Chapter 10 Last Fling before the Ring
Dakota
“Let’s do another shot!” I cheer as I stand beside Cozy on top of a local bar in town.
“Hell yes!” Cozy throws her hands up and turns around to signal to the bartender we need another round. “None for you, though.”
“But I’m legal!” Everly argues from her barstool beside Trista and Addison.
“It took some major convincing for your dad to even let you come out with us tonight, and that’s only because we have our
own security detail.” Cozy points to Carlos who is serving as our driver for the evening. “If I bring you back drunk, there
will be hell to pay.”
Everly pouts, but Trista puts her arm around her encouragingly. “I’ll sit this one out with you. I am not that big of a drinker.”
She sticks her lip out as she touches her boobs. “Plus, if I drink much more I’m going to have to pump and dump.”
“But it’s your bachelorette party!” Cozy drops down on her knees to give her full attention to her almost sister-in-law. “You
only get to do this once.”
“Theoretically,” I add, dropping down beside Cozy as the bartender pours four shots in front of Trista.
“You know what I mean.” Cozy waves me off. “We’ll dance the booze off before we head back to the villa, okay?”
“I’m all for more dancing!” Everly cheers excitedly.
Trista smiles as she sniffs her shot and wrinkles her nose. “I really hope I don’t throw up tonight.”
“No one is throwing up.” I slide awkwardly off the bar, very aware that I’m not the party girl I used to be.
Back when I met Randal—he was a bartender at Pearl Street Pub, a quaint little dive bar in downtown Boulder—I dove headfirst into the bartender’s girlfriend role.
Staying out late, waiting for him to finish his shift.
Going out with other service industry people until all hours of the morning.
It was a work hard, play hard mindset back then, and I had the high alcohol tolerance to prove it.
I am not that woman anymore.
In my mid-thirties now, I find myself annoyed if I’m not in bed with a book by nine o’clock. But tonight, I’m single and on
vacation. This is the time to cut loose, and I need these ladies to get with the program!
I glance over at Addison. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not even drunk.” She takes a shot of tequila like she just took a drink of water. “You three are lightweights.”
Impressed, I down my own shot, trying to be tough like her but wincing like a little bitch.
Trista follows suit and coughs as she downs the spicy liquid. “I wonder what the guys are doing?”
“Who cares!” I groan and set my glass down on the bar. “This is ladies’ night. No guy talk!”
“But aren’t you single and ready to mingle?” Cozy asks pointedly.
“Yes, but not with a Fletcher brother. Ick.” I shudder at the thought. “I’d rather go for short King Carlos over Killer Calder.”
“What’s the story with you two?” Addison asks, noting my irritation.
“Who? Me and Carlos? I don’t know.” I glance over at Carlos, and he offers me a flirty wave. “There does seem to be a connection,
doesn’t there?”
“Not Carlos,” Addison laughs. “I mean you and Calder. Why all the tension? Did you two used to date or something?”
“God no!” I exclaim defensively. “And there’s no tension. I don’t give a shit about Calder Fletcher. I’m totally chill.”
“Totally,” Cozy sputters out a laugh.
I glare over at my soon-to-be former best friend. “He just fucked up a lot of stuff in my house years ago, and we’ve never got along since then.”
“That was seven years ago,” Cozy groans and sips her shot of tequila with a gag. “When are you going to get over it?”
“And he fixed it, right?” Everly asks innocently. “I can’t imagine my uncle wouldn’t fix something he broke.”
“Yes, he fixed it,” I sigh, irritation crawling up my back. “Or he fixed what he could. But some of the stuff was irreplaceable.
He was careless as he’s always been, and my house...” My voice catches in my throat as emotion sweeps over me. I’ve clearly
had too much to drink if I’m reacting this way about my house in front of everyone. “I had so many dreams for that renovation,
and Calder didn’t give a shit.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” Cozy argues.
“Whose side are you on?” I stare back at my bestie who looks just as intoxicated as me. “I know you’re related to the Fletchers
now, but I knew you first!”
“He paid for your wedding dress,” she volleys back.
“He what ?” Trista, Everly, and Addison both snap their attention to me, waiting for me to elaborate.
My eyes blink heavily. “My wedding dress was part of the collateral damage of the house screwup. A pipe burst in the attached
bath of my bedroom. That room shared a wall with my closet where the dress was stored, and my dress was ruined a few days
before I got married. It was an original design by one of my closest friends who’s a fashion designer in Aspen. It was one-of-a-kind.
Irreplaceable.”
“So, what did you do?” Everly asks, concern etched all over her face. She was just a kid when I got married so she wasn’t
aware of any of this stuff that went down.
