CHAPTER NINE
Daff didn’t know how she felt. Part of her was relieved that it was over, another was humiliated that he had called her out on all her bullshit, and another still was saddened that it had ended before it began. They hadn’t really done much more than some heavy petting, but the orgasms he had given her were streets ahead of anything she’d ever experienced before. Truculent, taciturn, socially inept Spencer Carlisle knew his stuff in the bedroom. Who knew?
Well . . . Daff now knew. And she truly wished she didn’t. How the hell was she supposed to act casual with him when they were around family and friends? And worse, he knew other things about her. He’d been way too on the mark with some of the stuff he’d said. She hadn’t been fully sold on the idea of no-strings sex with him. She didn’t like going down on a guy—at least, she hadn’t with her two previous lovers. She felt like a cold fish in bed because their games had turned her off and that had felt like her failure. Apparently BDSM wasn’t her thing, but they’d expected it to be. Both of them. Why?
Did she give off some kind of kinky vibe? Her very first sexual partner had tied her up, gagged her, and spanked her the first time they’d had sex. Not quite the initiation she’d expected. It had been frightening and intimidating, and he hadn’t even asked her if she was okay with it. Just assumed she would be. And then he’d been all kinds of smug about his performance afterward.
Thinking the fault was with her, Daff had said nothing, merely pretended to enjoy it. She’d gotten really good at faking orgasms. Jake’s bag of tricks had expanded to include nipple clamps and blindfolds, as well as other handy restraints and harnesses that had made her feel claustrophobic and nauseous every time they had sex. The relationship had lasted for three years and had only ended when he got bored with her.
She shook her head. This trip down nightmare lane wasn’t exactly fun, and she preferred never to think about Jake Kincaid ever again. Shar Bridges, a former high school friend, had introduced Daff to Jake.
Shar had introduced Lia to her douchebag ex-fiancé, Clayton Edmonton III, as well, and had promised that he was the perfect guy for Lia. Of course, with Shar being a total bitch and hindsight being twenty-twenty, none of them should ever have trusted her with their love lives. Shar had terrible taste in men and a mean streak a mile wide. And she had been a total rhymes-with-punt to Daisy for years. Why the hell the McGregor sisters hadn’t booted that bitch and her entourage of mean girls years ago, Daff would never know.
Daff somehow managed to get home without paying real attention to her surroundings; luckily the one main road in town was empty this time of night. She let herself into the house and sent Spencer a quick message that simply stated: home.
Spencer was right—she had way too many hang-ups, and it had been a stupid idea to get involved with him in the first place. She couldn’t stand sex, which was why her offer to Spencer had baffled her. A spur-of-the-moment impulse that had come from seemingly nowhere. And now look at her—the very first time she’d ever picked up the reins, the horse had thrown her and bolted. Naturally.
But the truly messed-up thing was that despite the abject failure, she had learned something new about herself. After the powerful orgasms she’d experienced with Spencer, she now doubted that she’d ever climaxed with a man before. She had never felt anything nearly as intense.
She now understood why Daisy looked like the cat that got the cream whenever she was around Mason. To think she’d pitied Daisy after learning her sister had been a virgin at twenty-seven. Now Daff envied her somewhat. Daisy had scored the jackpot with her first (and only) lover, while Daff would have been better off without hers.
She checked her phone to see if Spencer had responded to her text. The message had been read, but he hadn’t responded. Not even with a dumb emoji. Her heart sank, and she realized that she was going to miss him. Maybe keeping him as a friend was worth considering.
She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a decision she was ready to make, not when everything below her waist was still clenching after his unselfish pleasuring earlier.
She scrubbed a hand over her face and tiredly made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She fell into bed after that but couldn’t get her roiling thoughts under control. So many bad decisions had led to this moment in her life, and she was buried beneath years of regret. So much regret.
She tossed and turned, going over every mistake, every stupid decision, every wrong turn, but she still couldn’t pinpoint exactly where everything had gone so very wrong.
She knew she had to change something, had to better herself and her life. Find clarity and a way to rid herself of these pervasive feelings of inadequacy and hollowness. She wished that she could just wake up tomorrow and find herself living the perfect life. But she wasn’t entirely sure what constituted a perfect life, and she had no idea what would make her happy. It was a grim and disturbing awareness.
