Chapter 14
BECKETT
SAWYER MONTGOMERY COULDN’T fake sleep to save his life.
That was the first thing I knew for certain when I’d stepped out of the bathroom and found him “napping.” He’d gone straight to avoidance, and I’d let him, figuring he needed time and space to process our kiss.
Which led me to the second thing I knew: I was in deeper than I’d planned to be. Of course I was. If I’d been interested in Sawyer before, that kiss had sent me over the edge.
Why couldn’t he have been a bad kisser? Or not interested? Or not completely endearing and sexy in a way that had me spending twice the time in the shower he did?
It wasn’t too much to say I was fucked, or that it complicated an already complicated situation. I just didn’t know what to do about it yet.
There hadn’t been much talking as we’d gotten ready for the theme party tonight, because apparently this wasn’t just a “throw on a nice outfit” kind of thing. When Sawyer gave me a list of what to pack, he’d included “bring an outfit from circa 1991 and make it as wild as you’d like.”
To say I’d been curious about what that meant was an understatement, and since I aimed to please, I’d found something ridiculous to fit the bill. A blue, green, and white color-block tracksuit that zipped up and made a swishing sound with every step I took.
That had broken the ice, sending Sawyer into a fit of laughter that only got louder when he finally looked in the mirror at himself: belted stone-wash denim overalls with one of the straps undone and a loose patterned shirt underneath. Very Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
God, we were a pair as we headed to the ballroom, where peals of laughter and the bass bumping filtered out from the closed doors.
“Hold on, we’ve got to have photographic evidence of this,” Sawyer said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
“To use as blackmail?” I teased.
“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” He moved in close, holding his phone up so both of our faces were in frame on the screen.
Damn, even in these crazy outfits, I couldn’t deny that we looked good together. Like an actual couple dressed up for a night out.
We both smiled as the flash went off, and as he started to pocket his phone, I touched his wrist. “Send me that.”
He looked up, not bothering to hide his surprise at my request. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Only fair we both have it for blackmail.”
He grinned, shook his head, and sent the photo. When I felt the vibration in my pocket, I held out my hand.
“Ready to do some Running Man?”
“You are gonna do the Running Man?”
“After a couple of drinks, I think I could be enticed.” I didn’t add that he would need to be the one doing the enticing.
“Really…” Sawyer put his hand in mine, and I felt an immediate warmth shoot up my arm at the connection. We started back toward the ballroom, and he added, “Any way to entice you to do the Worm?”
“Is that a dare?”
“Could be.”
“You gonna rub me down when I pull a muscle?”
I felt it, the subtle way his fingers tightened, his voice a little strained when he said, “I think I could, uh, help you with that.”
Yeah, I could just fucking imagine his “help,” which was the last thing I needed to think about when we were about to be surrounded by his family and friends.
A couple ahead of us opened the ballroom doors, and as they headed inside, we got our first glimpse of the madness we were about to walk into.
This wasn’t just a party, it was a full-blown time warp, and for a second, both Sawyer and I paused in the doorway, taking it all in. Whoever had put this together hadn’t gone half-assed—they had killed the assignment.
It was 1991, according to the huge balloons that greeted us, and there was neon everywhere.
Streamers in electric pink and lime green were draped from the ceiling, along with hundreds of silver CDs that reflected the lights bouncing around the room.
A massive photo booth was set up in the corner, with oversized props: the MTV logo, boom boxes, Rubik’s Cubes you could sit on.
And on the many tables were cassette tapes and old CD cases that varied from Nirvana’s Nevermind to Michael Jackson’s Dangerous to Boyz II Men’s CooleyHighharmony, a respectable mix.
And speaking of the music…
The end of “Good Vibrations” by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch pulsed through the speakers, slowly transitioning into “Groove Is in the Heart,” and the dance floor was already packed with people swinging glow sticks.
“Oh…my…God.” Sawyer’s wide eyes met mine. “I knew my moms loved a theme, but this is overboard even for them.”
