Chapter Three
When Mallory and I finally get to our suite, one that’s as far away from Brent as possible, my best friend groans loudly into the large space. She comes to a stop in the middle of it, her eyes darting along every inch of the space before huffing in annoyance. “You’ve got to be shitting me!” She shakes her head and stomps into the living space that houses a makeshift bar, one that I don’t remember being in the link Mallory texted me when planning the trip. “What does he think I’m going to do? Turn a blind eye to him crashing our trip just because he puts us in a better room.
That statement has me looking around, noting the major differences between the room we’re standing in now and the one Mallory showed me. There’s a large kitchen off to my left, the light shining brightly on all the new and updated appliances, and it’s open to look into the large living room where a huge flat screen is mounted on the wall. To my right is a long hallway, framed by two doors on the right and one door on the left, and I inch further into the suite with curiosity.
A spiral staircase leads to a second floor, which definitely wasn’t included when Mallory booked, but I choose to wait until we’ve settled in to inspect that part of the suite.
My gaze catches onto the sliding door next to the flat screen that leads onto a spacious balcony overlooking the resort and the ocean water in front of it. It’s a beautiful place, and I’d be grinning from ear to ear if it wasn’t for Brent trying to buy his way into Mallory’s good graces. Doesn’t he know not everything can be fixed with loads of cash? This had to have cost a fortune, and on top of his room that’s likely bigger and better than ours?
Instead of getting too mesmerized by the space, I bring my attention back to Mallory, who’s leaning into the bar in the corner of the living room with an empty glass sitting in front of her. She hastily reaches out to grab a large glass bottle from the variety of options lining a shelf behind the bar, then pours herself a generous amount of the tequila and chugs it like her, like life depends on it.
I clear my throat and fidget in my spot. “Uh, Mal, is it really that serious?” I don’t want to make it seem as though her feelings aren’t important to me, but is this really the most important issue? Besides, there’s a chance he’ll leave us alone like she asked, and we have no reason to worry.
She scoffs. “This is supposed to be our two weeks, Jules. You know what happens when my brother is around.”
This is true; I’ve witnessed his popularity on a couple of occasions, and one of them included her college graduation. I thought it was sweet when Brent showed up for the big day, a proud smile on his face, but Mallory had grown frustrated because it didn’t take long for everyone around to notice who he was. Within minutes, even though it was Mallory’s day, Brent was being asked to get in pictures with strangers while Mallory fumed off to the side.
“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he won’t bother us all that much, you know?”
Contrary to what Mallory said, I have been keeping tabs on Brent, and the scandal they’ve got him on is one that could jeopardize the entire band’s reputation. Since the article came out that Brent slept with a married woman, another one has come out that states the woman is now pregnant–and she doesn’t know who the father is.
I can’t imagine what Brent might be going through right now. If coming to the St. Croix is his way of getting away from the spotlight for a bit, then so be it.
“You’re right,” Mallory says, then flashes me a small smile. “You always see the best in a situation. Seeing him just caught me off guard. That’s all.” I’m not entirely convinced of this, but she claps her hands together to put the conversation to a halt and walks over to me, that small smile turning into one of mischief, then leads me toward the staircase. “We have to find the perfect outfit for you tonight. One that will make all the guys go nuts for you.”
“Tonight?” I ask.
Considering we were just on a flight, I thought today would be more of a relaxation type thing.
Mallory arches a brow and chuckles softly. “What, did you think we would be holed up in here all day?” When I don’t answer, she sighs while pulling me into one of the suit”s massive rooms and tosses her suitcase on the bed. “We’re here for two weeks, Jules, and that means we’re making the most of it.” She squeezes my hand and smiles. “It’s the perfect place and time for you to get out of that awkward shell you’ve been in and put yourself out there.”
“I’d rather not,” I mumble.
She rolls her eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen, babe?”
