Tightwad (Caldwell Brothers Book 2)

by Colleen Charles

  “I need to talk to her first,” I say. “And thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll ask if she finally wants to have that meal she promised me a few days ago. I love you like a brother, but I’d rather be alone with my hot woman.”

  Nixon smirks before clapping me hard on the shoulder. “I am your brother, dipshit,” he says. “Catch you later, then, pussy-whipped.”

  He walks off, and I stand there, feeling dazed and relieved. It’s over, and thanks to Ford and Bailey and Taryn, we pulled it off. We pulled it off. We make a great team, and it’s about time she knows it.

  But I have a feeling telling Taryn that I’m falling in love with her is going to be way fucking harder than organizing a fashion show. My heart aches in anticipation and dread.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taryn

  “I can’t believe you’re really taking me to see Donny and Marie,” I say, laughing. “That’s one hell of a real birthday present.”

  “Ever since you told me you secretly listened to them, I’ve been trying to plan this.” His grin curls my toes. “It’s not my fault your first dance recital was to “Paper Roses.” Did you know that they’re one of the hottest tickets in town? I had to pull some strings and call in some old favors. I might not be able to leave until I pay everyone back.”

  He offers me his hand, and I take it, slipping my fingers through his.

  “You look beautiful,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze.

  Blushing, I look down. I’m wearing one of my own creations – a true Taryn Mitchell prototype. It’s a black gauzy dress in sheer silk, with seed pearls threaded at the bodice. Seed pearls that Reagan Caldwell stitched by hand.

  “Thank you. Although I think you did a better job sewing than I did.” I cast a sideways glance at him. He’s so hot, it makes my knees wobble, and my chest constrict. “I should hire you full-time.”

  He fingers one of the little pearls. “Yeah, right. Like Nixon would ever let me live that down. He’s already giving me shit about accidentally castrating myself with the pinking shears.”

  We walk into the Flamingo arm-in-arm, and I can’t help but notice the stares Reagan gets. Instead of irritating me, it just makes me feel proud. This is my man, I think as we saunter into the auditorium.

  Mine.

  After the fashion show, we finally did dinner at Ruth’s Chris. Our dinner turned into an all-night romp in his hotel…followed by breakfast the next morning. We’ve been spending so much time together that I’ve practically forgotten what a full work day inside Strict Nécessaire feels like. Thank god for competent staff.

  Bailey hasn’t been able to stop teasing me. “You’re like, totally head over heels for him,” she’d said one night when I dashed off before closing to spend a romantic night with Reagan.

  I haven’t been able to answer him…or tell him how I feel, but I have a feeling he knows. We’ve spent so much time kissing and flirting that we’ve barely had a chance for a serious conversation, but I know we’ll have to have one soon. Reagan is leaving Vegas for New York next week, and it’s killing me inside. He’s been called back for an important case.

  “Earth to Taryn,” Reagan says, leaning down, and nipping gently at my neck. A warm flood of arousal fills my belly, and I can’t stop a smile, pushing all thoughts of his departure of my mind…or at least, trying to.

  “I’m here,” I say, biting my lip.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. I don’t want to sully our perfect date with talks about Skype sessions and maybe one visit a month. As much as it kills me to admit it, I know I won’t be able to take huge leaves of absences from Strict Nécessaire. Ever since the fashion show, we’ve been doing better than ever before. Megan from Ivory Clause called the very next day and offered me an incredibly lucrative codicil featuring exclusives to my original contract. Not to mention that I haven’t heard from Dante in weeks, and I’m starting to wonder if the big bad wolf himself has finally been vanquished and sent back down to hell where he belongs.

  “Are you sure?” Reagan asks. “If you’re not feeling well, we can always just skip the show.”

  “And miss Donny and Marie?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve been listening to them since I was a kid. There’s no way I’m missing this. Besides, I’ve been fangirling on Donny ever since I saw him in Joseph. And well, you already know how I feel about Marie. I still have the lame costume I wore to dance to her song. It’s got paper roses sewn all over the skirt.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “Good, because I spent a fortune on these tickets. We’re front row.”

