Nodding, I agree wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I’m twenty-two. Settling down isn’t for another decade at least. I’ve got oats to sow, and shit.”
He snickers and throws back the rest of his drink. “I always knew you were a different girl, Dakota. Don’t ever settle for less than you deserve. You’re a badass bitch worth keeping.” Setting the empty glass down on a table, he blows me a kiss and walks away, leaving me perplexed. What an interesting conversation that was.
Still pondering Gabe’s words as I cross the ballroom floor, I notice a bit of commotion around my table. I push aside my current thoughts and rush over to see what happened. Gunner and Emilia are both standing behind Levi’s chair, crouching down to talk to him. Sliding onto my chair, I look over at him and notice he’s sweating, his eyes are glassy, and his skin pigment is slightly green. I was kidding about the whole Incredible Hulk thing earlier, but now I’m wondering what in the actual fuck?
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask aloud like he’s not right in front of me. For some reason, I think he’s deaf along with his other symptoms.
“He’s running a fever,” Emilia replies, patting a wet napkin around his neck. “He was sick this morning and went to the urgent care, where they fixed him all up, but I guess the meds are starting to wear off. He needs to get up to his room.”
“I’ll take him,” I volunteer, popping out of the chair I just sat in. “You and Gunner need to tend to your guests. I don’t have any family here, and I don’t know anyone else, so let me take him up and get him settled.”
Gunner swings his head around to me, his eyes searching mine for sincerity. “You’ll make sure he gets taken care of?”
His concern for his cousin melts my heart a little. It’s sweet and rare. I’m glad Emilia got a good guy. Nodding, I smile reassuringly. “Yeah, as long as he can walk. I’m good.”
“I can walk,” he croaks out, ending his silence and shifting his gaze to me. “Don’t take advantage of me, Sunshine.”
Everyone laughs as he pushes back from the table. After another round of apologies to the couple, Levi follows me to the elevator bank, where he doesn’t talk for the entire ride up to the eleventh floor.
He slides the access card to open the door, and as soon as we’re inside, he goes directly into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Being the take-charge person I am, I snoop around the medicine on the dresser and determine what he needs before calling room service for some chicken broth and water.
The timing works out perfect, as the food and drinks are delivered at the exact time the water turns off in the bathroom. I manage to not sexually harass this poor delivery guy. He’s lucky I’m more concerned about other things.
A few minutes later, Levi walks out in some long mesh basketball shorts and no shirt, and holy mother of God, I think a moan escapes my lips. That, or I queefed, ’cause my girl parts sighed with happiness. Either way, I’m stuck somewhere between Heaven and Hell, fantasizing about this amazing body right here in front of me, begging to be touched and licked, but I can’t do either, because he’s sick as a dog.
“In bed,” I command, patting the crisp sheets. “I ordered you some broth and water you need to take with your medicine.”
I can tell he wants to talk back, to not give in to my demands, but the fever is kicking his ass and he simply doesn’t have the fight in him. Defeated, he crawls onto the mattress and allows me to pull the blankets up over his lap. I bring him the tray of food, which I’ve also set his pills out on.
“Drink some of the soup; it’ll soothe your throat, and the medicine will help break the fever. I’m going to run to my room. I’ve got some lavender and eucalyptus oil in my purse, which I think will help you too.” Grabbing his room key off the counter, I lift it up in the air. “I’ll be right back.”
It takes me less than ten minutes to return, and when I scuttle back into his room, he’s already finished off everything on the tray and is waiting expectantly for me. “What next, Nurse Dakota?”
Snickering, I kick my shoes off and hop up on the other side of the bed. “Roll over onto your stomach. Turn your head to the side, cheek flat on the mattress.”
He does this cute little thing where he cocks one eyebrow way up but obeys my instructions without arguing. Knee-walking over to him, I hike the dress up to where it’s barely covering my panty-less mound and straddle his butt. Along with the stifled sound, he chokes back, the pressure against my throbbing clit is torture, but I push my own selfish desires away for the moment and focus on making him feel better.
