“If I like it, maybe I’ll invite you in for a nightcap,” I promise as we follow the path to Theo’s place.
We hear the house before we see it. Thumping music and animated voices grow louder the closer we get.
“This is it,” Huxley says when we reach the beach house at the end of the street. He seems surprised.
Pizza boxes and beer cans litter the lawn. Although all the evidence so far is pointing to the garden gnomes, there is more going on in this house than meets the eye. All the lights are on, and someone is definitely home.
I ring the doorbell twice.
A moment later, Chad Huntington-Beaumont opens the door. His broad chest is bare, and his t-shirt is wrapped around his head—probably concealing the lump that he got at the wedding ceremony. His chinos may have thought they were going to the yacht club, but now, here they are, at Theo’s house, covered in tomato sauce.
He nods at us both. “Hey, hey! Hux! Olivia! What’s up?”
“Is my brother here?” Huxley asks. “He didn’t tell me he was having a party.” He catches himself and holds up a finger. “I take that back. He did tell me there would be a party, but it was supposed to be his wedding party, which is where he’s supposed to be right now.”
Chad shrugs and crushes a beer can against his head. The foam sprays everywhere, not that he’s sober enough to give a damn.
“You’re welcome to come inside and look,” he says, stepping out of the way to let us in.
“Am I now? Thank you so much, Chad. Thank you for granting me permission to come inside my brother’s house.”
“No worries, man! No worries!”
I roll my eyes. The t-shirt on his head must have added a layer to his already thick skull.
Inside the house are dozens of people our age. They’re talking, laughing, and drinking from beer bottles and red cups filled with who knows what. Either the summer rental service has overbooked this place, or our friend Chad has thrown a big-ass party.
I’m still taking in my surroundings when Huxley sneaks up behind me, spins me around, and gives me a goodnight kiss that makes my knees buckle.
“Welcome home,” he says. “Are you going to invite me in for a nightcap?”
I look at the bottles lined up on the wet bar across the room. “We do seem to have a good selection of liquor, at least.”
But one thing’s for sure—this party is a dead end.
And if Emma is here…she’s got a lot of explaining to do.
Huxley
“Why don’t I pour us a couple of drinks while you slip into something more comfortable?”
I know I did a great job helping Olivia into the dress she’s wearing, but my true passion is talking her out of them.
It doesn’t matter how many people are standing around us right now. When I’m with Olivia, it’s like she’s the only girl in the room.
Olivia gives me what I hope is a playful shove. “Or how about you pour us a couple of drinks while I go look for my sister?”
“That could work, too.”
I ignore the cornucopia of party mixers on the table and go straight to my brother’s liquor cabinet, where he usually locks away the expensive stuff. A couple of long pours and a few ice cubes later, the drinks are ready.
Olivia is nowhere on the first floor, so I head upstairs. I find her in the hallway, holding her phone against one ear and plugging the other with her finger to drown out the noise.
When Olivia sees me, she ends the call and shakes her head, frowning. “She’s still not answering me.”
“Here.” I thrust the cup in Olivia’s free hand and reach into my back pocket. “Have a drink while I try my brother again. If he’s in here, we might even be able to hear his phone ringing.”
I pull out my phone and hit speed dial.
My call goes straight to voicemail. “The subscriber you have dialed…”
I hang up before the robot voice can tell me what the subscriber I have dialed is doing and why he won’t pick up the fucking phone.
Would it kill Theo to personalize his voicemail greeting? He’s been gone so long that I’ve almost forgotten what his voice sounds like.
“I didn’t hear his ringtone. Did you?” Olivia asks anxiously.
She’s staring at her phone like she’s at some cheesy restaurant, waiting for her plastic buzzer to go off so she can pick up her food.
“No, I didn’t. I guess it’s just you and me tonight. And all these other people.”
I clink my plastic cup against hers and stand next to her along the wall, watching the happy drunkards stumble by.
This is romantic. Sort of.
Olivia takes a tentative sip of her drink, but I can tell her mind is somewhere else.
“Which room is your brother’s?” she asks.
“Right this way.”
I lead her to the end of the hall, where my brother’s master suite awaits us behind a pair of French doors—and thankfully, I’m the only one with a spare key to open them.
“What are we doing in here?” I ask. “Do you want to have sex on my brother’s bed or something? I’m definitely mentioning that in my best man toast if you do.”
“Come on, Hux!” Olivia says, but she says it in a tone of voice that really means, Stop it, Hux!
She sounds very tired all of a sudden. I guess I’ll back off and see what she’s in the market before I make her an offer.
As she circles the room, she flips through stacks of paper on the dresser, opens all the closet doors, and feels behind the pillows on the bed. Then, she drops to her knees to look under the dust ruffle.
I admire her ass while she does it, even when she trots off to the
A moment later, Olivia reemerges, holding up a box of my brother’s wax strips. “What the hell is this for?”
“What, you think Theo wakes up this smooth every day?”
“He waxes his legs?”
“His back.”
“Ugh. Sorry I asked.” She tosses the strip in the trash.
I’m tempted to scold her for invading Theo’s privacy, but I’m also interested to see what else she’ll find in his bedroom. I should probably let her do her thing.
