Chapter One

Bellamy

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“Tell me you feel it starting to sprinkle,” I groan in foolish hope.

“No,” Brynn laughs. “Did you, um...”

“Piss on my foot? Yep, pretty sure I did. With the added bonus of backsplash as it hits the ground. Let’s not forget that party favor.”

“Spread your feet farther apart, and quit making me laugh,” she snorts, wobbling in her compromised position. “I’m no expert at this either and you're gonna make me pee on myself too.”

What the hell am I doing? I’m beyond positive that my parents did not scrimp, save, sell and pawn everything they could, plus work double shifts to send me to college so I could master “the art of squatting to pee in the woods.”

And Brynn Kendrick, crouched down in what very well may be a bed of poison ivy with me? Definitely outside her comfort zone as well.

But then again...is a patch of poison ivy anyone’s comfort zone?

The only reason we’re at this party, in a field, obviously lacking restrooms, is because Brynn’s softball teammates had berated her unmercifully into coming.

I’m not sure if they want her here for the right reason—because she’s a great girl—or because her mom’s the coach and if Brynn’s here, they might not get in as much trouble for having a party if caught. Either way, I wasn’t about to refuse to come with her.

When Brynn and I met on campus it was instant friendship. One somewhat socially introverted, goal-oriented girl in search of a top-notch education meeting another like soul. And we’ve been inseparable, best friends, ever since.

I am pretty comfortable saying what I think in a small crowd, especially made up of people I know, so I’m not quite as reserved as Brynn, but it’s close. So, being our best chance at a “spokesperson” against any really bad ideas that often “pop up” at these shindigs, no way could I let my girl navigate the shark-infested waters of a college party alone.

And our pre-party pact included the golden rule: Never leave your wingwoman. So, if one of us really has to pee, we both have to traipse through the maze of protruding limbs and scratchy bushes to pee.

“Are you done?” She asks, still squatting.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yes, but as a novice, I have a question.”

“Ask away. Although, considering I just pissed on myself, I doubt I have the right answer.”

“What do we, you know, wipe with? A leaf? Drip-dry? Geez.” She looks around, as though a roll of toilet paper will magically appear. “This sucks.”

“Excuse me, Brynn?” Ryder calls out from his watch post. “Not that I’m eavesdropping, but I have an idea on how to help.”

“Oh my God, he heard us. How embarrassing,” Brynn whispers her agony.

I muzzle my laughter—she would never see the humor in this situation. Not only is Brynn very conservative and as inexperienced with the world that is guys, dating...and dating guys as I am...but she’s absolutely nuts about Ryder Banks.

And he worships the ground she walks on; hasn’t taken his eyes off her since the time they spent together at Brynn’s oldest sister Skylar’s wedding.

But no one is allowed to acknowledge or speak aloud of “the thing” between them, because even they won’t give it all they’ve got...downplaying it and denying themselves true happiness because of Brynn’s family.

Overprotective doesn’t even touch upon the “ways” of my best friend’s very large, extended family of crazies. Wonderful, loving, cool AF crazies...but regardless, more than a little insanely “involved.”

I haven’t met them all, but the ones I have? They are fascinating in both the most admirable, and scary as hell, of ways.

“Brynn, answer him,” I urge her to “woman-up” and find out his plan. “My calves are starting to cramp. I’m not a star ballplayer like you, feeling the burn here.”

“I’d rather not. Just leave me here. I can’t face him now, or ever again.”

“Okay,” I pretend to agree, then yell, “Ryder, I’m coming out, but Brynn wants us to leave her here. Ya know, in the woods, at night, alone, at a party.”

“You did not just say that. Paybacks are an evil, sneaky bitch, Bellamy,” she hisses.

“Like hell that’s happening,” Ryder yells back, his voice sounding closer with each word. “My eyes are closed, I swear. One of you pioneer women come over here and grab my socks. I took ‘em off for ya to...uh...use.”

“You,” I designate Brynn before she can even try to send me. “He’s your escort, not mine. Go get those socks!”

Not that I mind the fact he came along, watching out for us party newbies, keeping us safe, but no way am I waddling, drawers around my ankles, over to him with pee trickling down my legs. Her admirer—her job.

“Have we met? You know I’m not doing that! No way.” She’s shaking her head, glaring at me. “I mean it. I think I’m almost dry now. Tell him never mind, please.”

“Ryder,” I turn on my phone’s flashlight and hold it up in the air. “Walk toward the light and throw us the socks.”

“Alright. And I’m not looking, I promise,” he answers and I hear twigs start snapping as he approaches. “Here comes one.”

The balled-up sock lands within reach, and I snag it, giving Brynn a sassy smile. Cleaned up, I toss the sock, fix my clothes and stand...now dry and dressed.

“Still want to be left here, or should I go get the other sock for you since I’m no longer squatting with my ass hanging out?” I tease her.

“Please,” she grates, low and annoyed. “Go get it. And thank you, friend.”

I jog over to Ryder, retrieving the sock in his hand, and gently pat his cheek. “You’re a decent guy, Ryder Banks. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for ya. Be right back.”