“Hi, there.” Lia waltzed into the boutique just before twelve the following afternoon, and Daff glared into her middle sister’s cheerfully smiling face.
“Daisy sent you, didn’t she?” Lia’s smile wavered slightly before she righted it and blasted Daff with an even brighter one.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought I’d join you for lunch.” She lifted her little strawberry-shaped lunch box and glass bottle of orange juice as proof. Daisy had chosen the worst possible spy; Lia didn’t have a duplicitous bone in her body. But since Lia had given up her job as a minder at the local day care center last year, she had a flexible schedule until she found something new. So Lia was really Daisy’s only choice in whatever recon mission she’d cooked up to figure out who Daff’s mystery man was.
“Lia.”
“Okay, fine. She told me to find out whatever I could about the”—she blushed and cleared her throat delicately—“the Dick. Why would you call him that? Why not Mr. McSexy or Mr. Big or something? Why refer to his anatomy?”
“Firstly, those references are so dated I’m embarrassed—and cringing on the inside—for you, and secondly, it wasn’t so much in reference to his anatomy as to his personality.” Not that she thought of him in that way anymore.
“Why would you date a guy you think is a . . . a . . . you know?”
“We’re not dating.” Daff shrugged. “And really, you’re wasting your time. He won’t bring or send lunch today. It’s over between us.” She forced down the pang of regret at the words.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was nothing.” Daff averted her eyes, not wanting her sister to see the lie in them.
“Well, I’m here now. I might as well stay for lunch. What are you having?”
“I brought some fruit and a packet of chips.” She was really going to miss Spencer’s lunches.
“Ugh, that’s not a proper lunch. You can share my—” The bell above the door interrupted her words, and they both looked up to see young Alton from SCSS walk in, carefully carrying a large-ish brown paper bag.
“Afternoon, miss. The boss asked me to deliver this to you.” Shocked that Spencer would still do this, despite everything that had happened last night, Daff accepted the bag. “Careful, miss, there’s soup in one of the containers.”
“Okay. Thanks, Alton.”
“My pleasure, miss.” He grinned at her and retreated with a jaunty wave.
Daff carefully placed the bag on the counter and tore the note from the folded top. Ignoring Lia’s shocked expression, she turned her back and read the short note through a haze of tears.
I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.
S
PS: And even if we can’t be, don’t expect me to stop sending your lunch.
Oh God. Why was he apologizing? The man had been nothing but amazing since this all began. He was right, she was always apologizing to him, but only because he deserved those apologies.
She blinked away the tears determinedly and cleared her throat before facing Lia again. Her sister still wore the same gobsmacked expression on her face, and Daff rolled her eyes.
“Okay, so it’s Spencer. Whatever. It’s over. Moving along swiftly, if you tell Daisy, I’m going to have to cut a bitch! And that bitch be you.”
“I’m not going to be the one to tell Daisy, are you crazy? She’ll freak out.”
“She wouldn’t,” Daff scoffed before thinking about it for a moment. “Would she?”
“Daffy—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Daffy,” Lia continued stubbornly as Daff scowled, “you know she’ll worry about the wedding and family dynamics and gatherings. She’d worry that it’d be awkward and that you or Spencer would always be making excuses not to be in each other’s company. Baby Delphinium’s christening . . . oh, here’s Auntie Daff, but Uncle Spencer couldn’t make it. Baby Dianella’s first birthday, Uncle Spencer is the life of the party while Auntie Daff sits in a corner and sulks before leaving early. Daisy’s thirtieth birthday bash, Daff comes for the first half of the party and Spencer for the second.” Daff gasped indignantly.
“Lies! I’m the party closer, not Spence. He’d be home in his jammies”—his beautiful, beautiful jammies—“before nine. And also, Jesus, woman . . . you’ve just about plotted out Daisy and Mason’s entire life together in under a minute. That’s a little creepy. You need a proper hobby. And Spencer and I are adults, we’ll make it work.”
“Daff, last week you called the man bland and insipid and compared him to a mushroom.” Why could no one let the mushroom thing go? “And that’s just one sample from years of sniping and bitching at Spencer. You’ve never made it work.”
