Chapter 10
TEN
Waking up with Ariel was up there with getting his wings.
Dax was good with that. Sex for him had always been a meter. When it was really great with someone, it foretold good things. And so forth…
With Ariel, he’d never burned hotter. Never come harder. Never felt such peace and happiness afterward.
That last part had him smiling. His parents had talked about that kind of thing a time or two when they’d first told him about sex, saying the emotional side was as important as the physical connection, and when the two were both out of the park, you knew you had a winner.
He tucked Ariel’s short, curly hair back from her face. She was sleeping on her stomach, mostly on top of him. She wasn’t a spooner so much as she was a face-to-face kind of girl. They’d taken each other again twice more after that first time, and both times they’d peered into each other’s eyes. The intimacy had been off the charts, but he wasn’t freaked. Nope. He was looking forward to her waking up, showing him those beautiful baby blues he was beginning to set his day by.
He couldn’t wait for her to get up.
Funny how quickly she had become part of his routine. He liked knowing she was in the cottage with him and that he’d see her before he went to sleep and when he awoke. He liked knowing she’d be there when he got back from his run, working on her phone, and that she’d look up and smile.
This morning, he hoped she would stretch and then languidly smile as she felt him beside her. Open her eyes with a little smoke in them. Because he wanted to make love to her again, and she’d be feeling that. His desire. The heat between them. The skin-on-skin friction.
Hot. As. Fuck.
Yeah, he was the luckiest guy out there.
He thought about Sherlock and wondered about letting him out. The bedside alarm clock said they’d slept in; it was 7:07 a.m. He never slept that late usually. Good sex would do that to you. When she gave a little chuckle snore, he realized she was still out. He decided to slide out of bed, put some shorts on, and see to Sherlock.
When the dog spotted him coming, he padded to the door immediately. “Yeah, I thought so. Look at me taking care of you while your mistress sleeps.”
Clipping on the leash, he inclined his head to the back door that led to the screen porch with steps down to the beach. He didn’t want to encounter anyone this morning. Sherlock followed as Dax grabbed his phone, and they stopped when they reached the sand. Dax didn’t like the dread he felt when he saw Rob’s text.
Rob
You up, dipshit? I’m going for a run. Heard you and Ariel went out for dinner alone last night.
Since you didn’t answer, I’ll assume you aren’t up. Ran by the house. Closed up tighter than Rambo’s headband. Which means you got lucky. This is me being pissed.
Dax stared out at the ocean. He wanted to text his friend back a simple WTF , but that didn’t seem like a great idea. Sherlock had handled business and was standing tall, his sad expressive eyes looking up at Dax.
“Any idea why friends can up and become assholes?” Sherlock only continued to stare at him. “No? Me either, buddy. What to say. What to say. Okay, I’ve got it.”
I’m up now. You need something, princess? Because I hauled a buttload of sand for your wedding yesterday and I need a good shoulder rub.
His friend’s response was immediate.
Rob
Dax didn’t laugh, but he was glad for the smile he felt touch his lips. “Now that’s how best friends talk to each other.”
He would ignore Rob’s asshole comments about Ariel. Unless they got out of line. He would finish his duties as best man and get out of this looney bin.
The thought blindsided him. He didn’t want to leave Ariel. Not yet. Maybe not at all. Yeah, they’d only just met, but he wanted to see where things could go. He needed to think about making some plans.
With that in mind, he decided to text his new boss, former Naval Captain Jim Kennedy. While Dax’s general discharge had been accepted, he was still going through the routing process. That was the Navy for you. Discharge could take anywhere from thirty days to six months. As of today, he was technically at one month out. He appreciated Jim’s flexibility, but as a former naval officer, he knew the deal. He had no trouble waiting for good pilots.
Hey Jim! Checking in from Charleston. Ever been? So far so good. Look, I haven’t checked the airport out but wanted to add this to my list of possible plunk-down sites. I know you wanted my thoughts.
He saw ellipses right away and counted himself lucky.
