Resolutions (Whispering Pines #1)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Melanie

Cameron and I sat on lawn chairs in our driveway, soaking in the unseasonably warm November evening while waiting for our friends to arrive. The weather was a gift - allowing us to use both indoor and outdoor spaces for tonight's combined bachelor and bachelorette party. The party was our idea; we wanted everyone to have fun while staying safe, especially since the wedding was on Sunday afternoon. We’d made this choice, because neither of us could face dealing with his mother while nursing hangovers. Evelyn Whitaker's disapproving looks could cause a cactus to wither. And her lectures were legendary in the family.

That's why we'd come up with our stop word: “mum.” We'd both sworn with hands raised in a mock court, really our bedroom, that we'd stop drinking the moment either of us called it out. I caught Cameron's eye, and we both grinned, knowing full well that between his brother's mischief and my friend's enthusiasm, keeping that promise would take a miracle.

I glanced at Cameron playing a game on his phone, still amazed I was marrying my best friend. When I met him during freshman orientation on my second day of college, I knew we'd become close. Our personalities clicked instantly, and it didn't hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous with his surfer-blond hair and those mischievous blue eyes that seemed to always be laughing.

Cameron had other ideas from the start. To hear him tell it, it was love at first sight—he knew right then we'd get married. That he loved me before I loved him was a fact he'd taken to constantly reminding me and everyone else as our wedding date drew closer.

Tonight wasn't about us, though. It had taken two full days to organize everything. We'd set up themed rooms throughout the house: the basement arranged for poker with a giant inflatable shark hanging from the ceiling a card shark Cameron had explained while I rolled my eyes. The dining room hosted a cookie decorating station complete with take-home boxes. A nail station occupied the living room. Each space had its own themed bar and snack stations. Romantic movies played on every TV, and a frozen margarita station dominated the kitchen. The backyard featured a giant croquet with oversized mallets and beach balls, plus a mini-golf course. We'd even hired a private BBQ chef and set up a heated outdoor tent for dinner.

Tomorrow morning will be all about us. After cleaning up and sending home our passed-out friends, we'd have brunch at our favorite spot. Then home for sex before his mother whisked me away. She was adamant about Cameron not seeing me the night before the wedding. Neither of us wanted this separation, but his mother wouldn't hear otherwise. So, in the spirit of keeping peace, I'd get in her car.

“Did you know we're getting married in two days?” Cameron took my hand and kissed the back.

“What? I don't think so. When did this happen? I. Am. Not. Prepared!” I teased, stomping my foot dramatically.

“Ha ha. Just for the record, I've been preparing since freshman year.” He kissed my hand again.

“You must be marrying someone else. I didn't know you in high school.”

“You're on a roll today, aren't you?” Cameron nipped at the back of my hand and I smacked him playfully.

“Yes, I am very much aware of the fact that YOU loved me first,” I said in an exaggerated, melodramatic voice. “A fact you're never going to let me forget, are you?”

“Nope. I might even put it in my vows.”

“Not on your life, you won't.” I glared at him. “I don't want our kids watching the video and seeing their dad make fun of their mom.”

“Kids, huh? You know how we get kids, right?” Cameron winked suggestively. “Maybe we should go in and have a quick practice session.” He stood, reaching for me.

“Oh, look at that. So sorry, our guests are arriving.” I stood and kissed the now-standing Cameron on the cheek, then slapped his ass as I walked to the driveway.

“Bastards—cock-blocked by my own party.” Cameron returned the smack to my ass as he stepped around me and headed to the bar cart he had so proudly set up at the side of the driveway.

Laughing, I folded up our chairs and moved next to Cameron. He'd assigned me to hand out the welcome packets we'd made for our guests: a hand-drawn house map showing all the stations, dinner menu, poker tokens, and gift cards to places we knew they liked. The ladies also received necklaces and matching bracelets to wear for the wedding, while the guys got engraved pocket watches.

After an hour of welcoming and visiting with each guest, the evening air thick with laughter and excitement, we heard an obnoxiously loud blast of music that made several of us jump.

“What the hell is that?” I yelled to Cameron over the thundering bass.