“A time capsule,” I murmured, leading us inside and letting the doors swing shut behind us.
“No kidding.” Sawyer’s head was on swivel, taking everything in. “I’m thinking we definitely need drinks first to handle this level of nineties nostalgia.”
The bar was our first stop, the specials written in neon on a whiteboard with something called a—
“Wine Cooler Revival?” Sawyer wrinkled his nose. “What the hell even is that?”
“It’s fruity,” the bartender shouted over the noise, and though that wasn’t my thing at all, I arched a brow at Sawyer.
“When in Rome?” When he nodded, I leaned across the bar and said, “We’ll take two of those, and a couple of glow sticks if you’ve got ’em.”
She nodded and disappeared, and when I turned back, Sawyer was watching me. It wasn’t just amusement on his face, but something altogether different. Appreciation? Interest?
I held his gaze, neither of us looking away from each other until the bartender returned with our drinks—and the glow sticks.
“You know,” he said as he tucked his glow stick in the front pouch of his overalls and grabbed his drink, “it’s really not fair how you pull that tracksuit off.”
“Oh yeah? Not too embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Embarrassed is definitely not the word.” He wrapped his lips around the swizzle straw, and my eyes tracked the move.
He noticed.
But there wasn’t a chance for that sexual tension to grow, not when Rome slung his arm over Sawyer’s shoulder, Hudson right behind.
“Shoulda known we’d find you with a fruity drink,” he said. “But Beckett, man, I expected more out of you.”
“And we expected more from your outf— Wait, are those harem pants?” Sawyer shrugged off Rome’s arm and gawked at his outfit.
At first it didn’t catch my attention the way Hudson’s stone-washed denim-on-denim ensemble did, but then I realized I’d seen MC Hammer in those balloon-looking pants.
Not to mention the gold chains around his neck looked heavy as hell.
And real.
“We’re doing shots!” Drew announced, a tray of shot glasses that looked suspiciously like tequila in his hands. He thrust the tray in each of our directions. “You take two, and you take two, and—Beckett, that’s only one, I need you double-fisting.”
I sniffed at the drink and immediately regretted it. That wasn’t tequila—that was another fruity concoction.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Kamikazes are tonight’s special since, apparently, that was the drink of choice the night your moms met. Blame them.”
“Of course it was,” Sawyer said, knocking his back, one after the other. “I like it.”
Drew’s nose wrinkled. “Tastes like bad decisions to me.”
“Accurate,” I said, setting my empty glasses on the bar top.
“Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.” Hudson moved suddenly, blocking Sawyer in at the bar. Sawyer froze, his glass halfway to his mouth, his eyes shifting from the DJ booth to his brother.
“I haven’t even moved yet,” he said.
“You were thinking about it.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It is in this family. That booth is off-limits to you tonight.”
Rome leaned in toward me and said, “He’s been banned from playing DJ at family events since the Great Breakup Playlist Incident a few weeks—”
“They were love songs,” Sawyer interrupted.
“Traumatic love songs.” Drew brought his drink to his lips and shrugged. “Sorry, man. It was depressing as hell.”
Sawyer waved them off and turned to me, eyes brighter than usual. “I’m just gonna say hi, is all. Maybe play a song—”
Hudson groaned out a complaint behind him, and Sawyer threw his hands up.
“It’s one song, calm your tits.” Then he looked back at me, and I nodded.
“Play something good.”
“I always do.”
“Debatable,” someone muttered.
Sawyer squeezed my arm, and by my ear said, “If they tackle me and I kick their ass, you saw nothing.”
“I’ll testify on your behalf.”
“Good,” he said, already backing away. “I’ll need it.”
Then he was gone, weaving through the crowd toward the DJ. I watched him go, because even moving across the room, he pulled my attention.
“All right. Let’s talk.”
I turned, not sure which of the three guys now staring at me had said it, but it looked like they were all on the same page about…whatever this was.
“Should I be worried?” I asked.
“Depends,” Drew said at the same time Hudson answered, “Yes.”
