Tame Me

by Natalie Rios

  Shrugging, Brody releases my chin and pulls me into his chest. Then he just holds me, for what feels like hours. His warmth and spicy scent are exactly what I need. And it hits me then: I made it through the entire story without a panic attack. Holy shit!

  “What I don’t get,” Brody’s voice whispers in my ear, “is how this relates to the disaster of a marriage proposal I just witnessed.”

  Wincing, I lift my head and let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, that. I had trouble trusting men for a long time after. Except for Eddie. He and I...well, we got really close.”

  Eyes narrowed, he asks, “And?”

  “And for a long time, he was the only man I felt comfortable enough to be...intimate with.”

  “You two dated?”

  “No. Which is why the proposal pissed me off. I’ve been telling you all long, I don’t date.”

  “You just fucked then.”

  “Not for a while now. Definitely not since you. The last time I saw him was almost a year ago, at my brother’s birthday party.” He nods, mollified by my answer. And I think it’s finally time to address the elephant in the room. Screw going with the flow. I need answers, damn it. “So...what are we doing here?”

  “You tell me. I’ve wanted to be with you since day one.”

  WHAT? I could have sworn he hated me those first few days. “You have?”

  “Yeah.” Raking a hand through his hair, he looks sheepish. “But you were my employee and it was inappropriate. That’s why I insisted we keep things formal.”

  Crossing my arms, I level him with a look. “I knew I was being targeted with that last name bullshit!”

  Grinning, he shakes his head. “You also kept saying you don’t date. And then he showed up and you were being so secretive about him.” He holds up a hand at my protest. “I get it now, but at first, I thought you were waiting for him to get his shit together so you could take him back or something.”

  Looks like cousin Ellie was right again. My go-with-the-flow attitude resulted in a huge misunderstanding that could have been cleared up weeks ago.

  “I want to be with you,” I admit, “but I’m still your employee. Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “You forget I’m the boss. I make the rules.”

  “Silly me.” Throwing my arms around him, I seal my lips against his. “Don’t get soft on me now, Satan. I love the Neanderthal in you.”

  “I’ll toss you around my bed later,” he vows. “Do you want to go back to the party?”

  I would rather be forced to start a fire from scratch so I could burn a sugar-free protein bar to eat before prancing and twerking around the resort grounds.

  But I’m the hostess. And this mess is my fault. And I’ve definitely learned my lesson: procrastinating gets you nowhere. Hopping off Brody’s lap, I hold out my hand for him. “Gotta face the music at some point.”

  “My brave Queen,” Brody whispers as we cross the threshold. You would think I was Moses parting the Red Sea from the way the crowd moves before us, whispering and staring like this is high school. But we soldier on, with my arm folded through Brody’s, until we reach our merry little group.

  The first friendly face I spot is Robbie, who looks like he wants to give me a hug. Honestly, he might have, had it not been for the grizzly bear standing by my side, glowering at anyone who got too close.

  “Charlotte, I’m so sorry. I swear, I had no idea-” Robbie starts, but I wave him off.

  “I know. It’s not your fault.”

  Nodding, he stares back towards the exit. “Do you need me to drag him back to New York? Hell, I’ll toss him in the trunk and keep him there the entire drive, if you want.”

  “Nah, go easy on him.” He’s going after Eddie no matter what. All I can do is pray for mercy. “It’s not his fault, either.”

  “You know you have to tell Liz, right?”

  “Yeah.” I am not looking forward to that conversation.

  “She’ll forgive you. She’ll huff and puff and maybe not talk to you for a couple of days, but she’ll forgive you. Well, if you will excuse me, I have to find my knucklehead brother. It was nice meeting you all.” His eyes linger on Fallon.

  “Maybe I should go with you,” she suggests. “No one knows these grounds better than me-”

  “Fallon, you’re hosting,” Brody reminds her and poor Fallon deflates a bit, eyes following Robbie with longing.

  “Well, that went about as well as I thought it would.” Jackson joins us, a bottle of vodka tucked under his arm. “I told him it was a stupid idea.”