“I went to some random bridal store and bought something off the rack. I hated it, but there was only one I could find that
didn’t need to be altered, so it was what it was.”
I wince as I recall the wedding photos from that day. I looked bad. Randal looked bad. It was just altogether... bad. To say that my wedding day wasn’t all that I hoped for would be a huge understatement.
“Maybe it was a sign,” Everly murmurs, and all eyes turn to the young girl who just said the quiet part out loud. “I only
met Randal a few times because you never brought him around that much. Maybe the universe did that for a reason.”
“The universe is Killer Calder?” I roll my eyes. “Let’s not give him too much credit, okay, kid?”
“Accidents happen, though, right?” Addison offers innocently.
“Yes, but it wasn’t just the dress and the house. It was what he said when it all went down.”
“What did he say?” Everly asks, and I feel all four women staring intently at me, but it’s Everly I pause for.
Despite absolutely loathing the man, I know he’s an excellent uncle. I don’t want to spoil her good opinion of him—and that’s
for her sake, not his.
I press my lips together and inhale sharply through my nose. “It’s not worth rehashing. This is a hen party. We should be
having fun, not talking about my drama with Calder Fletcher. Let’s do another tequila shot!”
Cozy shakes her head. “I’m out on this round.”
“Fine, but your ass is still dancing!”
Calder
“And the prize for the lamest bachelor party goes to...” I murmur under my breath as I cast my fishing pole into the water
that’s glowing from the lights on the boat.
“Did you say something, Calder?” Wyatt asks, his voice deep and threatening.
“Is this really what you wanted to do for your big stag night?” I ask with a laugh. “Night fishing?”
“You can literally see the fish,” Wyatt replies, like that’s somehow supposed to make this lame experience better.
I scoff and shake my head as I prop my rod on a holder and head to the cooler for another beer. We’ve been out here for hours,
and while, yes, we’ve caught our fair share of fish, I didn’t realize this was going to be our entire evening. My brother
is a pathetic groom.
“This is Wyatt’s night,” Luke argues in his defense. “When you get married, we’ll do whatever freaky thing you want to do.”
“Ha,” I bark out at that notion as I point accusingly at Wyatt. “Unlike this fucker, I actually take our pact seriously. Marriage
ain’t never happening for me.”
Max laughs and shakes his head but says nothing. A rare occurrence for him. Usually, he loves the opportunity to judge us
and our mountain-life ways. Point out everything he thinks we’re doing wrong. He’s a real treat.
“Where were you all day today, anyways?” Wyatt asks as he casts his pole out into the darkness. “You missed a great afternoon
on the beach.”
“I was taking care of your baby,” I grumble.
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No, but Mom deserved a break, and I needed a nap.” I cross my arms and sulk a bit. “I sleep better with Stevie on my chest.
She reminds me of Milkshake.”
“Cat-fucker.” Luke coughs out his remark from where he’s standing at the bow.
I narrow my eyes at my baby brother. “Call me that again and you’re going for a swim.”
The boat lights cast a glow on his face as he smirks behind his beard. “Cat. Fucker.”
I set my beer down real calm and collected before I lunge, snatching him up by the collar as he howls with laughter. It takes both Max and Wyatt to pry me off him, and after a good scolding from our fishing guide about the importance of boater safety, I sit down and drink my beer in stony silence.
“Luke, stop pushing Calder’s buttons,” Max states firmly after we’ve all settled down. “You know he’s testy when he doesn’t
get a full eight hours.”
I down the rest of my beer. “I’m in hell. Mexico is my hell.”
A couple hours later, after about six more beers and a dozen more fish, we make our way back to the villa, the ocean breeze
and booze marginally lightening my mood. When we walk toward the main house, I can hear the girls cackling from the kitchen
where they are going to town on some late-night munchies.
Wyatt instantly makes his way over to Trista, Max to Cozy, and Luke to Addison. I can’t quite tell if he’s fucking Addison
or not. I tried to get some details out of him earlier tonight, but he wouldn’t spill—the asshole.
Then there’s Dakota, who intentionally turns her back on me like she has a reason to be pissed about me sleeping on the shitty
sofa bed. My eyes drink in her back on full display in a pink-orange-ombré sort of dress with a fringe skirt that goes all
the way to the floor. She looks like sherbet fucking ice cream, and the second that comparison comes to mind, I imagine licking
dessert off her very smooth-looking back.
What the fuck am I doing? I am mad at Dakota. She was a bitch about the sofa bed this morning, and I should not be lusting
after her.