“Well, now we have to, because of Daisy and Mason.”
“Anyway, my point is, there’s no way I’m telling her about this. It’ll be a shoot-the-messenger type of scenario. I’d rather not be around when she finds out.”
“She won’t find out. I told you, it’s over.” Lia tilted her head curiously before pointedly looking at the paper bag on the counter between them.
“This is just Spencer being Spencer. He’s concerned that I don’t eat properly—”
“He’s right,” Lia inserted wryly.
“—and so, since we’ve decided to be friends, he’s taken it upon himself to ensure I get at least one decent meal a day.”
“That’s so sweet,” Lia gushed, and Daff sighed.
It really was.
“It’s weird and I told him to stop. But he can be stubborn.”
“Really? I never imagined that. He always seems so easygoing.”
It was a little sad how few people really knew Spencer.
“So what exactly was going between you two and for how long? Was it already ongoing when you said those things last week? Was that like a cover-up to deflect attention from your relationship?”
If only. Daff regretted a lot of things in her life, but saying those things about Spencer within earshot of the man—no matter how unintentional—ranked up there among her top ten biggest fuckups.
“It began soon after I apologized to him. He started the lunch thing on Monday, we started the sex thing on Tuesday, and it ended last night. And here we are. TGIF, right?” She removed the carton of soup from the bag, along with thick slices of what looked like home-baked bread, a salad, and a bottle of juice.
“Three nights? That’s it? What happened?”
“Nothing. It was an ill-advised endeavor from the start.”
“So you . . . you slept with him?”
“Oh, I slept with him, all right,” Daff recalled with a soft smile. “But I didn’t have sex with him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I don’t understand,” Lia admitted, looking completely baffled.
“We did other stuff. Fooled around. Touched each other’s naughty bits until it felt good.” Lia went bright red, and Daff rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a prude. I wasn’t half as crude as I could have been.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. And I thank you for that. It’s just―that image is now seared into my brain forever.”
“You asked,” Daff said, and Lia winced.
“I know. So why did it end so quickly? And why didn’t you, y’know, do it?”
“It was a mistake. A bad idea from the get-go. Spencer’s a nice guy. A good guy. He deserves more than a fuckup like me.”
“Daff,” Lia protested softly. “That’s nonsense. Spencer—any guy—would be lucky to have you.”
“No, they wouldn’t. I’m so messed up, Lia,” Daff admitted miserably, all semblance of wisecracking gone. “I’m trying to fix what’s broken, but I can’t be involved with anyone while I do that. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Why? What do you think is wrong?”
Daff swiped at an errant tear, feeling foolish and childish but grateful for her sister’s gentle, nonjudgmental regard and tone of voice. She also liked that Lia didn’t argue with her about something actually being wrong. “Everything,” she said softly. “This job, for one thing. I hate it.”
“I know.”
“It feels like everybody knew it before I did,” Daff joked on a sob, and Lia reached over to squeeze her hand.
“We love you, we can tell when you’re unhappy. And you haven’t been truly happy in a long time. I think that’s why Daisy wanted to know who you were seeing. She said you looked happy when you were reading his note yesterday.”
Daff shrugged and ran the tip of her index finger around and around the rim of the plastic container holding the untouched soup.
“But I have news.” Daff sniffed, forcing cheer into her voice and ignoring Lia’s words. “In my first step toward a better life and a better me, I tendered my resignation this morning.”
Lia inhaled sharply, and a huge smile instantly lit up her face.
“Oh my word,” she gushed. “That’s wonderful news, Daff.”
“I just have to work my two months’ notice and this place is history.”
“I’m so happy for you, Sissy,” she said, coming around the counter to give Daff a hug. Her sisters had always called her Sissy when they were children. A nickname to acknowledge her big sister status. They rarely called her that now that they were adults, and the fact that Lia chose to use it in this moment brought a huge, emotional lump to Daff’s throat. “What did Alison say?”
Daff giggled wetly as she recalled her boss’s words.
“She said ‘it’s about damned time,’ and she also said she always knew I’d come to my senses eventually and she’d lose the best manager she’s ever had.”
“Darned straight you are.”
