Chapter Ten
The party was in full swing. Trent was telling him about an idiot contestant on the show who had totally messed up a challenge, but Cujo was only half-listening.
He watched Drea as she fixed the flowers, pushed in chairs, and returned empty glasses back to the bar. And if he saw her do one more run to restock the candy station, he was staging an intervention. She should be enjoying herself, not working.
The deep purple dress she wore clung to her curves in a way that made it hard to focus.
He tried to ignore the way it wrapped tightly around her ass and listen to Trent at the same time, but goddamn, it was impossible.
And her legs, holy shit. As a gym rat he loved a pair of toned calves in high heels, and those strappy gold shoes she wore had him in boner territory.
Everything from the gold bracelets rattling up her arm as she smoothed her dress to the way the soft waves of her hair framed those sweet pink lips and devilish hazel eyes was perfect.
Laughter squealed through the early fall air, and everyone looked toward the door. Mo had his hands around Drea’s waist and was lifting her up high enough to fix a lantern that had come loose.
Cujo tried to quash the desire to go over there, rip Mo’s million-dollar hands from his million-dollar arms, and bury them in his million-dollar fucking garden.
Trent laughed and nudged him with his shoulder. “This is the best goddamn present. Watching you squirm. Want me to hold him down while you hit him?” His eyes followed Harper as she ran over to Drea.
“Fuck, you asshole.”
Trent laughed. “Man, she’s got a great ass.”
Cujo turned quickly. “Do I have to knock your teeth out?”
“No,” Trent said quickly, raising both hands in surrender. “Not Drea. Harper. My girl has a fine ass. Not that Drea doesn’t. Not that I was … fuck it. I’m getting a drink.”
Cujo was giving Drea another five minutes, then he was going to seduce her out of hostess mode. He smiled.
People-watching was half the fun at these things. He saw Dred, the lead singer of the metal band Preload, checking out Pixie’s ass, and made a mental note to tell Trent’s reality TV show cohost to keep his hands off.
Drea caught his eye and gave him a huge smile.
He’d come to a decision since she had left his house earlier.
He was going to tell her the reason he’d avoided relationships so long.
Lay it out for her and let her decide if it was something she could live with.
She needed to understand the reason why a relationship with him could end up a short-term investment.
Dred joined him and clinked the top of his bottle against Cujo’s. “Great party, eh?” he said in his Canadian twang, taking a swallow of the beer. “You and Drea came up with something really special.”
“Mostly her work if I’m honest. Listen, can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What d’you need?”
“Pixie is like a sister to me. So I gotta ask, what are your thoughts there?”
Dred paused with his beer bottle near his lips and laughed wryly. “Not sure we need to have that chat.”
“And why is that?”
“Pix has made herself quite clear on the topic. Message received and understood.”
Cujo breathed a sigh of relief. “Great, because I would hate to have to punch you and mess up your pretty face.”
“Nah, no worries. Am thinking of asking Drea for a dance later anyway, her ass looks sweet in that dress.” What was it with guys checking out his girl’s ass tonight?
Cujo inhaled deeply. “I see you dancing with Drea, I’ll do more than mess up that pretty face. You’ll be the last in your family line.”
Dred burst out into gales of laughter. “Oh my God … so fucking funny.… Trent said … never mind. I’m just ripping on you. But is there anyone else on your stay-away-from-Dred list?”
Fuck this. Cujo went to find his brothers. They weren’t going to mess with his head.
The clink of metal hitting glass startled them. “Testing, testing, one, two, three … that’s what you say right, Dred?” Trent laughed.
“Only if you’re a douchebag,” Dred responded as the rest of the band who had come over from LA for the party with him laughed. They were supposed to play a set later, but given how much beer they’d put away, he wasn’t banking on it.
“Harp, honey. Come here.” Trent motioned for her to join him on stage.
Cujo watched Trent’s eyes follow Harper longingly as she meandered her way around the tables. Ever the surprise, she wore an innocent enough pink dress, but paired it with a killer pair of fuck-me pumps.
He moved across the yard to stand behind Drea. Unable to resist, he slipped his hands around her waist. She looked down at his arm, ran a finger over the sugar skull covering the back of his hand.
Drea leaned against Cujo, resting her head on his chest, the scent of perfume swirled round them. He grabbed one of her hands in each of his, and folded them across her stomach.
“Harper and I just wanted to say thanks for coming to you all. I’m grateful as fuck … sorry, Mom.” Trent smiled over at Diana who grinned back. “I’m very grateful you all think enough of us to make it tonight. I feel like I won the lottery.”