Drizzling the oil over his bare back, I begin massaging his taut, tense muscles, permitting my fingers to do what they’re trained to do. I put all my attention into soothing him, to relieving his discomfort, and the pleased groans rumbling inside him drive me to keep going.
“You’re fucking phenomenal at this. Your hands are like magic,” he mumbles, opening his lids only enough to peek up at me.
“That’s a good thing, since doing this will be my livelihood soon.”
“You’re a massage therapist? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Shrugging, I focus my attention on the knot under his left shoulder blade. “I’ll graduate from school in December, and I dunno. It hasn’t come up, I guess.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he closes his eyes and unwinds under my touch, my fingers working up and down the finely sculpted contours of his back. After a few minutes, his entire body relaxes and I think he’s just about asleep, when he says, “You need to come on the road with us Monday. Two-week tour down to New Mexico, across Texas, and ending in New Orleans. That’s when Gunner and Emmy Sue are coming back here, and you could return with them. It’d be fun, and I could use your hands every day when I get off my bike.”
“Sounds like a blast, except would you truly only want to use my hands every day?” I tease, wiggling my fingers in the air.
The edge of his mouth curls up lazily and he shakes his head against the bed. “Fuck, no, Sunshine.”
My insides are warm and bubbly and I’ve got a goofy-ass grin on my face as I massage him until he passes out. Then, as quietly as possible, I freshen myself up in the mirror and rejoin the party downstairs.
SUNDAY, JUNE 17
BLINDING SUNLIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE window, waking me from a much-needed deep sleep. My eyes snap open and survey the hotel room. I’m alone. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.
Last night is kind of fuzzy. I remember the wedding ceremony and having to leave the reception early, feeling like I was burning up from the inside out. I remember Dakota bringing me back to the room, getting my meds, and giving me a massage. The best massage of my life. She’s strong for such a small chick. And her hands . . . my dick twitches just thinking about them.
But then everything in my memory goes dark. Lights out.
I hate to say I hope nothing happened between me and Dakota, ’cause God knows I really fucking want something to happen between us. My blood hums around her. Makes me want to fuck the sass right out of her.
But not when I can’t remember. Not when I’m not on my A-game. A feisty beauty like her deserves my best performance.
Damn, I can’t believe I blacked out. Fucking Tori and her sick-ass germs. At least I feel a hundred times better today. Only I’m not sure if I’m going to see Dakota again before we leave on tour tomorrow. I need to see her. She’s making me crazy. I don’t know if that’s good or bad yet, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t get a taste of that sugar and spice.
With a sigh, I reach over, grab my cell phone from the nightstand, and call Emmy Sue.
“This is the second fucking morning in a row you’ve called me before seven. The day of my wedding and the day after,” she accuses. “Do you know what happens after a wedding? A. Wedding. Night. I love the shit out of you, Levi, but I hope this isn’t going to be an everyday thing. I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night. I was a little busy.”
> I hear Gunner in the background, yelling there was nothing little about it.
Peering over at the clock, I confirm it’s indeed ten minutes ’til seven. Fuck. It feels much later. I scrub my hand over my face, trying to rub that unnecessary visual out of my brain. Too late, my dick is already hard.
“Sorry, Emmy Sue, I didn’t realize it was so early.” I mumble my apology, feeling like a dumbass. “I just woke up and called you first thing. I wanted to say sorry for bailing last night and everything . . .” I’m not sure what else to say or how to ask about her friend.
“It’s okay, honey. You were sick.” Her tone is softer now, understanding and soothing. “I’m happy you managed to be there for as long as you were. Dakota told us you were out like a light. Your body must’ve been exhausted.”
I jackknife up to a sitting position, her name demanding my full attention. “Dakota? You saw her again after I went to bed?”
“Yeah, she came back down and partied with us. I think she was still dancing when we left. Why? What’s going on?”
“I . . . uh, I just didn’t get a chance to um . . . thank her for helping me out.” I fumble over the words, hoping she’s too sleepy to buy my bullshit lame excuse. “I guess the medicine knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was a bit off on time and shit. I’m glad she was able to go back down and hang out with you guys.”