Rome lifted his drink and snorted. “Already off to a great start, guys.”
Hudson stepped forward first, crossing his arms, but it was hard to take him seriously in that oversized jean jacket that looked straight out of a denim commercial. “All right, start talking. Who are you?”
Straight to it. I liked that.
“Beckett Calder. Did you want the blood and urine samples now or later?”
Hudson didn’t flinch. “Where did you meet Sawyer?”
“Hotel lounge.” Technically true.
“Which hotel?” Drew asked.
“Greenwich.”
Hudson and Drew exchanged a glance, and then Hudson was back acting as the firing squad. “What do you do for work?”
“Sports therapist.” Thank God for easy questions. While it was also technically true, Sawyer didn’t know that, but I couldn’t exactly say “escort,” could I?
Hudson’s gaze flicked briefly toward the DJ table then back to me. “Would you say things have been good?”
“It’s early days, but…yes.”
“I ask because Sawyer’s been in a bit of a…”
“Funk?” Rome said.
“Downward spiral?” Drew supplied.
“Yes.” Hudson nodded in agreement. “So don’t you think it’s strange that if he’s in a new relationship he’d be so upset over the old one? And in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never mentioned you?”
“Unless”—Rome pointed at his brother with the end of his swizzle stick—“Sawyer’s borrowed some of my incredible acting skills to keep us in the dark until he could surprise us.”
“Hold on, have you met Sawyer?” Drew said. “Heart-on-his-sleeve Sawyer, who couldn’t keep a secret if he tried?”
Rome directed his swizzle stick at me. “Hello? Secret boyfriend. Standing right here.”
All three of them turned to face me again, and I had to admit, this was entertaining. I was glad Sawyer had a protective trio grilling his date; I only wished they’d been harder on Peter.
“Wasn’t really my call,” I said before sipping on my drink—if you could call it that. It was like a fruit cocktail with a splash of alcohol.
Rome tilted his head, studying me. “You’re not nervous.”
“Should I be?”
“Most people are.”
“Was Peter?”
That had all of them stopping in their tracks. Mouths snapping shut, looks exchanged.
That’s what I thought.
“Maybe you should direct some of this energy to the one who broke his heart, not the one who’s here now,” I said casually. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but the fact that I’d tracked Peter when we walked in and he kept looking in Sawyer’s direction told me he was trying to look for an in.
“You like him.” Hudson’s voice was softer, his eyes studying me, and I didn’t back down from his gaze.
“I do.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Rome let out a low whistle. “Shit, he’s in deep. What exactly are your intentions with our brother?”
There it was. The real question. The only one that mattered.
“My intentions are the same as his,” I said.
“And that is?”
“To see where this goes.”
A smile cracked Rome’s mouth, and then his megawatt movie-star smile was on full display.
Drew lifted his glass. “I vote we keep him.”
“You don’t get a vote,” Hudson said.
“The hell I don’t.”
“You’re not a Montgomery.”
“I’m voting on Sawyer’s behalf, so actually, my vote counts double.”
“Why do you all look like you’re interrogating my boyfriend?” Sawyer was back, hands low on his hips as he death-stared the trio of troublemakers, though there was an amused tilt to his mouth.
“Because we were,” Rome said with a shrug.
“Jesus, I leave you alone for five minutes with him and you turn it into a full FBI investigation?”
“It’s called due diligence,” Drew said.
“It’s called being a pain in the ass.” Sawyer stepped in beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Everything good?” he asked.
“Of course. We were just getting to know each other.”
He pursed his lips as if not believing that, but then he nodded. “If you say so. But how about you three”—he faced them again—“back off before I start sharing childhood stories you don’t want out there.”
Hudson groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Don’t you dare.”
“Oh, I will. Remember the time—”
“Nope,” Rome cut in. “We’re done here.”
Sawyer smirked, then leaned in toward me, lowered his head, and wrapped his lips around the straw of my drink. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he finished it off.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand. “You owe me a dance.”