“What are you looking for?” I ask as she opens the drawer next to my brother’s nightstand. “I don’t think Theo will fit in there.”
“I’m not looking for him anymore,” she says. “I’m looking for clues. Maybe he left his phone behind, and that’s why he hasn’t called. Maybe he wrote an address on a notepad that’ll tell us where he is.”
From Theo’s underwear drawer, she pulls out a neon-yellow thong. “Or maybe he forgot to pack underwear for the honeymoon and had to stop at Banana Hammocks R Us,” she mutters.
“Theo doesn’t need underwear to have a good time. Who does? He would’ve left those behind on purpose.”
“We’re getting nowhere fast. This is hopeless.”
Olivia pulls back the string of the thong like a slingshot and flings it into a hamper on the other side of the room. When it lands inside without even touching the rim, she raises her fists in the air in triumph.
“Look! I made a basket!”
“Nice shot. I didn’t know you were such a baller.”
“Yes, Hux. I have many talents that are going unused right now while I’m searching in vain for my adult sister. I’m one unanswered phone call away from putting her picture on the back of a milk carton.”
“A champagne bottle would be better,” I point out. “I don’t think milk drinkers are her target audience.”
“True. But seriously, what are we going to do? We still have a house full of wedding guests to entertain, a party to break up before the neighbors call the cops, and no bride and groom.”
I sit on the bed and pat the empty space next to me. “Have a seat. Relax.”
Olivia narrows her eyes. “Being told to relax is about as relaxing as being told to smile.”
“I know. But there’s not much else we can do right now.”
; I lie back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin overhead. Olivia lies down next to me.
We don’t hold hands. We don’t even touch.
But somehow the feeling of having her next to me makes me believe that everything is going to be all right.
Olivia might be the most stressed-out person I’ve run into at this wedding, but she’s also the reason I’m still here. Without her, I’d be blaming myself for losing my brother.
Instead, I blame him for making us worry.
“Look, Olivia. I know I’m not one to talk, but Theo and Emma are being really irresponsible right now. People have flown out from all over the place to come to this wedding. You’ve been tearing your hair out trying to make everything perfect for them. And how do they show their gratitude? By ditching us without even saying goodbye.”
Olivia tucks a pillow under her head and rolls over to look at me. “Being mad at my sister doesn’t stop me from worrying about her. What if they really did break up, and my sister is at a bar somewhere by herself, crying in her beer? That’s not going to end well.”
“Emma is a grown-ass woman,” I remind her. “If she has any sense at all, she’ll come straight back here, collect all the gifts, and check in for her honeymoon flight before my brother does.”
Olivia smiles. “I should text her that idea.”
“You do that. What should we tell my brother?”
“I’m going to tell him that if he has any sense at all, he’ll get over here right now before the teddy bear gets it.” She reaches inside her pillowcase and pulls out a small stuffed bear.
“Not Mr. Snuggles! You wouldn’t dare!”
I recognize Mr. Snuggles from my brother’s bedroom at our parents’ house growing up. He’s missing an eye, but he seems to be in a good place emotionally. He’s still smiling, at least.
“His name is Mr. Snuggles? That’s sweet.” Olivia air kisses the bear and holds him out to snap a picture of him with her phone. “I’d tie him up with rope and a stick of dynamite, but I lost both items when you ripped off my dress.”
“Too bad. Guess we’ll have to throw him in the pool and see how well he swims.”
“Deal.”
“Bros! There you two are!” Chad turns up at the top of the stairs, still shirtless and holding a canister of ping-pong balls.
He’s interrupting my special time with Olivia, but she could probably use a distraction right now. I’ll just see what Chad’s doing here and go from there.
“What’s up, Chad? Off to the gym?” I ask.
“We’re playing strip beer pong downstairs. Wanna join us?”
“Depends. Who else is playing?”
Chad squirms. “Well…”
“Spit it out, Chad.”
Chad sighs. “To be honest, it’s almost all dudes right now.” He turns to Olivia with pleading eyes. “Do you think you could help us out? Boost morale? I’ve seen way too many dicks tonight.”
I’m not going to ask him to tell me that story from the beginning. I’m also going to avoid putting Olivia in yet another situation where she’ll end up naked in front of a whole bunch of people.
Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing naked her again.
Olivia shrugs. “Why not? Everyone’s already seen me naked today.” She looks at me. “I have nothing better to do right now. Do you?”
I shake my head. “Nothing at all. Count us in, Chad. But I’m not going to promise you that you won’t see my dick, too. I’m not that good at beer pong.”
Olivia
“We’ll start with a round of one-on-one. Here’s the gist: call your cup before you throw. If it lands in the cup, I’ll drink it. If you miss, you strip.”
I like this side of Chad. Drinking is clearly his sport. But I don’t trust him to have washed the balls before he got started.
He doesn’t seem like the type who remembers to wash his balls very often, if you know what I’m saying.
I’m probably going to have to kick his naked ass. No way am I drinking this shit.
I scope out the rest of the ping-pong table. The cups form a triangle on both ends, each with ten cups. The cups are half full of beer, and judging from the boxes lying at Chad’s feet, it’s not my preferred brand.
