by Olivia Chase
“Okay, see you at three,” I tell him in an overly jovial tone, giving him a hug and clapping him on the back. “It’s all going to go fine. Pull your head out of your ass and stop stressing.”
“You have the rings, right?” he asks me.
I nod and pat my wallet in my back pocket, where I stowed them yesterday after he gave them to me for safekeeping. “Tucked away safely, bro. Chill out and go have a drink or something.”
I tell my brothers bye and saunter out of the restaurant, tossing our waitress a little wink and enjoying how her cheeks flush in response.
I know I’m a flirt. I love women—I love smelling them, tasting them, touching them, and I can’t get enough of it. And why should I? I’m only twenty-three, I’m single, and I’m part owner of Outlaws. Life is pretty damn good, right?
Too good to want things to change when they’re finally going the way they’re supposed to.
In the lobby, I grab my wallet and flip it open, just to confirm the rings are still there. My chest gives a hard kick as I only see a few bills, nothing more.
I know I distinctly tucked them in here, where they’d be safe. I reach into my back pockets and then my front pockets just in case, but they’re empty. Fuck. Fuck.
No, everything is fine. I probably just lost them in the room. After all, I did pull out a condom last night from my wallet, so maybe the rings fell out.
My anxiety loses its edge, and I head to my room. I’m sure they’re on the floor or something.
I search the floor.
I search the bed, taking off the sheets and shaking them loose.
I search the bathroom. My bags. My pants from yesterday. Even the bedside table. Nothing.
God, I’m in deep, deep shit. I sit on the edge of the bed and groan, cupping my head in my hands. What the fuck am I going to do now? I’m still slightly hung over, and doing this much thinking sucks.
Okay, I can figure this out.
I hear voices walking by my door and suddenly remember Brooklyn rapping on my door last night. If anyone can help me figure out what to do, it’ll be her.
She has that ‘get shit done’ vibe that’s good in a pinch. And god knows I’m in a pinch now…
Did she go to do the spa day with everyone else? If so, I’m fucked.
Maybe I’ll luck out and she’ll be in her room.
I walk there and knock on the door. After a moment, it opens, and Brooklyn’s standing there in a dark blue springy dress with her hair pulled away from her face. Her makeup is light, but her eyes shine and her lips are slick and pink and I feel this sudden urge to kiss her mouth.
She frowns at me. “What are you doing here?”
Oh. Right. Rings. I tear my attention away from her mouth and back up to her eyes. Give her a half smile. “So, I think I messed up big time and I need some help. I…” I force my smile wider. “I might have lost the wedding rings.”
Her eyebrows fly up in shock as she gasps, then that pleasant and bland mask falls back on her face. “And why am I not surprised by this?” The judgmental undertone in her voice digs at me. I don’t want to care what this uptight girl thinks of me. And I don’t, because it doesn’t matter. I’m comfortable in my own skin.
“You can stand there and tell me what an ass I am, or you can help me fix this and be the hero of the wedding,” I tell her smoothly. “But we have to figure it out now, because the ceremony is in an hour and a half.”
“Nothing like a ticking time bomb to kick off a major life event,” she says. I can see the disdain for me clear in her face; this girl doesn’t like me. At all.
She doesn’t like me, but I didn’t just imagine her reaction to me last night—her fevered blush as she saw my jeans almost falling down my hips. She doesn’t like me, but she wants me.
Brooklyn sighs and turns around to grab her purse, closing the door behind her as she comes into the hall. From the glimpse I saw, her room is pristine, the bed made. Shocker.
“So walk me through everything you can remember about what you did with the rings,” she says, all business now.
I explain it to the best of my ability.
When I mention waking up and the rings being gone, Brooklyn’s eyebrow arches.
“What?” I say, feeling annoyed already, and she hasn’t even really told me what she thinks yet.
“The girl you were with last night obviously took the rings.”
“Who Patty—Patsy? She wouldn’t do that,” I say.
Brooklyn laughs in disbelief. “You don’t even know her name, but you’re so sure of her moral fiber? Okay, then.”
