One Bride for Five Mountain Men: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Jess Bentley

  Rory had no doubt that Lizzy was going to stay awake half the night thinking about the party and comparing outfit possibilities. Rory just didn’t want her to make a fool of herself because of her growing infatuation with Mickey. He was going to leave soon, and Rory was scared that Lizzy was going to be heartbroken if that pompous rockstar did anything stupid.

  Later in the night, Rory sat alone doing her bills. Inspiration just hadn’t struck her that day and she had given up trying to sketch anything. She put the cash Don had spent at the shop in the money box, and while it did get her closer to her monthly target, she was still well short of paying all the dues.

  Is there nothing I can do to fix this?

  Every day, she spent a big part of her day thinking about ways to make money or ways to better her financial situation, and she felt claustrophobic at the thought of not being able to find a solution. Where thinking about losing the house brought her to the verge of tears, the idea of borrowing money from her parents made her furious.

  Another day, the same struggle, she thought as she tried to drift off to sleep. At least she would get to see Arsen tomorrow. Arsen the garbage contractor. A smile spread on her face as she once again thought back to that charming afternoon they had spent together at Martha’s bakery. And with that smile, Rory was off to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Rory was just sitting down for breakfast when her phone rang. It’s probably Lizzy with a hundred questions about a hundred different things, she thought.

  Rory pursed her lips tightly as she saw her parents’ phone number flash on her phone. For a moment she thought about letting it go to voicemail, but she knew that it would only make matters worse as her mother would give her grief about it later.

  “Hello.”

  “Rory. It is your mother.” Rory never understood why her mother always felt the need to formally announce herself on the phone.

  “Hi, Mom, how are you?”

  “Listen, Tara’s asking if you tried fitting in the dress yet? Because if it needs altering then you better get it done ASAP. Or better still, get it done here in LA. Who knows what kind of work they do down in that village of yours.” Her mother’s stern voice, coupled with chewing noises, rang in her head.

  Of course, Tara wants to make sure that her fat cow of a sister looks presentable for her perfect wedding.

  “No, Mother. I haven’t tried it on yet.” Rory heard the chewing on the other end stop and she felt as if her mother had stopped breathing, as if she had just heard some tragic news.

  “Why do you always leave things for the last moment, Rory? Is it too much to ask of you to try on a damn dress? You have all the time in the world down there to do that?”

  “I have just been… busy.”

  “Busy with what?” It felt more like a reprimand than a question. Rory didn’t bother responding. Not that her mother required her to, as she kept on speaking.

  “Rory, you better be here on time. In fact, you should come here a few days before the wedding. Maybe go to a spa, get some beauty treatments done, and get the fitting checked. Tara wants her wedding to be perfect, and it is the least you can do for your only sister.”

  Of course. It is always about Tara, the successful Loughlin daughter. We all should be honored to be of service to her.

  “I’ll see,” Rory replied as she picked up her breakfast plate and dumped the food in the bin. Her hunger had vanished as her mother continued laying into her.

  “Do you have the money for a flight? Should we send you some money?” She then shouted out to Rory’s father. “Bill! We should send Rory some money for the flight to LA.”

  “Mom, no! I do not need money. Stop assuming things.” Rory was furious. She always hated it when people assumed things about her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Mom!” Rory raised her voice, an inch away from losing her cool. Be cool, Rory, be cool.

  “Just make sure that you don’t arrive too late for the wedding!” There wasn’t much trust in that voice. “Your father is asking if you have paid the property bills already?”

  Damn. He never forgets anything.

  Bill Loughlin was a serious man who was proud of his meticulous work ethic, and it was rare that he didn’t have everything organized in an orderly fashion. Rory wasn’t surprised that he remembered the dates for the tax and insurance payments.

  “Yes, Mom. I was just going to,” Rory lied. She also knew that her mom hated it when she called her “Mom.” Mary Loughlin preferred being addressed as “Mother.” Unless it was her younger daughter, who had the freedom to call mommy dearest whatever she wanted.