Oh, I don’t know, I could make a fool of myself in front of dozens of men and never be able to show my face on the resort again. That’s what I want to say, but I keep that statement locked tightly in my head and instead smile at her appreciatively. “You’re right, and I know you’re just looking out for me.”
Either that, or she’s sick of having a friend who can’t bring a man back home to save her life.
“Great, so let’s get that outfit together!” Mallory digs through her suitcase, throwing different fabrics at me in the process that garner a few raised brows.
There’s what looks like a crop top, but as far as I can tell, it looks as though it only covers her boobs, and that’s it. The idea of showing that much skin makes my stomach churn, and I throw that piece of fabric onto the floor, creating a no pile in front of the king-sized bed. Once my lap is overflowing with clothes, Mallory finally takes a deep breath and spins around to face me with her eyes darting over everything.
“Hm,” she says, tapping her chin with a perfectly manicured fingernail. “I’m thinking you could wear this.” I watch as she snatches a bright red shimmery top from the pile, tossing it over my shoulder so that it lands on the bed before her eyes trace over the other pieces of fabric with concentration. “Ooh,” she says, her brown eyes brightening. “Your ass would look amazing in this.”
I stare blankly at the small scrap of leather she’s got dangled in front of my face, then look up at her with a frown. “It looks like it could be a bra. You can’t be serious!”
“Come on, humor me,” Mallory says before shaking the fabric in front of me. “Just this once. Please?”
God, I hate when she pulls this shit with me. She knows damn well I can never say no when she begs because that’s what happens when you have a good heart. Mallory is going out of her way to help me, so why shouldn’t I let her dress me up for the night? I grab the leather skirt from her fingers, gaining a bright smile from her, then bend over for the red shirt. “If this looks terrible, I’m going back to my usual.”
Mallory winks. “Oh, don’t worry, babe. You ain’t gonna know what hit ya when you walk out.”
Mallory wasn’t wrong. I’ll give her that.
For the thousandth time, as we get to the front entrance of the club, I tug the leather skirt down even though it hasn’t worked for me thus far. I can feel the warm breeze blow across my ass, which is enough to tell me this thing I’m wearing is much too small for my liking.
You’re doing this for Mallory.
That’s all I have to keep reminding myself. She went all out on me tonight, convincing me that the outfit wouldn’t look right if I didn’t let her do her thing. So, that’s what I let her do. Within a couple hours my soft waves were long gone, replaced with tighter curls bouncing down my shoulders, and she had this smokey look going with my eyes that really made the green pop.
I hated to say that I loved what she did if only it didn’t include my ass hanging out in the skirt.
It doesn’t take long for the line inside to move, the bouncers merely waving them off, and it’s not lost on me when one of the large men trails their gaze down my bare legs. My cheeks heat at the attention and I fidget in place, trying my hardest to shield myself behind Mallory, but she steps aside with an amused grin.
“Mal,” I hiss and link my arm through hers.
She shakes her head. “Uh uh, babe. Own it, don’t shy away from the attention.”
Doesn’t she realize I’m nothing like her? While she shakes her hips as men give her the attention she deserves, my muscles are tight from the attention because I feel like everyone is judging me. What if the skirt is making my hips look huge instead of flattering?
My neck prickles with awareness, and I dart my gaze along the crowd, noting the multiple pairs of eyes that are focused on my ass. Instinctively, I bring my hand around and tug at the edge of the skirt, only to blow out a rough breath when it does nothing for me – just like every other time.
“Jules,” Mallory says beside me, her hand falling onto mine as she pulls it away from the small fabric. “Calm down. Men like when you’re confident about it.” As if to prove a point, a guy close to us checks Mallory out, and she waves with a flirty smile on her face before walking toward an empty table situated by the dance floor.
It only takes two minutes before a throat clears behind us, and we both turn, my eyebrows jumping at the one who was just checking her out. “You look like you could use a drink,” he rasps to Mallory.
“Is that so?” Mallory asks, leaning against the table and letting her cleavage do the rest of the work for her. She looks over at me and smiles. “Mind if I go get a drink?”
