by Anne Leigh
I signaled the server to bring me one of those fruity drinks. Bad for my training but I hated wine so fruity drinks it was.
Duncan’s brows rose at my order, “Since vvhen did you zztart drinking margaritaz?” His Swedish Russian accent made it hard for me to decipher him at times, especially when we were talking over the phone. Texting worked better with this guy.
I replied, “Since Ace thought only wine and beer were the only alcoholic drinks so that made margaritas my obvious choice.” Hard liquor was also on the menu but I just didn’t feel like whiskey, vodka, or tequila tonight.
He snickered, “Dude, panzzyy azz.” Then, he added in a somewhat low voice, “Zheck that girl out, zhe’z hot.” His eyes floated towards Brynn.
“You have a date,” I pointed out. “And, she has one, too.”
He replied, “Whatever, dude. Zhe’z been zhecking you out.”
Brynn was checking me out?
He continued, “Zhe’s been zneaking glancez at you. I don’t care for thiz ‘catch me while you can’ zort of lookz, but dang, zhe doez not look interezted in her date. Zhe keepz looking at you.”
“Duncan, you’re so loud. She could hear you...” I muttered under my breath. If she was checking me out, I didn’t think she wanted to be obvious about it because every time I looked her way, her blue eyes were not on me.
Peter, my boxing champ college friend, chimed into the conversation. Of course, they were sitting right next to me. He disentangled himself for a moment from the model look-alike that he brought with him. “Yeah, Brynn’s totally hot for you, dude.”
“She’s not. She has a date,” I argued, trying to keep my voice low. I snuck a glance at Brynn from my peripheral vision. She was toying with her fork. Yes, Peter and Duncan were right. She was looking at me.
A shiver of excitement raced through me.
I moved my face quickly, hoping to catch her stare. As soon as I did, her eyes met mine and, for some reason, the noise that was buzzing all over the restaurant earlier stopped. Her blue eyes turned deeper blue, and her lips parted.
I caught her!
I gave her a small smile and a brief nod.
Her ears, left exposed by her bun looking hairstyle, turned red and then she smiled. Whoa, down boy. Her smile reached my head. Before I could process it, it went straight to my chest, stomach, and stopped beneath my boxers.
Instantaneous.
The effect she had on me.
Brynn. Why couldn’t your last name be Malcolm or Smith, or anything other than Tanner?
If it were, I would have no qualms asking her to leave her date and meet me at Suite 450.
I heard Xavier finishing his Best Man speech. It was now my turn. Why did my best friend have to be a girl? This Man of Honor thing was plain weird.
I stood up from my chair and walked towards the middle of the room.
Kieran Stone.
Just saying his name in my head made me feel out-of-sorts.
His name was synonymous with Blond God. Blond Adonis. Blond Hotness.
The first time I met him was at the New York apartment, during my internship. Sedona, my roommate and friend, had talked to me about him a couple of times. She had mentioned that he was a swimmer. I just listened to her tell me about him. From what I had gathered from her, Kieran was a snobbish guy who came from a very affluent family in Santa Monica, and he called her ‘Ace’ because she aced everything related to school.
Kieran had that carefree, surfer look about him. He was lean, long-limbed, and of all things holy, he had deep, penetrating brown eyes that turned to the color of my favorite chocolate when he intently focused on something. I knew this because his eyes turned dark when he held his hand out to me at one time and I thought I felt his fingertips caress my palm. But, maybe I was mistaken. Then, when I said that my brother was Milo Tanner, he looked like he had swallowed acid, and bile was forming in his gut for a minute. When he recovered, his deep brown eyes turned into almost-black glacial stare, and then he walked off to the couch.
Milo was my brother. My loving, over-the-top protective brother who I just talked to twenty minutes ago. He had asked how his buddy, Jeff, was treating me. I told him Jeff was cool. I didn’t want to bring a plus one but Milo expressed his adamant refusal to let me go to Hawaii alone and insisted that I take someone. Milo was supposed to come with me but he had a last-minute change of plans that he had to take care of. So, he sent his friend, Jeff, with me instead.