“Probably because she paid me peanuts and I was easy on her bank balance . . . Ow! ” The last as Lia slapped her upside her head.
“Stop being so down on yourself. Yes, this place is quiet and boring during winter, but you said that it has always been her best-performing boutique in summer, and I believe that’s largely because of you.”
“Thanks.” She grinned.
“So now what?”
“God, I don’t know.”
“At least I won’t be the only one who’ll have to listen to Daddy’s lectures about the values of being a good, hard worker. Of staying the course. Steering ships from rocks. Navigating rough waters . . . I don’t know, there seem to be a lot of seafaring references, I never understand half of it. Pro tip: just nod and keep saying, ‘Yes, Daddy.’ Never interrupt him with a ‘but Daddy’ or anything resembling an excuse. Just pretend to listen. He likes that.”
“Sound advice.” Daff laughed, feeling a lot lighter for having confided in her sister.
“So you and Spencer are friends now? Never thought I’d see the day,” Lia mused as she opened her sickeningly cute lunch box to reveal the healthy-looking, bento-styled meal. Daff would never have the patience, but Lia lived for crap like that. One day, when she had kids, they’d probably find animal-shaped sandwiches and other cutesy surprises in their lunch boxes every day. Daff wasn’t likely to ever have children, which was a good thing, because they’d probably open their lunch boxes to find nothing but lunch money. Or possibly two-minute noodles, depending on how motherly Daff was feeling.
“I mean, we’re not bosom buddies or anything. We’re just making an effort not to be shitty to each other. Although, to be fair, he was never really shitty to me. I suppose I’ll be the one making all the effort, because Spencer’s a good guy.”
“I never thought I’d see the day . . . why were you always so mean to him?”
“It started in high school. I allowed Shar and her Sharminions to dictate my behavior. It was embarrassing that a kid like Spencer, with his worn clothing, his broken shoes, and his clumsiness—remember how clumsy he was during that gawky adolescent phase before he got all athletic and buff?—anyway, it was embarrassing that he had a crush on me. I was terrified that if I was nice to him, they’d think I liked him back or something.” Daff was ashamed of her behavior now that she recalled it. She had made fun of him, of his clothes, his hair, the slight stammer he always seemed to have around her. And then—somewhere between fourteen and sixteen—Spencer had outgrown the nervous stutter and the clumsiness and had cultivated an aloof, bad-boy persona that Daff had secretly found intriguing. He’d still attempted to flirt with her, and when she was fourteen, he’d started writing furtive poems and letters that she’d mockingly shared with all her girlfriends.
The poems had stopped after his seventeenth birthday. The flirting, too. He’d been busy with the rugby, working hard, and then, a year later, he’d left for college. He was a bit of a sensation after his triumphant return to Riversend five years later, capitalizing on his short-lived but relatively successful rugby career by opening the most successful business in town and surroundings. But he hadn’t socialized much, just dated here and there. So it had been a surprise to hear that he was dating Tanya Krige.
And then, one night, a year ago—shortly after his breakup with Tanya—he’d tried to flirt with her again. And because Shar and the rest had been around, Daff had toyed with him and then rebuffed him again. Old habits.
But she’d been interested and flattered. Then, later, she’d been furious and indignant when she discovered that he had asked his brother to distract—and “pretend” to like—Daisy while Spencer attempted to flirt with Daff.
She’d borne an irrational grudge against him since then, even after Daisy and Mason had fallen in love, though Daisy bore Spencer no ill will whatsoever. Daff had taken it very personally.
“Anyway, I’m not proud of the way I treated him in school. Their circumstances were difficult beyond our imagining.” Daff shook her head in self-disgust. “I was a bitch and a bully.”
“We allowed Shar and Zinzi”—Shar’s best friend—“to influence our lives for way too long. You weren’t the only one guilty of that, Daff.”
“Daisy never bought into their bullshit, and she was relentlessly bullied by them because of it. And you were never a total bitch, Lia. You never lost sight of who you were. In this last year, since we stopped hanging out with them, I’ve come to see that everything I thought I’d achieved was just . . . I don’t know . . . an illusion. I was so focused on shallow shit like being with the right guy, wearing the right clothes, saying the right things . . . that I don’t know who I am without all that crap.”