Jim
Know Charleston well. My wife’s family is from there. Good airport. Good people. My wife’s sister is in real estate if you’re looking to rent or buy. She’d take good care of you. Just saying. Have a good time. Check in when you hear back from those paper pushers. I don’t miss that one bit.
Dax lowered his phone in a daze and glanced down at Sherlock. “Well, I’ll be damned. My new boss’ sister-in-law is in real estate! How lucky can one guy be?”
“Pretty lucky,” he heard a familiar voice say. “I heard you got laid last night.”
He spun around. Ariel was walking toward him in nothing but little denim shorts and a white tank top, her hair mussed, her lips a little swollen. “I did, and it was pretty spectacular. Good morning to you too. Don’t you look absolutely delicious.”
She struck a pose, her bare feet already coated with fine sand. “Maybe not the chicken and waffles of your dreams but at least blueberry pancakes.”
Sneaking a quick hand around her waist, he pulled her against him and kissed her soundly before gentling the touch. “Do I need to show you the Ariel bar again?” he whispered huskily. “I’d have to stand on a ladder after last night.”
“A stepladder, right?” She had both her arms wrapped around him, her cheeky smile contagious. “Because it was really good.”
He chuckled naughtily. “It surely was, and it’s going to be really good again. Beat you back to the house.”
She gave him a playful shove and started running. “Not if I beat you first.”
She beat him, but he didn’t care. In the end, they both won.
After they’d showered together, enjoying a new place in the house, he made them some coffee. They were both in the kitchen when someone pounded on the door.
Wincing, she ducked low in her chair. “Do you think we can pretend we aren’t here? Is it terrible to say that?”
“I’m thinking the same thing, but I have a feeling they aren’t going to stop.” The pounding grew more insistent, so he headed to the door. “I can tell them you’re still asleep.”
“They’ll never believe you. I never sleep in.”
“Me either.” He sent her a wink. “Unless there’s good cause. All right, put on your game face and let’s continue with our mission.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “I really like it when you go all naval commander with me. Should I say, yes sir too?”
He puffed out a laugh. “Maybe later. On three. One. Two. Three.”
With a flourish, he opened the door. Tricia stood on the porch, breathing hard, her strawberry blond hair as wild as Medusa’s snakes.
“Where’s Ariel? We have a crisis. I need her. Right now.”
Ariel came running. “What’s wrong, Tricia?”
“Tiffany can’t fit into her wedding dress,” she blurted out.
Shit. That can’t be good.
Dax stepped out of the way as Ariel rushed onto the porch. “I thought you were going to the beach. Never mind. What happened?”
“We don’t know!” Tricia wrenched her hands. “Tiffany decided she wanted to try it on before it went out for pressing and steaming. When it didn’t fit, she came running from the bridal cottage. We don’t know how this could have happened. She’s been working out. She’s been on a strict diet. No carbs or sweets.”
Dax uncharitably thought tequila clearly wasn’t on the list.
“Okay, we’ll figure something out.” Ariel spun around and looked weakly at him like she had no clue what to do.
“Maybe someone can alter it?” he suggested.
“Not if she can’t fit into it!” Tricia threw her hands up in the air. “It’s the first sign of doom, Ariel. Tiffany is beside herself.”
Okay, that he could help with. “Have you found Rob? He’s good in a crisis.”
Tricia gaped at him and threw her hair over her shoulder with a giant huff. “Rob cannot know about this! He’s not even supposed to see her in her wedding dress before the wedding.”
But if she couldn’t fit into it, he wouldn’t see her in it at all, would he? But that insight probably wouldn’t be welcome.
Ariel ran a hand over her brow. “Tricia, let me grab my wedding master. I’ll meet you.”
“We’re at the bridal cottage. Your old place.”
He couldn’t help but think it seemed fitting revenge for stealing it from her in the first place. Not that Dax wasn’t happy with how it had worked out, but boy, was he pissed at her sisters for the way they treated her. Especially since they leaned on her whenever there was a crisis.