Despite my age, Milo still treated me like a ten-year old. He still thought of me as the little sister that he needed to shield from the world.
Jeff, my appointed date, whose dark looks made him a female magnet, was of Mediterranean heritage. He was also one of Milo’s closest friends.
“Brynn, are you sure you don’t want me to tuck you into bed tonight?” His almost slurred voice was starting to grate on my nerves.
Normally, he was nice and made sense. I guessed that he could not tolerate fruity drinks because after five of those pink margaritas he looked like he was about to topple over at our table. When he started twirling the plastic umbrellas that came with the margaritas, I knew he was close to being completely schnockered.
“No, Jeff, I am sure,” I said, as I pulled the margarita glass away from his reach.
His gaze slightly unfocused and his blue eyes a tad brighter, he replied, “Oh come on, Beenie, show me some love.”
Yes, Jeff, I will show you some love by dropping you off at your room. If I could manage it. After all, he was probably close to 6’5” and his massive build, which I would gauge to be about 250 pounds, was no match to my 5’8”, 130-pound frame.
If Milo heard about what his buddy was doing, I had no doubt he would castrate him on the spot.
Jeff reached for his margarita, which I had diluted with water when he turned to face the other way.
I hoped Jeff was not going to cause any embarrassment at my dear friend Sedona’s wedding, or there would be hell to pay.
I averted my eyes from Jeff at the moment and admired my surroundings. Zander and Sedona got married at such a romantic setting. The beach frontage, with the sun setting along the horizon, held a spectacular view, and the cool breeze during the ceremony added to the intimacy of the wedding. The reception was just as romantic. The blue green and light purple theme was evident in the decorations. You would think that the combination of lavender, white, and blue roses would clash but, no, they looked so elegant and intricately arranged in the beautiful centerpieces on our tables. The reception captured Zander and Sedona’s low-key personalities and wonderful elegance.
The screeching sound of the microphone echoed in the three thousand square feet space. Xavier was just finishing up his over-the-top, heavily laden with bad and inappropriate jokes, best man speech. He was now handing the wireless microphone to Kieran. The noise continued for a few seconds before Kieran tapped his right hand on it and said, “I guess you can hear me.”
The rest of us chuckled at that.
Kieran stood in front of the happy couple in a relaxed stance. Zander was presently tucking Sedona’s hair into place behind her earlobe. He looked at her with so much love, as if he could not get enough of her.
Kieran’s voice reverberated inside the room, “Ace, you’re a genius but how could you make such a horrible choice for a husband? A football player, no less?”
Laughter echoed in the room.
Kieran, in his charcoal-grey suit, was devilishly handsome. He looked like the kind of guy who wore the clothes, instead of the other way around. He had that swagger, that carefree presence that was sexy and relaxed at the same time. He smiled widely, and began. “Zander, how can you marry a woman who thinks in equations and fights like a dragon?”
Hoots filled the room. Kieran was hilarious. This was a side of him that I had never seen. Granted, I’ve only met him twice.
He went on to share details on how the two fell in love and, wistfully, he finished off with, “Ace, you’re the sister I never ha
d, the bestest friend a guy could ever be lucky enough to have.” I saw Sedona swipe a fingertip under her eyes as he continued, “And you’re loved by a man whose eyes were only made for you the minute he met you. Zander... dude, you need eyeglasses.” He paused, and then said, “The way you love each other is sickening, but it’s also heartening to know that in this world, it exists. I could not be happier for both of you. Take care of each other. And Zander, you are one lucky bastard. To this, I say, Cheers!”
Cheers were heard loudly across the room and glasses started tinkling. Zander and Sedona kissed. When they came up for air, they looked at each other in such a way there was no mistaking you just knew they were filled with so much love for one another.
At that moment, I was certain theirs was the kind of love that lasted forever.
The kind of love I longed to have.
Oh god, how was I going to be able to bring this hulking beast to his room?