“No idea. We told all the neighbors about the party so no one would be upset at our noise, but shit, we haven't even started.” Cameron rose on his tiptoes, trying to see over the cars. “I can't even tell where it's coming from.” We joined our guests walking toward the road to investigate.

Several of us jumped when a male voice boomed over a loudspeaker: “Cameron, my poor boy, this is your last night of freedom. You MUST receive an appropriate send-off to the NO NUTS, BALL AND CHAIN WORLD! Hold on to your boobs and balls everyone—the fun has arrived!”

“Is that who I think it is?” I turned to Cameron, seeing he looked as shocked as I felt.

“Well, I'll give you two guesses, but I think you'll only need one.” Cameron nodded toward the driveway where a party bus, the source of the deafening music, had stopped.

“Why would he rent a bus just for himself?” I yelled over the music, though I already knew the answer. Michael never did anything small.

“There's your answer.” Cameron shook his head, blowing out a frustrated breath.

Seven women in barely there thong bikinis danced their way off the bus, each with a bright red letter painted on her stomach. Once they'd all emerged, they lined up to spell Cameron. The dancers began making their way up the driveway, jiggling and shaking as they advanced.

I broke my gaze from the gyrating ladies to gauge other guests' reactions. The men's expressions ranged from shocked to amused. The women, however, looked shocked and pissed off. Which is exactly the camp I'm in. Cameron and I had specifically agreed to no strippers—not because we were prudes, but neither of us wanted strangers' baby-oiled bodies rubbed in our faces.

“What the actual fuck is this?” Debbie, my future sister-in-law, asked from behind me as she and Connie moved to stand beside me.

“Mel, did you know about this?” Connie asked, her voice tight with annoyance.

“You're kidding, right?”

“Whose brilliant idea is this?” Connie yelled to be heard over the pulsing music.

“You know exactly who's behind this,” Debbie answered, disgust dripping from her voice.

“That jackass—I should have known,” Connie said, sounding more repulsed by Michael than the strippers. “These girls do know it's December, right? Bless their cold little hearts. I hope he's paying them well.”

Debbie snorted a laugh, making me smile despite my irritation. “The cold makes their nipples hard—bigger nipples, happier men,” she stated matter-of-factly. Connie and I turned to stare at her, shocked. “Happier men means bigger tips.”

“What? I watch TV,” Debbie screamed over the now-grating music.

“Obviously, we watch way different channels,” Connie yelled back.

Shaking my head, I watched dancer after dancer approach my fiancé, rubbing various body parts all over him before moving on to do the same to others. Carson, Cameron's older brother married to Connie, stepped behind us to avoid a dancer eyeing him. Connie took a half-step forward, hands on hips. Debbie and I filled in behind her, matching her stance. The dancer got the message and turned to seek another target.

“Leave it to Michael to make today all about him,” Carson said, his voice carrying over the music. “This whole scene reeks of him—totally inappropriate.”

“What do you expect? Inappropriate is his middle name,” Colton, Cameron's other brother, added as he slid behind his wife Debbie, using us as a shield against the gyrating girls.

Connie turned, calling over her shoulder. “You two really should rescue your brother. He looks miserable.” All of us turned to see Cameron surrounded by glistening oiled flesh, his discomfort evident in every rigid line of his body.

“No way! This is an every man for himself situation,” Colton answered. “Besides, one of them might touch me. Eww.”

“Let one of them try,” Debbie yelled toward the still-dancing women. Colton put his arms around her middle protectively.

“You get 'em, honey.”

I loved my new family. Never having siblings of my own, I cherished each of Cameron's family members as my own. The other two sisters-in-law had become the sisters I'd never had, and right now I was grateful they were here, so I wasn't experiencing this monstrosity alone.

The music changed, drawing our attention back to the bus. The dancers formed two lines, coming together with a two-foot gap between them. Throwing their hands in the air, they started movements resembling belly dancers wiggling in sync.

“You have to give them credit—they must have practiced a lot,” Carson said, earning a gut punch from Connie. “What? I didn't say I liked it, just that they've got the routine down.”

“Dude, quit while you're ahead,” Colton suggested.

