Forever (This #5) (12 page)

“I know. Bradley happened to see it in Cade’s album after they got back. Look at the other one.” She points to the other side. “It’s of us in the same exact place at our wedding.”

“He arranged this for you?”

“Is it not the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen?”

I nod, taking a deep breath. A pit settles in my stomach before expanding, and I realize I’m actually jealous of her, yet happy. How is that even possible? She’s got this amazing husband, house, life, and I am not even sure if I’m still in love with my boyfriend because I am lusting after his brother. So messed up. “Where did you have this?” I hand the ornament back to her. “I’m not surprised he arranged this. I just usually know about his surprises. He didn’t tell me about this one.” Or about Joe.
What the hell, Bradley Banks?
I’m going to have a chat with him about all these surprises. My sister may enjoy them, but I don’t.

“He also had them framed. They’re beside our bed. I love them so much.” She nudges me. “You seem off tonight. You okay?”

“Just tired.” We make our way back into the kitchen. “So, Bradley, what time is this show getting on the road? Or are we waiting on other guests?” I narrow my eyes at Joe. He uncrosses his arms and places one of his hands behind his plus one’s back. I’d really tried to avoid looking at her, but my eyes follow his movement like a magnet on an Etch-A-Sketch. They roam down to her six inch heeled boots.
Oh, sweetie, you’re going to regret those
. I grin. Then, I make my way up her long, super skinny leather clad legs to the tight, black cashmere sweater. Her soft blond curls fall perfectly on her perky, round breasts, which I’m guessing based on the proportion of the rest of her body, are fake. Her face is perfect, though. White teeth, dimples on both cheeks, defined cheekbones, and the most perfect smoky eye makeup enhancing her baby blue orbs. Not that I know anything about what makes a perfect smoky eye. Okay, I've watched a few YouTube videos and played around, but I always think I look like a raccoon when I’m done. Not her, though. She’s definitely no raccoon. She’s the total opposite of me. I swallow as I look back at Joe, whose face is stone cold, void of any insight to his thoughts.

“Oh gosh, I’m a terrible hostess.” Gabby throws her hands up. She hates awkward silence. “Sam, Ryan, you’ve not met Joe’s girlfriend yet, have you?”

Joe clears his throat when I raise an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t think we’ve met,” I answer. Even her fingernails are perfect. Fake, but perfect. “I’m Sam, Gabby’s sister and Ryan’s girlfriend. I can’t believe we’ve not met yet.” I offer my hand. “So nice to meet you.” Joe’s eyes narrow, but his lips curve into what I know to be a fake smile. Someone should have told me it was a costume party. Show up as anyone other than yourself. Which Joe is real? This one or that one?

“I’m Rebecca. Nice to meet ya.” She takes my hand, then looks past me at Ryan, who also clears his throat. “Nice to see you again, Rebecca.”

To see you again? I cough before pointing to the bathroom. We all appear to be choking on the thick air. “Excuse me a minute.”

When I make it to the powder room, I put the lid down over the seat of the commode and drop my head between my legs. Could this be any more disastrous? It’s not like it’s just a day trip. We’re spending the night this year. In one of the most romantic places ever. An old bed and breakfast in Aiken, The Carriage House Inn. Will our rooms be next to each other? Will we all hear each other having sex? I swallow back the bile. Oh God. They’re having sex. Ryan clearly knows her. Has Ryan had sex with her? Why would Ryan have had sex with her? Is this a joke? Beads of sweat form on my forehead, my throat constricts, and I pant, trying to get air to my lungs.

Standing, I turn the faucet on and splash some water on my face as I look at myself in the mirror. Who needs makeup to look like a raccoon? I have that look down just fine with the dark circles that have taken permanent occupancy on my face these days. My cheeks are pale, and I squeeze them, trying to pinch some color back into them.

I jump like a skittish cat as there’s a knock on the door. “Sam,” Gabby whispers. “You okay? The limo’s here.”

I yank the perfectly folded towel from the holder and dab my face. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

Deep, cleansing breaths, Sam. You can do this.

My hand slips on the knob as I twist it from the sweat that’s popping up despite having just wiped them on Gabby’s cream, monogrammed hand towel. I rub my hands down the sides of my skinny jeans and take a deep breath before trying again. As the door swings open, Gabby’s standing there. “What’s up with you, Sam?”

“Nothing.” I pinch the bridge of my nose while squinting my eyes. “What would make you think there was something up?”

She smiles. “Oh, I dunno. The fact you’re paler than Casper the Friendly Ghost. The way your breathing hitched when you saw Joe touch Rebecca.” She shakes her head. “You’re not just tired.”

“Shh.” I brush past her. “I’m not discussing this here or now. Let’s go.” I grab her hand and pull her with me.

Our footsteps patter against the hardwood floor and echo throughout the high ceilings. “We’re alone. Everyone’s already in the limo.” She skips a few steps until she’s at my side, drops my hand, and then nudges me. “Eventually, you’re going to have to confront the feelings you have for him.”