Shit. She has a point.
I vaguely remember getting the girl’s number and putting it into my cell. I pull out my phone and find her name in my contacts list—Patty. I knew it was Patty.
I send her off a quick text asking if she remembers seeing the rings.
Brooklyn’s arms are crossed, watching me the whole time, and I can feel the judgment radiating off her, but I ignore it for now.
When Patty texts back and says she didn’t see anything but she’s happy to come and help me look, with a little winky smiling face emoji, I sigh and shake my head.
“She doesn’t have them, she didn’t see them,” I tell Brooklyn.
There’s a long silence as Brooklyn considers all of this. Her expression is thoughtful, her lips pursed. I once again feel the sudden urge to taste them, and then remind myself that I’m in the middle of a full-blown crisis, and besides, this girl has an attitude on her and is way too uptight.
Not my style at all.
“Okay, so we’re just going to go buy two more rings to replace them.” She digs into her purse and pulls out her phone, scrolling through her photo album. “Ah-ha! Success.” With a triumphant smile, she shows me a picture of a wedding ring set. “Aubrey sent this to me last month after they chose their rings.”
The smile on her face totally changes her look. She’s no longer prissy and condescending. No, she looks like a breath of fresh air, like innocence and happiness, and I find myself drawn to her, shocked by the personality change. Wanting to see her smile like that again.
“You’re a genius,” I tell her with a genuine smile of her own. Damn, I have the best ideas—I knew seeking her out would work. And yet…shit. Two problems. One, where the hell do we find these rings…and two, where do we get the money for them?
I grab her by her small hand and lead her down the hall. We’ll sort those details out in the car. Right now, we have to get the fuck on the road and be back before anyone else knows what happened. My brain whirs with ideas on where to get money immediately as Brooklyn stumbles to keep up with me.
“You’re walking really fast,” she says in a breathless tone.
“Do more cardio, darling. I have a lot of stamina.”
I can almost hear her rolling her eyes, and I laugh. She’s so predictable—any comments about bedroom activities totally set her on edge, draw out a reaction. I like that. “You don’t know a thing about my cardio habits.” But I notice she hasn’t drawn her hand out of mine yet.
The skin is soft and warm, and it hits me that it’s been a while since I’ve done something this simple. Holding a hand. Simple and intimate… I smoothly let it go and press my hand to her lower back instead, guiding her to my car.
“Our ride, milady,” I say with a flourish.
Brooklyn sucks in a breath as she checks out my ride, a classic dark orange 1973 Plymouth Cuda. Total muscle car—my dad was a huge fan of them and always wanted one. When he died, I found a used one online and bought it on the spot.
“This is gorgeous,” she breathes as she runs her fingers along the trim. “Please tell me it has a Hemi.”
I gasp and clutch my chest, trying to gloss over the fact that I maybe just popped a little bit of a car boner when I heard her say Hemi. “Are you kidding me? A gearhead? Say it ain’t so.”
Archly, she opens the door and slides in. “You don’t know a thing about me, Jax.”
; Fuck. I have to admit, as I make my way to the driver’s side, that she’s right. I’ve made a lot of assumptions about her based on her type. But Brooklyn’s sparking my interest, and I’m finding myself curious to see what else is going on under that prim-and-proper surface.
“Your goal,” I declare as I rev the engine, “is to find a local place that sells the rings.”
She whips out her phone. “I’m on it.”
I weave us through traffic onto the freeway. I hear her fingers tapping across the screen as she searches.
“Bingo!” Brooklyn declares, pumping her fist in the air. “I think we have a winner. There’s a jewelry store about…twenty minutes from here straight down the highway, according to the map. Let’s give it a shot.”
“Nice job.” I pull off the highway, and she gives me a confused look.
“Where are we going?”
“We need money first,” I tell her, then wind my way to the front of Outlaws. Since the bar is closed, no one is in the parking lot, so I get a spot easily in front of the door. I shut off the engine and say to her, “Be right back.”
