“Yeah, well, you’d probably be a boring fuck anyway, so really, it’s your loss, not mine. Try a few things from those books you read, and you might just get laid more often.”
I’m seething inside. How dare he? “You know what? Go fuck yourself.”
“Gladly, I’m sure I’ll do a better job than you.”
I stomp off, fuming mad, but when I walk through the exit, I panic. Waiting in the crowd at arrivals is a man holding a sign with my name on it. The last thing I need is for this asshole to be able to look me up somehow. It sucks that he knows where I live.
Making a beeline for the bathroom, I quickly enter and grab my phone.
Me: I just got to baggage and saw your driver. Can you tell him I’ll meet him at the car and text me the location? Long story, which I’ll tell you tonight, but I don’t want this guy from the plane to find out my name, so I can’t walk up to him with that sign.
Cici: Texting him now. I’ll ask where he parked and let you know. Are you safe?
Me: Yeah, it’s nothing like that. He’s just a jerk with no boundaries whatsoever.
Cici: Damn, can’t wait to hear about it. Okay, he just texted me. I’ll forward it to you.
Me: Thankyou!
Braden
What the actual hell just happened? I’ve never blown my chances with a girl that badly. Shit, come to think of it, I’ve never struck out. Nor have I had a woman push my buttons like her. Am I losing my touch? I contemplated waiting when I saw her go into the bathroom, but to what end? She won’t change her mind at this point. And she’s for sure not my type if she wasn’t all over those attempts, so would I even want the meek little mouse?
Yes. Yes, I would, I admit as I make my way to the car. I’m lying to myself, trying to play it off. I don’t remember the last time I was that attracted to someone and wanted in their pants that badly. Damn, it must be her resistance. It’s not like she’s the hottest chick I’ve seen, so what else could it be? The red hair? Those green eyes? Those fucking legs—that ass. Or was it simply the challenge factor? Fuck. Who am I kidding? It was all the above.
The stubborn girl wouldn’t even give me her name, which means brooding about this will do nothing, so I might as well let it go. Thankfully, I’ve got the bachelor party tonight. The guys and whatever woman I pick up for the night will take my mind off the sexy little librarian who got away.
Hours later and three whiskeys in, I’m starting to think otherwise. Here we are at a bachelor party, where I’m the only bachelor, and considering how many women have offered themselves up, I should have already had a blow job by now. So why haven’t I?
It’s a good question, especially with the selection of fine ladies around. We’re at the club Eli and his brother Sebastian own, because why have the hottest nightclub in San Diego and not take advantage of the VIP section at every opportunity?
Not that any of them care we’re here. They’re the most pussy-whipped men around. But hey, more power to them. Their wives, or soon-to-be wives, are bangin’ hot and available to fuck whenever they want, so who am I to talk shit? I just hope it works out for them.
I was in love once—almost asked the girl to marry me, even. Four fucking years ago. I ended up dodging a bullet when I came home to find her screwing my roommate. I honestly should’ve sent them both a thank you. Because I, of all people, should have known better. Between my dad’s infidelities and the amount of shit I see daily, what the fuck was I thinking? Love doesn’t mean crap. If someone wants sex, they go for it, screw the consequences.
“Dude, what’s up with you tonight? You look like somebody kicked your puppy. Was the Big Sky trip a bust?” Jackson, my best friend and one of the grooms, asks.
“Of course not. When have I ever failed to land a client?” True story.
“Then what’s your deal?” Jackson persists.
“I got shot down by a woman today. Something else that never happens.”
Jeers and chuckles break out.
“Ah, so you’re pouting.” Jackson derives.
While Eli, the other groom, adds, “Ego a bit bruised, buddy?”
And before you get the wrong idea, they’re not marrying each other. Not that I’d care, but they’re not. Jackson is marrying Mia, who he met through work, and Eli is marrying Jackson’s sister, Cici. The timing simply worked in their favor to have a double wedding.
“Hardly. The girl was a prude. I had a hunch, but got distracted by the red hair and was dying to find out if she was red everywhere.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never been with a ginger in your many pursuits.” This comes from Justin, the final guy here and Sebastian’s former security guard turned friend.
Yeah, Eli and Sebastian Dubree? Rich as fuck and have private security. Might have something to do with Sebastian’s wife, Lily, being kidnapped while they were dating. That and the paparazzi who hound them daily. It’s slowed down now that they’re both off the market, but before, shit, they couldn’t go anywhere without being harassed.
I was introduced to Justin through Eli and have subsequently used his PI and security firm for work. I’m always digging into people’sshit and having them followed. Whatever it takes to win a settlement in my client’s favor. Hey, it’s not like I represent the asshole side of the divorce; people know better than to seek my services if they’re the cheating spouse.