“I know who you are,” Lia said, delicately nibbling away at a strawberry. “You’re my sissy. You’ve always had my and Daisy’s backs. You’re fiercely protective and loyal. You’re freaking smart, never mind what the aunties say. You’re ambitious, but you’ve never found a focus for that ambition. Once you do know what you want, you’re going to be unstoppable.”
“There are . . . other things, too,” Daff admitted uncomfortably, remembering the moment she’d invited Spencer to squeeze her neck. “But I can’t discuss them with you. Yet. Maybe never. I don’t know. It’s something I have to work out for myself, but I think Shar may have had a hand in that, too.”
“Gosh, she’s like a supervillain. I mean, if not for her I’d never have met Clayton, either,” Lia said, wrinkling her nose, thankfully not pressing Daff on the secrets she wasn’t ready to divulge.
“Well, at least we don’t have to deal with her any longer,” Daff said. “We just have to figure out how to cope with the fallout of having her noxious presence in our lives for so long. And really, we can’t blame her for everything. We have to own up to our own mistakes. We may have allowed her to manipulate us, but every decision we made was our own.”
“True.” Lia was quiet for a moment while contemplating her half-eaten strawberry. “So are you going to eat that tasty-looking soup, or are you just going to sit here moping all day?”
“Shut up.” Daff grinned and finally popped the lid off the container.
“Knock, knock.” Spencer looked up from his income and expenditure spreadsheet, close to the end of the day, to meet Daff’s smiling eyes. She stood framed in the doorway of his tiny office, looking fantastic in a pair of faded skinny jeans, combined with a ruffle-fronted blouse, a slouchy cardigan, and scuffed brown cowboy boots. Her pretty hair was up in a ponytail. Her grin widened.
“Ah, the Clark Kent glasses. Nice.”
“Hey?” he greeted cautiously. Not sure exactly where they stood at the moment. One thing was for sure—while it was frustrating as hell, it was never boring around Daff.
“I wanted to personally thank you for lunch and to tell you . . . one last time, so don’t you dare roll your eyes, I’m sorry. You had nothing to apologize for. I was—” She looked off into the distance for a moment and shook her head with a smile. “Crazy. I mean, completely nuts this last week. And you bore the brunt of that. And—I’m going to say it again, brace yourself—I’m really, really sorry.”
She looked . . . different. Lighter somehow, like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. It made Spencer happy just to see her like this. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but it seemed to be a step in the right direction, and it suited her.
“May I sit?” she asked, indicating the rickety chair opposite his desk.
“Of course. Be careful, it’s a little wobbly.” She sat down cautiously and then met his eyes again. Sincerity shining from hers.
“You were right, I was never fully on board with our arrangement. And I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having sex with you. And that’s through no fault of yours,” she hastened to say. “It was all me. I do like you and I am attracted to you and the stuff we did . . . when I was in the moment, it was all phenomenal. Better than anything I’d ever experienced before. I wanted you to know that. But at the same time, after thinking about it, I’m really grateful that you didn’t take it further. Clearly, I have a few issues to work out. But I do hope that we can be friends, Spencer.”
“I’d like that,” he said quietly.
Her eyes went suspiciously bright before she blinked a few times and cleared her throat.
“So guess what?”
“What?”
“I handed in my notice today.”
“That’s bloody fantastic. I’m happy for you, Daff.”
“Everybody’s been congratulating me on being unemployed.” She chuckled. “It’s bizarre.”
“It’s a fresh start,” he corrected. “So what’s next?”
“No clue. I have to figure out what I enjoy doing.”
“There must have been aspects of working at the boutique that you liked and maybe could focus on.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now I’m just enjoying the feeling of having a whole world of possibility open to me. I feel optimistic and excited and ready to take on anything.” No wonder she looked so damned radiant.
“I’ll miss having you just down the road.” He tried not to wince as he wondered if that was an entirely friendly thing to say. He was going to be second-guessing his every word from here on out.
“I’ll still be here for another two months, so you’ll have plenty of time to share lunch with me.”
“And you wouldn’t mind that?” he asked uncertainly, and she shook her head.
“No, but I think we should take turns bringing lunch. My turn next week.”
