Page 20

20

“ D o you need any help setting the table, Mom?” I walk into the kitchen and open the cabinet that has all the dinner plates. I get out five beige plates and start placing them on the table. “I take it that Jen is coming tonight?”

My mom walks out with a big bowl full of salad and places it in the center of the table. “Yes. Oh honey, we actually need one more.”

That’s odd. It should be five: me, Bradley, Jen, Mom and Dad.

“Bradley didn’t tell you? Well I guess not, by that crease on your forehead. Tristan is coming.”

The last dish slips from my fingers and shatters all over the tile floor. Tristan is coming? I haven’t seen him since Casino Night, or rather the next morning, and that was a week ago. It has been such a crazy week at work. We have been texting every day but our schedules didn’t work out to actually get together in person. My hands start to get clammy and flashbacks from that night make me hot.

“Brooke! What is the matter with you?” My mom peers at me with concern. “Don’t move. There are shards everywhere. Let me get the broom.”

“Sorry Mom!” I yell after her. Why is Tristan coming to dinner? He has not been to Sunday dinner in a few months.

“Here,” my mom comes back with a broom and dustpan and starts sweeping.

“Mom, let me do it. You can finish setting up since apparently I have butterfingers today.”

She huffs and hands me the broom. I carefully sweep the shards. Is this supposed to be a sign from the universe that tonight is going to turn out awful? That Bradley is going to sense that Tristan and I slept together? That we couldn’t keep our hands off each other that night and Tristan gave me an out-of-body experience each time he made me orgasm? I hope that Tristan is on his best behavior.

No matter how hard that is for him to do.

I am in the middle of watching a rerun of Jeopardy with my dad when the doorbell rings. Thinking it’s my brother and Jen, I get up. “I’ll get it!”

I open the door without looking through the peephole and Tristan is awaiting me on the other side. He has a bottle of wine and I would be lying to myself if I didn’t want to immediately take him upstairs and show him how turned on I am by the sight of him. He of course is wearing a Dallas Storm t-shirt with jeans and a backwards hat.

I am wearing a short, pink, floral sundress. Tristan licks his lips and rakes his eyes all over me. “Hello, Cupcake. You actually look nice tonight.”

What the hell? My stomach feels like a giant boulder just fell in it. I am about to flip him the bird, but then he leans in and whispers, “Remember, everyone has to believe that we still hate each other. You look gorgeous tonight, as always.”

I smirk as he hands me the bottle of wine, breezes past me, and greets my parents.

“Tristan! It’s so nice to see you!” My mom gives Tristan a big mama bear hug and pats him on the back. “It’s been too long. I know you hate Brooke, but you don’t hate us.”

I close the door behind me and lean on it. Tristan glances over at me. “You’re right, I don’t hate you or Mr. Beckett. Just Brooke.” He discreetly winks at me and my stomach does a full-on somersault.

My dad gets up from his chair and shakes hands with Tristan. “Nice to see you, Tristan. You’re having an impeccable season.”

I roll my eyes as the hockey talk is about to commence and last for the remainder of the night. I head to the kitchen to get wine glasses out. It’s going to be a long evening of my dad, Tristan and Bradley talking all things hockey. At least I can chat with Jen about wedding stuff tonight. And I am grateful Tristan brought a bottle of wine. I am going to need some to get through tonight, pretending to hate the man I spent the best night of my life with a week ago.

I glance at the bottle and it happens to be my favorite type of wine. Peach moscato. I smile that Tristan remembered that small detail from years ago. I’ll have to properly thank him at another time.

I open the drawer and take out the wine opener. I feel someone’s body heat up against my back and sleeves of tattoos trap me against the counter. Tingles travel up and down my body. It is taking everything in me to not turn around and make out with the man standing behind me.

Tristan brushes my hair from one side of my neck, rendering it exposed, and whispers, “Did I get the right one, Cupcake?”

Goosebumps appear on my body. Keep your composure, Brooke . “Mmhmm,” I succinctly respond, trying to focus on screwing in the wine opener correctly.

