Chapter 6 #2
Becks turned her head away from her brother, shame and guilt and turmoil warring inside her.
She had no idea what to say to him. He’d invited his best friend to her wedding to offer him a break from the stress of everyday life, and now his best friend was leaving two days early.
Had he guessed the reason? Did she even know the reason?
“Nothing happened.” Her chin was trembling so much that it made her voice waver.
“Is that why Aunt Jean was asking Ma earlier if you were cheating on your fiancé?”
Eyes wide, completely mortified at the question, Becks rounded on her brother. “I would never!”
Liam stared down at her for several heartbeats before he nodded once. “I’m not accusing you. But something did happen, didn’t it?”
Her instincts screamed ‘no’, but her heart shouted ‘yes’. She had no good answer, and looked away again. “I love Ritchie.”
Becks noticed their mom was starting to look at them funny from across the lawn.
Liam must have too, because he stepped in front of Becks, blocking her from their mom’s view with his back.
“Look at me, sis.” It took her a second to blink away the start of tears and look up at him.
“Loving Ritchie is all fine and dandy, but if you’re having second thoughts, if you want to call everything off—”
“No!” she insisted, shaking her head. “No, I want to marry Ritchie. It’s just…
It’s just cold feet.” And a momentary loss of judgement.
That was all this was. If Ritchie hadn’t gotten held up at work and she’d been able to see him tonight, this wouldn’t be happening.
Ritchie would hug her and kiss her and tell her that he loved her, and she wouldn’t think twice about Ghost.
“If you’re sure,” Liam pressed. He chucked her gently under the chin. “I’ve always got your back, Becks. You know that, right?”
She nodded, stepping forward to hug her brother around his waist. “Never doubted it for a minute.” Liam’s arms encircled her too, and he carefully kissed the top of her head around her crown. “Are you heading out?” she asked him, stepping back.
Liam unenthusiastically nodded. “Yeah, and my wingman for the night just ditched me. Honestly, I’d much rather stay here and watch movies with you gals.”
For some reason, that made Becks chuckle. “Then stay. Not like we’re watching porn. I’ll text Ritchie and tell him that you’re going to stay here.”
Liam’s mood rose. “Really? You sure you don’t mind?”
“Absolutely.” Thank God for Libby and her love of pockets. Becks pulled her phone out of her left pocket, because boob sweat got old fast. After sending a quick message off to Ritchie, she put her phone away and smiled up at her brother. “Shall we, big brother?”
He turned, offering her his arm. “We shall, little sis.”
Becks was starting to feel better about the night with her brother at her side—that was until she saw the list of movies her mom had planned, and she realized the universe wasn’t done fucking with her. Sweet Home Alabama with Reese Witherspoon was up first.
Ghost nursed the fifteen-year-old bourbon the bartender had placed in front of him.
To be honest, he hadn’t cared what he was given.
All he’d said was to make it strong and make it a double.
He’d only made it as far as Knoxville before stopping for the night.
Just as with the night before, the ride did not provide the distraction he needed, too lost in his thoughts as he was.
Some motorcycle club president he was turning out to be.
How fucking pathetic was he? The first woman he could actually see himself spending the rest of his life with, and she was fucking engaged.
Yeah, he sure could pick them. And going back home where he would see all his married brothers with their spouses and kids and happy homes just sounded fucking depressing.
Maybe Steel had the right of it. Some of the club felt that Steel had run away, loading up his family as he had and hitting the road. Right about now, though, Ghost was fucking jealous of his former president.
“What’s her name?”
Turning, Ghost spotted a pretty, young woman in a red dress and high heels getting onto the bar stool next to him. She had sleek, black hair and an elegance many could only strive for. Ghost had no idea if her lavish jewelry was real or not, though he was leaning towards not.
When she held up her empty glass to the bartender, Ghost gestured for the drink to go onto his tab. “Who is whose name?” he asked, playing dumb.
“The woman you keep looking for at the bottom of that glass.”
Ghost grunted. Fair enough. He had been staring at the amber liquid in his glass more than he was drinking it. The bartender brought the woman a glass of red wine without having to ask her what she wanted. Ghost knew that move well, which hinted that she was a regular.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ghost replied evasively. “She’s not mine.”
