Crap.
I’ve broken my sacred rule, and now, here I am, openly lusting for the entire world to see—his mother—Meg.
Damn it all to hell.
Ryder Capwell still very much holds my heart.
Ryder
She’s looking at me.
Holy shit if Laney Sawyer didn’t just land those sweet sky blue eyes right over my person, twice in one evening. I take her in with those sugared lips, that black hair that makes her eyes glow like a pair of swimming pools.
The trace of a smile plays on my lips, but I won’t give it.
The audience breaks into applause as the performance comes to a close, but I don’t move or breathe or think one lewd thought of her in that carnal catastrophe of a costume. Instead, for one fleeting moment, I pretend we’re still Laney and Ryder, and that later I’ll be mapping out every inch of her lily-white skin with my mouth. An image of her beneath me with her dress hiked above her hips takes over, and there goes the ridiculous idea of not thinking one lewd thought about her tonight.
The truth is, I’ve had nothing but a stream of insanely indecent thoughts about Laney for the past twelve months. It’s been one long porn flick starring the two of us, and just when I think they can’t get any lewder or cruder, I surprise the hell out of myself. There have been clowns, and monkeys, and, hell, I’ve even thrown in a bottle of crazy glue a time or two because without Laney around to keep me reasonably sane I tend to go off the rails a little both in and out of my fucked up imagination.
I can’t help it. I gave her my heart—buried it deep inside her, and I never want it back. There’s no one out there for me but Laney Sawyer, and I couldn’t care less if I was making a scene or much to mother’s embarrassment, a fool of myself by holding Laney’s beautiful eyes hostage with mine.
To hell with the world, I’m about half a second away from getting down on my knees and begging her to take me back.
The MC claps his way to the mike, and it sputters and pops as his hands get too close to the receiver. He waves over at the cast, and that’s when Laney takes a bow and the spell is forcibly broken—our magic moment gone too soon, just as swift and unexpected as our relationship was revoked.
My eyes land on the numbered paddles on the table because I know what’s coming next. All night I’ve watched as my mother and her socialite cohorts have bid on item after item to help raise funds for the drama department, and now, the unthinkable is about to go down. Laney, herself, is about to be put on the block in the name of Whitney Briggs.
The MC barters away half the cast before he finally gets to beautiful, sweet Laney, and my gut cinches as she parades around the stage in full character. She’s sassing it up to a room full of catcalls, mostly from theLes Misensemble, but, still, she’ll always be my girl, and deep down I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her, let alone ogling her body for retail purposes.
Laney pauses with her back to me, sending a clear message that this is one business opportunity both me and my dick are welcome to sit out. Laney would rather cover herself with honey and roll in a pile of fire ants than have anything to do with my dick or my dollars.
The auction starts, and, much to my relief, the only people bidding for Laney’s company are a handful of women. A boulder rolls right off my chest because for a second there I envisioned some preppy prince charming riding in and sweeping her away to his frat house. With my luck they’d fall in love, and Laney would get right to the task of having an entire herd of preppy babies. But I won’t put up a fight if a few older women want to listen to her belt out a couple tunes for kicks. They can do brunch and call it a day. The university gets paid, and there’s no harm no foul to Laney or her girl parts. Speaking of which, two of my favorite parts have been quivering for my attention ever since she stepped on stage.
Master of the House, I glare over at Guy Richards and withhold the urge to punch him in the neck. I’ve got a master of the house that wouldn’t mind some of Laney’s attention and a couple of innkeepers that could use some comfort themselves. It was all I could do to keep from clocking him after he did a face-plant in my girlfriend’s chest. Not that she’s my girlfriend anymore, or even a friend for that matter.
“Who else is up for a dining experience with this fine wench?” The MC points out at the crowd at random. “Dinner and a dance? One magic-filled night? Have her your way, hold the lettuce, pickles, cheese.” A dull laugh circles the room at his lame attempt to make Laney sound like a cheap piece of meat.
Laney glances over her shoulder. She’s biting down on her bottom lip, and my dick perks to attention ready to pick up the damn paddle itself.
“Right here,” a male voice booms from the back. I turn to find Holt Edwards flashing his million-watt smile, and my jaw tightens. The last person Laney needs to be paired with is that loser. His brother and I are pretty close, but Holt took Laney out a few times after she dumped me with all of the emotional fanfare that the shit parade calls for. And now I can’t stand the sight of him. I work with his brother, Bryson. Actually he’s doing an internship at my father’s company. The Edwards family own a bunch of bars, and one of them happens to be where Laney is currently employed. Holt and Bryson are twins—fraternal, but nonetheless, they look like one and the same, and for a while it was hard to sit in a meeting with Bryson because as much as it made no sense, I was constantly a little ticked at him.
My mother picks up her paddle and outbids the douche, and now I’m very fucking alarmed because I know for a fact Laney can’t stand the sight of the woman who gave birth to me.
I give Mom that what-in-the-hell look, but she dismisses me with nothing more than a placid smile.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Meg leans over in an effort to distract me. I shake my head for a moment, but it has nothing to do with whatever the hell she’s going on about. Last year she worked in perfect synergy with my mother to wear Laney down, and I let it happen. Laney cried out to me from the quick sand, time and time again, and I waited until she was up to her eyebrows to notice. But it was too late.
Meg comes in close with her single strand of pearls wagging in my line of vision, but I never take my attention from Laney. If I had only done so right from the beginning, we wouldn’t be in this predicament with me withholding my wallet, and, her, doing her best to avoid me in a tragically overcrowded world that’s far too lonely for us to ever be apart. Laney moves toward center stage, her shoulder still strategically hiked in my direction.
Meg drones on and on about the weather, the over-decorated Christmas tree, the lights strung out over the ceiling, swaying like drunken stars, but I don’t lose focus on what’s really going on.
Holt outbids my mother, and the auctioneer rattles off, “Going once, going twice—”
I flip my paddle in the air without putting too much thought into it.
“Sold to the young man in the front. Hells bells and Jezebel! Pay the man, and take your new bride for a ride.”
He moves on to the next cast member, and I sit there like an ass, panting out of breath because I just broke the last promise I ever made to her—the one to stay the hell away.
