Page 44 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

Fletcher

What Happens in Vegas

“Perfect. I think lining those up on that side of the bar will be great.”

The crew I hired to deliver and unload all the stuff for the party walks through the room and sets up the slot machines along the left side of the bar, lining up the bar stools underneath.

I’ve already been here for a few hours, but the party room in the back of Hart Winery is slowly being transformed into a Vegas casino.

Green felt tables are scattered throughout the space, each set up for a different game.

Gold and black streamers line the walls, hiding the usual winery décor to make the room feel like a different place.

I’ve also hired a few cocktail waitresses to serve everyone, and a buffet table is being set up on the right side of the room.

“Well, look who it is,” Dilynne says as she enters the room, carrying large cardboard cutouts that I can’t see the front of.

Gesturing to the contents of her arms, I say, “I’m afraid to ask, but are those for the games?”

Her smile is mischievous. “Why yes, they are.”

“And what game are they for?”

She pulls the cutouts away from me as I try to peek at what’s on the other side. “You’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else.”

“Fine.” I fan my arms out, drawing her attention to the rest of the room. “Well, what do you think?”

She surveys the progress so far. “It looks like a lot of debauchery is about to go down.”

“Let’s just hope that Elliot and Tori have a good time.”

“Or we could hope that Tori just doesn’t show up.”

“Why can’t you just be happy for Elliot?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I would if I felt like Tori was the right person for him, but she’s not.”

“And what are you basing that on? How she treated you in high school?”

Dilynne shakes her head, her eyes narrowed. “No, it’s a gut feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yes, it’s called women’s intuition, and since you have a penis, you wouldn’t understand how powerful it is.”

“You’re right. I don’t get it, but I do get that one of my best friends is really happy, and I think we should all just put our opinions aside to celebrate that.”

“I have been, haven’t I?” Dilynne counters.

“For the most part, yeah.”

“Then leave me be.” Her eyes dip down my body and then back up. “Speaking of intuition, you seem like you have a lot on your mind.”

I reach up and adjust the hat on my head. “I do. This party, the wedding…”

“Nope, it’s something else.” Tilting her head at me, she continues, “It wouldn’t have to do with my best friend, would it?”

“What are you trying to ask me, Dilynne?”

She takes a step closer to me, lowering her voice. “You sure are going to a lot of trouble here. Is it all for Elliot and Tori?”

“I’m just taking my duty as the best man seriously.”

“And what about booking appointments at the salon, or showing up to yoga at the winery, or buying Ellis a new bike and delivering it to her at Laney’s house, or hacking Laney’s app for her glucose?”

“I’m still waiting for you to get to the point.”

She pops her hip out to the side, squinting again. “This better not be a fucking game to you, Fletcher.”

“I thought games were the whole point of tonight.”

She arches a brow. “You know damn well what I mean. Laney—”

I drop my arms and step closer to her, lowering my voice. “Laney and I are figuring shit out, all right?”

Her eyes bore right into mine. “That isn’t exactly reassuring.”

Jesus, what does she want from me?

Does she want me to admit that for the past twenty-four hours, all I’ve been thinking about is how this is supposed to work between me and Laney after this wedding is over?

That now that I’ve kissed her, tasted her, fucked her—I can’t imagine going back to a life where I don’t get to do that every fucking day?

That after she told me what my dad said, I stayed up all night wondering if I truly have what it takes to be the man he never could be?

I’m so fucking afraid to fail in that regard, especially to fail Laney.

All this time, she’s hated me—the old me, at least. But is the new me ready to be the man she deserves? Or am I just doomed to repeat history and make the same mistakes with her that I already have?

“What do you want to hear from me?” I ask Dilynne.

“What’s your end goal, Fletcher? Because Laney’s life is here, and yours is in Charlotte.”

“I fucking know that, Dilynne.”

“So is this just some vacation fling? Because if it is, I need to be prepared to pick my best friend off the floor again when you leave, just like last time.” She lowers her voice. “You have no idea how much that night hurt her. How fucked up she was over it.”

The thought of Laney being devastated at the end of next week makes me want to fucking punch something. But as much as I want to give her everything, I still don’t have enough answers to erase all of Dilynne’s doubts.

“I understand that now.”

“Do you? Because my best friend let her guard down—for you. She hasn’t done that with anyone since you rejected her and her mom died. Not even with Spencer and they were engaged.”