  “Reagan!” I gasp, throwing my arms around his neck, and leaping against his muscular body. “You’re joking!”

  “I’m not,” Reagan says, leaning down, and planting a gentle-yet-chaste kiss on my lips. “But if I’d known I was going to get that reaction from you, I probably would’ve told you a lot sooner. Front row could have been good for at least one blow job.”

  I laughed. He really was funny.

  “You can have one later,” I say, glancing around the spectacular auditorium. Despite having lived in Vegas for years, I’ve never really spent much time doing the tourist stuff.

  When Reagan leads me down to the front row, I can hardly believe it. The seats are even better than I thought they’d be – we’re so close to the stage that I can practically reach out and touch it.

  “Well?” Reagan cocks his head to the side and gives me a smug grin. “Are you satisfied?”

  “This is wonderful,” I say, glancing around as the auditorium begins to fill up. “Thank you.”

  He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Anything for you.”

  The lights dim, and I lean back in my chair, breathless with anticipation. Donny and Marie come out on stage, waving, and smiling at the crowd. Everyone goes nuts – cheering and clapping and hollering. The energy is infectious, and I’m soon smiling so wide that my face hurts.

  When they break into “A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock N Roll,” Reagan slips his hand to mine and squeezes. For the next forty-five minutes, I’m in a happy trance. I can’t believe how much fun I’m having. If I’d known that spending some time away from my boutique would be so relaxing, I would’ve started years ago. I might have to catch Celine at Caesar’s and Jennifer at Planet Hollywood.

  During intermission, Reagan stands up. “I’m going to get a drink. What can I get you?”

  “Vodka tonic, please,” I say. “Hurry up. I don’t think they’ll take a long break.”

  “I promise I’ll be back before the lights dim,” he says, leaning down and kissing me again. “See you soon, babe.”

  Babe.

  I’m not sure what that means, but I’ll take it. With a sigh, I dig around in my purse and look at my phone. As usual, the screen is full of notifications, but I brush them aside and check my texts. I occupy myself texting Bailey and taking selfies in the auditorium until I realize it’s been at least ten minutes and there’s still no sign of Reagan. Frowning, I stand up and look for him as the house lights flash, indicating the five-minute warning.

  My stomach twists in a knot and I bite my lip. Did something happen? What if Nixon called Reagan away on sudden business? Or worse – Dante! What if he’s here, and he’s been plotting to ruin everything?

  You sound crazy, I think, frowning and leaning against the back of my seat. I’m sure there was just a long line at the bar.

  I take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax, but when Donny and Marie stride out onto the stage, I frown and look around in a panic. The doors have shut, and there’s still no sign of Reagan. He must have had to use the restroom, too.

  Marie smiles that million-dollar grin of hers as she strides across the stage. Her white teeth resemble Chiclets under the spot light. Fringe swirls around her stocking-clad legs. “We have a very special guest tonight.”

  The crowd hoots and hollers, cheering loudly and whistling.

  “This is Reagan,” Marie continues, stepping forwa
rd and gesturing to the side. Reagan saunters out on stage, wearing one of Donny’s jackets. The rhinestones glimmer and gleam in the stage lights, blinding me. Then Reagan sees me and waves.

  What is he up to? I bet he’s going to do a set of comedy right in the middle of Donny & Marie.

  I can’t help it – seeing him smile with the joy of being onstage makes me smile, too.

  “We’re here to wish a very lucky lady a very happy birthday tonight,” Marie croons. “Donny, won’t you join me?”

  The now-familiar strains of a timeless classic fill the auditorium and the audience buzzes. Donny and Marie stand back-to-back, smiling out at me, and singing the familiar tune. To my surprise, Reagan joins in…followed by the whole auditorium. Reagan points to me and grins, and soon everyone in the audience stands up and faces me. I stand up and do a slow version of the parade wave to my serenaders.