“Here.” Tristan’s hands cover both of mine and a jolt of electricity permeates me. Tristan begins to twist the corkscrew and even that simple act makes me hot. He presses his body up against mine and I can feel how his body is responding to my presence. This night is going to be interesting to say the least. How the hell are we supposed to get through this charade when we both want to rip each other’s clothes off? The cork finally pops off just as the doorbell rings, making us both jump and come back to the reality that we are not alone in this house.

Unfortunately.

“It must be Bradley and Jen,” I say as I place the cork on the side of the bottle and grab a glass.

“Yeah, must be.” Tristan leans against the counter and crosses his arms as he watches me pour what is probably half the bottle into my wine glass. “Woah, slow down slugger. Save some for the rest of us. Are you planning on getting shitfaced drunk at your parents’ house on a Sunday night?”

“Whatever it takes to get through this doomed evening.”

“Let’s be positive about this, Brooke.” He takes my wrist and brings it up to his lips and softly kisses it. “At least we get to see each other. I missed you all week. Did you miss me?”

My mouth turns dry and I part my lips, about to respond, “Of course I did!” when Bradley’s voice seems to be getting closer. I yank my hand out of Tristan’s and smile toward the entrance to the kitchen.

“Hey bro! I didn’t realize you were already here!” Tristan and Bradley make the loudest sound with their handshake, more like a clap, and give each other a one-armed hug. Why are men like this? Just hug like normal human beings!

“Damn,” Bradley yells over his shoulder, “I am surprised the kitchen is still intact. And that Mom and Dad allowed you two to be alone in the kitchen. Let me check to make sure all the knives are in their proper places.”

“Brad, leave them alone.” Jen embraces me and then Tristan. “Although it is a little suspicious that you two aren’t at each other’s throats right now.”

“The night is still young,” Tristan pipes in. “Anything can happen. Right, Cupcake?” The way he said “Cupcake” is unlawful. It is laced with lust and my wet panties are proof of the effect Tristan Lawson now has on me.

I decide to respond with equal lust, “Right, Hot Shot.”

We end up sitting next to each other. Tristan insisted since Brad and Jen would probably want to sit next to each other. “We can be civil, I promise, Mrs. Beckett,” he reassures my mother as she shoots us a “you better not destroy my house tonight” look.

Just as I predicted, my dad, Bradley and Tristan talk about hockey and the upcoming games they still have left before playoffs. Apparently, they are in a really good position to make it to the playoffs this year. I can sense the excitement in both my brother and Tristan.

“So Brooke,” my mom chimes in. “How is everything looking for opening up your little bakery?”

I hate when my mom says “little bakery” like it’s some sort of silly wish that will never come to fruition.

I clear my throat and push a piece of chicken to the other side of my plate. I can feel all eyes on me. “Well, Tess and I saw a place that would be perfect in Uptown that is available for rent.” I shrug as reality hits me all at once as I decide to not tell them how much it could possibly be. “But I still need to call them and find out more details.”

Bradley butts in, “You know B, I can always spot you the money for a bit until the business starts making a profit, I don’t mind.”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, absolutely not. Thank you, but you have your wedding and your own life to worry about.”

I can see my mom’s head shaking in my peripheral vision. “I don’t understand why you don’t take your brother up on his offer. He’s trying to help you, Brooke.”

I stab the poor piece of chicken in front of me. “I don’t need his help,” I say curtly and look at my mom, whose eyes go wide. I rarely talk to my mom like this, but I can’t take the infantilizing comments anymore. I am an adult and I don’t need my older brother to take care of me. We aren’t kids anymore. “I’ll figure it out on my own. This is my dream and I’ll open my bakery when the time is right.” I need to change the subject. “So, Jen, how was the cake tasting the other day? Bradley doesn’t update me on anything wedding-related.” I know I am being stubborn but I have been living in Bradley’s shadow ever since he scored his first goal when he was four years old.

Thankfully, the conversation shifts to the cake tasting. As I place some baked chicken into my mouth, I feel a strong hand grip my thigh. I glance over at Tristan, who is still actively involved in the conversation about his best man duties. He’s evil for doing this to me right now. With my family surrounding us. But maybe that’s also the fun of it all.

