7. Punished for Being Good
Punished for Being Good
Mina
N inety minutes later, the party is in full swing. The music wafts up to my bedroom, along with the occasional peal of laughter.
No, it didn’t take me that long to shower and dress. I’ve been ready for an hour, but after peeking into the finished garage space, aka the designated party room, I hightailed it back upstairs.
I’ve been squirreled away up here since.
Told you I’m not good with strange crowds, and it’s more than a few friends. There are at least a dozen people milling about, most of them women.
Still, I owe it to Braden to try. These people are important to him. He’s letting me live here and acting as my fake fiancé for the next several weeks, so who am I to balk at his demands?
With a deep breath, I stand and smooth my dress as a million questions flit through my brain.
Am I overdressed? Do I look ridiculous?
What the hell am I doing?
Nothing like social anxiety to ruin a perfectly good night, right? Obsessing over things that no one else in the room even notices—good times.
And time for me to get a move on.
Maybe it won’t be so bad.
Zane spots me the second I enter the room and waves me over to his station behind the bar. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Please.”
A few minutes later, he sets a cup down in front of me. “What is this?”
“Something to take the edge off,” he replies with a wink. “Trust me.”
So, I do. After sampling his wares at Rum and Ruin, I know Zane is a damn fine bartender, and this drink is no exception.
Can’t taste any alcohol in it, though.
I perch on a stool at the far end of the bar and try to calm my nerves, but it’s no easy task, especially not after I spot Braden playing pool with a busty brunette.
It’s not that he’s not hanging on her, but if her purposeful expression is anything to go by, that’s her plan by the end of the night.
What am I supposed to do here? I don’t know these people and I’ve never been great with forced conversations and niceties. Plus, my life experience is pretty damn limited, so unless there’s another almost ballerina here, I don’t bring a lot to the table.
Yep, I definitely need more alcohol.
“Zane, can you make me another drink?” I ask, leaning over the bar to flag his attention.
A smile quirks Zane’s features as he pours me another round. “Better slow down, little lady. These will put you on your ass.”
“Really?” I frown into the glass, poking the cubes with the straw. “I can’t even taste the alcohol. ”
“That’s the idea,” Zane replies with a chuckle.
“Where did you learn how to mix drinks?”
“Years of drinking shitty ones at the local clubs. One night I complained to a bartender, and he told me I could always learn to mix my own. So, I did.”
“Well done, you.” I raise my glass to him, smiling when he clinks it with his own. “It’s delicious.”
Zane leans his elbows on the bar and jerks his chin toward Braden. “How do you like living here? Is he treating you right?”
“He’s great, obviously. You saw the dance studio.”
Zane cocks a brow. “I also saw something else in the dance studio. So why are you sitting way over here?”
“Don’t want to interrupt him. He’s busy.”
Zane crooks his finger at me, beckoning me closer. “Let me tell you something. Despite what you think, men aren’t mind readers. Most of the time, we’re clueless about how you feel. A little confidence goes a long way.”
“You think so?”
He shrugs and finishes his drink. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“So many things, Zane. Where do I begin?”
Zane reaches over to give my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Go rescue your man.”
“He’s not my man. Not really. And you know that.”
Zane shrugs before topping off my glass. “Sure looked that way earlier, but what do I know? You good here?”
A grin breaks across my face. “Yes, you can return to flirting now.”
Zane offers me a mock salute. “I’m here if you need me.”
With a sigh, I spin the stool around, gazing at the garage’s interior.
I’ve been here before, for Ash’s birthday party, but I clung to the corners then, too.
Even when Braden needed an escape plan from a handsy woman and asked me to keep him company in the greenhouse, I managed little more than surface-level small talk.
You know, those deep discussions about the weather.
Still, I’ve made progress since then. We’ve held entire conversations without me stuttering or tripping over myself once.
Zane referred to Braden as my man, but is he?
Guess there’s only one way to find out.
I’ll walk over and chat with Braden and his… friend. Gauge her reaction to me. More importantly, gauge his .
And hopefully not make a total ass of myself in the process.
You can do this, Mina. Deep breath.
I stroll across the room, slapping on what I pray is a neutral expression. “Hey. Who’s winning?”
Braden bends over the table to take his shot, sinking a solid in the side pocket. “As of right now, I am. What’s up, lucky charm? Where have you been?”
A flush of color climbs my cheeks as I take another pull from my drink. “I’ve been hanging out by the bar for the last half hour.”
