Bachelor Bad Boy (Preston Brothers #3)

Chapter One

Avery Preston tossed back another shot of a sixty-year-old Macallan, slammed the glass on the table, and scanned the country club ballroom. A band set the stage with a feral beat that surged through his dick, making him wish he was at Pulse, where it was loud and dark and easy.

Instead, the engagement party for his brother Marcus and his soon-to-be sister-in-law Charlotte was winding down, and his options for a hookup were shit.

Friends of the family—off limits. Employees—off limits. Clients—definitely off limits. He’d promised to be on his best behavior.

Too bad Charlotte only had two friends, both beautiful but also off limits.

Melody was like a sister to him and had just tied the knot with his brother Spencer.

And Kate? Bryce would kick his ass if he so much as looked in her direction, especially after the dumbass had royally fucked up and was at this very moment trying to win her back.

Why did they have to pick Valentine’s Day for this thing? When clubs were filled with hot women trying to forget—or alter—their single status with alcohol or sex…or both.

Avery thrummed the linen-covered table with restless fingers—thump-thump-thump-thump…

thump-thump-thump-thump—and eyed the best set of legs he’d seen all night.

With a slight tilt of his head, he rocked back in his chair and followed the tight little ass until it disappeared through the servant’s entrance to the kitchen, leaving a faint trace of vanilla—sweet and fucking off limits.

From beside him, Melody’s fingers gripped his jaw and swiveled his head in her direction. “Is it really that hard?”

Always.

The front feet of his chair hit the floor with a thunk, and he started to tease her about her choice of words, but a cocked brow from Spencer hovering over her shoulder had Avery snapping his mouth shut. His days of teasing Melody to make Spencer jealous were over.

“To behave, I mean.” Melody’s glossy pink lips turned down, her disappointment in him cutting deep. “Your mom just wants you to be happy, and Althea’s a nice girl. You didn’t even give her a chance.”

No doubt, he’d hear all about it from his mother tomorrow.

With Spencer married, Marcus engaged, and Nick still mourning Julie, their mother had been parading sacrificial virgins in front of Avery, trying to get him to the altar, too.

Hell, she was practically throwing them at him, hoping that, like spaghetti on a wall, one would stick.

Althea Rutherford was only the latest spaghetti virgin.

Fuck that. “I’m not looking for nice.” Or virginal.

Nice meant settling down. At twenty-six, he wasn’t ready for a picket fence, two-point-five brats, and only one pair of thighs to slide between for the rest of his life. The thought was enough to mentally castrate him.

Cockblocked by his own moral compass. And they thought he didn’t have one.

He glared at Spencer. “You gonna help me out here?”

Spencer held up both hands, palms forward. “Don’t drag me into this.”

Pussy whipped motherfucker.

“You promised to make her feel welcome,” Melody persisted.

“I agreed to entertain her at dinner, and I did. That’s all.

” He’d even turned on the charm and made her blush.

The forced smiles and polite small talk had drained him dry.

There’d been zero spark. Zero challenge.

“And I left her surrounded by several potential husbands. I never said I’d be one of them. ”

She was pretty enough, striking even, and if he’d met her at Liquid Assets or Pulse, he’d have bought her a drink and flirted his way into her panties.

But her father was a giant in the oil industry and a friend of his dad.

Rumor had it John Rutherford could shoot the wings off a fly, and throughout the meal, Avery could almost feel the muzzle of a shot gun jammed into his back as the big man stood behind him at the altar.

No fucking thank you.

Thump-thump-thump—

There they were again, gliding past his table. Those legs. That ass, wrapped in a black skirt that careened over slender hips and stopped at mid-thigh. They wove into the crowd before his one-track mind allowed his gaze any higher than the tip of a flaming red braid spearing down her back.

Ah, there we go.

Lifting his hips, he slid deeper into his chair to hide his thickening cock.

Melody’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “You’re incorrigible.”

“But adorable, right?”

That got him a smile and a shake of her head. “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”

He rubbed the injured rib that didn’t really hurt. “You know I love you, Mel, and until tonight, you’ve been my favorite sister-in-law.”

She snorted. “I’m your only sister-in-law.”

“Careful, baby.” Spencer jutted a chin at Charlotte. “You’ve got competition closing in.”

“My point exactly.” Avery clawed at the noose of golden silk around his neck, loosened it, and freed the top button of his shirt. He gestured toward Charlotte with his glass. “At least, that one gets me.”

