by A. J. Pine
Holly’s eyes went back to her phone where she swiped and tapped. As she did, Mr. Tall, Dark, and British got out of his chair and dropped to one knee.
Annie sucked in a breath, and her eyes stung with the threat of tears. She looked at Brynn, who was just as glassy-eyed as she felt, and the two of them smiled at each other as they waited for Holly to figure it all out.
“When Gemini aligns with Taurus,” she read, “you can expect nothing short of magic. If one Gemini can see fit to align with Taurus permanently, he promises to love her for as long as her constellation burns bright. He also promises never to mention last season’s Jimmy Choos again.”
Holly’s head snapped up.
“Will, what—?”
Her voice shook as her eyes went from where he should have been to where he knelt before her. With a red velvet box open in his hand.
“I had a long talk with Sophie while you were in Milan last month.” Will looked up at the table, acknowledging Wes, the semi-outsider of the group. “My daughter,” he added, then turned back to Holly. “This is really all her doing.” He let out a nervous laugh. “She asked me when I was going to be happy for all time, and I told her as long as I have her and you, I had all I needed.” He grabbed her hand with his free one. “I didn’t think I deserved you,” he said. “And I didn’t think anyone could love Sophie like I do, but I see you with her—how the two of you have fallen for each other—and I know it’s a lot to ask you to take on the both of us…” He kissed her trembling hand. “But, Ms. Chandler, may I ask you to be mine for all time? To be ours?”
Holly let out something between a laugh and a sob.
“How did you—with the app—how?”
Brynn pushed her sister on the shoulder again.
“Answer the man, Holls! Then he can tell you all his smooth-move secrets.”
Holly nodded before the words left her lips.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I will be yours for all time.”
He slid the ring on her finger, and Holly dropped to her knees to kiss her fiancé. Brynn clapped. Annie clapped. Jeremy let out a loud whistle. Wes let a soft smile spread across his face—not that Annie was looking—and Jamie looked like he was guilty of a crime.
Brynn reached for her bag, but Jamie snatched it before she could get her hands on it.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
“Jamie. What are you doing?” Brynn asked.
He didn’t say anything. Just sort of held onto her bag for dear life.
He didn’t. He couldn’t have. Not on the same night…
Brynn tugged at the bag. “James McAvoy Kingston, you are freaking me out. I just want to grab my phone to take a picture of my sister’s ring.”
“Um, how about your sister and her new fiancé?” Holly asked.
“Yeah, sure. That, too, if my weirdo boyfriend would just give me my bag.”
Brynn tugged again at the same time Jamie relinquished, spilling the bag’s contents all over the floor. Brynn dropped to her knees to collect the contents along with him, and that’s when Annie saw Brynn’s glasses case had popped open, but there were no glasses inside. She glimpsed something shiny just as Jamie snapped the case shut and sprung to his feet. Brynn hopped up to meet him, holding out her hand.
He didn’t relinquish the case.
“Can I have my glasses?”
She reached for them, and he flinched. And because everyone was listening to them now, there was no mistaking the rattle inside the case.
Annie felt like she was in some terrible romcom—not that the romcom itself was terrible, but that she was that side character who watched everyone else find happiness while she again looked on from the sidelines. Brynn hadn’t seen the ring, but Annie had. Shit! Jamie was going to freaking do it, too.
“Did you break my glasses? God, Jamie. It’s one thing for you to startle me into knocking my contacts down the drain, but you know I can’t see without my glasses.”
He groaned.
“Your glasses are at home, safely hidden.”
“Hidden? Is that supposed to be funny?”
He rolled his eyes, and Annie stood from the table, rocks glass in hand.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Brynn. Mr. British just had his moment, and Jamie’s trying not to steal his thunder.”
Holly and Will rose from their post-proposal snog fest. All eyes were on Jamie and Brynn.
“Shit,” Jeremy said. “Two proposals?”
Brynn swiped at a tear. “Jamie?”
He let out a sigh. “It was going to be just us—tonight. When we got home. I’m not good with big, sweeping, grand gestures,” he said. “But I know I’m my best when I’m with you.”
Brynn reached for the case again, and this time Jamie let her have it. She opened it and lifted out the diamond solitaire ring.
“Because we both were idiots. And blind to what was right in front of us. But we’re not anymore.”
She shook her head. “No. We’re not.”
“So marry me, B. I’m not letting you get away again.”
She slid the ring on her finger and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
And she kissed him.
Just like that, Holly got the proposal befitting a girl who loves the spotlight. And Brynn got her quiet promise of always from her equally quiet, but no less romantic, guy. And it was amazing and perfect yet all too much for Annie to process.
“Denning,” Jamie said. “Can you go down to the kitchen? I’ve got a really expensive bottle of champagne I was going to sneak home tonight, but it looks like the occasion calls for sharing.”
“On it, boss.” And Jeremy took off down the stairs.
“Um, congratulations, everyone,” Annie said, holding up her still half-full rocks glass. “Hit me up when you’re looking for wedding venues, and I’ll tell you all about Bliss.” She could feel Wes’s stare, but she stamped down the urge to return it. “I think before I imbibe anymore,” she added, “it’s time for me to hit the loo, as they say in jolly old England.”
