Page 14

Roman

I adjust my dick before I walk out the door.

I do not need to be sporting the boner of all boners for our guys’ lunch.

I steal one last glance at Gabby and find her bent over her dress again.

The passion in her eyes is inspiring, and for a moment my heart clenches.

I know she doesn’t want me involved, but if I had it my way, I’d find her ex and pound my fist into his face until he agreed to do right by her.

By doing right, I mean not fuck up her connections, or her career.

Even if he agreed, he has a powerful father. It sounds like his father wants certain things from Gabby. Yes, I could overhear her ex’s part of the conversation.

In the hall, I hurry to the busy elevator and slide in, moving to the back. Once I’m deposited in the lobby, I walk to the busy restaurant and find my group. Plastering on a bright smile, I walk over to the elongated table, and drop down next to Rip.

“Romeo,” Easton says, and lifts a beer. “Fill up.”

I grab the pitcher from the table and pour a splash into my glass. I lift my glass and so do the rest of the guys.

“To my brother,” Rip begins. “Who will always be older and wiser than me.”

We all laugh at that, and clink glasses. I take a big swallow, and when I set my glass down, I find Rip watching me.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah, crazy night.” I grab a bread stick and munch on it.

“Is she…okay?”

“She is.” Is she, though? No, I don’t really think so. Her entire life is a chaotic mess, and now, I suddenly can’t help but look around the restaurant, wanting to get a glimpse of him.

Cass.

His name in my head sends sparks of anger shooting through me.

“You don’t have to say anything, but was it Gabby Evans?”

Shit.

I know I can trust him. Heck, he was right there for me last night, so I nod. “How did you know?”

“I only caught a fast glimpse of her last night. Afterward, I was in the wedding room, going over my speech, for Easton and Jenny’s ceremony and when I left, I walked the halls, and saw the signage for her wedding.

I didn’t put together that Gabrielle was Gabby until later.

I always liked her. She looks different. ”

“She broke off the wedding and needed a place to stay.”

“That’s good of you, man. I’m glad you were there for her. If there’s anything you need.”

“Thanks,” I say. “She’s coming back to Boston with me.”

His head rears back. “Holy shit. That’s…uh, I didn’t expect that.”

“It just sort of happened. I need to get her out of here tomorrow without her ex seeing her. She doesn’t want to speak to him. Things aren’t good.”

His shoulders stiffen, instantly going into protective mode. “Is he threatening? I can call security.”

“No need, but I might need you tomorrow. Maybe a back door out of here.” Who knows if that bastard is watching the front or not.

He claps my back. “Yeah, man, consider it done.”

Feeling a measure of relief with that, I take another sip and as plates of food are delivered to the table, we all fall into conversation, talking about old times back home as we eat.

My thoughts, however, keep straying to Gabby.

I hope she gets herself something to eat and has a nap.

It guts me to think she’ll be all alone in the room while I’m on the rooftop celebrating tonight.

Maybe I can sneak out early, or maybe?—.

“Ohmigod.” A shriek cuts through my thoughts and I turn to see a group of girls pointing.

“I think that’s for you,” Easton laughs, as he lifts his glass toward Rip and me. “I might be older and wiser,” he reiterates. “But I’ll never be as famous, or popular as you two. I’m okay with that. I have a beautiful woman I can’t wait to marry. One of these days, you’ll both understand that.”

Rip and I both groan. “Not happening,” I shoot back and lift my glass.

“Same,” Rip says, and the guys laugh.

I turn toward the girls and they take that as an invitation.

They come racing over, and Rip and I doing our part, we stand and start giving autographs and taking selfies.

A cute girl with long dark hair opens her shirt, and Rip goes to work on signing her breasts.

I don’t know why, but when it comes to my turn, it suddenly feels wrong.

Not that I’m going to stop it. I don’t need the guys questioning me. I can’t let anyone know about Gabby.

“Ohmigod,” One of the girls shrieks again, and this time it cuts through my brain, reminding me I might have drank too much last night.

Last night…

Jesus, why can’t I stop thinking about it?

“Is that Cassian St. Pierre?”

Cassian St. Pierre.

Cass.

I spin, my nerves on fire as I search the restaurant and see a tall, model thin man with chiseled cheekbones and slicked back hair scanning the room.

My feet engage before my brain, and I take one step, only to stop when a big hand grips my arm.

As the girls scurry off to meet him, my gaze flashes to Rip’s.

“Easy, buddy.”

I stare at him for a split second, the events of last night, Gabby’s plea for me not to get involved racing through my brain.

My shoulders relax, and I nod. “Okay.” I put my hand on his back.

“Thanks.” Shit, I could have done something there I would have regretted, something that could have led that douche bag to my room, to Gabby.

“There’s a bee farm down the road. We can snatch a brood box and open it in his room.”

I laugh when I realize he’s kidding. Only he doesn’t laugh with me. Shit. I shake my head. I should have known he was serious. I grew up with the guy and know better than to put anything past him. “You’re not kidding.”