Melody tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. “In case you haven’t noticed, that one has changed. She won’t be siding with you anymore.”

He swiveled a glance at the smiling couple surrounded by well-wishers. Tucked tightly against Marcus’ side, Charlotte looked the same as she always had—sleek, polished, beautiful. But Melody was right. Charlotte seemed less guarded tonight, less skeptical, her eyes less jaded.

Instead, those baby blues were softer, more serene. Her laugh floated across the room. And, admittedly, Marcus had been a lot happier since he and Charlotte stopped lying to themselves.

“Don’t you want that?” Melody sipped from a fluted glass of champagne, dark eyes narrowing over the rim. He could see the wheels turning. She’d been instrumental in organizing Marcus’ downfall, and Avery sure as fuck didn’t need her turning her matchmaking sights on him.

“No.” He rubbed his hands together. “Variety is the spice of life, and I’m still taste testing my way through a vast menu. Barely on the first of five courses.”

“Ugh.” Throwing up her hands, she pushed back her chair, dislodging Spencer’s arm across the back, and rose gracefully. “I give up. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Avery relaxed into his chair. “Now if Mom would just back off…”

“Good luck with that.” She bent to kiss Spencer’s cheek. “I’m going to talk to the caterer. Looks like we’re running low on desserts.”

Avery sighed, bored with the conversation, bored with the whole night. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in love or marriage. His parents were a perfect example of both. He just wasn’t ready for forever.

He checked his watch. Nine fucking thirty. So much for winding down. He’d hoped to bounce half an hour ago. If he left now, he could catch up with Dane and Linc at Pulse, where they had to be having a better time than he was.

But he couldn’t leave, or there’d be hell to pay.

Thump-thump-thump-thump…thump-thump-thump-thump.

The hot blonde with tits spilling over a low-cut red dress was checking him out again. She’d been eye fucking him all night when her date wasn’t looking. But Tits had arrived on the arm of Marcus’ new marketing intern.

Does that put her in the employee category?

Eh, she’d been alone most of the night while her date sucked up to Marcus, so fuck it.

Avery locked in on her.

Hmm, she looks familiar. Maybe from Pulse.

Her gaze shifted, lifting to meet his. A smile pulled at her pouty lips, and a spark of invitation lit her eyes. He was just about to accept, but Legs intersected his line of sight. Just like that, his focus was diverted.

Legs swerved toward him. His gaze made it to her tits this time before it stalled.

Nice rack.

At least, from what he could make out under the crisp white button-down.

The shadow of a nude—not white, experience told him the difference—lace bra cupped generous mounds, and his fingers itched to tug the skinny black tie at the base of her slender throat.

One by one, he’d release the pearl buttons of her shirt to reveal the creamy swells.

“If you want Mom to leave you alone,” Spencer said, intruding on the only action he'd had all night, real or otherwise, “you should stop flying solo at these functions.”

Avery waited until Legs faded from view again before lifting his glass to down the remnants of smooth, liquid-gold. “I thought we’d established that I’m trying to avoid a girlfriend.”

“Not a girlfriend. A girl who’s a friend.”

A bark of laughter burst from him. “We both know that’s not possible.”

The empty chair to his left screeched as Nick sank into it. He sat angled to face Avery, his arm resting on the table, a whiskey glass in hand, and the perpetual scowl on his face more pronounced than usual.

An ally, at last.

As CEO of Preston Enterprises and the eldest Preston brother, Nick was used to social engagements. It came with the job, one he was damn good at. But it had to be hard celebrating love when his cheating wife died while running off with her lover.

“What are we talking about?” Nick asked, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a drink.

“Mom’s matchmaking,” Spencer explained.

“Ah, the Rutherford girl.” Nick nodded, holding his glass to the light, inspecting the amber color. “Good stuff. Where’d you find the ’62?”

Avery looked at his own glass, now empty, and wished he’d put back a bottle for himself. He’d bought the case of Macallan to help him and his brothers mourn Marcus’ impending retirement from bachelorhood. So far, he seemed to be the only one grieving.

For twenty-six years, Marcus had been his best friend and, over the last ten, his wingman.

The past few months, though, Marcus had been spending more time with Spencer because Charlotte and Melody were best friends and joined at the hip.

It made sense. Which was why Avery had been hanging with his former fraternity brothers, the Sigmas, more often than usual.

Avery sighed. “Dane helped me. It was hard to find, but it was worth it.”