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CHAPTER TWO

VALE

“Here it comes,” Alena warns as I hold her long, tawny waves and she kneels, retching into the toilet, and nope .

Puke is my poison.

I lean over and hurl into the tub beside her.

“What were we thinking?” I sputter, turning on the water with my free hand, washing our stupidity away. “Red velvet cupcakes and spicy margaritas don’t mix.”

“But we’re celebrating.” Alena’s happy voice echoes in the porcelain bowl, even as she flushes, “I’m getting married!”

“We should be tossing confetti tonight.” I kneel beside her. “Not tossing our cookies.”

“Cupcakes,” she corrects with a laugh, plopping beside me.

We lean against the tub, her head resting on my shoulder. It’s a familiar pose. Yeah, I have my twin, who I’m naturally close to, but Alena is my chosen family.

Hurt her, and I’ll bludgeon you to death with a giant dildo.

“I think I failed the maid of honor test,” I say, nudging my Mary Jane against her high heel. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to let you barf at your engagement party.”

“I’m fine.” She wedges into me. “When I’m sick, I only want you or my dad.”

Alena’s warmth is my rock, too. She lost her mom, and so did I. It’s one of the hundreds of tears we’ve shared that’s made us best friends since middle school.

And her dad?

Well … I try not to think about Mr. Allen.

And it’s a colossal failure.

Nash Allen is wired into my erotic system in ways I’ll never confess. My nerves get tingly. My skin flushed. Heat blooms everywhere when I’m around him, even though he acts so cold to me now. I don’t know what happened.

He’s giving Antarctic vibes while my heart is serving a What-The-Fuck?

I don’t get it. Someone help me understand.

Nash Allen is the kind of man who came to my college graduation because my father didn’t. He and Alena gave me red tulips. They’re my favorite.

He’s the kind of man who made me a cheeseburger for breakfast after the worst night of my life. It’s my happy meal. He had no idea what happened to me, but it’s like, without a word, he knew I needed at least one man to care. To show me they don’t all break your soul.

That’s what drew me to him that night by the pool, but ever since then … Nash is so cold he burns.

But then I look at him, and I’m like…

“He’s really hot.”

“It’s okay; you can admit it.” Alena laughs. “My fiancé is hot-as-fuck.”

Sure, that’s who I was talking about: her fiancé, not her father.

“Okay, yes. I have eyes, and he’s perfect for you. It’s like Fate went to Build-A-Bear, but instead of a cuddly Teddy, it built you a sexy bear named Loch who wears a hot Forest Ranger outfit.” Grinning, I elbow her. “He growls when he comes, doesn’t he? Like an orgasmic grizzly in mating season.”

Alena giggles, “Yeah, he does,” her voice dropping to a giddy whisper. “I did that thing you told me to try. I was riding him so hot and hard until he was about to come, then I started going super slow, and he growled like a wild animal, but I told him it would intensify his orgasm, and it did. I swear he came for over a minute. It was so hot. I thought he was gonna have a heart attack.”

“Did it work for you, too?” I ask. “Because I won’t let you marry a beige flag in bed.”

“Don’t worry. He’s perfect.” Alena’s shy. She was teased a lot in school, but she’s not shy with me. Not about sex. It’s my expertise. “Loch is my first love, and he’ll be my last. We’ll grow old together and?—”

“Yes, but does he curl your toes? Does he make your thighs shake? Does he make you wanna be a dirty ho for him, or do I need to give him coloring books with arrows pointing to the clit?”

“Oh, he’s found it.” She nudges my ribs. “He says it’s his now, that me and my pussy belong to him.”

“Yay! I’m so proud.” I squeeze her. “My sweet slut is marrying a savage.”

“Maybe,” her voice lilts, “at my wedding, one of his brothers will savage you .” She pauses, leaning away. “Wait. Speaking of siblings, men, and savage sex … Is Blair coming tonight?”

“Nope.” I pop my lips. “She’s home, having a pity-my-pussy party over an NFL quarterback. She can’t stand love right now.”

“And you? What if Loch has a brother who will cure you of hating love, too?”

“Doubtful.” I tease, “Unless they’re like him, all inked up and huge and hot as the devil’s dildo.”

I make her laugh, and she makes me care.

To most, I’m standoffish. I have my reasons, but not with Alena. We’re close. I’m the manager of an exclusive sex shop because I refuse to finish my PhD in Sexuality Studies, and Alena is a forest ranger who geeks out on soil samples. We’re opposites and perfectly paired best friends.

