22. Chapter 22
With the entire wedding party of eight ready to go, we stepped outside.
The cool morning air hit my skin, and I drew it in, letting it settle.
Salt. Wind and open spaces. Seagulls could be heard in the distance.
Pasha’s arms wrapped around me. I turned my head as he nestled his between my shoulder and neck. I closed my eyes and breathed him in.
“You okay?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful. You know I love the beach,” I answered, thankful for his strength, anchoring me.
“We can take a walk alone later if you’d like.”
“Promise?” I turned to hug him, suddenly feeling a rush of emotions.
“Yes, but you’ll have to earn it,” he teased and reluctantly pulled away as a gleaming black car rolled up in front of us. Chase sat behind the wheel.
“Game on,” I replied with a smirk.
Hannah, Shelia, and I hopped into the very back while Pasha, Trent, and Reggie sat in the middle. Soon we were off and on our way to a local diner Lisa suggested. Today was a casual, relaxing day before a two-day intensive that Lisa’s father had arranged.
Cirque du Soleil was scheduled for a show while we were here. I was excited to see not only the show but to watch them practice something so intense together. After the intensive was the show itself, and then the bachelor and bachelorette parties, before the big wedding on Saturday.
Pasha glanced over from his seat, and I wondered what he was thinking. Lisa pointed out various landmarks along the way, her enthusiasm and love for the area clear. I couldn’t help but smile. She was similar to Kinsley. Her infectious nature made me breathe easier.
I settled back as the atmosphere inside the car filled with lively chatter and laughter.
Pasha and his friends, clearly familiar with one another, exchanged stories and jokes, catching up on each other’s lives.
I listened with a small smile frozen on my lips, content to not take part, but enjoying the camaraderie of the group.
Trent, in a similar boat to me, turned and with a curious expression asked, “Do you dance as well?”
I hesitated for a moment before answering. I noticed Hannah paying close attention all of a sudden. “Not really. I know a few basics. Nothing like these guys.”
Trent nodded. “Ah, got it,” he said.
“Do you?” I asked.
“Me? Solo un po.” Just a little.
My eyebrows raised in surprise at the unexpected answer being delivered in Italian. Hannah must have told him I speak it. If he was hoping I’d carry on a conversation with him that way, he was sadly mistaken.
I only used it when heated or emotional. General conversations outside my family in my native language reminded me of Sonny. Frozen in the moment, I nodded.
“We should go salsa dancing tonight,” Hannah exclaimed. “Trent is being modest. He can do more than a little on the dance floor.” She flashed a fake smile in my direction. “Isabella, you can watch our purses for us.”
“Actually, she’ll be tied up tonight. She lost a bet earlier in the week and I’m collecting on it,” Pasha said casually. The lie was as smooth as the skin on his chest or…my pussy. The innuendo hung in the air, and the car was deathly quiet.
Dirty, dirty boy.
I laughed. “Or we could pull out the cards and dice and have a good old-fashioned game night instead of all of us going dancing. I’m sure you’ll be getting in lots of practice with the intensive. Save your strength,” I teased.
Pasha’s eyes burned into mine, and I was mesmerized. “Kinsley insisted I bring them.”
I wasn’t lying about that part. She really did insist, though I told her I had no use for them. They were brand new and had never been opened. She said if I really felt that way to gift them to the bride and groom. Hannah scoffed and turned red in the face as the car erupted in laughter.
“What, you guys don’t do game nights as a group?” I asked innocently.
“No. We’re not freaks,” Hannah exclaimed, looking horrified.
How a passionate man like Pasha ended up dating her was a mystery to me. It was no wonder he whored around at the club.
“I’d like to see these cards,” Trent said, coming to my rescue.
“The dice, man, that is where the action really is.” Pasha laughed. “Isn’t that right, Isabella?”
I laughed and shook my head once more. We arrived at the restaurant, and as we waited for a table, Hannah couldn’t help but glare. Seeing the animosity brewing in her eyes had me on edge. I plastered a serene look on my face, thankful that I had learned how to master them.
It didn’t take long for the table, and soon we were seated around it, casually looking at menus.
There was too much to choose from. The server came around and asked for our order.
I froze, still scanning the menu. My mind was everywhere at once.
Pasha sensed the overwhelm. When it came time for me to speak, he didn’t hesitate.
“She’ll have ham, poached eggs with a side of grilled tomatoes. And I’ll have the same.”