  “Wait. You told him it was a stupid idea? What does that mean?”

  “He texted me last night, asking if I knew your ring size. And he said something about a puppy? I don’t know, I was half-asleep when I read it.” Jackson shrugs, as if this is no big deal.

  I keep my voice quiet and even. “You mean to tell me you knew?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Turning to Fallon, I hold out a hand. “May I borrow your clutch.” It’s not a request and Fallon quickly hands it over. “Thank you.”

  Then, I whack him on the shoulder.

  “Ow! What the fuck!” he exclaims.

  “You knew and you didn’t tell me! I’m your sister! Your loyalty should be to me!” I give him a few more whacks for good measure.

  “Isn’t anyone going to stop her? I’m going to drop the vodka!” He tries to move away from me, but I move right with him. Whack! Whack! Whack! “Look, I’m sorry! I thought it was weird of him to propose, but I don’t know anything about your love life anyway. You always say you don’t date. So I figured, hell, maybe you guys were secretly dating. Men don’t just propose out of the blue, you know?”

  I’m about to hit him again, but Brody pulls my arm back. “That’s enough, Mike Tyson.”

  “Mike Tyson used his fists.” I return the clutch to a shocked Fallon.

  “That was totally worth not chasing after the hunky artist,” she whispers to Mina.

  “For everyone’s information, I am not now, nor have I ever, dated Eddie Rockwell,” I announce. “Actually, I’m sort of dating Brody.”

  “I knew it!” Fallon and Mina both squeal. Wait, what?

  “Congrats,” Kyle adds. “Can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m glad it’s finally out in the open.”

  “Wait? Did all of you know?” At their nods, Brody and I exchange a WTF look. “But how?”

  “Well, remember that day Brody dragged you into his office while Fallon and I waited outside? Let’s just say the walls are very thin in there,” Mina slyly winks.

  “Yeah, we felt like voyeurs after a while, so we moved into the copy room to add another sound barrier,” Fallon nods.

  “I knew after Brody nearly broke my face for being rude to you,” Tanner interjects.

  “And then when he insisted you join us for Truth or Dare?” Kyle shakes his head. “Shit, I half thought it would be him up there proposing tonight.”

  Well, then. So much for being discreet. “Well, at least it’s out in the open now-”

  “Correction. We’re not sort of dating,” Brody cuts in.

  Ah, fuck. Don’t tell me I misinterpreted his statement about wanting to be with me.

  “We’re definitely dating.” Without warning, he pulls me into a dip and kisses me. Right there in front of his entire family. In front of my brother. In front of a bunch of nosy partygoers, who cheer us on.

  Looks like Satan knows a thing or two about romance after all.

  “Man, I don’t need to see this shit,” Jackson groans.

  Brody immediately rights me, looping an arm around my waist so he’s still holding me close. “Just making sure there aren’t any more misunderstandings.”

  “Nope. We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Got it.”

  “That’s not the title I’m after.” Huh? But before I can ask what he means by that, he continues, “Does it bother you, not having your money? Do you want to travel again?”

  Oh, yeah. Th
at’s right. I’m still broke. The truth is my old life, where I lived out of hotel rooms and was constantly on the hunt, no longer holds any appeal.

  “Home.” Unsurprisingly, my answer puzzles him. “You asked me before what I was looking for when I traveled. Home. A place where I felt safe, welcomed, wanted…”

  “Home doesn’t have to be a place, Charlotte. Home can be a person. A warm hug when you first wake up in the morning. A hand to hold yours when you need steadying. A smile when you’re feeling down. I’m your home. And you’re mine.”

  Yes, yes, yes, yes! Truer words have never been spoken. Brody is my home. Something clicks inside of me and suddenly I’m sure. I can’t explain it, but I know this is the real deal. A forever kind of deal.

  “Two things,” I whisper against his ear. “One: I love you. Two: Brody, will you please fuck me on your bed? Preferably sometime within the next half hour or so-”

  “Two things,” he interrupts on a growl. Scooping me in his arms, he carries me out without sparing his siblings so much as a glance. “One: I love you. Two: you don’t ever have to ask.”