I wave a hand at her. “Be my guest.” I’d already figured it wouldn’t take long for someone to approach her, so I was prepared for this moment before we got to the club. Thankfully, it’s a club that’s located on the resort, so when I’m ready to go back to our suite, I don’t have to worry about dragging Mallory away from her fun.
While Mallory lets this stranger take her over to the bar, I lean back into my chair and watch the rest of the crowd with a frown on my face. There’s plenty of women throughout the space, confidence evident in their movements on the dance floor, and it makes me frown that I can’t be anything like them.
“You seem lonely,” a rough voice says behind me. I jump up, and he chuckles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
When the guy comes around the table, I eye him appreciatively. He’s got a bright blue shirt on that brings out the color of his eyes.
The stranger points to one of the empty chairs across from me and smiles. “This seat taken?”
“Uh, no, not at all.”
He sinks into the chair and looks around the room before bringing his focus back onto me. “What’s your name?” He’s got a bottle of beer in his hand that he brings to his mouth after asking the question, and I’d love for the action to spark something inside of me.
It does nothing.
No dip in my belly tingles over my skin, or heat in my veins. I’m too terrified of making a fool of myself to feel anything else.
I arch a brow at his question. “Is that really something I should answer to a complete stranger? What if you’re some kind of ax murderer?” The smile he was wearing disappears, and I clear my throat. “I guess it’s a good thing the statistics of a homicide occurring by a stranger are rare, or else I’d be in the wrong hands, am I right?” I chuckle, but the silence from him speaks volumes and I mentally curse at myself for speaking.
He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Right.” I can tell by the way he won’t look me in the eyes now that I’ve already screwed this up, and I’d smack myself in the face if it wouldn’t make me look crazier.
Someone put this man out of his misery.
Right on cue, a perky redhead comes up to our table and smiles brightly between the two of us. “There you are,” she says, her attention falling onto the man in front of me as if I’m not sitting right here, and my stomach churns when he gives the same attention back. “Was afraid I lost you.”
“Nope,” he says, all too eager to lift from the table and step closer to her. As if remembering that I’m sitting here, his eyes fall onto me with a frown, and he runs a hand through his short hair. “Uh, it was nice talking to you.” I watch as he urges the redhead to move toward the dance floor, then blow out a rough breath.
“Sure,” I say to myself.
“God.” The voice behind me has me straightening my spine. “That was painful to watch,” Brent says before sitting in the seat that was previously occupied. He chuckles with a shake of his head. “I mean, brutal.”
The blood drains from my face, my hands shaking around the full glass sitting in front of me, and I keep my gaze pointed away from Brent. “Thanks, I get it,” I mumble.
“I could help, you know?” Brent says, and I choose this moment to glance at him, finding his eyes hooked on the dance floor ahead. “Flirting is kind of my thing.”
At this rate, I’m convinced anyone could flirt when compared to me. I sigh and shake my head. “I’d rather not.”
“Come on, Buttercup,” he says while leaning into the table. “Think of all the things you could learn from me. Plus,” he adds. “This could be my thank you for getting Mallory to calm down about me being here.”
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
The black t-shirt he’s wearing looks the same as every other t-shirt he wears, except now I can’t help but look at the way it fills out his frame. His muscles are prominent under the fabric, tattoos spreading down the length of his arms, and his blue eyes are calling to me like the Caribbean in those stock photos that always pop up.
I can’t let the way my heart is pounding furiously get me all twisted up.
“Maybe,” Brent says, then stands and holds his hand out to me with a smirk. “I’ll give you an example of my expertise. How about a dance lesson?”
I lift my chin up defiantly and glare at him. “I can dance.”
“Okay, then you won’t mind proving it.”
This can’t end well, but I place my hand in his anyway and let him lead the way. My only hope is that Mallory is so consumed with her new eye candy that she doesn’t catch me stepping onto the crowded dance floor with her brother – now that would be bad.