Aidan

 

 

“Hello, darling.” Dean smirks as he leans forward against the bar, taking a long sip of red wine and playfully curling rough fingers around my suit collar, “When do you and I head on back to my room?”

Startled, I take a faltering step backwards from the tall, broad shouldered man as he bursts into a fit of boyish laughter. Though we were both nearing twenty five, Dean was still stuck in his college frat boy days.

“I’m your plus one for the big day, doesn’t that mean I have a chance to score?” He teases with that deep southern twang of his, smirking from behind his wine glass.

“Shut up.” I frown, glancing around him to see if the girl with golden eyes still lurked in the hallway. The shadowed passage was empty now, not even a breeze passing through the narrow space.

She’d been there though, I hadn’t imagined it. It’d only taken half a glance for me to know that she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.

Dean twists his whole body to stare at the hall before turning inquisitive green eyes back towards me, a deep brown eyebrow arching. “You alright?”

“Of course.” I shrug, clearing my throat and adjusting the tightness of my tie.

Was it suddenly hot in here?

“Really? ‘Cause it seems to me that my little Aidan Cole might actually be interested in some sweet little play thing. I haven’t seen you look at anything like that. Except your motorcycle.”

“I’m older than you.” I shoot back, ignoring his mocking tone as I take a hearty sip of my water and scowl at my best friend, “And you’ve got to admit that bike is sexy.”

Despite being self-proclaimed best friends, we get along about as well as oil and water. We were also the two youngest executives in Price Corporation history. We’d only made it through the stringent interviews thanks to support from one another. Though he was mildly irritating and the polar opposite personality of myself, the southern man could be a great friend if he was in the mood.

“Ah, yes, I suppose you are older.” He smirks sagely, “But I’m more mature and knowledgeable of the female mind… and body.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, soft chuckle parting my lips.

“You think I’m joking but believe me, if I were attending a wedding you’d be the last one I’d bring along.”

My frown deepens, arms crossing over my chest, “Why is that?”

“Lighten up, man. It’s only ‘cause you’re not a lady.”

“And…?”

“A plus one to a wedding is basically a free pass to pound town.”

“You did not just say that.” I groan, slapping my face and glancing around to make sure no one heard Dean talking. That was it, no more wine for him. He was already swaying slightly in his polished loafers.

“Just sayin’. You should have invited some lucky lady, so you could get lucky!” He cackles proudly, passing his wine glass back to the bartender as I viciously shake my head and thrust the glass as far from Dean as I can get it.

This was one major facet of life that Dean and I absolutely did not agree on. I had too much on my plate to deal with women. I didn’t care if my sheets were warm from the heat of another body, hard work and success were the only things that mattered to me. Dean would never understand that. Though we both descended from old money, I hadn’t had it as easy as Dean. I’d had to learn the necessity of hard work.

To him, our careers were a joke. To me, it was everything.

“I think my friend has had enough.” I shake my head at the bartender with a pointed frown to Dean.

Right on cue, the gorgeous woman in the tight fitting white dress nosily clinks a gleaming spoon against her wine glass as the bustle and chatter through the room is covered by a heavy blanket of silence

“If everyone could find their seats,” Reagan announces loudly, her voice echoing through the restaurant as a dazzling smile lifts her ruby painted lips, “we’re going to start serving food right away. I’m sure you’re all very hungry!”

“See, Dean,” I hiss over the scattered applause as he pouts longingly towards his still empty glass, “It’s time to eat. No wine for you.”

“How am I supposed to make it through this boring event without wine?” He whines, grumbling audibly as nearby guests exchange annoyed looks, “You sure are a lousy date…”

I grab his sleeve, not caring that I’m crinkling the expensive fabric as I drag him along behind me as the bride-to-be wades through the crowd of people towards the family table. There are five seats at the round, beautifully set table. One for the bride, the groom, the father of the bride, and two empty chairs.

She glances up as I approach, black eyebrows lifting towards her hairline as an uncertain smile parts her lips.

“There you are, Aidan!” She calls before I can find any words to say, though I don’t miss the nervous hitch of her voice as she pulls me in for a hug. Even in heels, the long legged woman is only as tall as the center of my chest.