  My big strong Mountain Man carries me home, where he tosses me around on his bed just as he promised. And I can honestly say, all those years of waiting, of feeling lost or like I’d fallen behind, were totally worth it.

  Because I’m finally exactly where I want to be.

  Epilogue

  Brody

  Charlotte Burgundy Kensington drives me insane. An absolutely batshit, prematurely greying and balding, kind of insane.

  I have no idea how she comes up with half the shit that comes out of her mouth. Twice now, she’s nearly burned down the house in an attempt to cook for me because she can’t follow a recipe to save her life. And just yesterday, she nearly drove a truck through a fence because she kept confusing the clutch for the brakes.

  I don’t get why she insists on learning to drive on a stick shift. An automatic would be easier, I tried to explain, especially for a first time driver like her. But that bullheaded woman doesn’t listen to reason. She’s stubborn and determined to prove she can do anything.

  Charlotte Burgundy Kensington is going to drive me to drink.

  Correction: Charlotte Burgundy Connors.

  Today, she officially became my wife. And despite her eccentric ways, I love her.

  Every day is an adventure. There are so many layers to this woman that, despite learning something new about her every day, I don’t think I’ll ever know everything about her. And that’s okay with me. Because the alternative sounds boring as shit. I would rather have my colorful wife who does crazy stupid shit on occasion than a predictable one.

  There’s never a dull day in the Connors household, that’s for sure.

  “Brody, I have an idea.” My new wife sidles up to me looking giddy as all hell and I immediately groan. In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve learned to keep a roll of antacids and a bottle of aspirin on me at all times, just in case she ever utters that sentence in my presence.

  Headaches and stomachaches often accompany Charlotte’s kooky schemes.

  “Give me a minute.” I reach for my pocket, but she slaps my hand away.

  “No, no! You’ll like this one, I promise.” Hmm...I reach again, for just the aspirin, earning another slap on the hand. “Seriously, you’ll love this one. I swear.”

  I arch a brow at her. “I’m all ears.”

  She signals for me to lean down and I quickly oblige. “It’s a baby naming scheme.”

  She’s right, I’ll love this one. Unless her idea is to name the kids after types of sprouts, starting with Alfalfa and Radish or some shit.

  Charlotte did end up getting pregnant from that one time we got carried away in the bathroom. Not that the timing matters. We both love kids and can’t wait to start our family. If she hadn’t already been knocked up when I proposed, I would have made damn sure she got pregnant that very day. The second she said yes, I tore off her clothes and had her flat on her back on my office desk.

  And, yeah, I proposed in my office. It wasn’t romantic or anything. I called her into my office to show her the new employee handbook with an amended fraternization policy. It was only fair to change the policy. I can’t prevent other employees from dating each other while I’m openly dating one myself.

  But the copy I gave her had a handwritten question at the bottom: will you marry me? Charlotte had looked up, her bright blue eyes confused as ever. A loud gasp filled the room when she spotted the jeweler’s box in my hand.

  “I don’t know any bullshit about soulmates,” I said. “But I do know that I love you. I want to be with you and I promise I’ll always take care of you. But if I have to watch one more motherfucker propose to you in my presence, we’re going to have to open up a cemetery on the resort grounds to start burying the bodies. That shit seriously pisses me off. So for the sake of any other rich pricks out there who think they stand a chance, marry me.”

  Maybe you’re not supposed to say the words motherfucker and shit during a proposal, but Charlotte’s not your typical girl. She jumped out of her seat to plant kisses all over my face. The answer was an enthusiastic yes followed by her begging me to fuck her on the surface of my desk.

  I love it when she begs. I know I told her she never has to, because I would never deny her, but I love hearing it all the same.

  Anyway, we found out she was pregnant the very next day. All that changed was the wedding date since Charlotte absolutely refused to walk down the aisle at eight or nine months. Doesn’t make a difference to me. I got the girl and we’re having a baby. That’s all I care about.