The woman’s blue eyes raked over him suggestively. “I have a hard time believing that. Who would turn you away?”
She was good, he’d give her that. Her voice was smooth as silk, and she absently rubbed the lining of her dress to draw attention to her cleavage. There was no denying her beauty, either. She applied her makeup lightly, matching the red of her dress with her nails and lipstick perfectly.
And yet, his dick didn’t so much as twitch. She might as well be dressed in a baggy, stained trash bag with a rat’s nest on top of her head. It would have had the same effect.
Normally, Ghost didn’t have a type. He’d been with all sorts of women, including a six-three professional WNBA player when he’d been in his early twenties. For years, he’d aimed for easy, because he had no intention of having serious.
He was thirty-seven, and he’d never been in love before. Could someone fall in love in less than two days? Ghost didn’t know, but he felt like he could have, if given a real chance.
A delicate hand draped over his lower arm.
The smooth edge of her red, manicured fingernail ran along the tattoo of a chain running along his skin.
He’d gotten it shortly after joining the Navy when he’d only been eighteen, the link signifying the new unbreakable bonds he would form with his brothers.
The woman leaned in, brushing her breasts against his right bicep. “Why don’t we take this upstairs? Someplace more private where you can forget all about her.”
Ghost turned his head, but his eyes had already clocked what she likely hoped he wouldn’t see in the mirror behind the bar. “And let me guess, your cousin sitting in the booth in the back will make sure I pay for more than just your drink, right?”
A professional through and through, she shrugged easily. “Lady can’t be too careful,” she told him saucily.
While that was true, Ghost was all too familiar with sex workers who were forced or coerced just to be able to provide for themselves or their families.
He tossed back his remaining bourbon, ignoring the burn as it went down his gullet.
Turning, he faced the woman, giving her his full attention for the first time.
She really was beautiful. She just wasn’t Becks.
He combed his fingers through her long, black strands before leaning in to press his lips to her bare flesh at the nape of her throat. She smelled of roses and citrus, and still his cock didn’t so much as twitch in his jeans.
Ghost lifted his head as if he was kissing his way up her neck.
Instead, he used his body to hide hers, positioning his hand on the side of her face that reflected in the mirror.
“Is he here to keep you safe or to keep you working?” he whispered into her ear.
“If you don’t want to be here, I can get you away and set you up with a new life so he can never find you. ”
Her laugh was low, almost husky. “I should have known you’d be an Edward.”
Ghost kept his position to keep up the ruse but had no idea what she was talking about. “What?”
“Pretty Woman. It’s what we call clients who want to rescue the lost souls,” she said in a flamboyant voice. “I hate to break it to you, but some of us actually enjoy the work we do.” Her hand went to his chest and she started to pull at the neck seam. “I don’t need rescuing.”
“Enjoying the work is one thing,” Ghost pressed. “Being treated well is another.”
She moved back slightly. “He’s my security, not my pimp, Mr. Lewis.”
Ghost sat straighter too, clocking the way her ‘security’ was trying to slyly take a picture of his face. Blackmail or to ensure they had proof of who she was last with? “I have no intention of sweeping you off your feet, but I can offer you a better life if you want it.”
“Honey,” she ran her fingernails down his chest, digging in slightly. “I don’t need a man to make my life ‘better’. Now, do you want to go upstairs?”
There was a good chance they’d watched him check in, targeting him because he had easy access to a room. Any other night, and Ghost might actually be tempted. He’d never paid before, but the offer had merit when she was so open and willing.
Ghost turned to face the bar again. “No,” he answered tersely.
Her face fell, but she didn’t turn nasty. “I understand. For what it’s worth, thank you for trying, and I wish you luck with the woman you’re pouting over.”
“I’m not pouting,” he argued automatically.
“Oh, honey. You’re radiating so much blue that your hair looks purple.
” She gave him a sweet smile. “I do hope it gets better. And,” she added hesitatingly, “there’s no rule that says we have to have sex tonight.
You’d be surprised how many of my regulars pay me just to cuddle or have someone to talk their problems through. ”
She picked up her wine glass, but Ghost put an arm out to stop her from hopping down off the stool. He didn’t quite know what he was thinking, only that the second half of her offer sounded really good.
“How much?” he asked. He was already questioning his sanity today, so why not.