“Like proper food? No salads. As a side it’s fine, but don’t give it to me as a meal.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I won’t starve you.”
“You’re sure about this?” Somehow he had never pegged her as someone who enjoyed cooking, but maybe he was mistaken.
“Yep. Absolutely.”
“You done for the day?”
“Uh-huh, just thought I’d pop in on my way home.” She got up and smiled at him. “Thanks for listening, Spencer. I really want this to be a clean slate for us.”
“It will be,” he assured, getting up as well. He debated whether he should hug her or not but decided against it. It was too soon to touch her after everything that had happened between them. First he needed to retrain his body not to react whenever he touched her. Until he had his responses under control, they should probably stick to formal handshakes.
“Great.” She hovered awkwardly for a moment, obviously debating whether to hug him as well before seeming to come to the same conclusion. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Tomorrow night, if I’m not mistaken,” he reminded her.
“Oh yeah, the dinner. With everything that’s happened, I’d almost forgotten. Anyway, see you then.”
“Hmm.” She grinned at the noncommittal sound—reading God knew what into it this time—and turned away. He tried his damnedest not to let his eyes drop—they were friends now, after all—but for fuck’s sake, he was a red-blooded man and her ass looked spectacular in those damned jeans. He waited until she disappeared down the winding staircase before groaning and adjusting himself. This was not going to be easy.
We’re having a girls’ night! You’ve GOT to come over!!!
Daisy’s text a couple of hours later was almost instantly followed by another, this one filled with crazy emojis—dancing chick, fireworks, beers, martini glasses, champagne bottle, more beers, wineglasses. Okay, Daisy seemed to be implying that there would be drinking involved. Daff rolled her eyes.
Maybe I’ve got plans, she replied. She didn’t, of course. Her evenings had once again opened right up since she’d ended her no-sex sex thing with Spencer.
Ooh, with the Dick? Well, at least Lia hadn’t blabbed. Daff hadn’t been certain, since Lia really was an appalling liar. Luckily her fear of Daisy’s reaction had been a great motivator to keep quiet.
I’ll see you later, Daff responded, not bothering to reply to Daisy’s question.
Crying face emoji.
You never tell me anything.
Nothing to tell. It’s over.
Another sad, sad little face.
Fine! Bring tequila. Daff snorted in amusement—look at baby sister trying to be a badass. One shot of tequila and they’d probably have to scrape her off the floor.
I’ll be there in an hour, she promised.
Daff let herself into Daisy and Mason’s cabin and was greeted by a cacophony of female laughter and Peaches’s high-pitched yapping. She made her way into the living room, where her sisters and a few friends—Tilda Stanford, Nina Clark, and Billie Greenspan—were all sprawled on the shaggy throw rug in front of the fire and guzzling down red wine like it was water. Tilda, Nina, and Billie were a few of the high school friends the McGregor sisters had won in the custody battle after their acrimonious split from Sharlotte Bridges and Zinzi Khulani. It hadn’t been worth staying in contact with the rest. They were always on about materialistic crap. Daff had once bought into that nonsense, as had Lia, to a certain extent, all to fit in with a shallow group of women. Thankfully they were past that now.
“Ladies, I come bearing tequila and sours!” Daff announced as she entered the room, and the women all squealed.
Daff went to the kitchen, already familiar with the layout of the cabin, and grabbed the shot glasses, lemon, and salt before rejoining the rest and sinking to the floor with them. Peaches and Cooper immediately came over to give her a few slobbery welcome kisses before Cooper retreated back to his bed and Peaches crawled into Lia’s lap.
“So what are we all talking about?” Daff asked as she poured the tequila shots and handed out the salt and lemon wedges.
“Tilda was saying Mason and I should have a blended name, like Kimye or Brangelina. Something like Daison.” It reminded Daff of Spencer’s attempt to blend his name with Daff’s, and she smiled fondly.
“I said Maisy,” Tilda corrected, and Daisy waved her wineglass at the other dismissively, spilling red wine all over the lovely cream rug. Lia grabbed the glass from Daisy before she could do more damage.