Tricia ran off. Ariel rushed inside. “God, it’s happening again. I swear. I’m a fully functioning adult with common sense, but this kind of stuff makes me believe the wedding curse is real.”
She was breathing shallowly, so he held out his hands to her. “What can I do to help?”
She rubbed Sherlock’s head when he pressed his face to her side. “Can you watch Sherlock for me?”
“Happy to.”
“Thanks. God! What a disaster. Maybe we really do need garlic.”
She meant it as part of their ongoing joke, but hell, why not? “I’ll pick up every bulb I can find.”
A hoarse laugh sounded like it had been squeezed out of her throat. “You’ll laugh but I saw someone make garlic into a wedding wreath. They were Italian and talked about garlic being part of the heart of the home. Like that scene in It’s a Wonderful Life where Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed’s characters give their new tenants salt and bread to bless their homes. God, I’m not making any sense.”
Walking over to her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Take a breath.”
Her inhale was as fierce as her exhale. “How are we supposed to get Tiffany into a dress that no longer fits?”
He patted her shoulder awkwardly. Like he knew. “You’ll figure something out. How about I pour you some coffee for the road?”
Her blue eyes were a little unfocused. Shock? Overthinking? Sherlock helped by nudging her. “Yes. Coffee. Maybe a tranquilizer for Tiffany. Just kidding. Okay, if I’m not back in two hours, pack up and run away, Stephan. Take Sherlock with you and go to Bali or something.”
He smiled at her. “ Elizabeth, no one is running away. Least of all me or your awesome dog here.”
A goofy smile appeared on her face. They stared at each other for a moment before Sherlock gave a gentle ruff as if giving his two cents.
“That’s my cue to go.” She tugged his shirt and gave him a scorching kiss. “That’s for me.” Another tug had his mouth back on hers, moving sweetly. “That’s for you. For being such a nice guy.”
“I’ll take it.”
He smoothed her hair back and then headed over to see if there was a to-go cup anywhere in the kitchen. Her footsteps running to the back of the cottage sounded behind him. Opening the cupboards, he was happy to find a glittery purple to-go cup. He wouldn’t want his coffee in it, but maybe it would pep her up. He had it waiting for her when she ran back to the front.
“Okay, I’m off. Wish me luck.”
“You’ve got this.” Another kiss and she was out the door.
Closing the door, he went to finish his coffee and then buy some garlic.
When she wasn’t back after two hours, he started to worry, a rarity for him. But they were in enemy territory and he didn’t have complete information or a good sit rep. Since he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to mention this to his buddy, he didn’t text him about where to find the women. Since Sherlock was taking a nap, he headed alone to the lobby and asked where Tiffany’s new wedding cottage was located. Cruising through the winding path toward its spot directly on the beach, he spotted the Lord of the Flies nephews chasing egrets and pelicans at the shore.
“Wild savages,” he muttered as one threw a rock at the funny-looking little white bird pecking in the sand for his next meal, making it squawk and fly off. “Stay out of it, Dax. Nothing good comes from shouting at other people’s kids.”
He increased his pace.
“Hey!” Marshall was chasing after him, Ripp running in pursuit. “Hey! Can you take us for a ride in your Bronco? I think it’s awesome. My mother is acting nutso over her wedding dress not fitting because she’s too fat. Her mascara is running, and she’s moaning about there not being a wedding if there’s no wedding dress, which is okay with me, but it’s driving me crazy.”
Was it horrible that he didn’t want to stop and converse? The kid had just called his mother fat—hopefully something he’d overheard someone say—and suggested he was fine with the wedding not happening. Dax would chalk that up to the kid thinking he wouldn’t have to move and leave his friends if the wedding didn’t go off. Honestly, he couldn’t blame the kid for that. He reached for patience. This was going to be Rob’s stepson. He’d see him when he visited. Maybe he should make an effort.
“That’s because it’s a serious situation, Marshall, but one they’re handling. Where did you want to go?”
