Chapter 11 – Luke
LUKE
November
Ryan picks up the tiny yellow teddy bear and sneers at it in disgust.
“This used to be a proper room,” he mutters. “A dignified room. A place where brave men and women at the top of their game competed for honor and glory, and now look at it. Teddy bear junction.”
“Dude, it’s just a baby shower.” Beau claps Ryan on the back. “Your poker room will be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“Still. It won’t forget the horrors it’s seen,” Ryan says darkly.
“At least they’re letting us drink,” I point out, raising my glass. “Encouraging it, even.”
Ryan snorts, unconvinced. “It’s the least James could do, with the monstrosity he made of my sanctuary.”
Despite Ryan's incessant complaining, I can't help but be impressed by James and Maura's baby shower. Flair Events transformed the room into a pale white-and-yellow wonderland complete with fluffy fake clouds, adorable teddy bear displays, and massive vases full of daisies and sunflowers. I’ve been snacking on bowls of lemon candies and yellow macarons since I got here.
The whole thing is more over-the-top than James and Maura would usually go for.
Maura looks a little overwhelmed sitting in her throne-like armchair, surrounded by piles of presents.
She’s not the type to soak up attention like this, something I pointed out to Eden last night when I stopped by to help her and Brinley blow up balloons.
“I was surprised, too,” Eden said. “I figured they’d want something intimate and personal, just the friend group and a few people from Sequel and Maura’s gallery. But they figured, since they don’t have a ton of family to invite, they might as well use the shower to raise money for charity.”
“They’re getting presents. How is that helping charity?”
Eden rolled her eyes. “They’ll sell the event photos, just like they did for their wedding.
Plus paid brand partnerships, donations from James’s business friends, and they’ll give all the physical gifts they receive to a domestic violence shelter.
So the more over-the-top and elegant this looks”—she waved her hand around the room—“the more money they’ll get from the photos.
People like having something to look at. ”
“Something including about a zillion balloons.”
“Exactly. Now you can either help me blow those balloons up, or you can take today’s selfie and stop distracting me.”
I did help blow up about two hundred balloons, which took forever even with an air tank and Brinley’s help.
Now that I see what Eden has made from those balloons, though, I have to admit, it was worth it.
The room looks incredible. It's obvious why Flair Events trusted her to manage the floor today, even though she's only worked for them for a few weeks.
Across the room, I can see her moving through the crowd in her dress blacks.
The shapeless blouse and trousers are meant to make her invisible in the crowd, but Eden doesn’t need tight clothes to get my attention.
It's her easy confidence that I can't look away from, the way she glides through the crowd like a swan skimming along a lake. She laughs easily with the servers and smiles politely with the guests, looking entirely at ease. I envy that. When I’m working with customers at Twisted Devil, it’s exhausting to keep up the charm.
I get the sense that for Eden, it’s effortless.
I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous. One look at her smiling hazel eyes, and annoyed guests forget what bartender got their drink wrong. God, has she always been this obviously attractive? How did I not notice before?
Maybe because before, I’d never kissed her.
Fuck, that kiss. It's pathetic, the way I've been constantly replaying it in my dreams. The way her body fit against mine, the sweet, submissive way her lips parted for me like she’d been waiting for me.
It was a good kiss. A great one, even. That doesn’t explain how many times I jacked off thinking about it. It’s probably because that’s the most action I’ve gotten in months, I tell myself. The kiss broke the dry spell, that’s it, and I could prove it.
All I’d have to do is kiss her again.
It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. After all, we’ll probably have to kiss again at some point, anyway, if our fake relationship keeps going. A little practice would make it look more natural, right?
Across the room, a server knocks over a stack of yellow napkins. Eden quickly helps pick them up, bending over. Even in her shapeless slacks, the view is un-fucking-believable. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to dig my fingers into that ass.
If it were anyone other than Eden, of course, I’d do just that. There’s no reason a fake relationship couldn’t come with real physical benefits, as long as the chemistry’s there. We might as well scratch that itch, right?
But it is Eden. My sister’s best friend. A fucking virgin. Someone who deserves more than me to make her first time special, someone without my…preferences.
That Peppermint article wasn’t completely wrong.
My sexual tastes run darker than most of my friends’.
I’m not exactly a card-carrying member of the local sex dungeon, but I know my way around a length of rope.
I expect to be the Dominant in any sexual scenario.
I can do vanilla if I have to, but frankly, I’d rather order almost any other flavor.
That’s too much to put on someone who hasn’t tried any flavor at all.
Having finished cleaning up the napkins, Eden moves to the back of the room, behind a table stacked with macarons and cupcakes.
As she surveys the crowd, clearly looking for any place where she might be needed, she absently undoes her ponytail.
She shakes her dark blonde hair loose, making it fall in long locks around her shoulders.
It looks sinfully soft. As she combs her fingers through it, smoothing it out before she puts it back up again, a vision flashes into my mind.
That hair, wrapped around my fist.
Eden on her hands and knees in front of me, her back arched, presenting her shapely ass to me while I yank on her hair.
Fuck, I’m at a baby shower, surrounded by stuffed bears and cupcakes decorated with iced pacifiers. This is the last place I should be getting turned on, fake girlfriend or not.
I force myself to look away from her. My eyes sweep over the room, landing on a pair of caramel-colored eyes.
Maura’s staring at me, and she smiles slightly when I stare back.
She raises her glass of sparkling cider to me, like she’s trying to send me a message.
I have no clue what it is, so I just raise my glass back at her.
Her smile grows broader, and I’m struck by the feeling that she knows something about me.
Something that I maybe don’t even understand myself.
It’s unsettling.
I throw back the rest of my drink and turn to Ryan. “Should we head to the bar for some more whiskey?”
He grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”