  At the end of the song, Reagan jumps off stage and lands right in front of me. His sparkly jacket is practically blinding, but I can’t stop grinning like an idiot. Marie leans down, handing Reagan a microphone.

  “Happy birthday, Taryn,” Reagan says, dropping down to one knee. “I hope you didn’t forget. In spite of all of those false alarms.”

  When Reagan pulls a red leather box from his suit pocket, I gasp and cover my mouth with both hands. Reagan’s grin fades into a soft smile, and he winks at me. He’s going to propose? Before God and everybody? Before we’ve even had The Talk? I don’t believe in insta-love.

  “Will you make me the happiest man on Earth,” Reagan asks, opening the box to reveal a key. It sparkles underneath the floodlights lining the stage.

  “I thought I might move back to Vegas and set up my own practice. And I’m going to need a roommate. Will you be my roomie, birthday girl?”

  At my dumb look, Reagan stands and addresses the rapt audience. “Hey, guys, it appears Taryn could use a little nudge. Go shorty, it’s your birthday…”

  The entire audience dances around and shouts out the lyrics to “In Da Club” by Fifty Cent. I can’t believe he’s doing it again. But I realize I’m not even embarrassed. Because all I want is this hilarious man to be mine and keep making me laugh. Keep surprising me in the best ways. I take the key out of the box and slip it in my purse.

  “Best birthday present ever, Reagan Caldwell,” I say, sealing my words with a searing kiss. Donny & Marie clap and hoot into their mics.

  Reagan whoops louder than anyone, twirls in the air, and lands a perfect Elvis inspired karate kick right at my feet.

  “Looks like I’ll have to cancel the Chippendale-in-a-cake I ordered for later.”

  Grinning, I pull him close. “Indeed, because I want you all to myself. Yours is the only naked body I ever want to see again. And you know what that means?”

  “What does that mean, shorty?”

  I kiss him and realize exactly what it means. “It means I’m falling madly and hopelessly in love with the funny lawyer.”

  As Reagan and I dance in the aisle to one of my favorite songs, I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. I have no idea what the future brings – maybe a chain of Strict Nécessaires – but I don’t care. As long as I’m with Reagan, I have a feeling I’ll always be happy.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Taryn

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Bailey says as I walk into the shop. “You’ve hardly been here in a month.”

  After Donny & Marie, Nixon offered Reagan a plumb job as the official lawyer for Armónico Holdings, Inc., the multi-billion-dollar company that manages his casino and other venues. As soon as he knew his brother wanted to stay, he locked that shit down. That same day, Reagan and I signed the purchase agreement for a luxury home in Vegas’s best gated community. An acreage property just a mile down from Marcella and Nixon. The only thing missing is the horse, but I’ll leave that to my new friend, Marcella.

  “Well, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now,” I say, blushing under the heat of her words.

  “Yeah, I know,” Bailey says, moaning. “You think Ford is single? He’s the third of the smoking hot Caldwells. I’ve got to get a gander at Carter. He’s been the executive chef in the steakhouse. Do you think I should reserve the chef’s table just so I can see if he’s the fourth?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Sorry, Bails-of-hay, I think you’re out of luck. According to Reagan, Ford’s been in love with the same girl since college. But Carter…that I’m not sure about. I haven’t even met him yet. Apparently, he’s deep in some contest for a Food Network show.”

  Bailey pouts, but it doesn’t last for long. Then she smirks at me. “In love with the same woman since college? Like Reagan. And you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, shaking my head. Her words hit too close to home.

  “Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s been in love with you for years.”

  “Well, it all worked out, didn’t it?”

  “Now you need to find me a guy,” Bailey says. “Maybe you can hook me up with some groomsman at your wedding.”

  “What wedding? That’s way in the future. I thought managing Strict Nécessaire was difficult, but seriously – wedding planning would take everything out of me.”

  Just as I’m about to elaborate on the stress of being newly in love, the door chimes and Reagan strides inside. Running to him, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. I can’t help it. Just the sight of him makes me want to indulge in abnormal PDA.

