Bedding The Best Man (Bedding the Bachelors Book 7) (8 page)

And it wasn’t just about the sex. Eric still lurked in the back of her mind. She had loved him for so long. And then there was Gabe.

The way he occupied so much of her thoughts.

The way he made her long for things she couldn’t have.

“Hi.”

Brianne glanced up. While she had been so lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed that Mr. Sexy had actually gotten up from his table and moved toward hers. He stood right in front of her, smiling.

Brianne felt her breath catch a little in her throat. He was unbelievably attractive, but something about the whole situation felt wrong. She began to wish she had gone home with Evie and Jake after all.

“Hi,” she said, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. “Thanks for the drink.” She forced one of her sexiest smiles.

“Can I sit?” He motioned to the table. “I’m Justin.”

“I’m Brianne,” she said, as he sat down.

He flashed his killer smile again, and she felt herself melting a little. He had that perfect mix of California surfer and brooding poet, with beautiful white teeth and a healthy tan. His hair was wavy and looked touchably soft. His shoulders were broad, perfect for holding on to. And she was pretty sure that the way he was looking at her, if she wanted to, she could hold on to him all night long.

“So, Brianne, tell me about yourself,” he said, actually looking interested.

This guy had it down; his look, his approach—even the earnest trust-me-I’m-a-nice-guy stare. He was hot, and he was at least pretending to be attentive. But what could she say?

I just got into a completely insane business wager. My fiancé left me at the altar a few weeks ago, and I’m in love with his best friend, but will never act on it because I’m terrified and he’s too loyal
.

It wasn’t exactly guaranteed to win her any prizes. She decided to skirt around the question since it seemed safest.

“I like vodka tonics,” she said, raising the glass and downing half the drink. When in doubt, numb it out.

She forced herself to smile brightly, and he slid closer. Suddenly she felt very claustrophobic. “Uh, Justin,” she said, hoping she remembered his name right in her increasing alcohol haze. “I have to go freshen up. I’ll be back in a minute?” She started to slide out of the booth.

He nodded. “Don’t be long,” he warned with a teasing grin.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” she said, feeing awkward. But she straightened her spine, and lifted her chin a little. She didn’t want Justin, or anyone else for that matter, to see how rattled she was. She grabbed her clutch and turned to go to the ladies’ room.

She made her way across the crowded club and slammed into the bathroom, breathing hard. Evie would say this is exactly what she needed. A good, casual encounter to get a jump start on her love life. And Justin out there would be a great way to get jumped. But, no… even Evie wouldn’t recommend she do something that felt completely wrong—and made her feel so helpless and pathetic in the bargain.

There was a line to use the facilities, so she waited impatiently with the other women. Some of them were definitely dressed, or should she say undressed, for fun and casual encounters. Why couldn’t she throw caution to the wind and have a little fun?

She felt peculiar and not just because of the vodka. Every other woman in line seemed to be with a friend. She could almost feel their eyes boring into her. She slipped her hand into her clutch and pulled out her phone, then busied herself flipping open apps and closing them. Finally, someone vacated a stall and she slipped inside. She closed and locked the door behind her.

With a huge sigh, she leaned her head against the door. She had truly bitten off more than she could chew. She didn’t want to be here alone, and she didn’t want to have to go out there and face Justin. She pulled up her contacts list and jabbed a name. Finally, the voice on the other end answered, gravelly and gruff.

“Hello? Bri?”

“Hi Gabe, it’s me,” she said, and until the words tumbled out of her mouth, she hadn’t been entirely aware of what she’d been doing. But now it seemed beyond right. Gabe was the only person she wanted to talk to right now.

“I’m at the Orange Lounge downtown and I just wanted to tell you that you were wrong.” As she heard herself speaking, she realized she was drunker than she had thought. What the heck was she doing? Drunk-dialing the one guy she shouldn’t be talking to? The only thing possibly worse was if she had drunk-dialed Eric.

“What was I wrong about, Bri?”

She could hear the concern in his voice. She hated herself for being weak, for being one of those girls she had no patience for—the ones who always looked to other people to solve their problems. But she couldn’t help it.

“You were wrong about me being okay. I’m not going to be okay. I’ve screwed everything up. I screwed up my relationship with Eric. I made an impulsive decision that will probably end up hurting my business even more than it’s already been hurt. And now I’m here, and there’s this sexy guy who’s into me, and I’ve had too many vodka tonics, and I—I—”

“Okay, where are you again?” Gabe said, all business now. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No, Gabe, really…”

“You said the Orange Lounge, right? Stay put, I’ll be there in twenty.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, but the line had already gone dead. Great, another guy who thought he knew what was right for her. She didn’t want him to come get her, to rescue her from herself. She had just wanted to talk for a minute. Had wanted him to make her smile, build up her confidence enough so she could go back out there and deal with the situation like the lady she was. She pursed her lips, sniffed, and stuffed her phone back in her purse.

Trying to adjust herself to look beautiful and sexy, and not a completely drunken mess, she arranged her top and smoothed down her skirt. She left the stall and checked her appearance in the mirror. Even with the one-too-many drinks and slightly tearful eyes from her pity party, she still looked good. Damn good, in fact. She reapplied her lipstick and thought of Justin waiting at the table back in the club. Maybe she needed to rescue herself from her boring, depressing life with a little bit of fun. Maybe she was just being a bit too prissy about it all. She needed to loosen up, live a little wilder, right?

Justin was still waiting, a fresh drink on the table in front of him. “Hi, babe, I thought you’d gotten lost,” he said with a smile. She popped her hip seductively, and smiled back.

“No, it’s a big bathroom, but I know right where I am.”

“Good,” he said, and patted the seat next to him.