Releasing me hastily, she takes half a step back away from me and runs her hands down the sides of the pretty white dress, “Do you need me to show you to your seats?”

“That would be lovely.” Dean babbles, jerking his sleeve free of my grasp as he grasps the back of one of the empty chairs to keep him standing up straight.

Reagan covers her mouth with her tan fingertips as she giggles, shaking her head at me, “I thought you promised this one would behave?”

“My apologies, madam!” The green eyed man bumbles dramatically, bowing low towards the ground as though he’s some kind of Victorian butler in the presence of elite royalty, “I’ll be on my best behavior for the rest of tonight and at the wedding tomorrow!”

The woman smirks, pausing to smooth her long raven hued waves before lifting up slightly on her toes to scan the heads and tables surrounding us before gesturing towards a nearby lacy white clothed table.

“Right there. That empty one, I promise you won’t be alone for too long. You’ve got a great view of the stage and the music will start up again any second. You’ll be sitting with our best friends.” She falters, lips opening, closing, then opening again, “It’s a great table.” She adds, though I wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

“Great.” I force a smile on my mouth and bob my head, “Thanks, Reagan.”

She just smiles quietly, glancing up as her fiancé approaches from behind, our gazes locking for only a second before I spin on my heel and drag Dean towards the waiting table.

“Dude, that was awkward.” He whispers loudly, garnering curious stares from a few guests nearby, “I thought you said it wouldn’t be weird.”

I ignore him, circling the table as my eyes skim over the names. Poppy Price. Grant Price. Mikayla Lewis. Dean Scott. Aidan Cole.

“Here.” I murmur, pointing towards Dean’s tiny, cursive printed nameplate as he squints to inspect what was probably blurry double letters, “Jesus, Dean. Just sit down. Best behavior, remember?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He scoffs, pretending to throw luxurious locks over his shoulder, “I’m your date after all. Have some manner’s, man.”

Groaning and regretting the second I ever invited my friend to this thing, I yank out his chair for him. As we both sink into our seats and Dean rips apart a warm dinner roll, a sudden flash of blue jolts my attention across the room.

She’s back now, the girl from before, lingering like a shadow in the dimly lit hallway.

Thankfully oblivious to my staring eyes that I can’t seem to control, she gazes intently at a mirror as she tugs at the fitted bodice of her deep blue dress. One shouldered and short, it hugs her body like a taut, perfectly fitting glove. Dean catches me staring, playfully swatting at my shoulder.

“Hey! You best not be cheating me!” He whispers with a loud guffaw that draws the curious honey hued stare of the woman to meet my own.

As our gazes clash, her porcelain face immediately drains of any color. I swallow thickly, unable to tear my eyes free of her magnetic face as a pregnant woman beside her tugs her along, happy mouth moving with words that I can’t make out.

“Aidan.” Dean breathes, shocked, “Aidan. Seriously. They’re headed this way. Look!” He joins me in staring at the two women, still shoveling bread into his mouth until there’s none left at the entire table.

The pair wind through the filled tables to our own, peering curiously at the delicate little nametags propped up in front of shiny white plates.

 “Okay, Miki, looks like you’re here.” The woman beams, pointing to the seat beside Dean. The girl, Miki, doesn’t reply, sinking stiffly into her seat without a glance at us.

The other woman leans over the table, sticking out a hand, “Poppy Price.” She grins as music begins to play from the string band set up at the stage behind us, muffling her perky tone, “This is my little sister, Mikayla.”

“Hi.” The girl with golden eyes mumbles with a tiny wave, staring intently down at her plate.

Poppy glances between the three of us, finally shrugging and peering around the room just as a man that I recognize joins us at the table.

Shit! How could I have not noticed the name?

He presses his lips to Poppy’s temple before meeting my startled gaze.

 “Ah, hello there!” He grins, reaching a hand to shake across the table, as he glances towards his wife, “Poppy, these are some of the new executives at the company. They’re both extremely talented, isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

I nod quickly, shaking his hand with equal vigor. Grant Price is reveled in most of the business world as a kingpin of commerce. Already worth billions, his lucrative empire had started booming years ago and had yet to stall in the slightest. Dean and I were lucky to be part of it.