  When Reagan pulls away, he’s laughing. My Chanel lipstick is smudged all around his mouth, and I lovingly wipe it off.

  “I’ve just marked you as mine,” I say, reaching into my pocket for a tissue and handing it over.

  “Well, that’s fitting,” he says. “Get any singing telegrams lately?”

  I roll my eyes. “Not from you. A girl can only have so many birthdays in one year. I’ll be lucky if I make it through this one without turning seventy.”

  Reagan and I laugh together under Bailey’s watchful eye. “You guys are so gross,” she says. “That’s my cue to leave. See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya.”

  “Proud of it,” Reagan says, nuzzling my neck until I burst into giggles. Bailey scoffs again and sashays by both of us, rolling her eyes on her way out the door.

  “So…” I take his hand. “This is an unexpected surprise. Did Nixon let you go early?”

  “Yeah. We’ve been working on…a Dante extravaganza. Nixon’s hell-bent on stealing one of Dante’s properties, and it’s turning out to be a real pain in the ass.”

  “It’s only an extravaganza if it ends in a finale. A finale where the show’s finished as well as the douche bag starring in it.”

  “You forget that your other half is the top contract lawyer in New York City,” he says, tossing his head in a display of faux-arrogance.

  “And now, Vegas.” I poke him in the chest, delighting in the feel of his muscles rippling underneath my hand. “Does the thought of bringing Dante to his knees make your cock hard, hot shot?”

  Reagan smirks, grabs my pointed finger and drags my whole palm down the length of his body. His erection throbs and strains as I hold my hand still, teasing him. “Why don’t you sink to your knees for a better look?”

  Glancing around, I hiss in a breath, even though my mouth waters at the thought of sucking him off in the middle of broad daylight. “We’re in the middle of my store.”

  “Lock the door, then. And pull the shades,” he orders, and pulls me in close, kissing me on the lips. “Right fucking now. This may be your store, but I’m in charge.”

  I relish the taste of him as I return his kiss. On a lark, I’ll let him think he’s in control. But as soon as my mouth’s on him, he’ll know the truth. “Oh, we’ll see who’s actually calling the shots, smart mouth.”

  “I’d rather see what you could do with your mouth,” Reagan says, raising an eyebrow. “We already know what I can do with mine.”

  He
steps even closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body in waves. A grin tugs at my lips. This is going to be even easier than I thought. Bails-of-hay would say it’s like rolling off a log. I saunter away from him, wiggling my ass as I make a show of locking the door and pulling the mauve fabric shades down on each floor to ceiling window.

  “Hmm…I’m not sure what that means, Caldwell. For a lawyer, you’re not very articulate.”

  “I want you to take my cock out right now. I want your hand. Then I want your mouth. And I want you to follow my every command.”

  Follow his every command? He’s got to be kidding. I’ve never been very good at taking orders.

  I spin and stare at him for seconds that feel like hours. Waiting to make my move. It’s going to annoy him and it’s going to delight me. So I don’t move a muscle. Because I’m going to make him beg.

  “Please.”

  He started this twisted game of desire, and I forced him to go all in. But I want him so much he’s already got the upper hand. Anything he orders me to do, I want it, too.

  Walking toward him, I stop just shy of his rigid body and hold his gaze, not breaking it until I reach for his belt. A little moan escapes his lips, and I imagine him thinking about what I’m about to do to him.

  My hand moves to his zipper, and he inhales a ragged breath as I glide it down. A little wobble of his knees brings a smile to my lips. I can see his cock twitching inside his pants. I’m sure it’s rock hard and I can’t wait to experience its steely length.

  “Touch me, Taryn.”

  I slowly slip my fingers into the front of his boxer briefs and then inside. His dick’s on fire, straining and pulsing. There’s power there, and I can feel it. Revel in it. I give a solid yank to the waistband of his pants, and take his underwear down right along with them. His cock springs free, it’s huge in the dim light of the store, sticking straight up against his abs.