So, of course that’s where they are!Of course that’s why they’re nowhere to be found on either family’s ranch on New Year’s Eve!They went to Vegas to elope!
Declan is a MacLaine, through and through.And if I’ve learned anything in all my years working with the MacLaines of Yosemite Ranch it’s this: familyalwayscomes first.No MacLaine would ever be allowed to get married without an audience.
And so that’s why I find myself standing in the middle of the aisle watching Declan feel up some girl in a miniskirt while she yanks his pants down to his knees.
Typical Declan.Focused on getting his rocks off instead of...
Judgement will have to wait.
“I’m going to hurl!”I yell.
Declan recovers from the shock of seeing me and nearly falls on his face as he tries to move toward me.He points over his shoulder and barks orders.“Lavatory!Summer donotvomit in my beautiful jet.Do you hear me?You are not going to—oh shit.”
I’m a split second from freeing the cheesesteak.I’ll never make it past Eyelash Barbie to the bathroom.I press my hand hard against my mouth, willing myself not to throw up, while Declan kicks off his pants and grabs me.He lifts me up into his arms, spins around, barks for his girlfriend to move aside and opens the lavatory door.I hear the clank of a toilet seat.
“There,” Declan says, setting me down.“Throw up there.Nowhere else.”
I grab the sides of the toilet and scream, “Eat a bag of dicks, Declan!You could be a little more—”
And then I puke.Up goes the Philly cheesesteak and down goes my face near the toilet water.
Most of it hits the intended target, but some of it gets on Declan’s hipster high tops.
I feel bad, but the guilt passes as soon as I twist my face around and get a load of his reaction.He’s really pissed off at me, not at all concerned about my welfare.He’s only concerned about himself.
“You threw up on me.”
I moan, waiting a moment to see if I’m going to do it again.I don’t.In fact, I feel much better already.I flush and stand up.“Holy crap.I feel a million times better.I almost don’t hate flying now.”
“You puked on me, Summer,” Declan whispers.He grabs a thick paper towel, wets it, and leans down to wipe off the tops of his shoes.Then he straightens, staring into the mirror as he throws away the used towel, gets a fresh one and dampens it, then starts dabbing at his black T- shirt.
“It’s just your shoes and shirt,” I say, catching his eyes in the mirror.I grab my own towel, wet it, and wipe off my face.I horn in on the sink, pushing him aside with my hip so that I can rinse out my mouth.When I straighten, she’s still staring at me in the mirror.“The shirt’s too tight, anyway, Declan.You look like you’re about to pull an incredible Hulk.”
That’s no lie, either.It’s so close-fitting that I can see every bulky curve and edge of his wide chest and even the outline of his washboard abs.The man’s got a lot of individual muscles in his pack.I’ve seen a total of eight, because I’ve seen him damn-near naked on more than one occasion.Working.Riding.Swimming in one of the ranch’s two lakes or soaking in its hot springs.
I’m not looking at his tight boxer briefs.I won’t even think about them.Or how tight they are.Or what I saw when he spun around in surprise.I won’t go there.
I just can’t.
Declan rounds on me and lowers his face so that it’s no more than two inches from mine.In the lavatory light, his eyes look otherworldly, like the violet of deep space.“It’s not tight,” he whispers.“It’s fitted.I happen to like the way it looks.At least Idid,before you upchucked on it.”
I shrug and squeeze past him so that I can stand in the aisle again and catch my breath.It was too close in there with Declan and his anger, his eyes, his muscles, and his tight underwear.
He’s right behind me.“What’re you doing in my jet, Summer?”
“We’re going to stop the wedding.”
He shuts his eyes and slowly shakes his head.“I am.On a.Damneddate.”
“Is that why you’re not wearing any pants?”
He opens his eyes.I can see that he’s trying not to smile.And failing.And I’m failing too.
This is the frustrating thing about Declan.He’s permanently sixteen-years-old, and we’ve been in the friend zone for over a decade, no wiggle room and no benefits of any kind.I’ve worked for his family since I was sixteen.All that said, I can’t deny that he’s hotter than high noon in Death Valley.
No, that’s not exactly right.I can anddodeny it all day long to anyone who even makes the slightest snarky comment about Declan and me.But I can’t lie to myself, no matter how hard I try.
We’ve always had this thing—with a glance we know what the other is thinking.We can crack each other up without a word.He’s my best friend.I like him.I love him.Like a brother or a cousin or… okay, that’s total bullshit and I know it.