  “Make sure that you do. Your father is going to be upset if you lose that property.”

  Yeah. He who hasn’t set foot here in years, will surely be upset. He probably will be more upset that his younger daughter did not get the property instead.

  “Anything else, Mother?”

  “What? You can’t talk to your mother for ten minutes? What are you, the pope?”

  “I’ve got stuff to do, so I have to go now. Say hi to Dad for me.” Without waiting for a goodbye, Rory hung up.

  She sat down on the chair with a thud. Her head was aching, as it usually did when her mother called. Nobody likes to be a disappointment to their parents, and as much as Rory told herself that she didn’t care about what anyone thought of her, deep down inside she did and it killed her.

  Rory was thankful that Lizzy didn’t appear at her usual hour, as she needed time alone with herself to get over the debacle of a phone call with her mother. She was more thankful for the bunch of tourists who had ventured into her shop out of the blue and bought a whole bunch of books for themselves and their kids. Maybe this day won’t be so bad after all.

  Sometime later, Lizzy slid in with half her wardrobe on her arm. Dresses, shoes, tops, hats—she had them all.

  “Are you sure you have enough clothes there, Liz?” Rory chuckled.

  “Don’t be mean. If we’re going to look our best, we have a lot of work to do,” Lizzy replied.

  “Funny. I never thought I’d ever hear about ‘working a lot’ from you.”

  “You’re on a roll today. Do you want me to do you up or not?” Lizzy stuck her tongue out.

  “Oh, you love me too much not to do that for me.” Rory walked up to her and pinched her cheeks.

  “Stop it! Now help me get all this stuff in the house.”

  If there was one thing Lizzy knew, it was fashion. There was no doubt in Rory’s mind that she was the better dressed one of the two. Lizzy talked her into closing the store early, and it was barely early evening when they stood staring at a room full of clothes with Lizzy trying to pick and match items in her head like a mad stylist.

  “Why the hell have you brought a pair of speakers?”

  “Right! I totally forgot about them.” Lizzy rushed over and plugged in her iPhone to the speakers. Beyonce blared out and she pumped up the volume.

  “Because this! No self-respecting girl ever gets dolled up without some Beyonce in the background.”

  Though Rory laughed as Lizzy showed off her dance moves, she had to admit that the girl could really shake that booty. Even though Rory kept insisting that she didn’t want to wear any makeup, Lizzy forced her into it. In the end, Rory was glad that she did. For the first time in a long time, Rory looked into the mirror and admired herself. She looked good—really good.

  “How the hell are you ever going to be able to sit in that dress?” Rory wondered out loud as she saw the super short black dress that Lizzy was wearing.

  “Who the hell sits at a party?” Lizzy threw her hands in the air.

  Rory had no intentions to be as daring as Lizzy was and in spite of the latter’s insistence that she wear a dress as well, Rory decided against it.

  “Oh c’mon, for once you can doll up a little.”

  “Lizzy, it’s not a night out at the opera. It is a house party thrown by a rock band. Everyone will probably show up in b
athing suits or something.”

  In the end, she chose to wear a pair of torn, baggy boyfriend jeans with an off-the-shoulder top that Lizzy had insisted she try on. She even dusted off her black high heels after ages, though it took her a minute to remember how to walk in them.

  “You really should be a makeup artist or something,” Rory commented as she admired herself in the mirror.

  It was half past eight as they sat in the limo that Don had sent for them and made their way through town.

  “I could get used to this,” Lizzy exclaimed as she pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine from the side bar.

  “Are you sure that’s for us?” Rory asked, feeling nervous to be sitting in there.

  “Of course. Why else would they leave it there?”

  “Cheers to the good life!” Before Rory could even say cheers back, Lizzy had downed the whole glass in one go.

  “Easy, Lizzy! At this pace you are going to be drunk before we even get there.”