Brynn gets situated, still a bit prickly at her embarrassment and my goading, as we start toward Ryder...only for her to stop suddenly, causing me to slam into her back.

“What the...”

“Ssshh!” She cuts me off. “Do you hear that?”

Yes, indeed I do. Someone is screaming like a banshee.

“Brynn! Answer me God dammit! Where are you?”

“Oh, Ryder,” she blows out dejectedly. “You didn’t.”

“Now, let me explain,” he wears a sheepish frown, holding out both hands. “He texted me and asked where I was, and if I’d seen you. He was worried, Brynn. I couldn’t lie to him.”

“Brynn! Counting to five and I’m dialing him!” The mystery lunatic screams again.

“Dialing who? And who’s yelling? What am I missing?” I fire off my questions.

“It’s my brother. Ryder told him where we were. And that’d be my father he’s threatening to call,” Brynn mutters.

“Oh,” is all I can think to say. Haven’t met the brother, but I have met Mr. Kendrick, so I shiver for her at the thought of him being called. Brynn’s dad is the sexiest DILF I’ve ever seen, but every bit as frightening as he is handsome. I’m also next to certain he has mob ties...or is the “Godfather.” I’d believe either one.

“Yeah, oh,” Brynn deadpans. “You told him, you can answer him,” she clips at Ryder.

“Come on,” Ryder sighs, reaching for Brynn’s hand, which she denies him. When we emerge from the woods, Ryder hollers, “JT, over here, man!”

My Lord, Mary, Joseph and all the disciples...running toward us is an exact replica of Mr. Kendrick. The definition of a BILF. Seriously, they should put his picture beside the word in the Urban Dictionary. Not that I’ve ever acted on an ilf with anyone, but my vulgar opinions are my own, to be only slightly ashamed of privately.

“Brynny, what the fuck?” the damn beautiful man growls when he reaches us. “Why didn’t you answer me, and what the hell are you doing at a field party full of drunks?”

“Calm down, I’m safe. Ryder’s here to protect us,” she answers him casually. “I’m not an idiot. I’d never come alone.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that Ryder knew where you were. In the damn woods! Swear to God man, I’ve been cool about you spending time with my baby sister, but if you were out there playing grab ass with her, I’m gonna beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of you!”

A huge vein pops out on his forehead and he moves to charge Ryder, but my calm, quiet friend Brynn turns rabid monkey, intercepting his attack by propelling herself onto his back, pulling his hair and kicking her legs.

“Jefferson Tate, you stop it right now!” she screams. “You know better than that.”

“Fuck, Brynny!” he howls and drops to his knees. “You clipped a nut with your damn foot. Get the hell off me and start explaining this wilderness hike of yours, or I swear, one ball in my stomach or not, I’m gonna be kicking some ass!”

He’s a Kendrick man all right...ready to throw down for one of his own and quick with the profanity-filled threats I have no doubt he’ll deliver on if needed. So, unnoticed and forgotten, I step from the background to attempt and help my friend.

“Um, hi.” I offer him my hand. “I’m Bellamy Morgan, Brynn’s friend. We haven’t met, but, can I help you up?”

“Bellamy,” he repeats, turning my name into something else altogether, spoken with a deep, indecent consideration that rattles every bone in my body.

He takes my hand and smirks, devilishly sexy, when I gasp, taken aback by the spark that zings up my arm at contact. “No, we definitely haven’t met. I’d remember you.” He stands, keeping hold of my hand. “I’m JT Kendrick, Brynn’s older brother. It’s very nice to meet you, Bellamy.”

My entire body blazes with foreign, exotic heat from the molten suggestiveness in his smoldering, dark brown eyes, locked on mine and the gradual slide of his tongue over his full, bottom lip.

“It’s, uh, very nice to meet you too,” I fumble out in a skittish stammer, trying to retrieve my hand, which his bold grip won’t allow. “I just wanted to make sure you knew I’m here with Brynn and Ryder and assure you, nothing was going on in the woods that should worry or upset you.”

“No?” He arches a single brow, as dark as his eyes. “Then what was happening? The party, is that way.” He points without looking away from me, adding a crooked, irresistibly provocative grin to his unwavering gaze.

“JT!” Brynn’s sharp tone pierces the air. “You need to trust me and not ask questions that might embarrass anyone.”

“Ah, but beautiful Bellamy here wants to tell me, don’t ya?” He winks.

I have no siblings, and no guy has ever made it past two dates with me, but I work part-time at The Pit Stop to help my parents with the costs of college. It’s a burger/ice cream diner-themed little hole in the wall that all the jocks frequent...so I’m practiced in the ways of cocky guys who know they have the right stuff to be cocky. And I’ve learned, the best defense with those types of guys is an offense so bold it knocks them on their pretty asses.

I gulp down my nerves, raise my chin, and project a bravado he’s doing his best to make impossible. “If you must know, Jefferson, Brynn and I had to find adequate coverage to squat and take a piss. Not the sexy scandal you envisioned? Sorry to disappoint.”

“What is happening?” I hear Brynn whisper behind me.

“I believe,” Ryder answers her just as not-quietly-enough, “that your friend has rendered JT Kendrick speechless.”

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