“This isn’t a game to me, Dilynne. Laney could never be that inconsequential to me,” I grate out. “But unfortunately, I don’t have any more information for you right now.”

I hold her stare so she knows I’m being honest. There’s only so much I can say right now that can quell her doubts, but even if I had more to say, Laney would be the one to get those words first.

With a nod, she says, “Okay. But just know that if you hurt her, I have plenty of tools I can use to torture you, and I know of several scrap yards where I can hide your body.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She drops her arms and smiles as if she wasn’t just threatening my life. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hide these until the big reveal.”

“Does Laney know you are surprising us with this?”

“Of course. But even she doesn’t know the full extent of what’s about to go down.” With a wink, she saunters off with her cutouts down the hall toward a storage closet.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter to myself and then get back to work, making sure this room looks perfect for when everyone arrives.

***

“I just want to thank everyone for coming out tonight,” Elliot says, raising his beer. “And a special thanks to Laney and Fletcher for making this night happen.”

My eyes meet Laney’s across the room. She arches a brow and then rolls her eyes, playing her part so perfectly. Little does everyone here know that I know this woman’s body intimately now, including how that eye roll looks when she comes.

“To Elliot and Tori!” I shout, lifting my glass. Echoes of agreement ring out and then the entire room of people takes a drink to toast the bride and groom to be.

Elliot walks up to me. “This party is fucking incredible, man. How did you and Laney pull this off?”

“Let’s just say I made a few calls and threw some money around.”

He slaps me on the back. “Well, it’s very much appreciated.” His eyes lift to the top of my head. “Nice haircut, by the way.”

Reaching up, I make sure it’s styled in place. “I was way overdue. Laney hooked me up.”

“Glad to see she didn’t kill you while you were planning all this.” Elliot fans a hand around the room.

Nope. She was too busy enjoying orgasms and riding my cock to kill me, I think to myself.

“It was a close call there for a second, but we were able to compromise.”

“Good call on the food too. Everyone loves the menu at Blossom Brews, especially the onion rings.”

“That was all Laney.”

He takes a sip of his beer. “Well, I’ll make sure to extend my gratitude to her as well.”

Henley and Rhonan stride up to us, holding their own drinks. I jut my chin toward Rhonan. “I brought some Pappy Van Winkle, if you’re interested?”

His brows lift. “No shit?”

“Yeah, I figured it was a worthy occasion.”

He drains the rest of his beer. “Does that mean you’re going to have some with us?”

My instinct is to deflect, but maybe it’s time to tell the guys the truth. “I actually don’t drink anymore.”

All their mouths drop open slightly.

“Seriously?” Rhonan asks. “Since when?”

I rub the back of my neck but then straighten my spine. “Since I was drafted.”

Henley nearly falls forward. “Holy shit. Any particular reason?”

Because my father is an alcoholic and I never want to end up like him.

My subconscious doesn’t let me admit that, though. “I just really hate the way it makes me feel, and I wanted to be able to play my best. I make a lot of fucking money playing a game that I love. I don’t take that for granted.”

“I get that, but not drinking at all?” Elliot lifts his beer to his lips. “It just seems extreme.”

Defensiveness builds inside of me. “What’s weird to me is that my choice to not drink is considered odd. Why should I be judged because I don’t want to put poison in my body?”

Henley clears his throat. “No judgment, Fletch. At least from me. Do what’s best for you.”

“So, is that why you’ve taken up yoga?” Rhonan smirks as Elliot and Henley groan simultaneously.

“Dude, you have no idea what kind of torture that was,” Elliot says.

Rhonan bursts out laughing. “And I don’t plan on ever finding out.”

Henley clears his throat. “I was actually thinking of going again next week.”

All of us spin our heads toward him. “Really?”

“Look, all I know is that I was more sore after yoga than I am when I lift weights some days. There’s nothing wrong with working on flexibility. In fact, research has shown that flexibility is a key factor in the quality and longevity of life.”

Elliot looks at him like he’s grown two heads. “You were doing research about yoga?”

Henley shakes his head, taking a sip from his beer before answering. “No. Yoga videos just started popping up on my phone after we went and I kind of got sucked in.” Turning to me, he says, “Did you know that goat yoga was a thing?”

“I did not.”

“Well, maybe you should tell Laney about it.”