  “C’mon Rory. Have some fun. It’s not every day that we get to live it up in a limo!” Lizzy replied as she poured another glass for herself. Rory realized that there was no way Lizzy was going to listen to her as she promptly turned her attention back to her wine glass. The limo sped through streets that she wasn’t very familiar with.

  “Where the hell are we heading?” she said out loud to no one in particular.

  “This is Glenley Hill. You don’t come here often, but I know this place like the back of my hand,” Lizzy replied mid-sip. “All the celebs that come down to Montcove stay here. Like, the most beautiful houses you will ever see!”

  There was a remarkable shift in the surroundings. Rory thought where she lived was beautiful, but this was another level of gorgeous. Well-manicured lawns, picturesque structures at every corner, and huge villas lined up the roads. It was like Hollywood Hills but much bigger and a whole lot prettier.

  Not long after, the limo slowed and turned right toward a smaller road, at the end of which they were stopped by big burly security guys. The driver rolled down his window to speak to one of them and Rory saw a whole bunch of paparazzi flashing their cameras.

  She made an ugly face as she noticed Hector, the paparazzo who had visited her shop, staring at her through the window. He had an amused look on his face as he looked down at her, as if she didn’t belong there.

  “Isn’t it exciting, Rory? Look at all the paparazzi.” Lizzy was like a kid in a candy store. “I hope they take a lot of our pictures too. Oh, I wish they had like a red carpet or something.”

  “For a personal party? You gotta be kidding me.”

  Much to Lizzy’s joy and Rory’s dismay, there was indeed a red carpet leading up to the house that was infested by a whole new bunch of paparazzi. When she saw sponsored banners there she realized that this was more than just a house party, and boy did she feel like a fool in that moment.

  There were a few women walking in front of them and they were all dressed to kill in outfits that would fit well on a Paris runway. She wasn’t surprised when the paparazzi didn’t show any interest in snapping her pictures.

  “Hey, you in jeans, get out of the way, you’re in the frame,” one paparazzo shouted at her, as he tried to snap a picture of Lizzy in her tiny dress. Lizzy was busy posing in all the poses that she had probably practiced in the mirror for years. For once Rory wished that she had listened to Lizzy and put on a glamorous dress. Damn, I need a drink.

  As they got inside the main gate of the villa Rory was just awed. There lay a whole courtyard full of trees and plants, all draped in twinkly fairy lights. There was a fountain in the middle and different flowers lined the way. But this was not the main area of the party they realized, as a hostess quickly led them up the way, onto the side and to the big field that had a huge pool.

  This was where the party was: about a hundred people were sitting and standing around circular tables sipping on bubbly and sampling hors d’oeuvres. Music played in the background, different scents of perfume wafted in the air, and this was without a doubt the most glamorous party Rory had ever been to. It took Lizzy barely a minute to find someone she knew, and she was quickly off to chat with them.

  With nothing else to do and no familiar faces in view, Rory made her way to the bar to get a glass of wine. What the hell am I doing here?

  As she sipped on the wine she thought of Arsen and this lifestyle. What was he complaining about? This place is gorgeous. Rory stared at the three-story mansion that stood before her. She couldn’t even imagine what it was like to live in a house like this. This was nothing less than a dream.

  If I were this successful I’d be happy all the time. Rory really didn’t know what it would feel like to be winning at life. What does being good at something feel like? Rory thought as she strolled slowly around the grounds, taking a better look at the house. Realizing that the dark thoughts were entering her head again, she decided to get another drink when she bumped into a man with a long swath of hair.

  Chapter 13

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Rory said instinctively before she looked up and realized that she was staring at the annoyed face of Mickey Nicks.

  “Yeah! You should be. Wait… you are... that girl. Wait, how do I know you?” he asked as he struggled to light his cigarette with shaking hands.

  “Er… You took shelter in my house from the storm. Remember? Just a few days ago.” She couldn’t believe his memory was that bad.

  “Oh right!” he replied, but Rory wasn’t sure that he really did remember.