“I don’t know what they’re like,” she replies. “I haven’t met his family yet.”

“Wait. What?” I turn to her. “You’ve been dating Loch for a year, and you’re getting married in like two months, but you haven’t met his family yet? What are they? Cloistered monks or serial killers? Because anyone else would have the manners to meet you. Hell, they should be here tonight.”

“They’re busy.”

“That’s sketch.”

“Quit being protective. I’m all grown up and carry a sidearm now.”

“You’re trained to shoot dangerous animals in a national park, not inconsiderate assholes at brunch.” I plead to her brown eyes, “Please tell me your dad’s gonna meet them. He’d never let you marry into evil.”

“Well,” she hesitates, “my dad hasn’t met th?—”

“Alena?” A rough voice on the other side of the door jiggles the doorknob. It’s Loch. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

She scrambles to her feet. “Hang on.” I join her. “We’ll be out in a sec.”

A sec turns into minutes of me fixing Alena’s makeup, and her smoothing my long, black braids, praising me, “Only you can look like a sexy Wednesday Addams at an Isle of Palms party and make it look chic.”

I glance down at my usual murderous, black minidress, matching thigh-highs with white bows, and my clunky Mary Janes. Whoops. As the maid of honor, I clash with her demure ivory cardigan, emerald sundress, and nude heels.

Yes, I love Alena, but I won’t change my style for anyone. I can’t. So, I gently nudge her toward the door and her waiting fiancé.

An hour later, the night is getting late, guests are leaving, and I’ve renewed my taste for spicy margaritas. I sip, watching Alena dance with her dad on the deck of his palatial beach house with stars twinkling above.

It’s magical. It’s sweet. Alena is so happy.

Mr. Allen waltzes her around, beaming at her. He won’t stop being the perfect father. He won’t stop looking so damn sexy doing it. And he won’t stop making my fantasy hurt…

I wish a man would dance with me like that. Would love me like that. I wish it were … him .

Whoops! Scratch that.

I’m a horrible person.

Ban me from best-friend status and maid-of-honor duties. All the years I’ve tried to stop them, I can’t. These feelings for Mr. Allen erupt. They’re my greatest guilt and darkest secret. They make me remember our night by this very pool and…

Suddenly, he glances up and busts me swooning. Shit, I’m probably drooling, too; it must be the tequila.

Why is he staring at me like that? Like he knows what I did that night?

He doesn’t know. He can’t know.

If you’re the only one who knows your secret, it’s safe. Right?

So why does he glare at me like he hates me?

There’s no way he can know what I did, and it was years ago, so why is he such an asshole to me now? Why, when we work together, does he act like he doesn’t care anymore?

I used to love that Mr. Allen cared.

I needed him to, even though I gave him shit about it. I complained that my tulips were wilted. That his burgers were dry. I was a teenage brat to him because I didn’t know how else to hide my feelings for him.

Confession: I still do it. But now my brattiness has matured to snark.

Snark that masks how I love that Mr. Allen was the only man who cared for me like a father, but then again…

No.

That’s not this scorching pull to him. That’s not this ache in my chest. These feelings have always confused me, but I’m used to them.

Right?

So why, as he slices his stare away from me with such disgust, am I suddenly twisting my lips? Why am I biting them? Why are my nostrils flaring while tears bite at my eyes?

What the hell?

A stupid, hard lump chokes my throat, but I force a smile like nothing’s wrong.

Because … nothing’s wrong .

It’s right how Loch cuts in to dance with his fiancée as Mr. Allen pecks Alena’s cheek. It’s right how her father is a polite host, greeting his guests but ignoring me.

It’s right how I’m standing alone. How no one dances with me. How people see me and walk the other way. I’m odd, I know. I dress this way on purpose.

If I can intimidate you, you can’t hurt me.

So I focus on Alena, swept away in her fiancé’s arms. They’re perfect together. I watch them for minutes until she shyly waves at me. She’s finally found the love she deserves, and a warm, fuzzy feeling, wanting romance and believing in love, showers me and…

Oh shit. I stagger. I’m buzzing again.

That’s it. Too many emotions for one night.

I hug Alena goodbye. We make happy, teary, and tipsy plans to go dress shopping before I stagger out of the front door into the night.