“Daison, Maisy . . . they’re both awesome. I don’t think Mason’ll go for it, though, he’ll say something boring like ‘We’ll just call ourselves the Carlisles, angel,’” she said in a gruff imitation of his voice. Which was sweet as hell and probably exactly what Mason would say. “But I don’t mind being just the Carlisles. Or maybe the McGregor-Carlisles. We’re still thinking about it.”
“Would Mason double-barrel his name?” Lia asked, taking a tiny sip of wine. She was a cautious drinker.
“He says we’ll have the same name no matter what, so that everybody can know I’m his and he’s mine.” Daisy said the words matter-of-factly, not even noticing the swoony sighs coming from the women around her. Even Daff barely prevented herself from sighing at the words, and she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body. She shook herself and lifted her shot glass.
“To the future Mrs. Carlisle . . . or McGregor-Carlisle or Carlisle-McGregor. I wish you a life filled with nothing but love, Daisy Doodle.”
“You had to spoil it, didn’t you,” Daisy complained, referring to the nickname, but still looked misty-eyed at the toast. Everybody—even Lia—licked their salt, downed their shot, gasped, and sucked on their lemons before upending the glasses on Mason’s expensive, handcrafted coffee table.
“Where’s Mason, anyway?” Daff asked.
“Suh-suhpensher took him out. Boysh night! S-sh-sho? Sho I figured we should have a la-la . . . girlie night!” The shot had definitely pushed Daisy over the limit, and she started giggling uncontrollably. “Sho? Izz not right. Sho . . . ?”
“God. How many drinks did she have before I got here?”
“A crapload of red wine,” Tilda said. “And then that shot. I think the shot’s knocked her on her ass.”
Daisy was flat on her back and still giggling. Lia and Daff helped her sit up and propped her against the sofa. Her curly head lolled, and she still continued to giggle quietly to herself.
“Daisy, you’re being a terrible host,” Daff said sternly, trying to hide her amusement. They didn’t often see their studious, earnest little sister let her hair down like this, and it was entertaining as hell. Daisy mumbled something in response and then chuckled again.
Ladies’ night was a roaring success, even if their hostess was an incoherent mess and passed out on the floor. Mason returned home a little after one, looking a bit wasted as well, but by that time only Daff and Lia were still there. The other women had been picked up by Tilda’s boyfriend about half an hour before. The dogs greeted Mason exuberantly and he took the time to give each one a couple of scratches before looking up and surveying the room. His brow furrowed when he saw Daisy passed out on the carpet.
“Oh good,” Daff said drily. “Now you can take care of this.”
Mason’s eyes remained on his inelegantly snoring fiancée sprawled on the floor, and his expression softened.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he went down on one knee beside her supine body. He brushed her tangled hair out of her face and palmed one side of her face tenderly.
“She’s wasted,” Daff said as she dragged on her coat, while Lia did the same.
“What did you all get up to tonight?”
“Don’t ask me.” Daff snorted. “She was pretty much a lost cause by the time I got here. One shot of tequila and she went from hero to zero in about thirty seconds. I barely had time to speak with her. Lia and the rest got her completely hammered.”
“Please, I didn’t expect it to be a night of drinking. She lured me over here with promises of cocoa and rom coms.”
Mason didn’t appear to be listening to them anymore.
“Daisy? Angel, come on, let’s get you to bed.” She groaned and swatted his tenderly stroking hand away from her face, and he grinned at Daff and Lia. “She does hate having her sleep interrupted, doesn’t she?”
“Since we were children,” Lia confirmed.
“Always with the ‘Five more minutes, Mommy,’” Daff said with a nostalgic smile.
Mason slid his arms beneath Daisy’s limp body and picked her up, going from kneeling to standing with barely a wheeze. Daff couldn’t lie to herself—that was pretty impressive. The guy’s core strength was nothing to sniff at.
He made a few adjustments so that Daisy was more comfortably situated in his arms and then gave both Daff and Lia a pointed look.
“You’d better not be thinking about driving home. Nobody leaves until I get back downstairs. We’ll organize an Uber.”
“Lia’s fine to drive, she can take me home,” Daff said.
“I don’t know if—”
“Nobody leaves,” he reiterated sternly, interrupting Lia, and Daff cast her eyes heavenward, seeking patience from a higher source.