“Nope.” I shrug. “No feelings.” Maybe if I say it enough times I’ll start to believe it. Start to feel it.

“Been there done that. It doesn’t work. Remember?” She puts her hand up to the door before I can open it and slides in between the glass filled piece of oak and me. “Sam. I feel like I’m repeating all the stuff you said to me about Bradley way back when. I love my husband, but he apparently sucks at match-making.”

I stare at her blankly.

“He put you with the wrong brother.”

Shifting my weight, I avert my gaze quickly before looking back into her round, hazel eyes. “Are we done yet?”

She steps to the side. “The difference between Joe and Bradley is he’s not waiting on you. So, if you’re going to stake a claim, you better get on that.”

“Can we just go, please?”

She puts her palms up, facing me. “Whatever.”

“Thank. You.” I pull the door open and walk to the limo.

Gabby hangs behind to lock up, then jogs to my side. “I still don’t know where we’re going.”

“I’m not telling. Nice try, though. Bradley will tell you when he wants you to know.”

She sighs as we crawl into the back. Ryan, Joe, and Rebecca are on the long bench facing the bar, which also has platters of chicken nuggets, sub sandwiches, fruit, and cookies. I can’t contain my relief. Ryan pats the leather in between him and Joe. I swallow back the lump forming in my throat. As I sit, my nostrils fill with a mix of leather, rum, vanilla, and Joe, spurring my insides to open the gate to the butterflies I’ve demanded to stay put tonight. Inhaling a breath, I reach for a chocolate chip cookie. Based on the size and shape they are from my favorite place. “Yum. Yum. Yum.” I catch a crumb.

Bradley chuckles. “I knew there wouldn’t be time for a fancy dinner. Instead of stopping for fast food, I arranged for it to come to us.”

“It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.” I cover my full mouth with my hand. “You hit the spot.”

Once Gabby’s seated on the shorter bench next to Bradley, the chauffeur closes the door. Her eyes skate past me to Joe. She gives him a half smile, then takes his date in. “Rebecca, tell us a little bit about yourself.”

Oh, this should be interesting. I still can’t believe Bradley thought this was a good idea, but I’m interested to hear about the bimbo. My attention is drawn to her knee as Joe places his palm on it, then gives it a squeeze, causing the butterflies that have taken flight in my stomach to take a nose dive.

She licks her lips and smiles, putting her hand on Joe’s before leaning forward. “I’m twenty-nine, grew up in Alabama.” Her accent gave that tidbit away the moment she opened her mouth earlier. “I moved to Georgia right outta high school to attend Georgia Tech and graduated top of my class in electrical engineering. I went on to get my Master’s in aerospace engineering.” Damn. She leans into Joe, her blue eyes dancing. I hadn’t appreciated them at Gabby’s. They really are quite stunning, like blue waves with white foam peaks speckled throughout. Does Joe get lost in them? A flash of heat zings against my neck, then up to my face, enveloping me at thoughts of his lips on hers.

Gabby looks dazed, and I wonder if I’m wearing the same expression.

“I work here in Atlanta now as a project engineer.”

Ryan grabs a cookie. I’d forgotten there was food, and my appetite must have left with the butterflies. “And what exactly does a project engineer do, Rebecca?” he asks.

“I…” She clears her throat. “I manage projects to get FAA manufacturing approval for aircraft hardware.” Her leg starts to bounce.

Ryan regards her. Her shoulders are no longer back, her chin no longer held high.

Joe’s fingers brush my leg as he moves his hand from his knee to his hair, and I jump as a volt of electricity surges through my body. “Sorry ‘bout that.” His lips are in a firm line.

My mouth dries. “It’s okay. Kinda tight ride, but at least we’re not having to drive.” I reach for a bottle of wine, not even caring whether it’s red or white, so long as it’s got something in it to dull the pyrotechnics bursting within me. After pouring a glass, I replace the bottle, but not before contemplating turning it up and drinking it dry first. “Maybe next time your sophisticated girlfriend can get us a hookup with a private jet.” I take a long swig before nodding my head toward Bradley. “Mr. Moneybags can pay for it.”

Joe’s eyes are hooded as he smirks my way. “We’re not.” He swallows. “I’m not sure she has those kinds of hookups. And I’m not sure Bradley is as loaded as you think.”

Ironically, the warmth of the wine washing over me actually cools me down. My shoulders loosen. “We’re not what?” I ask, my chin pointed up to him.

His eyes bore into mine. “Let it go, Sam.” I wrap my lips around the rim of the glass, tip it back, and drag in as much as I can hold, never removing my eyes from his. “You should really slow down.”

“What do you care?”

He arches a brow as he replaces his hand on his knee. His eyes leave mine. “Bradley. You said you had something you wanted to discuss?” Joe takes a beer from the ice chest, pops the cap off, and guzzles it.” And he’s telling me to slow down? “You have us trapped now in the middle of nowhere. We’ve gotten the small talk out of the way. What’s the real reason we’re all here?”