36. Not So Floofy Now
NOT SO FLOOFY NOW
SATURDAY
Mark
I wake up alone, and my first reaction is surprise.
And isn’t that just nuts? I blink up at the ceiling, wondering what’s happened to me. For a year, sleeping alone was just fine. It was normal. Now it isn’t anymore.
Yet my time in Miami is nearly over. Twelve hours from now, I’ll be checking into an Orlando hotel with Rosie.
These four days went so very fast. I can’t even stand it.
Can’t stand being in this bed alone either. It feels wrong. Tossing off the covers, I get up, eager to inhale my final minutes alone with Asher before our best man duties kick in.
Maybe he’s in the living room or kitchen, though I don’t hear him.
But I hope I’ll find him there.
I pull on clothes and glasses and head into the empty kitchen where Asher has left me a love note on the counter. It’s written on crisp white stationery with a palm tree in the corner. Something supplied by the property management company probably. Maybe for secret trysts. I pick it up and read.
Have some coffee, nerd boy.
Your suit is hanging in my bedroom closet. You will look hot in it.
Aren’t you glad I didn’t make you try on the salmon one?
I will find you later to check for love bites.
Pictures start at 10 a.m.
My heart kicks. No one would ever accuse me of being sentimental, but I fold the letter and tuck it safely into my pocket. This is the kind of note I’ll read more than once.
An unformed idea tugs at my mind, and since I’m not quite ready to dress for the wedding, I take the kernel of an idea along with my mug of coffee and head into the mansion to see how my sister is holding up after last night’s freak-out.
I find Hannah on the second floor, where Flip has been kicked out of the master suite. Not for bad behavior, though—for wedding preparations.
My sister stands in front of a three-way mirror, trying on her newly fitted dress to show my mother.
Happiness is everything I could want for my baby sister on her wedding day.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hannah croons. The light in her smile tells me that she and Flip must have had a good talk last night.
Hopefully I can get her alone later and ask.
“Some women put off their weddings because they don’t want to look pregnant when they’re walking down the aisle.
But I don’t care! The baby bump is glorious, and I wouldn’t change a thing! ”
I guess that answers that. And yup, only good things happened here on Star Island last night. There is nothing Titanic-like about Hannah’s wedding. Not a damn thing is doomed.
“So what happens now, Banana?” I ask. “You need anything?”
“Not one thing,” she says. “Hair and makeup are next, although Asher snuck off with the hairdresser after he checked the wedding cake delivery. You can eat some breakfast and then get dressed before the photos.”
“Will do.” I step closer and kiss her cheek. “You’re beautiful today.”
“I know.” She beams.
“And humble,” I tease. “And—most importantly—happy.”
“I am all those things.” She squeezes my hand. “Thank you for . . .” She glances at my mother. “. . . chatting with me last night. I needed that.”
Funny, but I needed it too. That talk did something for both of us, and now, an idea starts to take shape in my mind. There’s room for it at last.
But first, Hannah. “No problem. Glad to help. Are you sure I can’t do anything? Like look for the florist?”
“They’re already here and decorating the tent. Don’t worry, Mark! You did exactly what I asked you to do, and it’s going great. I’ll never forget this.”
“Good,” I say, squeezing her hand.
“I know I sprung it on you,” she continues. “I asked you to fly twelve hundred miles and collaborate with someone you don’t really like.”
And now I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Because I do like him.
God, I like him so much. And we’re done. As in, finished. Because I wanted it that way.
But now? I don’t want that at all.
I take a deep breath and blow it out.
“Are you okay?” my mother asks.
“Yes,” I say quickly. But I’m all turmoil inside. I’m going to have to talk to Asher and admit that I want more. That all these ideas forming in my head involve him?another morning, another night, and then the next ones too.
Hell, he probably won’t agree. He likes the single life. And lord knows I wouldn’t be an obvious choice for him—a guy with long hours and a child. Kids aren’t in his future, he’d said.
Shit.
“Mark?” My mother touches my arm. “You look distracted. Did you hear what I was saying?”
“Um, sorry. What was that?”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Can you believe a house this size has not a single casserole dish?”
“That’s . . . wow.” My poker face comes in handy. “Who knew?”
“I had to prep my casserole in a skillet ,” she says with a sigh. “But it will still taste good. It’s not a party without ham casserole and potato chip topping.” She turns on her heel and marches out of the room.
“Fuck!” This outburst brought to you by ham casserole, potato chip topping, and also by some other frustrations.
How am I going to convince Asher that I’m worth the trouble? It won’t be easy. But I’m up for the challenge. I won’t back down.
At least Hannah is not at the top of my worry list. She puts a hand over her mouth and giggles. “You tried, Mark. And I do appreciate it.”
“I did try. And I failed.”
“It’s okay,” she chirps, her mood bulletproof. “Everything is going to work out.”
If only I was sure she was right.
I return to the guest house, which is still empty. I shower and shave. It’s nine-thirty, so I’ve got a half hour until pictures.
Where the hell is Asher?