The tension in my shoulders eased. I didn’t look at him, but my knee brushed his beneath the table. A silent thank you. His fingers squeezed once in response, like he’d heard it anyway.
“How sweet,” Hannah murmured in my direction, all syrupy and low. “He orders for you. Does he wipe your ass as well?”
For a split second, I almost laughed. If she thought that was going to rattle me, she clearly didn’t understand growing up in a house full of men who considered crude humor a competitive sport.
I’d survived Bash, the King brothers, and even Marcel on rare occasions.
Hannah’s attempt barely qualified as amateur hour.
I turned my head. “No, but he is fond of eating it.”
Silence followed. Utter, choking silence. Hannah’s face went from natural to blotchy red in less than three seconds. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Across from me, Trent’s water stalled halfway to his mouth. Oops…guess it was a little louder than I thought.
He cocked his head to the side before chuckling. He grabbed Hannah’s hand and kissed it. She turned her attention to him.
Pasha kissed my neck. “What do I enjoy eating?” he asked, his breath brushing over my ear.
His voice slid down my spine like warm honey. Low and intentional. My pussy tightened, and the damned thing had the audacity to ache. The thought of his lips going lower, slower, and lingering on my—
God. An even sharper pulse rolled through me, and I had to press my knees together beneath the table. I may have even leaned forward, seeking some friction from my jean shorts. I had no business thinking about him that way. But once the image formed, it refused to leave. I forced myself to breathe.
“You don’t want to know,” I murmured back. “Trust me. But I think you’re wrong. She is not over you, my friend.” I spoke low and in his ear.
Shutting all thoughts of her down, I let my gaze drift toward the window. Technically, Maryland was part of the South. Or close enough. That’s what Google had told me when I went down that rabbit hole a week ago.
A long drive in the right direction could put me closer. Number fourteen. It surfaced without invitation, sketching itself across the inside of my mind like charcoal on canvas. I’d crossed it out once. Re-wrote it. Crossed it out again.
I knew the wording by heart, though. I refused to re-write it a third time. Some things didn’t need ink to stay permanent. God knew I had enough knowledge in that area. Marcel would back me. My brother wouldn’t. Would Pasha?
His shoulder nudged mine. I hadn’t realized I’d gone so far away in my head. His fingers brushed over my wrist beneath the table.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Before I could answer, Lisa called my name.
I blinked, forcing the tension from my expression as I turned back to the table. “I’m sorry. What was that? I was thinking about how beautiful the area is here.”
Lisa’s face glowed, and a look of pride entered her eyes. “I’m so glad you like it. My family used to vacation here every summer, so I’m partial to it. I was wondering about your tattooing skills. Pasha was telling us you own your own studio. That’s so cool.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s newish. But I’ve got a great crew. If you’re ever in the area, I’d be happy to help you with anything.”
“Does it hurt much?” Shelia asked.
I turned my attention to the group of girls and gave them the standard answer to this question, which came up all the time. After explaining about pain tolerance levels, placements, coloring, and sizing of the artwork, I noticed the guys were paying attention, too.
“Do you have any tattoos?” Chase asked.
“Not currently. I know…how can you trust a tattoo artist with no tattoos, right?” I gave off a nervous laugh. “But I’ve got a reason or two to wait.”
And I did. It was a stupid thing, really, silly in that it might never come to pass.
I contemplated getting inked right before we opened.
My reasoning for waiting was like Victoria’s on holding off on the wedding.
And Kinsley’s with having babies. I had secret drawings of distinct tattoos that symbolized us girls. I wanted us to do them together.
“What is the reason?” Hannah asked, and for whatever reason, it came out accusatory. Like it affected her somehow. Weird.
“It’s personal. I’m waiting for someone.”
She crossed her arms and sneered like she wanted more of an explanation. When she realized I had no intention of offering one, she huffed, “Always so secretive, Kinsley and you both. And he wondered why I always had issues with all of you.”
“Oh, I think your issues were more about insecurity, but by all means tell yourself whatever you’d like.
I’ve indulged in fantasy a time or two. Nothing wrong there.
In fact, I’ve got a great fantasy romance book back at the hotel.
Let me know if you are looking for an additional escape. It’s a fascinating story.”
“Excuse me?” she blustered.
Trent put his arm around her and whispered in her ear. She was fuming and pushed him away. I turned back and blinked innocently, as I’d seen Kinsley do a thousand times.