Cujo smiled as Trent turned to Harper. “The day you walked into the studio, you stood my world on its head. I have no clue how I got so lucky, but thank you, babe, for agreeing to become Mrs. Andrews.” Cujo and Drea cheered along with the rest of the partygoers as Trent swooped in for a steamy kiss that seemed to go on forever.
“Get on with it!” Cujo yelled.
“We also wanted to thank our best friends who organized all this for us. Cujo.” Trent looked at him, struggling to keep his composure. “Fuck, man … nearly thirty years, bro.”
Cujo pulled Drea a little closer. He didn’t envy Trent the joy he’d found with Harper in any way. Strangely, he found himself wanting a little happiness for himself.
“Best and worst, brother. Always,” Trent finished.
Drea squeezed his hands tightly.
“And Drea. Thank you for keeping her safe until I found her. Or she found me. There is no one with a bigger heart then you, darlin’. With everything else you got going on, you still found time to do this for us. We love you, both.”
Drea pulled her hand from Cujo’s to wipe under her eyes. He knew how she felt. It was fucking family on stage. For both of them.
He bent slightly, kissed the side of Drea’s neck, and enjoyed the way her pulse sped up under his lips.
“They’re right you know,” he whispered in her ear as the guests applauded and cheered. “You do have an amazing heart, Shortcake I can’t wait to make it pound.”
* * *
Preload had performed a kick-ass set earlier, a mix of rock classics and their own spin on country just for Harper, and now guests were starting to leave. Drea wiped down the bar.
“Dance with me, Shortcake.” Cujo took the cloth from her hand and threw it toward the sink. She should object, but she wanted to feel his arms around her again.
He pulled her close when they reached the middle of the dance floor. Tucked her in so tight, the top of her head rested just beneath his chin, her cheek pressed over his heart.
They swayed to a country song, Harper’s choice. Cujo ran his hands up and down her back, and then settled in on her butt.
“He meant every word, Shortcake. You did an amazing job with all this.” He pressed a kiss in her hair.
They had. The evening had been perfect. She gazed up at him. “Who’d have thought we’d make a great team?” She wrinkled her nose.
He placed his hands on either side of her face. “There’s a reason people say opposites attract.” Thumbs traced gentle lines along her cheeks. He stared intently at her. Blue eyes conveyed a need she felt to her very core. His lips descended to softly brush over hers.
Cujo pulled back slightly, warm humor in his eyes.
“Wow, Brody,” she whispered, enjoying the way his name rolled off her lips. “You sure know how to kiss a girl.”
“That?” he said, pressing his lips to hers for a second one. “I’m just getting started. I don’t want a fling, Drea.” He stopped moving, and her pulse skipped erratically. “When it gets hard, I want to be there for you.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry. Not tonight.
“But that means you have to be there for me when I get hard.”
Drea sputtered out a laugh.
“There’s stuff we need to talk about,” he said, pulling her back into his arms. “But tonight, I want to take you home. Peel you out of this incredibly sexy dress while licking you to see if you taste as good as you smell. I’m gonna fuck you and make love to you.
Often. Give you multiple reasons why we should do this, before I give you the reason we shouldn’t. ”
His words heated her, a slow and steady burn of need.
“So, do you wanna dance some more? Because I’m fucking horny and would love to get you naked.”
No one had ever spoken such arousing words to her. “I need to say good-bye to Harper first.”
“Let’s go.” Cujo lead her by the hand toward the candy station where Trent stood with his arm around Harper.
“We’re out, man,” he said to Trent.
“Yeah, you most definitely are.” Trent grinned.
“Funny. Asshole.”
“Thanks again for tonight, it’s been amazing” Harper said, pulling Drea into a hug. “And I want details,” she added with a whisper. “The kind you used to bug me for.”
“Why does this feel like high school all over again?” Cujo mumbled.
Trent laughed. “Because it is.”
They called a cab, said their thank-yous to the staff and to Mo, and walked to the end of the driveway.
At the gate, Cujo removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. It dwarfed her, but the kind gesture made her smile. The cab arrived and they got in.
Cujo gave the cab driver his address. Drea squealed as he pulled her onto his lap.
“I’m not wearing my seatbelt,” she whispered against his lips. His arousal pressed against her thigh, a sure sign he was just as turned on as she was.
“Fuck the seatbelt, I’ve got you.” Cujo’s arms tightened around her, and his whiskey-flavored lips pressed against hers.