Dean, now one hundred percent petrified of being caught wasted by his very successful and intimidating boss, stares openmouthed at Grant until a large hunk of moist bread tumbles onto the table. To his credit, the billionaire laughs slowly, taking a long sip of his water as he waits for Dean to recollect himself. Mikayla looks on with veiled disgust and I know any chances I have of even talking to the beautiful girl are probably zero now.

Smooth Dean, real smooth.

“Thank you everyone for being here.” Eli Nelson’s deep Australian voice resonates through a microphone at the center of the stage as we all twist ourselves towards the audience.

He holds up a flute of what I know to be sparkling water towards us, shifting uncomfortably under the relentless heat of over two hundred pairs of eyes. Number two of the corporation under Grant, he’s just as affluent and intelligent as the leader, though it was Grant who paved the road for success in their company after inheriting it from his father.

Working so closely under Grant and Eli was going to be eye opening. Between my MBA and my own vast stores of wealth, it wouldn’t be too far into the future that I began my own business. The tips and tricks I’d pick up from masterminds like them would be invaluable.

 “As you know,” Eli continues slowly, taking a nervous sip of the bubbly water, “Reags and I have known each other since we were kids. I had a huge crush on her then, all through college… but if you’d told me five years ago that she and I would reconnect and be standing here today, I would’ve laughed at you.”

He chuckles and I shoot a glance towards the pretty woman whose tears have already spilled down her round cheeks. The two chairs at the table are still empty, though only one has plates set.

“It’s all thanks to Grant and Poppy that we reconnected. I think Reags and I will owe you all for a lifetime.” He laughs and shakes his head, gesturing towards the beaming couple at our table. Grant grabs Poppy’s face gently, laying a big kiss on her face as Mikayla purses her lips, that same disturbed glint in her eyes from when she watched Dean make a fool of himself. Our eyes meet only for a second, just long enough for my heart’s rhythm to be thrown off.

 “Tomorrow, I finally marry the girl of my dreams. I love you, babe.”

Reagan’s father stands up, kissing the top of his daughter’s head as he walks up and hugs his soon-to-be son-in-law before taking the mic.

“I’m sure your older sister and your mother are looking down on us all right now with very happy tears in their eyes, Reagan.” The older man smiles, adjusting his glasses and watching as Eli retreats to the table and wraps Reagan in his arms as Poppy dabs at her eyes and leans into her husband’s embrace.

“The first time I met Eli, even when he was a twelve year old little scrap of a thing straight of the boat from Australia, I knew he was trouble…” The man’s voice fades behind me as I turn back towards the table.

To my surprise, Mikayla is also paying little attention to the heartfelt speeches, choosing instead to push her salad limply around the small china plate before her.

Dean catches my eye and with a quirk of his eyebrow he’s suddenly tapping furiously at my shoulder. Grant glances our way, confused by the abrupt movement.

“I can’t see too well, Aidan. Bad eyes and shit. Mind if we trade?” Dean asks with an innocence that I almost believe.

Tricky bastard.

The girl pauses abruptly, fork awkwardly angled in her hand though she doesn’t lift up her eyes.

I clear my throat, glancing around before nodding.

“Ah. Okay.”

Smirking, Dean all but throws me out of my chair, turning around to gaze dutifully at the still speaking man as though he cared in the slightest about what was being said.

Mikayla leans further over her plate, brown hair hanging like a sheet between us.

She sits still and rigid for the entire length of the speech while I struggle not to gaze at her beauty. I’ve never seen a woman like her before. Growing up how I did, there’d never been a shortage of girls interested in me. At the end of the day, however, not a single one truly cared for me. To them, I was just a source of cash and luxury. I’d sworn off relationships for good by the time I graduated college. It left more time for work.

Something about Mikayla though, I wasn’t sure if it was her faded eyes or the stubbornness set on her lips, told me she was different.

What exactly was happening to me? I’d never been so caught off guard or entranced by a woman before.

I would have to be careful. I didn’t have time for this. I didn’t have the place in my heart.

I could not want her.

With a stubborn bite of my own salad, I vow not to look at her again. That vow lasts approximately three seconds before our eyes meet over the vinaigrette dressing.