The music shifted again, this time to a cadence drum beat. The ladies pivoted, putting their thong-clad asses toward each other, and began gyrating to the beat. They looked like some erotic dance troupe—definitely not the Rockettes.

When the music reached its crescendo, Michael appeared on the last stair of the bus wearing a gold lamé suit that caught the streetlights like liquid metal. He stepped forward, smacking asses and rubbing himself against the girls, making exaggerated humping movements as he made his way through them. Reaching the last two dancers, he threw his hands in the air, an enormous smile on his face as the women scurried to spell Cameron behind him.

At five-foot-nine, Michael was shorter than Cameron and his brothers, but what he lacked in height he made up for in presence. At first glance, you'd think “computer geek,” which he was—but he was also a gym rat, much stronger than he looked. Cameron had told me Michael became obsessed with karate in high school, earning his black belt before graduation. He'd gone to Japan and studied under a master, then returned to train in other martial arts. According to Cameron, that obsession still thrived. He'd said he pitied anyone who might fight Michael—his knowledge and moves made him a dangerous weapon.

Black hair slicked back mobster-style, wire-rimmed glasses, and a jutting chin combined with an ego bigger than Madison Square Garden. His most attractive feature was his enormous bank account. Michael wasn't just smart—he was a borderline genius with a depraved sense of humor and a Midas touch. Making money came as easily to him as breathing, and it seemed just as important as his martial arts, maybe even more. Currently, Mr. Ego was gyrating between two dancers as “Baby Got Back” echoed off the neighborhood houses.

I could imagine the thoughts running through my guests' minds. I'd seen the eye rolls of disgust and the whispers shared behind raised hands. A couple of ladies had already retreated inside—an idea I was seriously entertaining.

Glancing around, I noticed several neighbors watching from open garages or bay windows. Cameron had just bought this house; this was our first big gathering. All the neighbors had been nice and appreciative when we'd given them heads up about today's event. Several had even thanked us for letting them know. Whispering Pines was a small town where everyone knew everyone else, especially the Whitaker family. There was no doubt our neighbors were wondering why we hadn't mentioned the bus, concert-level music, and erotic dance troupe. I could already imagine the cell phones lighting up with calls and texts, pictures flying around town. What an epic way to welcome ourselves to the quiet, serene neighborhood.

Connie faced me, her expression thunderous. “I've had enough. How about you all?”

“I'm not giving him the satisfaction of leaving,” I answered, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the garish display. “He'd consider it a victory if he could say he got under my skin.”

“Melanie's right,” Debbie announced, planting her feet and crossing her arms, too. “We stay.”

“Fine. But only for you two ladies will I endure any more of this nonsense.” Connie mimicked our stance, planting a determined frown on her face.

I ventured another look at Cameron, who looked utterly uncomfortable as the dancers held him hostage behind their line. Part of me felt I should stand with him, but another part wanted him to endure it all. Michael had been his best friend since kindergarten—back then, just two little boys who liked trucks and jungle gyms. Now their friendship seemed more habit than anything else. Like keeping an old sock with a hole in the heel just because you'd always had it, even though wearing it left you annoyed and pissed off. I thought Cameron kept Michael around because he was that sock—always there, too familiar to throw away despite the discomfort.

“Honestly, I don't know why they're still friends,” Debbie said, clear disdain in her voice.

“Cameron feels responsible for Michael. He thinks Michael got a raw deal when his mom ran off, leaving him with that horrible excuse for a father. Cameron's always looked out for him,” Carson explained. “At school he'd even get in trouble for Michael, voluntarily taking the heat to protect him. Drove Mom and Dad crazy.”

“Well, he's going to have a wife soon. He needs to shift his priorities,” Connie said firmly. “This isn't grade school anymore. He can stand on his own—and God knows he can afford to hire help if he gets in trouble now.”

“Mel's always been a priority over Michael. That's why they don't get along. Michael doesn't like playing second fiddle. And if you ask me, I think Michael has a romantic thing for Cameron,” Debbie said, her voice lowered conspiratorially.

Just as quickly as it started, the music ended. Several people shook their heads or pulled on their earlobes. I heard sighs of relief from our guests.