Good freaking Lord, what was she even saying? She didn’t wait around for any further post-proposal lip-locking but instead hightailed it around the corner and into the upstairs loo. Once inside, she let out a long, deflated breath. She had to hand it to Will and Jamie, though. Proposing to sisters on the same night? Pretty spectacular. And this bathroom, with its ceramic tile and warm, wood-paneled walls—it wasn’t too shabby, either.
She took a few calming breaths, then leaned against the fancy-schmancy copper sink trough and sipped her scotch, then laughed. In one week she was surrounded by a wedding and two engagements. It would be depressing if it wasn’t so comical.
The door slid open, and Annie straightened, prepared for Brynn or Holly to be checking on her. But it was Wes.
He held his hands up in defense.
“Don’t worry. Everyone followed Jeremy downstairs for the champagne. I said I’d wait and let you know where everyone was.”
She relaxed a bit.
“Okay. I know where everyone is. Consider your duty performed.” She winced at her tone, not meaning the words to come out so bitter. She blamed the scotch for her practiced even keel going all uneven.
“So is that”—he waved his hand back toward the door—“how all your romance novels end? Double proposals, champagne, the works?”
“Is this where you remind me that romance is fantasy?” she asked. “Because I’m pretty sure all that actually happened.”
He held his hands up again. “Hey, I’m not reminding anyone of anything. I just asked you a question.”
She crossed her arms. “Fine. You want me to answer your question? Yes. Some romance novels end in proposals. Some in weddings. Some just with the hero and heroine realizing that they can be together, that happiness is an option. The point is that love wins. Even if it’s just a happy for now, the reader is satisfied that even if the couple faces obstacles in the future,
love will win.”
Wes’s brows pulled together. “Happy for now?”
Annie sighed. “Yeah, in books where maybe the story is going to continue with the same hero and heroine, there might be a happy for now—an ending where you know they’ll face new challenges in the next book.” She swirled her glass of scotch, then took a tiny, burning sip. “Why does your main character, Ethan, think he’s better off alone than with one of the many—many—women he dates? I mean, it’s not like they’re all one-night stands or anything. He has relationships with them. Each woman wants to be the one to get through to him, yet he doesn’t let any of them in. It’s freaking maddening.”
He smiled and raised his shoulders. “Maybe love doesn’t always win, Annie. Maybe life gets in the way.”
She shook her head. “Or maybe not opening yourself up to the possibility of love is the very thing that keeps you from it.”
He raised a brow. “We are talking about Ethan, right? The fictional character who lives in my book.”
She huffed out a breath. “It’s not fantasy.”
“Opinion,” he countered. “I say it’s not reality. Agree to disagree?”
He stepped closer and held out a hand to shake, but she shrunk away.
“Come on, Annie. We’re supposed to be having fun, not psychoanalyzing the decisions of fictional characters or the merits of said decisions.”
He closed the distance between them completely, took her scotch from her hand, and set it on top of the ledge above the sink.
“Are you no longer having fun?” he asked. “Because say the word, and we’ll stop whatever this is right now.”
She swallowed. “Do you want to stop?” she asked.
“Fuck no,” he said, the words low and rough.
Sexy. God, when he stared at her with those blue eyes and that perfectly tousled hair, she almost couldn’t think.
“Is fun enough for you?” she asked, then wished she could swallow the words that threatened to give her away.
He backed her slowly toward the wall and leaned in close. He didn’t kiss her, but his lips brushed hers lightly as he spoke.
“If it means being this close to you, then yes. Hell yes, fun is enough.”
She writhed in her jeans. Hell. She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Who was she to deny herself just because she had the type of brain that did want to psychoanalyze fictional characters—especially if it meant figuring out Wes Hartley.
“What do you want, Annie? Right here, right now, tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
He nipped at her bottom lip, and she gasped.
“What if someone comes in?” she asked.
“What if someone doesn’t?”
This time when she arched her back, her pelvis rocked into the hard length beneath his jeans.
“I want your fingers inside me,” she said.
He unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper. Then he deftly slipped his palm beneath her panties without having to pull her pants down.
She had to admit the guy was good. Skilled. And she knew that was because of extensive practice, but she couldn’t be jealous of those who came before, not when she probably had them to thank for the man Wes was now.
He slid a finger down her crease, starting at her swollen clit, and sliding with ease into her warmth.
She gasped, and he answered her reaction by kissing her, fierce and deep, and she thought she might devour him right back.
“Not too loud, Emerald City,” he whispered. “They might come back upstairs.”
She nodded and swallowed back a cry when he slid out of her slick heat only to add a second finger and threaten to drive her mad.
She palmed the erection beneath his jeans, and he hissed.
“Later. We’re on borrowed time—and in public. There’s only so much I can do and still offer us an easy out if someone walks in.”
She nodded her understanding but couldn’t speak as his palm rode up and he swirled a finger over her center.
She bit his shoulder—hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin. It was all she could do to keep from moaning or crying out his name. Who was she when he touched her? Because she didn’t feel like the Annie Denning she’d been for twenty-eight years. She felt like someone brand new as she gripped his wrist and shoved his hand back down, too ravenous for his touch to even beg.
