As an aside, I really don’t think it’s fair that he’s been gifted that face, and those eyes, and that body. He should be flagged by the military as a weapon of atomic vaginal warfare, not to mention the fact you can practically hear ovaries exploding like popcorn as we pass the girls in the crowd. “You look beautiful, Eight Ball.” His arms swivel around my waist as we make our way in.
It’s safe to say that the Stade residence has officially been transformed into a chalet. It’s probably a godsend that Jax isn’t really interested in me because what on earth’s sake would I do with all those billions? I mean, they would be mine by proxy, and I’ve been known to squander a dollar or two or twenty thousand. And because the word no just isn’t in my vocabulary, our children would undoubtedly grow up to be selfish brats. You know the ones with the social media accounts that document their lavish lifestyle. They’d lunch in Milan, have dinner in Spain. They’d order ridiculous things at exotic restaurants like water culled from some underground arctic cave, eat pasta from gold covered cheese wheels, and pay more for those two indulgences than the price tag of my entire college tuition.
I glance to Jax and bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from losing it. Jax isn’t like that at all. I seriously doubt his children would grow up to be assholes, despite the fact they could totally guzzle arctic well water whenever the mood should strike.
He leans in, and his lips tease my earlobe. “We should really hit a crescendo with this. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, right.” I glance up ahead where Mom and Deb eyeball us while speaking to a legion of their friends. God, I can’t believe we’re going to take them down so brutally. Never mind fearing the fact I might one day raise assholes. I am one.
A string quartet plays softly to the side, and I wrap my arms around Jax and begin swaying to the music.
“Dance?” He offers a charitable smile and holds my right hand out, dipping me slightly, thus evoking a light applause from the senior sector. “Good call,” he whispers through the side of his mouth like a ventriloquist.
“I’d like to think I usually make them.” Not to be egotistical, but seeing that I don’t have an arrest record sort of backs me up on this.
“What about with me?” Jax softens as his gaze presses into mine. “Am I a good call?”
I open my mouth to say something, and Mack comes over looking impressed as hell by our two-step act of devotion.
“Boy”—she rattles her hand in our faces as if to insinuate these are some hot and heavy maneuvers we’re doling out—“the two of you really know how to preach it. You’re practically shouting watch and learn to all the old fogies running around with a stiff drink in their hands.”
“We do aim to please.” I land my head over Jaxson’s chest as we slow to a crawl.
“Don’t let me stop you.” She flicks a finger our way, beckoning us on. “Remember—the real show starts as soon as they cut the cake.” She squints over at the birthday girls and makes a face. “I cannot wait to pull the rug out from under those gals!” She takes off toward the open bar, and I’m starting to wonder if we should do the same. On second thought, it’s most likely a bad idea to add liquor to this toxic anger that’s fueling me. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m so incensed. Jax is basically keeping his end of the bargain. I just so happened to be stupid enough to sleep with him in the meantime.
“You’re too quiet.” He smacks his lips as if this were a national offense.
“I’m contemplating.”
“Don’t contemplate. It’s a scary look on you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jax grimaces as he pulls me in close. He’s wearing his cologne a little thicker tonight, and for some reason, this pisses me off even more. Everyone knows a sexy man bathed in spiced cologne is a lethal combination.
“It means, you’re going to cause a scene if you don’t laugh or kiss me soon enough.”
“Ha!” I bark right in his face before landing a wet one over his lips.
He holds me there by the back of the neck, and I’m done. All of the vitriolic anger up and evaporates like smoke as we melt into a slow, dreamy kiss. Jax has a mouth that was made for doing just this—and perhaps a little bit of that, which also ironically qualifies as kissing my lips.
He rakes his mouth over my cheek. “We should go upstairs.”
My adrenaline spikes at the offer, and I parrot right back, “We should go upstairs.”
Jax takes me by the hand, one arm still wrapped around my waist, and it looks as if we’re engaged in some Elizabethan era waltz as he glides us across the floor.
“Whoa!” a stunned voice cries as we hit the base of the stairwell, and we turn to find Conner and Larissa tucked in the corner, huddled over their drinks. “Where are you two off to?” My brother glowers at Jax for a moment as if he knows exactly where.