Her door closes a moment after mine, and she follows me in as I key the front door open to the bar. It’s quiet, with the scents of cleaner hitting me square in the face. Since Smith got together with Aubrey, our place has never been so clean. Not even any peanut shells on the ground.
That was one of my favorite drunk games—stomping on shells. Bummer.
“What are we doing here?” she asks me.
I head back to the office, Brooklyn on my heels, then squat in front of the safe. “I’m getting money, of course. Keep up, darling—I don’t have time to explain it all.”
“But…this isn’t…” She clears her throat. “Isn’t this company money, not yours?” Her uneasiness is palpable.
I stand and face her, resting my hands on her bare upper arms. Her skin is silky, and I find my fingers wrapping around her flesh involuntarily. She peers up into my eyes, hers wide and locked on me, and I’m suddenly overcome again with the urge to taste her. To see if I can nudge a little bit of wildness from her. My cock twitches, and it’s hard to make myself focus on the topic at hand.
“I have a plan,” I murmur in a conspiratorial tone. “I’m just going to borrow the money from here. Then when I find the rings, I’ll return them to the store, get the money back, and then refill the safe. Voila, no one will ever know.”
She arches a brow. “But what if you don’t find the rings?”
“Then I’m gonna sling a fuckload of beer for tips to repay it,” I say with a laugh.
The tension ebbs from her. I like seeing her like this, not as uptight, a little softer. It makes her more alluring somehow. All that innocence and sassiness. Such an unusual combination. I like her spirit, even if it has been aimed negatively at me a lot.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her, leaning close and letting my mouth brush her lobe. When I feel her shiver, my cock jumps to life this time and presses against my zipper. “I’ll take care of it.”
“The way you took care of decorating the car with me?” she says, and though I can tell she means to make the words have a bite, they come out more like a breath.
“I definitely owe you for that one.” I let myself breathe in the vanilla-and-strawberry scent of her hair. My blood pounds hard in my veins, and I draw her a fraction closer.
Fuck. The way her head falls back…I want to drag my mouth along her throat and lick her. My dick is throbbing now, and my hands are tightening on her upper arms.
Then she seems to realize where she is and pulls back, swallowing hard and giving me her infamous bland look. “Well, get the money and let’s go. Time’s ticking.”
I pretend like I’m not raging to kiss her mouth hard and give an easy grin. “Stop trying to seduce me—we could already be at the store by now.”
Her face twists, and then she barks out a laugh. “You’re something else, Jax. I know you believe that charm works on every woman, but you need to understand that it won’t work on me. I’m immune to you.”
But there’s a light flush in her cheeks. Her breath is coming out in small pants, and if I’m not mistaken, her nipples are beaded.
Oh, Brooklyn tells herself she’s immune, but she’s not.
Challenge accepted, darling.
I’ll let her think right now that she’s in control, that I believe her words. But her body gives her away. This girl aches to be touched, licked. Fucked.
I open the safe and take out a thousand bucks. That should be enough to cover two gold rings. The bands looked simple in the picture Brooklyn showed me. If that isn’t enough, fuck it. I’ll figure out a good cover story.
We pull back into the hotel parking lot with twenty minutes to spare. I feel like I just ran a marathon and won first place. My heart is racing with adrenaline. Even Brooklyn’s on edge, keyed up from our success.
The store had the rings in stock. Yeah, we had to use our own hands to try them on and guess the right size—that was kinda fucking surreal, putting on wedding bands with Brooklyn—but shit got done, and here we are.
I take the bag from Brooklyn’s lap, remove the rings from the boxes, and put them in my pocket.
“Are you sure they’re safe there?” she asks me. “If you lose these—”
“If I lose these, just take me out back and shoot me.”
We both laugh, and our eyes linger on each other for a long moment.
Something about sharing the frantic nature of this task allowed Brooklyn to let her guard down, let her walls down. She’s not looking at me like the enemy anymore. Instead, I see glimpses of her peeking at me when she thinks I’m not looking. I see her shifting in her seat, like she’s uncomfortable in her own skin.