“Yes, sir,” she snapped with what she thought was a credible salute, and Mason snorted.
“Get Daisy to teach you a proper salute sometime,” he advised before heading toward the staircase and carrying Daisy up to their loft.
Daff wondered how Spencer was after his night out on the town. Was he drunk? She didn’t think she’d ever seen Spencer drunk. Did he lose that quiet reserve when he got sauced? Or did he just get quieter? She was so tempted to take a walk over to his house just to appease her curiosity, but even in her slightly inebriated state, with her inhibitions down and her judgment somewhat impaired, she knew that was a terrible idea.
She sat down on the arm of the sofa, resigned to the fact that she and Lia would have to Uber home and dragged out her phone.
Are you drunk?
It took a few minutes for the reply to come through.
If ciurse
She lifted a hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh.
How novel.
Completely wasted? she prompted.
Ducking slaufhterd!$$!
“Who’re you texting?” Lia asked, and Daff jumped.
“Jesus, what the hell are you? Some kind of ninja?” Lia had managed to come up behind her and was totally reading her texts over her shoulder.
“That says the Dick! So you’re texting him, right?”
“Duh!”
“So what are you guys talking about? Friend stuff?”
“Oh my God! Go away . . . you’re being such an annoying little sister right now.”
“Well, I’m curious, you said you were going to be only friends from now on.”
“I know what I said, and I’m sending my friend a text!”
“At one in the morning? Do you send your other friends texts at one in the morning?” Lia asked, folding her arms over her chest, looking smug because she seemed to think she’d made her point.
“I never have reason to send them texts at one in the morning.”
“But you have reason to send him one, do you?”
“None of your business. Go sit over there and leave me alone, you obnoxious brat.”
“Ooh, defensive,” Lia said, sitting down on the chair closest to the sofa.
“Aargh!” Daff pointedly put her phone away and glared at Lia, but her younger sister just smiled back serenely.
“I’m just teasing, Sissy. You should keep texting him. You look happy when you’re communicating with him. You had this ridiculous grin on your face.”
Daff was about to respond when the sound of feminine giggling floated down from the loft. Mason’s muted voice muttered something they couldn’t hear, but Daisy’s drunk, slurry voice carried down to them clear as a bell.
“Just let me pet it a little! Please, Mason.”
Daff and Lia exchanged horrified looks. Mason spoke again, his voice low and urgent and unintelligible to them.
“Just a touch,” Daisy purred. “It wants to play. See?” They heard Mason’s low groan and Daff face-palmed—she would rather slice off her ears than hear this. Lia had her eyes closed and her lips were moving. Daff leaned a little closer. Was she praying?
“This can’t be happening!” That’s what Lia was saying. Just mumbling it over and over again.
“Let’s just leave,” Daff urged. “I can’t sit here and . . .”
They heard Mason’s heavy tread on the staircase and froze. He paused on the last step, looking a bit flushed and unable to meet their eyes. He hastened to stand behind one of the conveniently waist-high easy chairs.
“She gets a little . . . uh . . . affectionate after a few drinks,” he muttered awkwardly. “I’ll just send that Uber request and uh . . . yeah.”
“You’ve turned my sister into a total horn muffin,” Daff suddenly said, unable to resist.
“Daff!” Lia gasped, but Daff kept her eyes on Mason, who flushed even more. It was fun making the big, bad special-ops guy blush.
“She was a good girl before she met you, mister!” Daff continued, and Mason suddenly grinned.
“And now she’s a sexy woman. Hashtag no regrets.” He used air quotes as he said the last three words. It was kind of cute how he thought those two things would work together, and Daff choked back a laugh at the pithy response.
“I’m glad she’s marrying you,” Daff said. She had never completely forgiven Mason for his part in Spencer’s stupid wingman plan, and it had loomed between them since then. But she couldn’t deny that he made Daisy happy, and that had softened Daff’s attitude toward him. But she now recognized that she genuinely liked the guy. She hoped that her sincerity was apparent in her voice. Judging by the way he smiled, it was.
“Thanks. That means a lot.” Daff returned his smile. Happy that she and Mason could, once and for all, set aside the past and start anew.
A positive note on which to end an already awesome day.