Damn.

By the time the dim lights once again lit the tables with a romantic glow and the waiters were quickly passing out trays of lobster and steak and pasta, it’s become increasingly clear that Mikayla seems just as determined not to look at me or interact with me in anyway. It’s so clear, in fact, that I’m worried we’ve met before and I insulted her somehow, or maybe that I just smelled awful.

I lean towards Dean, dropping my voice as quietly as I’m able, “Does my cologne smell off to you?”

“What?” He responds sluggishly, his drunkenness making him exhausted and loud, “Of course not. You smell wonderful, man. Like a forest pond lit by a single streak of glimmering dawn.” He gazes around the table with a wistful sigh before yawning deeply.

Mikayla finally laughs, her face utterly dumbfounded by Dean’s strange words, the sound like a clear, beautiful bell. When I look towards her the laugh falls silent on her lips as she swallows dryly. A waiter slides a plate of Mahi Mahi and steamed veggies in front of her and she pretends to be interested in the dish.

She pokes at it with a fork as her sister leans closer, “Aren’t you going to eat?” Poppy whispers, “You’ve gotten so skinny, Miki…”

“Ma’am, uh, sir,” The waiter whispers not quietly enough as he kneels between them, “I’m afraid there’s been some commotion in the children’s play room. Apparently your little girl convinced some of the others to, er, eat as much Play-Doh as they could.”

“Oh, Hope…” Poppy groans, beginning to heft herself out of her chair as Grant grabs her shoulder and chuckles.

“I’ll go see what I can do.”

“No, no. I’ll come with you. I think we should go ahead and get the kids and head on home. It’s getting late.” She turns towards Mikayla, leaning in slightly, “We’ll be right back.”

With half a smile in our direction, the couple leaves and it’s just the three of us at the table. All I can hope is that my intoxicated friend will behave himself.

“So… Mikayla,” He starts almost immediately, his words slurring together as she stares at him with unimpressed eyes, “We haven’t seen you around, have we?”

“No.” She says simply, her chin on her hand.

“Are you shy?” Dean chuckles, “You’ve been so quiet tonight.”

“Not really.” She replies shortly.

“Oh. I guess you just don’t like us then.” He laughs, though she responds only by biting the head off a green shoot of broccoli.

I hide a chuckle behind my water glass while Dean falters in his seat, unused to women being so callous to his advances.

“So do you live with Poppy and Grant?”

“I go to college upstate.” She shrugs.

Her gaze flickers towards me, then back to Dean, watching as he tiredly leans his elbows on the table and smacks his lips obnoxiously loud.

“Ah, a smart girl! I remember those undergrad days.” He beams, “What are you majoring in? Communications? Poli-sci?”

“Biology. I graduate next year.”

“Damn.” Dean whistles, making me bite back a groan, “You really are a smart girl.”

She shrugs again, blazing eyes turning towards me, “Is he always this much of an ass?”

“Only drunk.” I grumble. Thankfully enough that’s a rare occurrence. She grins and takes another bite of broccoli, eyes lingering on me. Something warm swells up inside my body, making me fiddle with my suddenly too tight tie. I can feel sweat beginning to coil on the nape of my neck but the sweetheart neckline of her dress clings to her so perfectly that I struggle not to stare. And those honey brown eyes of hers… they’re as intoxicating as mead.

With a huge laugh, Dean slaps a hand against his knee gleefully “Smart and quick as a whip! She’s perfect for you, man! Invite me to your wedding someday!”

The grin immediately falling from her face, Mikayla shoots to her feet as I send a scathing glare towards my friend.

“He’s just being obnoxious-”

“I’ve got to go.” She murmurs stiffly, cutting me off as she snatches her purse off the table.

“See you tomorrow!” Dean calls after her as she spins on her heel and walks as fast as she can away.

I mentally shove aside the swells of disappointment inside me, irritated by the emotion.

It didn’t matter. Even if I wanted something with the gorgeous woman, it couldn’t happen either way.

At least, that’s what I would tell myself to forget the lingering dullness of desire that sparked like electricity along my veins.

“Sorry, dude.” Dean shrugs sympathetically, “I don’t think she’s that into you.”