Unfamiliar with feeling this type of intense arousal.
The thought that I’m doing this to her makes my own lust roar to the surface. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a woman before, and I don’t quite know what to do with it. I want to plunge inside her so badly, let her see what she’s missing.
“Well, I guess it’s showtime,” I say. “Gotta get in my tux and help my brother marry the woman of his dreams.” I give a wry grin. “Best of luck to him.”
“Best of luck to her,” she retorts, then exits the car and saunters off to the hotel. I watch her walk away, the sway of her hips in that dress, the curve of her calves, her sensible flats.
Brooklyn is a challenge, that’s for sure. I wonder how she is with a couple of drinks in her…will she loosen up? I’m going to make her dance with me tonight. Tell her it’s my payment for her decorating the car—that should fire her up for sure, have her talking about my arrogance again.
I smirk and exit the car too, then head to my room and get my tux on. I’m careful to make sure I keep the rings in sight.
As I dress, reality sinks in. Smith is fucking really doing this. He’s going to get married. Everything will be different now. My brother is living his own life, and I’m happy for him, I guess. But I thought we had a good thing going, just us three brothers—three bachelors.
I tighten the bow, feeling like the fucking thing is strangling me, and exit my room to give my brother away to the woman of his dreams.
Brooklyn
The springtime air is cool, but not bad enough to deter from the beauty of the day. The colors in the environment seem more saturated to celebrate the wedding, with beautiful white flowers decorating the gazebo, the chairs, the freestanding columns.
It’s gorgeous. Perfect.
Aubrey walks down the white silky runner toward the gazebo, her train trailing behind her. Her gown is off-white, off the shoulders, her hair swept up and smattered with pearls. She’s stunning, and I find tears stinging my eyes as I stand off to the side in front of my mic.
I keep my focus as best as I can and sing—to be able to sing the piece she walks in to is such an honor, and the impact of it hits me now. Everyone’s eyes are on her, and I don’t think it’s possible for her to look hap
pier.
My uncle, her dad, is walking beside her holding her forearm. I can see his eyes tearing up. He pats her and lets her go, and she takes Smith’s hand and walks up the gazebo. He hasn’t stopped looking at her since she arrived.
The love between the two of them is so palpable it almost steals my breath. My voice fades as the song ends, and I draw in a few long breaths in an attempt to steady my emotions.
My eyes are drawn, unbidden, to Jax, who’s in the row of groomsmen. He’s staring at the couple with complex emotions flashing in his eyes—I can see happiness, but also something deeper, more vulnerable. My heart squeezes for him. It’s obvious he’s conflicted about his brother getting married.
His eyes meet mine, and the weight of his heavy stare hits me hard in the chest. Wow. I couldn’t speak right now if I had to. He looks away and clears his throat, then his usual affable demeanor is back in place, like that moment never happened. Jax lifts his chin and checks out a bridesmaid, and I see her chest rise in response.
I feel myself deflate. Boy, am I an idiot or what? After what happened today, I thought maybe I’d misjudged him. And seeing the depth in his eyes just now…it drew me in. More the fool am I.
I studiously avoid him the rest of the ceremony. Keep my attention on Smith and Aubrey. Watch them falling even more in love with every moment that passes.
They’re declared man and wife, and the kiss they share would sear the hair off a man’s chest, it’s so hot. We all applaud. My eyes sting with tears again and I let them flow freely. Hand in hand, they run down the aisle, her veil whipping behind her and a big smile on her face.
The bridal party moves off toward the lake to take pictures, and the rest of us go into the reception hall, where cocktails, beer, and wine are waiting for us at two bars. Music is already going; the lights are golden with candles in the center of every table. It’s lovely.
I grab a glass of wine, find my assigned seat with other distant members of my family, and slip in. I wish Della was with me right now. We’d talk about everyone’s dresses, about how good this wine was, how happy Aubrey looks. Odds are, Della would have words to say about Jax.