“Are you having fun, Annie?” he whispered in her ear, and she nodded.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes.”
He plunged back inside her, and she rode him until she’d lost the will to care whether or not anyone heard them. Luckily Wes was there to think for the both of them, and when she began to climax, he kissed her hard so when she did cry out, his mouth muffled the sound.
He kissed her again before freeing himself from her jeans. “I’ll walk out first,” he said. “Make sure it’s safe for you to make your exit.”
She nodded, still coming down from the crest of that wave, and when she didn’t say anything more, he pivoted on his heel and headed for the door.
“Wait!”
He sighed, and she watched the fabric of his black T-shirt stretch across his shoulder blades and expand around his biceps. Whoa. Typing apparently did a lot for toning the upper arms.
“Yeah, Annie?”
“I really like—having fun with you, Wes.”
He grinned. “I like having fun with you, too.” He glanced down to her hips. “Button up before you come out.” He winked and spun toward the door.
“Wait!” she called after him again, and he stopped. “I should probably go out first—in case anyone’s there. Then I can cause some sort of diversion or something.”
She buttoned her jeans, but she would be lucky if her legs hadn’t turned to Jell-O.
Yeah. She was going to need a minute or seven. And the rest of that scotch.
“After you,” he said, motioning toward the door.
She walked slowly, her mind racing.
Maybe she didn’t need to convince him to write a happily ever after. Maybe all she needed to do was show him it existed in real life.
Brynn and Jamie.
Holly and Will.
What if—what if Wes fell in love?
She pulled open the door and almost knocked Brynn over. Her friend yelped and jumped back. Annie’s first instinct was to try to pull the door shut in Wes’s face, but Jamie had gone and installed bathroom doors without handles on the outside. She’d have to talk to him about that. So instead she backed up, effectively slamming into Wes’s unyielding form. All this did was remind her how solid that lean writer’s body was. He must do something to stay in shape. Typing couldn’t really do much in the way of muscle tone. Could it?
“For the love of Davey Jones, Annie. It’s not like I can’t figure out what you two are up to. I just wanted to make sure the fish and chips hadn’t gone bad or something.”
Annie tried to smile, but it came out as more of a wince.
Wes just shook his head.
“Does he know I know?” Brynn asked.
“Yes,” Wes said over Annie’s shoulder. “I know you know. Does Jamie know?”
“No,” Annie said with conviction.
“Well…” Brynn began, and Wes groaned. “He’s my fiancé. I can’t keep secrets from the guy I’m going to marry.” She beamed and admired her ring.
“He’s been your fiancé for all of about five minutes, B. You told him as soon as I told you,” Annie said. “Didn’t you?”
“Well…” Brynn said again, and Annie didn’t need any further explanation. She certainly wasn’t giving one about why their secret needed to be kept. She shouldn’t have to. Brynn was her best friend and should simply have done it out of best friend obligation.
She pushed past Brynn and out into the bar area, making a beeline for the almost empty bottle of scotch.
“Whoa there, tiger,” Wes said, his hand on top of hers before she could open the bottle. “Let’s just all agree t
his goes no further than the four of us. Okay? I don’t peg Jamie as the gossipy type, but Brynn—no offense—you do seem like a bit of a loose cannon, but if Annie trusts you, then I do, too.”
Brynn pursed her lips. “No offense taken. I’m a super loose cannon, but I can keep it together for Annie.” She looked at her friend. “Is that what you want? To keep this between the four of us?”
Ugh. With Holly and Will on their way back to England next week, that would make Jeremy the only one who didn’t know—at least in their small circle of friends and family who didn’t live in London. And her parents. And store patrons.
She was grasping. But really, if Jeremy didn’t know, then Brynn couldn’t talk to her about it unless they were alone, and if she played her cards right, Wes would be showing up more often at the bookstore, not giving her much time to be alone to get Brynn’s third degree. In fact, he could even write there. God, she was full of brilliant ideas, but at the moment the only real justification she could think of for not telling Jeremy was that once it was out there with him, it was out there, which meant all the questions and expectations Annie didn’t want to deal with. This wasn’t really a relationship—not when Wes didn’t believe in anything other than its eventual end. There was also the danger of Jeremy’s reaction. Despite Annie already knowing her ABCs and 123s by the time Jeremy was born, he could turn on the alpha big brother persona quicker than she could blink. Not that she worried about Wes holding his own with him. She just didn’t want there to be a situation where either guy had to hold his own against the other.
“Yeah,” Annie finally said. “Just between the four of us. For now.”
Wes started backing away.
“I should probably head down before you. Just in case.”
Annie smiled at him. “I’ll see you downstairs?” she asked.
He nodded. “See ya, EC.”
And with that he was on his way down the stairs.
Brynn put her hands on her hips, her dark, wild waves bouncing on her shoulders.
“EC?” she asked.
Annie sighed. Yeah. No more black-and-white Kansas. No more status quo. She was finally shaking things up, adding a little color.
“Yes,” Annie said. “Emerald City. Please don’t ask.”