Chapter Twelve
As all four friends sat down at the round, candlelit table for dinner, an irritable Brent watched Hayden choose the seat farthest from him. He didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to care about what “complication” she’d been referring to earlier. In fact, the afternoon spent away from her had given him time to think.
After he’d hurled the Yellow Pages at the wall, accidentally knocking the hotel phone across the room. Along with a coffeemaker.
The girls had gone swimming at the hotel pool and he’d convinced Daniel to join him at the poker tables. Turns out, poker required you to sit quietly for hours on end, something that would normally make him break out in a cold sweat, but he had embraced it wholeheartedly after the scene with Hayden. While he’d waited for strangers to play their hands, he’d resolved to stay away from her. She’d fucked with him for the last time. If she ever decided to stop pretending they didn’t set each other on fire, she’d seriously have to woo his ass. And no, he didn’t care if that made him sound like a chick.
Now, however, his raging thoughts simmered down from a mighty roar to a pitter-patter of little elves’ feet when he saw her in the flesh. All soft and glowing, dressed in her Vacation Hayden getup, he could think of nothing but how she’d looked that afternoon in her bra and panties, skin flushed from the way he’d dirty-talked her in the backseat. She’d fallen through his door looking like sex on a platter and he’d thought, Christmas came early. Guess I’ve been a good boy. They’d been seconds from soul-screaming, mind-blowing, hair-pulling sex. She’d kissed him. She’d worked her barely covered ass all over him, showing him what he was about to get. Then something he’d said caused her to put the brakes on.
Something about her words, her actions afterward, continued to eat at him all afternoon. He hadn’t needed to see her face to see the conflict taking place in her. Her shoulders had been bunched, breathing erratic. Even her verbal parting shot didn’t strike him as convincing. So what the hell was the problem? It’s complicated. If he could go back in time, he’d ask her what the hell in this life isn’t complicated. Sure, they’d spent the first few months of their acquaintance as enemies. Could that be the extent of it?
No, something else was in play. But as bad as he wanted to put a name to it, his pride wouldn’t allow it. He refused to interrogate her. She would have to come to him. He didn’t take her accusation of “forcing” himself on her lightly. He suspected she knew that, too.
Determinedly, he tore his gaze from soft, glowing, light-blue-vacation-dress-wearing Hayden and gave his drink order to the hovering waitress.
Across the table, Daniel stared into the candle’s flame in front of him, looking as though he might puke.
Enough was enough. Since Story and Hayden were distracted pointing out menu choices to each other, Brent snapped his fingers in front of Daniel’s face.
“Hey, shithead. Look alive,” Brent whispered harshly, giving him a disgusted look. “Honestly, I don’t even know you anymore. Since when do you worry about getting the girl? Grow a pair, man. You’re Daniel fucking Chase. He who gets the girl, remember?”
Daniel gaped at him for a moment before rapping his fist on the table. “You know what? You’re right.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Brent returned. “I’m right so frequently.”
“About me. I get the girl.” He looked at Story, whose gaze connected with his at the same time, her mouth parting slightly at whatever she read there. “I’ll get my girl.”
“Great, now that your pussy-whipped-ness is settled, let’s eat.”
Brent spent the next half hour, as they drank wine and ate appetizers, doing his best not to stare at Hayden. She made it incredibly difficult when every once in a while, just when he thought she’d dismissed him completely from her mind, her increasingly heavy-lidded brown eyes would find him across the table, causing everything below his belt buckle to tighten. He thought of how her mouth would taste after drinking red wine. The red wine she continued to sip in such ladylike fashion. He knew better. If he took her mouth right now, she’d fight him for control. Dig her fingernails into him and rob him of sanity. He wasn’t the only one who felt this way. No, the more she relaxed and drank her wine, the more he saw. Not just desire. Vulnerability. The combination pummeled him.
A thought occurred to him. Perhaps his pride wouldn’t let him pursue Hayden after this afternoon’s latest blue-ball extravaganza, but he could provoke her into coming to him. Their first night together had been triggered by a challenge. Whether or not she could teach him a lesson. Whether or not she could handle him. Maybe he’d made it too easy for her today. That ended now. No more Mr. Nice Brent.
Just as he had the idea, Hayden glanced up at him and frowned a little, cluing him in to the fact that he needed to hide his thoughts a little better.
“Hayden!” Story giggled into her wine as Daniel reached across the table to hold her hand. “Tell everyone about the time in college we drove to Mexico. When you rode the donkey.”
Brent had to drink deeply when Hayden’s face broke into a beautiful smile. It turned her into the girl he’d seen snuggle a pillow, making puns in the dark. Pillow-puns Hayden. Brent expected her to decline to tell the story, make a sarcastic remark, and pass the buck back to Story. But tonight she seemed different. Pensive one minute, sentimental the next. It worried him.