“Happy bachelor party, bro!” Michael bear-hugged Cameron before releasing him. “Thank you, ladies. You had the desired effect I was looking for. You're all beautiful. Now, please get back on the bus.” Everyone's eyes turned to me at his words.

Desired effect my ass! I could tell they all thought that comment was a dig at me. Too bad I wasn't giving him the reaction he wanted.

I stood watching Michael kiss each girl's cheek as they passed, wishing Cameron things like how sorry they were he was getting married and to call if it didn't work out.

“I've never seen so much bare ass at one time in my life. And I'm a doctor,” Colton stated, followed by, “Ouch! What? It's true!” He rubbed his arm where Debbie must have slugged him.

Noticing our guests standing around awkwardly while Michael continued his performance, I stepped forward.

“Well, now that the pre-party entertainment is over, why don't we head inside to the real party? I promise it won't be nearly as exciting, but it will be substantially quieter.” A few people clapped, someone said “thank goodness,” and everyone began moving toward the house.

I joined them, heading inside but side-stepping to the garage door that led to the kitchen. Connie and the rest of the family followed me.

“Well said, Mel.” Colton put his arm around my shoulders supportively.

“Well said indeed.” Carson planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Such an ass. Couldn't let you two have the party you wanted. He always has to be the center of attention,” Debbie said, disgust clear in her voice. “And could someone please tell him that greased hair is disgusting?”

“It's over now. Let it go, hon.” Colton, a foot taller than his wife, leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“I'm starving,” Carson announced, and everyone agreed enthusiastically.

“The snacks are out. They're on your house map or just wander and find them. Downstairs are the poker tables with the hot items,” I told them. Both couples headed for the stairs.

Hearing the garage door open again, I knew Cameron and Michael had used that entrance, too.

“Of course, Mel isn't mad at me. She knows a man of my caliber has to make an entrance.” Michael enveloped me in an unwanted hug as soon as they entered. My hands hung stiffly at my sides as I glared at Cameron over Michael's shoulder.

“That's what it was, alright. An entrance.” I pushed back, breaking his grip. Michael was always looking for reasons to hug me. It drove me crazy, and even though I'd asked him to stop countless times and talked to Cameron about it until I was blue in the face, nothing changed. I was just told it was “just Michael's way.”

“I'm going to check on our guests.” I turned on my heel and headed out.

“Dude, let's get the poker going,” Michael announced as I rounded the corner. “I wore this suit because I'm going to dominate the cards.”

Walking into the living room, I saw three bridesmaids huddled together around the cheese and cracker station. I started toward them when someone grabbed my hand and spun me around. I wobbled, landing against Cameron's chest as he.

I wobbled, landing against Cameron's chest as he pulled me close.

“I didn't know he was going to do that. I promise, I was just as shocked as you were.”

“Oh babe,” I whispered back, “I very much doubt that.”

“No, really. It was inappropriate for this event. For any event. It's just, you know, how Michael is.”

“So, I've heard. You know, someday you're going to have to stop making excuses for him. Now if you'll please let me go, I have guests to make comfortable after that,” I pointed to the window, “whatever you want to call it.” Cameron opened his arms and released me with a kiss on the cheek.

“Cam, come on, we're waiting for you!” Michael's voice rang through the house.

“Better go—you're being paged.” I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head before turning and taking a step away.

“Mel.” Cameron said.

Looking back, I told him, “Your guests are waiting,” and shooed him off with my hands. Turning to the ladies I'd been heading toward; I saw all eyes were on me.

“You can talk about anything other than what an ass Michael is, because after that debacle outside, there's no doubt he's the definition of an ass. And I'm marrying the one who poo-poo's it. Men!” I said, grabbing cheese and crackers.

“Total ass.”

“He's a prick pulling that shit. Cameron only poo-poo's it because he doesn't know what else to do.”

“Michael gives me the willies. Have you noticed he's always watching? Let's stay as far from him tonight as we can. Deal?”

We all echoed, “Deal!”

“I feel like whacking something,” I said, muscles tight with tension. “Wanna play croquet?”

Everyone agreed, and we headed outside, leaving Michael's disruption behind us. At least for now.