  “Have you seen Arsen or Don around?” she asked, but Mickey’s attention was already lost on the two young girls who had slid up to him from nowhere. They had cleavage for days, impossibly short skirts, and long legs.

  “Mickey! Have you seen Arsen or Don?” she asked again sternly, making sure she got his attention.

  “Ugh… yeah… they’re around.” With that, Mickey turned around and led the two girls into the house. Was he drunk? Was he high? Probably both, Rory concluded.

  “I was sure you weren’t gonna show up.” A gruff voice reached her ears from behind, and a smile came on her face as she saw Don approaching her with a glass of champagne.

  “Hey, Don. I was just asking Mickey about you.”

  “Well… he is rarely aware of what he himself is up to, so…” He let out a slight laugh. “Have you been here long? Did the car pick you up okay?”

  “Yes, Don. Thanks for sending it. Haven’t been here long, but I was getting lost in this sea of strangers.” Rory exhaled.

  “Yeah these things can be like that, but you get used to it. Especially when you realize that everyone else at the party is probably way more self-conscious than you are.”

  “Really? All these pretty, well-dressed people look like they have everything sorted in their lives.” Rory looked around the party.

  “There is always more to it than meets the eye. The surface of the sea is never a good reflection of what lies at the bottom.” Don smiled.

  “Does that apply to you too?” Rory chuckled.

  “Me? Oh no. I am just a simple farm boy from Kansas.” He smiled.

  “Really? No way!”

  “Yes way. Why do you think I like LA so much? Because Kansas is even more dreary.” He laughed and the way he said it made Rory laugh as well.

  “Speaking of dreary…” Don said to himself and looked out toward the entrance. A tall blonde woman dressed to the nines entered, followed by her entourage who reminded Rory of little minions.

  “I think I’ve seen her somewhere,” she thought out loud, and then it came back to her. She was the woman she spotted the other day when she had met Arsen at Mike’s garage. The woman who had the paparazzi following her. Rory also remembered that after spotting the blonde Arsen had seemed to be in a hurry to get away from the place.

  “I am surprised you don’t know her, but then again, I’m not. That, Rory, is Tanya Cox. Heiress to the Cox hotel chain empire. Reality TV star, singer, actress, and Go
d knows what else. Though if she is good at any of that is a whole different discussion.”

  “Well, she surely seems to be the centerpiece of this party,” Rory said and took a sip of the bubbly.

  “She is—and that's not an accident. She knows what she’s doing. There is not an event in the world she won’t go to for PR mileage,” Don said, with what seemed to Rory like a certain sense of disdain.

  “I guess some people have all the luck in the world,” Rory sighed.

  “If I had her luck, I’d be doing better things with my life than mimicking Barbie doll songs while prancing half naked around the stage.” Don continued, a half smile back on his face. “I remember back in the 60s and the 70s, it was all about the music. Nobody cared about PR or Instagram or whatever. It was all about good times and meaningful music that spoke to your soul. Since then, apart from the songs Arsen writes, no other music has truly spoken to me.”

  Rory realized that Don was not just a manager of the biggest band in the world, but also someone who loved their music. Someone who cared about his clients, especially one of them.

  “Arsen seems to be the perfect rock god from LA,” Rory remarked, and then blushed, wondering why she had said that out loud.

  “Far from it. There is much more to Arsen Ford than people know. He is no degenerate rockstar born on Sunset Boulevard.” Rory wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that Don was referring to Mickey and his lifestyle.

  “If I am still a farm boy from Kansas, then Arsen is still the small town boy from Iowa—as much as he might dislike admitting it. But I admire that man. He has suffered far too many losses in life and has still come out on top. I just wish he would give himself some credit at times.”

  Rory simply couldn’t put Arsen and “a small town boy” together. He looked and acted like he was made to be a rockstar since the day he was born. Everything about the man oozed raw sexuality, masculine dominance, and an unshakeable sense of confidence.