My saving grace was that the wedding reception was taking place at the hotel where all of us were staying.
Jeff was softly snoring at our table. He barely held his head up when the newlyweds stopped by to say goodbye. Margaritas were this man’s downfall.
“Need some help with the luggage?” I heard a deep voice ask. I looked to my right and there he was, leaning against the wall, his shirt loosely tucked from his pants and his suit jacket hung over his right arm. His blond hair was slightly disheveled, and he aimed those gorgeous brown eyes at me.
“Oh hi Kieran,” I managed to say. I pulled on Jeff’s shoulder to shake him a bit, to no avail. “Yes, I do. Although, I was actually thinking of leaving him here so he could be picked up by the clean-up crew.”
He let out a small chuckle. “Hold on.” He pursed his lips into a tiny ‘O’ and whistled. His friends, whose names I got from the earlier introductions at our table, walked towards us from the dance floor where a few couples still danced around.
Kieran pulled on Jeff’s shoulder. Still no response from Jeff. It was obvious that my ‘date’ was having a conversation with the god of margaritas.
“Dude, I am not lifting him,” Peter, the gray-eyed guy with muscles that rivaled The Rock’s, stated matter-of-factly.
“And, I am not touching hiz zzhooez or anyvhere cloze to hiz azz,” the other guy, Duncan, muttered.
“Duncan, go ask the servers if they have any rolling chairs, or a wheelchair we can transport this guy in,” Kieran instructed.
As soon as Duncan left, Peter gave me a teasing glance and winked. “Hey wazzup?”
I smiled at him, grateful that they were trying to help me get out of my dilemma. I eyed their dates who were busy shaking and rocking their bodies on the dance floor.
Kieran elbowed Peter. “Focus!” He said while gesturing his free hand towards Jeff.
“Oh hell no,” Peter said loudly. I followed his gaze and saw Duncan pushing a luggage cart.
Once Duncan was close enough for us to hear, he reasoned, “Thiz iz the clozezt moving tranzporter I could find.”
Kieran shook his head, but said, “We can’t carry him to his room so I guess we’ll have to make do.”
As the guys loaded Jeff onto the cart, I couldn’t believe how ridiculous this situation had become. If I had known that Jeff was going to be like this, I’d have come to the wedding alone, whether Milo sanctioned it or not.
Duncan started to push the cart, but Peter stopped him. “Wait. His arms are outside the cart.” He folded Jeff’s arms to where they were tucked closer to his chest. Jeff’s body was awkwardly situated directly on the cart. One of his legs was hanging off one end, while the other was haphazardly tucked under it.
Kieran asked, “Where do we deliver him? Your room?”
I shook my head ‘no’, and replied, “He’s staying in room 414, and I’m in room 312.”
Duncan chuckled. “Kieran, Vrynn’z in 312. Alone. You hear that?”
Kieran didn’t say anything. He just nodded. With his arm, he gestured for me to lead the way.
In my 2-inch heels and knee-length, blue silk dress, I felt like I was naked. Someone behind me was staring at me so intently that I could actually feel his eyes burning through the silk threads of my dress.
Goosebumps started forming around my neck following to my arms until it spread all over my entire body.
Suddenly, an arm touched me on my side. “You cold, Brynn?”
I locked on his chest first, before slowly working my way up to meet his eyes. “No, just tired.”
Duncan’s loud voice interrupted us. “Vve don’t have all night here, puzzh on the elevator vutton, dude.”
Peter interjected, “Yeah, we have to go back to our dates, you know.”
We filed ourselves into the elevator. Jeff was loudly snoring now. The rocking motions of the moving cart must have calmed him. His mouth was partly open.
When we stopped by room 414, Kieran dug out the hotel key from Jeff’s shirt. We all got inside, and the guys dumped—yes, dumped—Jeff on the bed. Jeff answered with an even louder snore.
“Thank you so much,” I expressed my gratitude to the guys as we all left Jeff’s room.