I purse my lips and lift my glass. As I take a drink of wine, Tristan’s rough, huge hand starts traveling up my inner thigh, causing the hem of my sundress to rise up. I choke slightly on my wine, but not enough to draw attention. Tristan must be the only one who noticed because he gives my thigh a little squeeze and keeps inching closer and closer to where he wants to end up. My skin is on fire from his touch and he is dangerously close to finding out what he is doing to me. A couple more inches in fact.

He takes a sip of his own wine and smirks. He isn’t even looking at me and I can tell his eyes are becoming ravenous. He is distracting himself with the wine and so am I. His fingers graze my cotton underwear. I would’ve worn sexier panties if I had known he was coming over tonight. Not that I was expecting us to do anything in my parents’ house. He starts rubbing against my panties and I have to take another drink of wine to distract myself. I plaster a smile on my face and pretend to be invested in all the wedding talk. Even though all I can think about is Tristan. And what he is doing to me right now. And what he did to me a week ago.

It is getting too intense. I subtly reach down and swat his hand away. I stand up and say, “Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom. Be right back.”

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a little flushed.” My mom places the back of her hand against my forehead to check if I have a fever.

“It’s probably all the wine. I’ll be fine, Mom.” I dart toward the hallway bathroom and shut the door behind me. I take some deep breaths. Tristan is not playing fair right now. He is enjoying getting me flustered in front of my family. I turn on the faucet and run my hands under the cold water, rubbing some on the back of my neck and my forehead. My skin is on fire right now. All thanks to Tristan. I close my eyes and take another deep breath. You can do this, Brooke. We are almost done with dinner.

I reach for the doorknob but it turns before I can even touch it. Tristan barges in and locks the door behind him.

“Tristan! What do you think you are doing? Are you trying to get caught? Do you have a death wis–?”

Tristan’s lips land on mine and he feverishly kisses me. I can’t help but kiss him back. He turns us around so that my back is now against the bathroom door.

“I wanted to come see how wet I made you.” He says in between kisses. His hands find the hem of my dress and he starts to lift it up.

I tug my dress back down. “Tristan.”

“Brooke.” His hands caress my hips and upper thighs.

“Not here,” I say earnestly. Then whisper, “My family is right outside this door.”

“I promise I’ll be quick.” He starts kissing my neck. This man is absolute trouble.

“I am surprised you are flaunting that statement like it’s a good thing,” I tease. He squeezes the sides of my torso, making me giggle.

“Well, speed bodes well for me at the moment.” Tristan smiles. God he is ruining me with the way he looks tonight. His shirt is so tight against his chest, it makes my heart race. “Besides, I know that you don’t have the greatest memory from this particular bathroom since you overheard the lie I told your brother all those years ago. I want you to have a new memory.”

As much as I want this man to take me right here and now, I also want him to drive him crazy a little bit. I want to step back and not go too fast with Tristan. He is worth waiting for.

“Trust me, I do.” I find both of his massive, manly hands and hold them tightly. “It’s just…I don’t want to rush this, Tristan.” He starts to contest and I push my finger against his mouth to stop him. “I know we have waited way too long and have held back from each other but…”

Tristan places a delicate kiss on the side of my mouth. “Please, Brooke. I need you.” Then his hands escape mine and he traps me against the door by putting both arms on each side of me. Even through his sleeve of tattoos, I can see large veins cover the surface of his muscular forearms and my knees weaken.

I look into his hazel eyes, which look a little more green than usual. Almost as green as they look against his kelly green jersey. “Me too. I love seeing you beg for me. I am not sure I am ready to grant your wish just yet, Hot Shot.”

“Hmmm.” Tristan lowers his arms. Instead of looking defeated, it appears like I fueled the fire in Tristan’s eyes. “Is that so, Cupcake?”

“Yup.” My conviction is starting to waver against the hot way Tristan is looking at me. His fingers tickle the side of my arms and my core tightens and breath hitches. Damn this man.

“All right, I’ll play by your rules.” He grabs tightly onto my wrists and pins them above my head. “Just know that at some point, I plan on breaking every single one of them.”

Oh, he’s good.