Again, I can’t afford to miss a shot.
I call the shot. “Back row. To my left.”
Chad points to the cup to confirm, and I nod. Here we go.
I reach back, aim, and release the ball. It sails across the table and lands right in the cup, splashing foam all around it.
Chad’s drunken friends reward me with applause and whistles.
“Drink up, Chad!” I yell over the noise.
Chad does as he’s told. I can see the disappointment on Huxley’s face when I grab another ball, still fully clothed.
“Can I have a turn?” Huxley asks hopefully.
“Be my guest.” Chad gets out of the way, and Huxley takes his place at the other end of the table.
“Your throw then, hot stuff,” I tell Huxley.
Once more, his face falls.
“What?” I ask. “Chad had his chance. I was promised some dicks.”
He sighs. “Fine.”
Huxley calls the center cup. It hits the rim and then bounces into the cup right next to it.
“It landed in a cup! That counts, right?”
“Nope. It has to land in the cup you called. Strip for me, boy!”
Indignant, Huxley peels off his…left sock. What he lacks in coordination, he makes up for in modesty.
“Let’s play two-on-two!” Huxley announces. “Olivia’s on my team.”
“Now you’re talking.” Chad resumes his place at the end of the table, sending Huxley over to my side.
While Chad is still going strong, his number two is bouncing around like he has to do a number one. He’s already stripped down to his boxers. We’d better make this fast.
“Let’s go at the same time now,” I call. “Third row, second cup.”
“Second row, third cup,” Huxley replies, and I hope he knows whether we’re going left to right or right to left.
Because I’m not sure I do.
Chad and his buddy call their cups as well, and then we’re off to the races. Chad and I sink our balls on the first try.
Huxley misses by a hair. He takes off his remaining sock to show me his other ankle. Overwhelmed with lust for his hairy appendage, I swoon.
I’m kidding. It’s a fucking ankle. I’m still waiting for this game to be exciting.
Meanwhile, Chad’s friend has missed the table entirely. He sighs and reaches for his shorts.
This is the moment when he discovers that they’re wet in the front. He covers his crotch with his hand.
“Uh…I’d better go,” he says, running toward the bathroom.
“Huxley and Olivia, you’re up,” Chad announces. “No way am I taking on the two of you alone.”
Chad sits down on the sidelines. Once again, I’m left alone with Huxley, who’s looking at me like he’s so, so ready to put his balls in my cup.
His wish is my command.
“Let’s go. Back row, center cup,” I say.
“Ditto.”
Now that’s interesting. We’ll be aiming our balls in the same direction.
Even if my aim is perfect, he could still block my shot. Finally, Huxley is figuring out how to play this game to win.
It’s a good thing, because he can’t aim for shit.
“One, two, three, go!” I throw my ball on three and watch it fly over the table in slow motion.
That’s how it looks in my mind, at least. In reality, it’s happening really fast.
As predicted, our balls smack against each other in midair, bouncing two or three times on the table before rolling to their doom.
“You missed, Huxley. Now be a good boy and take your medicine.”
“So did you, Olivia. Grab your sippy cup so you don’t spill.”
“No, thanks. These cups
are filthy.”
Huxley crosses his arms in defiance. “Is that even allowed?” He looks at Chad for support.
“If the player refuses to drink, he or she has to strip instead,” Chad explains.
I stop to think about this for a moment. Is it worth it?
I kicked my shoes off at the door. I’m not wearing socks. In fact, my dress is the only item of clothing on my body other than my underwear.
I pick up the cup with the ball inside and sniff the beer. The dirty, rubbery ping-pong scent is all I need to know that this beer will never, ever touch my lips.
“I accept the terms,” I tell Chad. Looking at Huxley, I gently lift my dress over my head and drop it to the floor.
Once again, I can feel the wind on my ass. All eyes are on my tits. Chad looks like he’s about to faint.
The other party guests are peeking at us from a respectful distance, trying not to gawk.
Not Huxley. He’s looking me up and down, openly claiming his reward for blocking my shot.
Unfortunately for him, my pussy is still covered. I can see the longing in his eyes. But if he wants more, he’s going to have to work for it.
“Ready for a rematch?” he asks me.
“You know it.”
This time, I leave nothing to chance. I toss a little higher than the last time, sailing over his ball and landing straight in the cup. Once more, he misses the cup at the last second.
I lift my cup in celebration. “You’re out of socks, Hux. What are you going to show me next, your belt loops?”
“I’m not wearing a belt,” he says smugly. “See?” He teases me a bit by lifting his shirt to show me the empty loops where his belt should be.
I guess his shirt is next. That’s fine with me. His broad, muscular chest was meant to be shirtless.
“Watch this,” he says. He unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor.
I look down and gasp. There, peeking out from the edge of his shirt, is the tip of his cock.
I should have remembered. He’s not wearing underwear, either.
Chad groans. “Not again.”
Except for a couple of women, the other partygoers are starting to walk away.
Not me. I’m in it to win it. But I think my definition of winning is about to change.
Summer of Love_A Runaway Bride Romance Page 7