Chapter Six

Gabe stormed through the doors of the Orange Lounge like a mini-tornado. He’d managed to get to the club from his apartment in twenty-five minutes, a new land speed record for him. He hoped he wasn’t too late. As he looked around the trendy club, he realized he was dressed completely wrong; his faded jeans, white t-shirt, and flip flops had served him well at home when he’d been watching Netflix, but in the swanky Orange Lounge, not so much. Good thing he didn’t plan on staying long.

Bri had sounded awful on the phone. Drunk, sure, but there had been something else there, too, an edge of sadness and desperation he hadn’t heard from her before. Not even when he talked to her on the night of her disastrous wedding. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness interspersed with the strobing and flashing lights in the club, and began anxiously scanning tables.

He couldn’t see her anywhere. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. What if she’d left and was wandering around downtown Los Angeles alone? Worse, what if she’d gone home with some sleazy guy who would expect more from her than she was prepared to give? Hell, he didn’t know what she was wearing or how she had done her hair.

But after another minute or two with no luck, he charged his way over to the bar and pushed past a throng of people vying to get drinks. When he finally made his way to a place where he could talk to a waitress, the woman next to him leaned into him, rubbing against his side suggestively.

He glanced at her. She was about his age, shorter than Bri, with white-blonde hair. She had on too much makeup and a jangly necklace that highlighted her pushed-up and on display cleavage. She looked like she was about to spill out of whatever piece of structural hocus pocus she had on, and he had a strong feeling that once out, they wouldn’t look anywhere near as impressive.

“Hey, fella. I’ll buy you a drink,” she said, with a lascivious look. She ran a tiny pink tongue across her lips as if inviting him to taste.

“No, thanks,” he said grimly. He needed to find Bri before she did something she might regret for the rest of her life.

“Your loss,” the girl muttered angrily, clearly offended. He didn’t have time to give a shit.

He finally got the attention of the harried waitress behind the counter, trying to load drinks on a tray. “Excuse me, I’m looking for a girl,” he said, talking loudly over the music and the other patrons.

“Yeah? You and half the bar. There’s one right there,” she said, pointing at the woman next to him, who was now sucking on her finger suggestively.

“No, dammit!” he said, frustrated. He saw how this was going to go. He slipped a twenty from his wallet across the bar. “She’s petite, dark hair. She’s drunk, been drinking vodka tonics all night.”

“Oh,” the waitress said, still distracted. She was trying to balance a tray load of drinks. “Maybe I saw her.”

“Here,” Gabe said, tossing a fifty on top of the drinks on the tray. “Think harder.” The money got her attention, and she looked at Gabe as she put the tray down. “Yeah, I saw her. She was over there, with some guy.” She nodded to a table that was now occupied by a group of bachelorette partygoers. “She’s over there now, in the corner.” She waved toward a table tucked away in a corner opposite the bar. He squinted to see across the club, and then finally made out Brianne, slumped uncharacteristically and inelegantly in a chair.

She seemed to have no clue how dangerous the world could be, how dangerous men could be around someone like her. Even so, he felt his body begin to relax as he gazed at her. She was there. She hadn’t gone home with anyone. His relief was almost tangible.

He thanked the waitress and started toward her. It took him a minute but then he realized she was sorting the bowl of party mix on the table into neat little piles. In spite of himself, he chuckled because it was so very Bri. He crossed the crowded floor quickly, as if there was nobody in his way. Pulling out a chair, he sat down uninvited. “You’ve got a peanut in your pretzels,” he said with a grin, but she didn’t look up.

“I’m sorry you had to come out,” she said, and finally looked at him. She looked so miserable and so drunk, his heart broke a little.

“No worries, not the first time I’ve had to rescue a friend who had a few too many,” he said, grabbing a peanut from the bowl and popping it into his mouth. “What’s up?”

She shook her head, remaining quiet. Then she started to talk, the words falling out in a waterfall. “Evie wanted me to come out, thought it would do me good. She’s been nagging me to stop dwelling on everything, so I did. And she thought I should just hook up with someone. You know, a meaningless one-night stand. So I thought, sure, why not, I can do that.”

Gabe’s jaw tightened. This was not what he wanted to hear.

“But you know what?” she continued. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even do something as simple and normal as that. I couldn’t even commit to a one-night stand. I can’t make anything work, or anything last.”

“Bri,” Gabe said with a sigh, and ran his hand through his dark hair. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You’re as capable as anyone of having meaningless sex, but that doesn’t mean you should do it.”

“No, I’m not, and why shouldn’t I?” she protested then fell quiet, pushing the pretzel sticks around on the table.

Gabe found himself stuck for words. He wanted to tell her that she was too good, too precious to do something so tawdry and cheap, but she was right. Why shouldn’t she do what everybody else did? Why shouldn’t she explore her options? He sure as hell had over the years.

“Will you be my one-night-stand?” she asked suddenly, her voice small.

His heart almost stopped. He had to strain to hear her over the crowd and the music. And even then, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right.

“What the fuck? What the hell do you mean, asking something like that?” he demanded, his voice sounding angry to cover the shock he felt. She was offering him the one thing he had dreamed about for years. And she clearly had no clue how much he wanted to say yes.

“You know, help me out. Show me that I can at least get through a one-night relationship,” she said.

Gabe gazed at her—perfectly formed shoulders bared by her skimpy top, red lips, and dark hair he’d always wanted to twine his hands in. He felt a tightening in his belly as the blood rushed to his groin, and he tried to stamp down the surge of desire pulsing through him. He prayed that she wouldn’t notice how much tighter his jeans suddenly felt.

She doesn’t know what she’s asking, he thought, looking away from her because he was petrified that his overwhelming desire to say yes was written all over his face. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to dispel images of her naked beneath him. She needed a friend, not a meaningless fuck.