Hayden took one final sip of her wine and set it down with a flourish. “Well. We were bored on a Saturday and Story got a craving for tamales. Since I’d never eaten one, she insisted we road-trip to Mexico on a quest for my perfect first tamale. A little crazy, but since midterms had just ended, we needed to blow off some steam.” She nodded at Story. “Of course, this one got us lost and we ended up in some town with no name, a map we couldn’t read, and not a tamale in sight.”
As if on cue, both men at the table folded their arms and sighed, outwardly irritated by the idea of two college coeds lost in a foreign country. It only made Story and Hayden laugh harder. Even Brent couldn’t keep the smile completely off his face, seeing the two girls look so happy.
“We were starving, so we stopped at a fruit stand on the side of a dirt road. Two donkeys were tied up in back. The owner, knowing two suckers when he saw them, told us we could ride them for five American dollars. Before he’d even finished making his offer, Story had climbed onto one of the beasts and named it Maxwell. As you do.”
Story took over the telling. “We were only riding for a few minutes when Hayden’s donkey started making this horrible braying noise. Like, the worst sound you’ve ever heard. So Hayden got off his back and the poor thing just kind of…pooped out in the middle of the street.”
“Then it went into labor.”
Story could barely speak through her laughter. “Hayden ran back and got the fruit stand owner, who promptly passed out at seeing a live birth. While I tried to shake him awake, Hayden delivered a donkey baby in the middle of the street. All while sporting an Hermès scarf, by the way.”
Brent gaped at Hayden, but she was too busy enjoying herself to notice. Her entire face had lit up, animated in a way he’d never seen her. Or maybe he’d just been blind to anything apart from how she portrayed herself on the surface. Cool and disinterested. But underneath…Jesus, she was so much more. Energy and light just waiting to shine through.
Where the hell had that thought come from? Relationship Daniel had obviously rubbed off on him. But as he’d already realized, subtle coaxing wouldn’t work with Hayden. He was going to have to step up his game if he wanted a shot with her.
Resolved to stick with the plan, he tuned back in to the story. “Marco finally woke up after Hayden dumped a gallon of water on his head. He was so thankful that he named the donkey after her.”
Hayden raised her glass, smiling at everyone’s laughter. “It’s true. Somewhere in Mexico, I have a namesake with fur.” She sighed. “We never got our tamales.”
When everyone’s laughter died down, Brent bit the bullet. “So what did they name the donkey? Pampered Princess?”
Her wineglass froze halfway to her mouth. The table went silent. He could feel Daniel’s death stare but ignored it. He needed to shake her up, and it couldn’t wait another second. True to form, Hayden didn’t disappoint. She set her glass down and smiled sweetly. His gut clenched when her eyes lit up, challenging, excited. “Aw, what’s wrong, Brent? Jealous? After all, if ever there was someone who deserved to have a jackass named after him, it’s you.”
He leaned forward on his elbows. “Yeah? And what would they name it? How about…Spanky?”
Hayden’s composure slipped a little, but he only noticed because of how closely he watched her. “How about Oversized Dickhead?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t hear you complaining about my oversized—”
She shot to her feet, jostling the table. “Can I speak with you in private?”
“You need it right now?” He feigned exasperation. “We’re in the middle of dinner, woman. You’re insatiable.”
Story suddenly ducked down and peeked under the tablecloth, gasping and drawing everyone’s attention. “Brent, what size are your feet?”
His brows drew together. “Fifteen. Why?”
“Ahhh!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Hayden, shoving Daniel’s shoulder with her other hand. “Sock guy. He’s sock guy!”
“Oh yeah, he’s going to get socked, all right.”
“Brent is sock guy?” The couple exchanged a look. “But wait, you guys hate each other,” Daniel protested.
Hayden narrowed her eyes. “Jesus, you really do tell each other everything.”
“You owe me,” Story continued indignantly. “I’ve been keeping up my end of the sex talk and I get nothing in return. Nothing! You owe me some details.”
Daniel held up single finger. “Wait a minute. You talk to Hayden about what we do in bed?”
Her best friend sank down into her seat and Hayden sighed. “Oh, relax, Danny. She walks around our apartment humming like a freaking Disney princess. Birds literally perch on her shoulder when we go outside. You should be proud.”
Daniel smirked at Story. “Did you tell her about the new leg thing?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Brent griped.
Before an awkward silence could settle over the table, Story pushed back her chair and stood. “Why don’t we all just get some air?”
…
Brent and Hayden walked in tense silence, trailing Story and Daniel on the boardwalk. The sun had just begun to set, soft music drifted from portable radios on the beach, a soft breeze rolled off the ocean to cool Hayden’s skin. It was a beautiful night. Perfect for Daniel’s imminent marriage proposal to her best friend.
Hayden wanted to scream.