Before Emmy Sue can reply, Gunner snatches the phone away from her and roars into the receiver, “Dipshit, it’s the morning after our wedding night. Leave us the fuck alone. I need to bang my wife again! Fucking cockblocker!”
Giggling as she gets back on the line, Emmy Sue says, “Yeah, so we’ll see you at breakfast, Levi. Ten o’clock. Downstairs, where you had brunch yesterday. Dakota will be there too, and you can apologize to her then.” Then she hangs up without waiting for a reply.
Very rarely do I feel nervous. I fly through the air on a dirt bike for a living, for fuck’s sake. My nerves are made of steel.
In my twenty-seven years, I’ve never been nervous around a girl. Not my first kiss in kindergarten. Not even the first time I had sex at thirteen. I know it sounds arrogant as fuck, but I’ve never had to work for pussy. It’s always just found me. And it’s rude to say no, right?
As I shower and get dressed to head downstairs, I can’t help but wonder at the queasy feeling in my gut. Is it because of Dakota, or can I blame it on whatever those pills were I swallowed last night? What is it about this girl that I find so magnetic? So enticing?
Yeah, she’s beautiful, but I’ve been with lots of hot women before. And sure, while I enjoy her smart mouth keeping me on my toes, I’m typically not attracted to aggressive chicks. I like being in control. Always.
It has to be because I haven’t fucked her yet. The thrill of the unknown . . . I’m sure once I do, this anticipation that’s been building since the first time I met the little firecracker will go away. After this damn breakfast, I’m going to drag her perfect ass back up to my room and take care of business. Do what I should’ve been well enough to do last night. All damn day if I feel like it. Then, everything will be gravy.
The thought of gravy—biscuits and sausage gravy, to be exact—propels me into motion, my stomach reminding me that I barely ate anything yesterday. At six-three and a solid two-fifteen, I’m not a small guy. I can put down some food, and a half an omelet along with a few bites of steak isn’t going to cut it. I need to fuel up so I’ll have the strength and endurance for my planned post-wedding brunch activities. The important ones. The naked ones.
At ten o’clock sharp, I stroll into the private dining room, feeling great, ready to take on the day. And Dakota. The welcome smell of bacon grease fills my lungs, my mouth waters, and my stomach growls in response. Hell, yeah. Food and fucking. I’m a man with a mothafuckin’ plan.
Gunner and Emmy Sue are chatting with Rachel and Nathan, her parents, over by the long table set up for us. Everybody’s sporting a chipper smile, so I can only assume everything went well last night. I know her mom was freaking the fuck out yesterday before the ceremony with the maid-of-honor issue and something to do with the cakes not being delivered on time. I didn’t pay much attention. I was more focused on whining about how bad I felt and how ridiculous I looked in the tux. And torturing Gunner about the ring. What can I say? I’m a selfish bastard.
Approaching them, I squeeze in between the newlyweds, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them both into my chest for a three-way hug. “Morning, lovebirds. How is everyone this morning?” Grinning, I tip my chin at her parents, acknowledging them as well. Gunner grunts and gives me the man-back-pat-hug, Emmy Sue kisses my cheek, and Rachel and Nathan return my nod.
“It appears someone’s feeling better this morning,” her mom fusses. “Glad to have you looking human again.”
“It’s good to feel human again. And wear pants that fit right. I’m starving.” I release the hold on my friends and scan the room.
My aunt and uncle, who I like a slight bit more than I do my own parents, are already sitting down having a cup of coffee. By themselves. Instead of mingling with Emmy Sue’s family or other people who were in the wedding. If my aunt can’t be the center of attention at something, she’d rather sit in the corner and pout. At least she came though. Unlike her sister, my sweet mommy dearest, who obviously was too busy to make her nephew’s wedding in which her only child was the best man in. My poor dad probably doesn’t even know who Gunner is, much less that he got married this weekend.
I shake my head back and forth rapidly, erasing the unpleasant thought like you do with one of those Etch-a-Sketch toys. Today’s gonna be a good day. After I get some bacon and use my sausage on Dakota later. I’m not wasting my time getting pissed off about shit I can’t undo.