Peter and Duncan nodded their heads as they walked towards the elevator.
Kieran walked slower with his steps matching my own. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
I merely nodded, but heard Duncan again, before getting into the elevator, “312. Alone. Kieran. 312.” His green eyes were teasing, while Peter just smiled at me.
Kieran was quiet. We walked inside the other elevator to shuttle down to the third floor.
When we reached the door of my suite, he let out a loud sigh.
I turned my head to the side then looked up to see his face. His eyes were stormy, and he looked as if he was struggling with unnamed emotions. He lowered his gaze to my lips and his eyes darkened even more. He lifted his hand and touched his thumb to my cheek, and muttered, “If only, Brynn...”
I hitched a breath, and whispered, “If only what, Kieran?”
It took him five beats before he lowered his hand, and with a loud resigned sigh, he said, “If only you weren’t Milo’s sister.” With that, he turned around and walked towards the elevator.
I wrestled with immediately asking him to come back, just letting him walk away as I went inside my suite. Rationality won as I swiped the magnetic stripe of hotel key over the sensor, walked inside, removed my shoes, and laid my body on the bed. It was a long time before sleep found me.
“I dream of dancing in the beach with my ballerina shoes.”
~A.J., age 12, acute lymphoblastic leukemia
“Bee, you make the most delicious pancakes. I am so fucking happy that you signed with Arizona State Medical Center for two years.” My brother, Milo, expressed his glee through a mouthful of some of the blueberry pancakes that I had spent at least half an hour making.
Milo has called me ‘Bee’ since I was a baby. He had tried to imitate my dad’s pet names for me – Bella, Bellini, Bellisima – but Milo couldn’t pronounce them. All he could manage was Bee; the name stuck through the years.
“Milo, I was hired by the hospital, not signed.” I shook my head at him as I cut my pancake with a fork. “Can you please curb the potty mouth?” I scolded. It didn’t matter how much I reminded him, the “F-word’s” still flew out when he talked.
He zoomed his green eyes at me. The eyes he inherited from our half-Italian dad. Actually, he also inherited our dad’s naturally tanned skin that I envied so much. I’d have to burn to a crisp in the sun for hours before my fair skin would ever compare to his.
He smiled wide, his white teeth flashed, and it was obvious this was the look many girls, and women alike, have fallen victim to. He was my brother, but I could not deny the fact that he was also a ladies’ man. At 6’4”, he was bulky and muscled. His coach once told him that he didn’t have a swimmer’s body, more like a boxer’s body. Milo had disclosed that to me while cursing the high heavens because he didn’t know what a “swim
mer’s body” was supposed to look like. All he knew was that he loved to swim and he could care less about being a boxer. I advised him that it was probably a compliment. He threw me a snide look and his own exact words were, “Bee, swimming’s my life. If I were thrown inside a ring, I’d want that ring to be filled with water. Just make it an enclosed aquarium, and I’d kick that motherfucker’s face.”
“Did you make more?” He asked as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen.
I shook my head. “Milo, I made like 24 pancakes. You want more? How do you not get fat?”
“I burn through these in three hours. You should know this by now.” He washed his plate over the sink after checking out the stove and the refrigerator for any evidence of leftover pancakes.
I stood up from my chair and heaved myself up on the kitchen counter into a sitting position, swinging my feet. I loved having these one-on-one moments with my brother. When he was happy and relaxed, I was the same. We were connected to each other ever since we were children. Milo was the other half of Brynn. Brynn was the other half of Milo.
He was also my number one protector. In third grade, a boy stole my lunch and by the end of recess, that boy was sitting without shorts on in the middle of the school playground. He was tied to a tree by his shoestrings. In high school, when a guy teased me for still being a virgin, this guy’s car was defaced with “LOSER” written on his front windows, and this same guy had a hard time chewing on the right side of his mouth. It was well known that I was Milo’s little sister, all throughout school. This fact scared guys so no one had the courage to date me. I got really upset at Milo about this and he simply said, “Good.”