The man walking so casually next to her actually had the nerve to whistle. Whistle. Her willpower had never faced such a powerful test. Without it, she would have already tackled him into the sand, pinned his arms over his head…and kissed the shit out of him. That, that, is what had her so angry. She didn’t understand her reaction any more than she understood his sudden revelation at dinner regarding their physical relationship. What was his game? Getting back at her for turning him down? Or perhaps Brent thought if he bit the bullet and blurted the news to their friends, she’d have no excuses not to jump into bed with him.
Whatever his reasons, she found her resolve weakening at an alarming rate. He looked edible in his dinner clothes, all raw maleness wrapped up in gray trousers and a loose black dress shirt, barely containing the solid muscle beneath. His swagger held an extra hint of arrogance tonight, doing precious little to dim his appeal. Her hormones were still performing a sultry tango in her stomach, left over from the drive and the almost-sex in Brent’s room. Combined with her frayed nerves, courtesy of her upcoming decision, Hayden felt ready to snap. She felt out of control. She needed something. Unfortunately, she had a feeling that something was the six-foot-five hormone-whisperer walking beside her, whistling the Happy Days theme song.
She couldn’t hold on to her irritation anymore. “Stop whistling, Flo. You’re scaring people. When a man your size whistles, he’s just chopped up half the cast of a horror film.”
Without missing a beat, he started whistling the theme song to Halloween.
“Oh, real cute.” She whipped off her sandals so she could walk barefoot and felt a surge of satisfaction when his whistling stuttered. Huh. Brent was a foot man. Go figure. “I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish back there, but it didn’t work.”
“Did it piss you off?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, then. Mission accomplished.” He shrugged. “After all, that’s what enemies do, right? Piss each other off? And I’d say dinner just won me the gold medal at the piss-your-enemy-off-Olympics.”
Hayden halted abruptly and Brent followed suit. “Do you honestly think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re ridiculously transparent.” She poked him hard in the chest with her finger. “You think you can goad me into changing my mind?”
“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind, too.” His irritation finally showing through, Brent shoved his hands into his pockets. “Had you considered that?”
That brought her up short. No, she hadn’t considered that possibility. Perhaps she’d finally succeeded this afternoon in pushing him away. Exactly what she’d wanted to happen, right? Except the thought of him moving on so quickly make her chest feel heavy and tight. Wanting to hide the emotions she didn’t feel capable of keeping off her face, Hayden ducked her head and kept walking. She heard him curse and follow quickly behind her.
“Hayden, wait—”
They both fell silent when they noticed the scene playing out before them. Just ahead, silhouetted by the pink-streaked sunset, their best friend was down on one knee proposing to the other. Only, it wasn’t Daniel as they’d expected. Story smiled up at a dumbfounded Daniel from where she knelt on the boardwalk, holding up a ring box.
Hayden couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter that rose from her throat. She should have suspected her friend would take convention and knock it on its square ass. At that moment, she couldn’t have been more proud of her friend. Over the last two months, she’d transformed into someone who didn’t take no for an answer. A woman who made her own decisions and to hell with what anyone else thought. A little blond force to be reckoned with.
It occurred to Hayden then that she herself had turned into quite the opposite. Someone who followed her marching orders, didn’t make waves. If she did her duty like a good soldier and married Stuart, she’d never experience the kind of romantic bliss currently radiating from Daniel and Story. She’d never be loved. Would never love anyone back.
Her self-pity didn’t belong there, not when the person she treasured most in the world was experiencing her perfect moment in the sun. She hated herself for having that feeling. Hated her impossible situation. Hated the man next to her for making her feel things she might go the rest of her life without ever feeling again.
Hayden felt Brent watching her and turned. Somehow he managed to look as troubled as she felt. She felt moisture coating her cheeks and a jolt of surprise passed through her. When was the last time she’d cried? Her sophomore year of high school. She’d been laid up in bed after having her tonsils removed, woozy from painkillers. Beaches had come on and she hadn’t been able to find the remote control to change the channel.
Brent reached a hand out to swipe her tears away, but she jerked out of his reach. Fist clenched in midair, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. She could tell from his expression that he knew her tears weren’t of the happy variety. “Hey. What’s going on with you?”
“N-nothing.” She swiped impatiently at her tears. “I was…I was just thinking about that movie Beaches.”
A single eyebrow rose. “That had to be the last thing I expected you to say.” He looked thoughtful. “Well, maybe not the last. If you’d said something about the Mets’ batting order, I might have fainted.” When she didn’t respond to his attempt at levity, he sighed, but thankfully he didn’t press, nor did he look at her with anything resembling judgment. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel? I’ll…tell them you went to find your camera.”
“Thank you,” Hayden managed, before taking off in the opposite direction from which they’d been walking, feeling Brent’s gaze on her back as she went. She was thankful for the reprieve. In her current state of mind, she’d only tarnish her friends’ happy moment.
Her intention had been to return to her room. Experience her first cry in a decade with a pillow pressed to her face. Instead, she found herself veering into the first bar she passed upon entering the casino. Before she’d even settled onto the barstool, she’d signaled the bartender.
“Tequila, please.”