  “How about cities in Maine?” Charlotte says, bringing my focus back to her.

  I grimace. “You realize some of our largest cities are Portland, Lewiston, and Bangor, right?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Obviously, not those names. I’m thinking Camden for a boy, Bristol for a girl.”

  “Camden Connors. Bristol Connors,” I test them out. “Not bad.”

  “See?” Charlotte smirks, tapping me on the nose. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” I tease, earning another playful slap. “Are your parents here yet?” Fidgeting a bit, she nods and I instantly wrap an arm around her so I can pull her in close. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” she reassures me. “Never better. Happiest day of my life so far. Until Camden Blueberry Connors is born.”

  She’s kidding about the blueberry part (I think), but she does seem happy. A little nervous about seeing her parents for the first time in months, but fine.

  Charlotte’s back in therapy. It took weeks of arguing with her, but she finally agreed on the condition I also see a therapist. I do a joint session with her once a month, both to show my support and so I can learn how to help her deal with her anxiety.

  As for my therapy sessions? Don’t tell anyone, but they’ve been helpful. I’ve been blaming myself for my parents’ deaths, convinced I could have prevented the entire nightmare by staying in Maine. Convinced I could have changed my father’s mind about skimping on security.

  But the truth is, I couldn’t even convince my father to start a Facebook page for the resort. That’s what we fought about the day I left. A fucking Facebook page. There’s no way in hell he would have taken my advice on what he viewed as a cost saving measure.

  At the end of the day, they died because another driver had weaved into their lane. Period. There’s nothing I could have done to prevent it. As my therapist likes to remind me, accidents happen.

  I still have a hard time getting over the things I said to my father before I left for Europe. I haven’t quite gotten to the point of being able to forgive myself, but my therapist says remorse is healthy so long as you can learn and grow from your experience.

  Charlotte likes to tell me I’m being a hypocrite because I’ve long since forgiven my father for the things he said to me. How is that any different, she asks. I’m hoping one day I c
an see it that way. For now, we’re taking baby steps, helping each other cope as much as we can.

  “You!” A tall brunette with turquoise eyes appears before me, practically jabbing her finger in my eye. “You better not be marrying my friend for money, Satan, or so help you god…I’m a divorce attorney and I’m not afraid to take you to court for every penny you have. I’m talking every piece of plywood, nut and bolt holding up this resort’s walls. It will all be gone just like that!” She snaps her fingers in front of my face.

  “Uh…” I have no idea who this woman is, but she seems like the type who would be friends with Charlotte. I look to her for assistance and find her twirling her hair, looking bored.

  “Seriously, Liz? This coming from the girl who drunkenly married a stranger while in Vegas?”

  Yup, they’re definitely friends. Best friends.

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Liz sniffs. Then she narrows her eyes at me. “Know this, Satan. I’ve got my eye on you.”

  “Okay, crazy pants. Let’s leave the happy couple alone on their special day.” A sandy-haired man wraps an arm around Liz. “Hi, I’m Anthony. Liz’s husband. Please excuse her. I’ve learned being raised by the Rockwells is pretty much the equivalent of being raised by wolves.”

  “Jesus, how many Rockwells are there?” I grumble.

  It’s bad enough Robbie’s here, though I guess there isn’t much I can do about that. Charlotte hired him as the new full-time art teacher for the children’s program. And he’s doing it for zero pay. I don’t like the way he looks at Fallon, but he’s kept his distance since he learned of their fourteen-year age gap.

  And again, he’s working for free. Can’t beat that price.

  If Liz was angry before, she is downright murderous now. Charlotte warned me she’s very loyal to her brothers, even that fucker Eddie. Luckily, her husband intervenes again. “Just three. Speaking of Rockwells, isn’t that Robbie? Let’s go say hello.” He practically drags her way.

  “So I’m guessing Liz forgave you?” I ask Charlotte. Predictably, Liz did not take the news of Charlotte secretly hooking up with her twin brother for years very well.