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Heavy logs act as pillars and surround the wrap-around porch, to where I know floor to ceiling glass walls line the front of the main living room inside.
We climb out, shutting the door. I walk forward, my heels clicking across the road.
“Little terror, wearing heels to a cabin?” Brantley quirks his eyebrow at me.
“I know,” I murmur, my eyes going to Abel briefly as I give him a soft smile. “Bailey is bringing me some more.”
Brantley chuckles. “That cousin of mine is a royal pain in my fucking ass.”
“Daddy Bran Bran. So full of secrets….”
His eyes turn to slits and I quickly run up the front steps.
“You can’t run fast in those heels, Princessa! I would put that smart mouth on a leash if I was you!”
I giggle, pushing the front door open and step inside. The fireplace is going, candles lit around the room and the mantels all polished.
“Who came and set it all up?” I ask, looking around the large space.
The stairs that lead up to the bedrooms are directly to the right as you walk in. A large U-shaped leather sofa sits in the middle of the main living room, a massive open fireplace built into the wall behind the sofa. The trees look magnified from behind the large glass walls, and the kitchen is all varnished wood and marble. It’s a clean fade between traditional and executive. I love the cabin, and start to realize none of them spend much time here. What an absolute waste.
I pick up one of the photos that are sitting on the mantle above the fireplace.
Hector and Scarlet with Bishop in Scarlet’s arms. I put it back, not wanting to touch anything to do with Hector. Except Bishop.
Nate flops onto the sofa and kicks off his Adidas Original shoes. “I’m so fucked.”
“Yeah, because you got fucked last night.” Eli kicks his legs.
“Pretty sure I did the fucking,” Nate snaps back quickly.
“Really?” Hunter chuckles. “Because I’m pretty sure that black eye speaks otherwise.”
They all burst out laughing and I ignore them, making my way into the kitchen while removing my shoes. Total waste of shoes.
“Are you okay?” I ask Bishop as he pulls down a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses. The rest of the guys bring their shit inside, making their way up to the rooms. I haven’t even thought about where I’m sleeping, but I know that it won’t be with Nate again. We had a promise. We have to keep that promise.
Bishop pours the liquid into my glass and slides it over to me. “Not really. But I’m giving myself the two days we’re all spending out here to pull my shit together.”
I swirl the scotch around in my glass. “To pull your shit together, one has to completely fall apart. Put yourself together different this time, B. Better.”
He shoots the drink back and slams his glass onto the table. “Can I ask you a question and will you be honest with me?”
The TV goes on in the background, an NBA game playing.
“Yes,” I answer, taking a sip of the strong liquid. I swear I hate whiskey. It is not my drink. I toss it back anyway and gag when it all slides down my throat.
Bishop laughs, shaking his head and stands from his seat, making his way to a small bar that’s on the other side of the kitchen, behind the dining table. He comes back with a bottle filled with dark brown liquid.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Old Fitzgerald Bourbon. I think you might like this one more. It’s still whiskey, but it’s bourbon, so it’s not distilled in Scotland, but in Kentucky. One’s made with barley and the other, corn. It’s all boring, but usually if you can drink scotch, you can drink bourbon, but if you don’t like scotch, you usually like bourbon. Also, it costs four g’s a bottle.”
I screw off the cap and pour it into my empty glass. I take a sip and my cheeks heat. The sweet bitterness stings my mouth but soothes my taste buds. “Much better.”
He smiles. “Did Madison ever tell you about the time she spent in New Zealand?”
I take a gulp of the bourbon, slowly swallowing it and bringing my knees to my chest. “A little.”
I remove my jacket when I feel my blood heating. Raking my hand through my long hair. “Why?”
“Did she mention a guy named Jesse?”
I curl my lips under my teeth, placing my glass onto the granite table. “Briefly. She said they were friends. Is that who she’s with?”
Bishop nods. “Yeah, and I’m struggling to stop myself from flying over there and dragging her back by her fucking hair.”
I sink the rest of my drink, Nate comes into the kitchen behind Bishop. Grabbing chips and chocolate from the cupboard.
I pour more bourbon into my glass.