Leaving the bathroom with a towel around my waist, I go looking for both Asher and my best man suit. But in the doorway to his room, I pull up short.
He’s back, standing by the bed, tapping on his phone.
And something is very, very different about him.
“Whoa!” I gasp. “You cut your hair.”
He lifts his chin, seeming distracted at first, but that look disappears when he meets my gaze. He holds up his phone. “My PA is trying to reach me on a Saturday morning. I hope it’s not another Commando bulge fiasco.”
I barely hear him, because I’m still gobsmacked by his new style. “What did you do?”
He lifts a hand and runs it through the short, sandy-colored strands. “I asked the hair and makeup lady to give me a quick cut. Not so floofy now, huh?”
“No . . .” I’m kind of in awe of his shorter style, and how monumentally sexy he is no matter what. “It’ll be harder to hold onto now. Harder to tug on.” Although I’m willing to try right fucking now.
“I suppose it would.” He licks his lips. And I’m a hundred percent certain that we’re both having exactly the same thought. If he dropped to his knees and loosened my towel, we could test the tuggability of his new short hair.
But I still want to know why he trimmed it this morning. “Why did you cut it?”
“Yeah, about that,” he says, taking his time, looking just shy of sheepish as his eyes pin mine. “I did it for you.”
My heart flutters. Fucking flutters . I no longer care about tuggability. “You did it for me?” I repeat because I can’t quite believe it.
“I thought you might . . .” He doesn’t have to finish for me to know what he’s saying? like it better .
I swallow roughly, trying to find words to describe what I’m feeling. You’re superhot by default, and now with that short hair, you look like . . . the guy I want to try with . Nerves thrum through me, but I shove them all the fuck aside, since I feel more certain than I did before.
“Mark? What do you think?” he asks for the second time.
Right. I haven’t answered him. “Why don’t I show you?”
I close the distance and rope my hands through that short hair.
Jesus . That feels so good, his soft hair in my fingers.
And he did it for me. I can barely handle how much I want a chance with Asher in New York.
And I show him how very much I like all his looks as I tug on those strands no problem at all, and bring his lips to mine.
We kiss slowly at first. Deep and wet and full of promise. But it doesn’t stay slow for long.
In seconds, we heat up, our bodies slamming together. Our kiss turns urgent, and I swear we’re both saying the same thing with our lips.
Let’s do this.
Let’s try.
Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but he cut his hair?his famous hair?for me.
All because I said it was floofy in a drunk text.
I might be smiling ridiculously as we consume each other.
When I break the kiss, we’re both panting, chests rising and falling. “Now it’s swoopy . You . . . with your swoopy hair and your stupid lips,” I say, gripping the neck of his shirt, since I just don’t want to let go.
“You with your made-up words,” he says, and his grin is full of his big charm once more, and all for me.
This haircut is like a sign falling from the sky, telling me to go for it. I don’t even know what to say, but I don’t care. I’ll wing it for once in my life.
I part my lips to speak, but his phone chimes again.
His gaze jerks toward the device.
“Go. Check,” I say, since I’m feeling all kinds of magnanimous this morning.
He grabs the phone from the bed and scans the screen. I look out the window at the blue sky and the ocean, taking a few seconds to try to string the right words together.
When our gazes crash together again, his eyes are intense. Because we’re out of time. In so many ways. But maybe we don’t have to be if I just say what I want?what I hope he wants too.
Dropping the phone, he comes to me, wraps his hands around my hips like he did at the club on the night we ignited.
And like I did that night, I’ll go after what I want. Ask for it.
But he’s faster, jumping in with a barren whisper. “Mark, I have to shower. And get dressed. Your sister doesn’t need me to be late for the pictures.”
“Right,” I say quickly, taking the timeout. “Of course you do. Go on.”
He stares at me a moment longer. For a second, I think I’m about to get one more kiss. “Give me ten,” he says. “I’m crap at tying a bow tie. I might need some assistance.”
“A posh fucker like you?” I gasp playfully. “Thought you would have been born in one.”
He smiles. “You’ve seen my birthday suit, Banks. No bow tie.” With a wink, he heads off to the shower.
I use the time to get dressed. To tie my own bow tie. And to plan the speech I’m about to give him. Listen, Asher. My life is a little crazy right now. But I’m tired of waiting for the perfect moment. And I think we have something special . . .
Does that sound cheesy? Maybe I could make it more casual. Hey, Asher, you have a really nice dick and great hygiene. I’d like to see more of you .
Nope.
Cheesy it is, then. For once, I’m going to just say all the things I’m feeling. If I don’t do it now, I never will.
I can’t lose him because I’m afraid to put myself out there.
If he turns me down, he turns me down. It will suck, but I’ll get over it.
Like I told Hannah last night . . . life happens, and you deal. There are no guarantees.
But if I took a chance for my list, I can take a chance for what’s beyond all the rows, columns, and body parts.
I tuck in my shirt and plan my speech again. It turns out I have a posh fucker kink, Asher . Let’s do this right .