Emmy Sue hooks her elbow around mine and tilts her head in the direction of the buffet, distracting my thoughts. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go get you some food.”
Twisting around to look at her, thoughtfulness and empathy shine up at me in her warm brown eyes. She saw me looking at them. She knows exactly what I was thinking about. Only she and Gunner know the truth about my parents. I don’t like to talk about that shit.
“Yeah, good idea.” I swallow my annoyance and allow her to drag me away.
I’m not sure if I hear her or feel her presence first. Common sense tells me I can’t really feel someone’s presence, but I swear a wave of electricity zings up my spine seconds before the sound waves of Dakota’s rich, honeyed laughter reach my ears. My cock twitches at the sound.
Playing it cool, I continue to fill my plate with food from the buffet line—eggs, bacon, hash browns, and fruit—while listening to her greet everyone else in the room. I’m not facing her; nevertheless, I sense the moment her gaze finds me. I’m already sporting a semi. Fucking hell.
Once I’ve topped my plate with a waffle, I spin around to face her, only to have the air deflate from chest by the scene in front of me. What the fuck?
Looking ridiculously fresh-faced in a red-and-white-striped dress with her wavy, golden blonde hair framing her face, Dakota and Emilia’s brother, Gabe, are listening to Gunner tell one of his many exaggerated racing stories. Well, Gabe is watching Gunner, but even though Dakota’s laughing at the right places, her eyes are trained on me. She’s waiting for me to find her.
The problem with the entire image, the thing that has blood roaring in my ears, is Gabe’s arm, which is slung around Dakota’s neck. Possessively. Purposefully. I have no idea why it pisses me the fuck off, but it does, and it makes me wonder what all I missed last night.
She props her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows at me. Don’t Hulk out on me again. You’re overreacting.
Overreacting, my ass. Two can play this game.
I give her my best bored face. Fine, we’ll do this your way.
Breaking eye contact with her, I stride across the room and sprawl across the seat next to Meghan. She leans in to hug me good morning when I l
ower myself into the chair, purposely rubbing her big ol’ titties against my arm. Then, less than a minute later, she accidentally drops her fork and has to drop down on her knees near my lap to retrieve it under the table. Wow, this is too fucking easy.
I look up to find Dakota, dying to see the expression on her face, but she and her buddy, Gabe, are too busy fixing themselves plates. Her back is to me, so she didn’t see a single thing. Damn it.
Gunner, Emmy Sue, Dakota, Gabe, and Rhino, all armed with plates piled high with breakfast goodies, head toward us. Just like it happens in the movies, everyone sits, leaving the chair directly across from me as the only one open for her. Unfortunately, it’s also right next to Gabe.
I stay uncharacteristically quiet through most of the conversation as they talk about things that happened last night at the wedding. I don’t have much to add. Each time I try to get Dakota’s attention to send her a message, she’s looking off somewhere else. Almost on purpose.
When Gabe shifts in his chair to aim his conversation strictly to Dakota, my brow furrows. I’m not sure what’s going on with this dude who’s a bit too boy band for me, but I don’t trust him. I don’t care if he is Emmy Sue’s brother.
“How long is your break from classes again?” he asks, not nearly as smoothly as he probably hoped.
“Three weeks. I go back July eleventh. Why? When do you go back to Seattle?”
He clears his throat then takes a long drink of water. “This Thursday,” he eventually replies. “I was wondering if you wanted to go to a concert at Red Rocks on Tuesday.”
“She can’t,” I blurt out, dropping my fork and knife on the plate. The sudden outburst along with the clanging of silverware draws the attention of those close by, but I don’t give a shit. I’m putting a stop to this little fucker’s play before it gains any traction.
“Excuse me?” she scoffs, glaring at me with furrowed brows. “Do you want to enlighten me as to why I can’t do something?”
Damn, she’s sexy when she’s mad. I’m going to have to get her riled up regularly. “Because we leave for our road trip to the X-Games tomorrow morning. Remember the one with you, me, Emmy Sue, and Gunner that we talked about last night in my room?” I throw her my best boyish grin before glancing over at Emmy Sue. “I thought you’d appreciate some female company for your last bus trip.”