Braden leans on his pool cue, a curious expression crinkling his eyes. “Why didn’t you come over?”
Another shy smile. Another swallow. Damn, these are going down far too easy. “Didn’t want to bother you.”
And if the look on his female friend’s face is anything to go by, I’m definitely in the way.
But if Braden notices her aggravated expression, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He rests the pool cue against the wall and closes the distance between us. Then he grasps my hand and twirls me into his arms. “Bother me.”
I giggle at his overt affection. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
The woman clears her throat behind us. “Braden, it’s your shot. ”
“Be right there.” But he doesn’t move, his arm locked firmly around my waist. “You want to play the winner?”
I shake my head, finishing my drink. “No thanks. I’m going for a refill.”
Braden’s eyes widen as he brushes a lock of hair from my face. “What is that, anyway?”
I shrug and stir the straw through the cubes. “A Zane special.”
“Oh boy. How many have you had?”
Why is everyone acting like I’m slurping tequila from the bottle?
“I don’t know. Two?”
Braden chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Be careful. Zane’s drinks can sneak up on you.”
Braden’s comment rubs me wrong. It feels fatherly, as if I’m incapable of handling myself or my liquor. “I’ll be fine. Not feeling a thing.” Shaking my cup, I motion toward the bar. “Come find me after you win.”
Zane lets out a low whistle as I place the empty cup on the bar. “Damn, woman.”
“Refill, and yes, I feel fine.”
“You’ll be feeling more than fine soon,” Zane replies with a smirk.
Five minutes later, I realize what Zane means. Instead of feeling uptight, I’m loose. Comfortable, even.
And brave enough to spin on the stool, lock eyes with Braden and crook my finger at him, motioning him to my side.
“Someone’s feeling good.” Braden grabs a fresh beer from the fridge and perches on the stool next to me.
“I am. Very good, in fact. Did you win?”
“I did. Want to play?”
I shake my head. “I’m not into pool. What about darts? I’ve never tried it, but it looks like fun.”
Braden snorts. “Throwing sharp objects while drunk? Yeah, I’m going to pass. Pretty sure my insurance doesn’t cover that.”
I rise from my seat and slide between his legs, my courage swelling with every passing second. “Maybe you’re just scared I’ll beat you.”
His smile fades, replaced by a slow-burning heat in his eyes. “Is that so?”
My gaze meets his as I press my fingers against his chest. “Only one way to find out.”
“Actually, I have a better idea.” He clasps my hand, dusting a soft kiss across my fingertips. “Want to take a walk?”
“Yes.” I answer without hesitation, knowing I could spend every day with Braden and never grow tired of the man.
And if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, his plan is far superior to a silly game of darts.
He leads us down a winding path to a gated garden area, far from the din of the party. The stars dot the night sky, and the late spring air carries the scent of blooms on the breeze.
An outdoor lounger sits on the far side of the garden and Braden plops down, patting the cushion next to him. “Figured you could use a change of scenery. My friends can get a bit loud.”
“This is beautiful,” I whisper, gazing at the blanket of stars surrounding us.
“It is, and so are you.”
My breath catches as he brushes my hair over my shoulder, his fingers igniting sparks along my skin. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely. I always have. Honestly, I think you’re the only person who doesn’t realize how special you are.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Zane’s comment about Braden being my man. Maybe it’s the soft light in Braden’s eyes. Or maybe it’s the memory of the last time I was brave—a moment that resulted in me living with him.
Sometimes bravery has its moments .
And this is one of them.
I grab the beer from Braden’s hand and place it on the table next to mine. “I’ll take that.”
“Stealing my beer?”
I shake my head and stand, facing him. “I don’t want the beer.”
Then I straddle his thighs, his sharp intake of breath slicing through the air as I settle onto his lap. My hands roam over his chest, lightly raking my nails across his shirt. “I want you .”
For the second time in my life, I kiss Braden Hammond.
But unlike the first time, there’s no hesitation.
The moment my lips brush his, he pulls me in like he’s been waiting forever—his arms banding around my waist as his mouth claims mine.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as the kiss turns savage, urgent. He palms my ass, dragging me tight against him, and when I grind against his cock, a fire bolts through me, hot and unforgiving.
Braden breaks the kiss, his breathing erratic as he works the zipper of my dress open, sliding it down my shoulders to pool at my waist.