Jax pumps those dimples of his just once. “I left my mother’s gift upstairs, but we can get it later.” He gives my hand a determined squeeze. I laugh at the irony that the word gift is code for sex, because face it—the two of us knocking boots would totally be the gift she would want and most likely ask for. Same goes for my freaky mother.
“Good call.” Conner tilts his head, sizing up our body language. “Riss and I were just about to hit the buffet. Why don’t you two do the same?” It comes out more of a command than a request, and we begrudgingly comply.
The grand buffet is more or less a mishmash of our mothers’ favorite foods and just as scrumptious as you might think for two women who spend their lives running a blog that centers on delectable morsels.
I lean toward the pescatarian fare of lobster tails, shrimp, and buttery sea bass steamed to perfection, while Jax goes for more of the surf and turf appeal, landing a glibbery mass of prime rib over his plate along with enough king crab legs to piece back together one of those oversized crustaceous creatures.
Jax and I find a table near the front where our mothers nosh on their own plates, doing their best to mingle at the very same time. We devour our food like prisoners embarking on their final meal, but, really, who could blame us? Deb has been known to throw a damn impressive party, and it’s easy to see what lured the entire town out of hiding. When the lone billionaire widow throws a “little” get-together, you’re going to want to be there.
About three bites into my lobster, something occurs to me.
“I just had a thought.” I plunk down my fork, and it hits the delicate china so hard I half-expect to shatter the plate. Really, Deb does throw a classy shindig. The fact we have actual china is another reason parties like this should always be hosted by billionaires. Had Mack and I hosted this event, it would have been a banquet on a budget. We would have all frozen to death in my mother’s backyard while feasting off fried chicken served on paper plates.
“Shoot.” Jax shovels in another forkful of bovine.
“We’re basically eating the main course. And what happens after the main course?”
The flash of a dirty grin flickers on his face.
“Does your mind ever leave the gutter?” A moment bounces by as he attempts to swallow. “I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question at this point.”
He shakes his head. “I promise I’m not as bad as you think I am.”
“That’s because you’re worse. You were about to haul me upstairs for one more naughty romp, and on this—the night of our big breakup.” I’m only half-teasing because no matter how caustic the words, my heart is still bleeding out on the inside. Jax is the one for me, and I’m not very good at conveying that message.
A deep laugh thunders from his chest, and it sounds like a dare. “You were ready and willing to rumble.” His eyes meet with mine. “Face it—Eight Ball wanted Gordo to give it t
o her.”
“And are those our porn names now?”
“Only because your perverted self has referenced them that way.”
A dull huff pumps from me. “Maybe it’s because you insinuated it.”
Jaxson presses his gaze hard into mine. “You still up for another tour of my model airplane collection?”
“I’ve always been a fan of miniaturized aviation. And the fact you have an entire fleet really gets me hot and bothered.” It takes everything in me to hold down the maniacal giggle ready to burst from me. “But seriously, if you need to retrieve a gift for your mother, I’d better supervise in the event you wrap yourself like a mummy and burn the house down.”
“Good.” His dimples twitch. “I’ll have you on your knees and show you exactly how perverted I can be.”
Jax plucks me up by the hand, and we’re off to the races.
“There you are!” Deb stops us short as she blocks the pathway to what was panning out to be a potentially promising perversion. “We’re just about to make our announcement, but first we thought we’d share a few words and cut the cake.”
Jax and I exchange a quick glance.
Crap. I forgot all about that announcement they’ve been lording over our heads like a sickle. They should totally make the speech first, then cut the cake. Jax and I should save our January surprise for the bitter end—as in, once all of the major hitters collect their Louis Vuitton goody bags and leave for the night. Side note, I’m only teasing about the Louis Vuitton goody bags. But seriously? If Debbie were interested, they would be available to all six hundred guests. Speaking of this mega party—I’m betting Mack had no idea that the turnout would be so magnificent. If so, I doubt we’d ever attempt to pull one over on them at an event this huge.
Jax pulls me in until his nose is pressed against my cheek. “They’re cutting the cake.” His breath sears my flesh as a full-blown panic pulses through me. Our eyes lock, and a shared sense of dread rises as I shake my head ever so slightly.
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