“Nope.”

“We’re not doing that, Rip. Besides, how would we pull it off?” Wait, am I really considering it? Jesus. No, of course I’m not. I’d never hurt bees.

He winks. “My grandfather owns this place, remember?”

“He’d kill you.”

Stop thinking about it, dude.

He gives a casual shrug. “He’d never know it was me, and besides he can’t stay mad at me.” He points to his cheeks. “Have you seen this face?”

“You scare me, dude.” The guys all stand, the luncheon over, and I put my hand on Rip’s back. “Okay, let’s get you out of here and hit up the strip. You look like you need a distraction.”

We all shake Easton’s hand, and after everyone disperses, I glance around the room once more. Cass is gone. Pushing him to the back of my mind, Rip and I head out into the bright sunshine.

“I can’t believe you’re officiating the wedding,” I say as we weave around a group of women in purple hats.

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy to get certified. I’m glad I could do this for Easton.” He nudges me. “When you get married, I’ll do yours.”

“Great, I’ll do the same for you.” I catch his eye, and we both laugh at that.

He doesn’t know the extent of the fighting that went on at home when I was growing up, but he’s walked in on a few arguments that quickly turned to smiles when my parents realized they weren’t alone.

I’m not sure what his problem is, to be honest. He comes from a good family, and his brother isn’t opposed to marriage, obviously.

Then again, you never know what goes onbehind closed doors, when you think no one is watching.

Unfortunately, Gabby knows that all too well now.

We walk the strip and while it would be nice to go unrecognized, I’m standing next to Mr. Lumberjack himself, which makes it pretty difficult. Maybe yesterday I would have enjoyed the attention.

Maybe you should be careful and consider why that’s different today, dude.

We saunter slowly, stopping every few feet for autographs. Rip takes it in stride, grinning like he was born for this, which, let’s be honest, he kind of was. When I see a bakery, I guide Rip toward it.

“Good idea, I’m starved,” he says, rubbing his stomach.

“We just ate.”

He shoots me a look full of indignation. “Bro, I’m a growing boy.” Laughing, I pull the door open. The smell of freshly baked bread and sugar rushes at me, warm and familiar. I breathe it all in as Rip continues, “If you’re not hungry, then what are we doing in here?”

“I wasn’t sure if Gabby ordered food or not. I wanted to grab her something, just in case.”

Rip stares at me for a second and I brace myself. Is this something a boyfriend would do? Not that I’d know. I don’t have girlfriends. Don’t do relationships.

Instead of calling me out, he nods. “Good idea.”

We head to the line, and I order a bunch of different pastries. My mouth drools as they fill my bag. Rip orders just as many as I do, and out on the sidewalk, he opens his bag and digs into a cinnamon roll.

“Fuck, this is good,” he groans around a mouthful.

I watch him for a second, my resolve melting. Shit, we’re on vacation. I’ll go back to clean eating when I’m home. “Yeah, okay.” I open my bag, pull off a piece of mine and pop it into my mouth. “Mmm.”

He elbows me. “Told ya.” Shifting the subject, and catching me off guard, he says, “Your place is kind of small. Ever have a roommate before?”

“Not really. I have two bedrooms. Besides, it’s only until she gets on her feet.”

He goes quiet for a beat. “This guy really hurt her, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“She really loved him.”

“Seems that way.”

“Okay.”

We step off the curb and cross the street. I can feel him watching me, thinking. “What are you trying to say, Rip?”

“She was always a nice girl.”

“She was.”

“We were all friends.”

“We were.” A beat and then, “For fuck’s sake, Rip, out with it.”

He shrugs. “I think what you’re doing is damn admirable. You’re total hero material, Romeo.” he jokes with a grin, but there’s something deeply serious beneath it. “I just worry about her getting the wrong idea.”

“She knows my reputation. I didn’t exactly hide the fact that I planned to get with a bridesmaid or two. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I know what those dimples do,” he teases, but then his gaze strays to the big bag in my hand. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, bro. If she still loves this guy…”

“Aww, you care about me.”

“What I care about is you going and fucking yourself.”

I laugh out loud, and just like that the heaviness of the moment lifts. What doesn’t lift though, is his warning. He’s right. Love like that doesn’t die in one night.

As that thought rattles around in my brain, we hit up a few more shops, and Rip buys a new ballcap, putting it on as we walk. It looks ridiculous with his dress clothes, but he seems to want a moment’s peace, which is crazy, because dude loves the limelight.

Is there something going on with him?

I’m about to ask, but as we approach our hotel, a bunch of women dressed as Helen Roper from that old show Three’s Company that my grandmother adored, get off a tour bus, their laugher drawing lots of attention from everyone on the street.

“Looks like they’re here for a good time,” Rip laughs.

“Yeah,” is all I say and when one pulls off her wig, scratching her head before she puts the mop of red curly hair back in place, I stop dead in my tracks.

“See something you like, Stanley?” Rip teases as they walk to the outside luggage compartment to collect their bags.

“Yeah, I do, actually.”