“Anywhere but here,” the kid told him, throwing another rock toward a bird flying overhead.
“Understandable.” Dax leveled him a look when he threw another rock with pretty good accuracy, making the bird veer to prevent getting winged. “You know…that bird didn’t do anything to you.”
The kid looked at Ripp before shrugging. “So.”
“So,” Ripp echoed, cocking his head defiantly.
He studied Marshall. He was tall, thin, and bony while Ripp had a rounder look to him, freckles spotting his equally round face. They didn’t do smiles, and as Dax thought back, he didn’t remember seeing any. Wasn’t that weird? He remembered being happy as a clam as a kid, playing outside, hanging with his friends.
Maybe these boys’ lives were like Ariel’s childhood.
Maybe he needed a little more compassion.
“All right. Let’s go.”
He had no idea where to take them, but the boys let out a whoop, so he figured it probably didn’t matter. They ran off, giving him time to knock on the bridal cottage.
No one answered.
Marshall reached him along with the rest of the boys when he was coming down the steps. “They’re all gone because Mom is too fat for her dress.”
“Hey! Language!”
“Fat isn’t language,” Ripp informed him with his brand of kid-like cockiness. “Fuck and shit are.”
Dax shot him a hard look. “Calling someone fat isn’t nice, so in my book, it counts.”
“Whatever,” Ripp answered, the rest of the boys nodding their agreement.
God, he felt old, and he never felt like that. Was it his age that had him thinking these kids were brats? Of course Ariel had said they’d acted like this since early on, which was sad really. Normally he liked children. His sister had two great boys. His brother had a little girl with curly blond hair who’d just gotten her front teeth. They played games and hugged him every chance they got when he was home.
These kids? He had a feeling their motto was simple: try to hug them and die.
“You think you’ve got it pretty tough, don’t you?”
Marshall lifted his chin, glaring at him. “What do you know? You think you’re so perfect with your Navy uniform and your hot plane like in that Top Gun movie. Everybody loves you.”
“Yeah, people kiss your ass wherever you go,” Ripp broke in, stepping closer to his cousin. “Women throw themselves at you. Like Aunt Tiffany.”
He closed his mouth in shock. Not only had they taken his question totally wrong, they’d confirmed Tiffany had made a pass at him. Holy shit! And when all he’d done was try and be nice to them…
“You don’t know nothing about me.” Marshall’s face scrunched up in pure dislike. “Just like your stupid friend, Rob. I wish my mother had never met either of you. We were better off before.”
He started running. Ripp spat on the ground for emphasis before following. The other boys—God, he couldn’t remember all their names—ran off too. Rubbing the back of his neck, he stared out at the water.
He wanted to be anywhere but here, and that meant they had something in common. They were pissed off little boys. Maybe the neglect had turned them mean and disrespectful early, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Not his circus. This was going to be Rob’s life, though, and what sucked was Rob already had it tough. Dax started walking back to his cottage with a heavy feeling in his chest.
This whole family needed to be Roto-rootered of all their shit.
“Hey, dipshit!”
Steeling himself, he turned around to face his friend. Rob looked rough from a couple days of not shaving, and his face didn’t have the usual good to see you buddy look Dax was used to. His probably didn’t either. Not after the altercation with Rob’s future stepson, who had major anger issues and way too much on his shoulders for a kid.
He punched up a smile. “Hey, asshole! How’s it hanging?”
“Pretty good. You? ”
He heard the leading edge in his friend’s voice and knew what he was talking about. “You don’t want to go there.”
Rob jerked a shoulder. “Fine. I hear Ariel left you behind today when all the women went on some errand.”
Well, that answered Dax’s question. “There are a lot of errands.”
“You’re telling me. Tiffany is so stressed that I’m trying hard not to be concerned about her.”
Dax nearly sighed. Rob must really love this woman, or he wouldn’t be concerned. All he could hope for was that she didn’t break his friend’s heart. “Weddings seem to cause a lot of anxiety.”
“No shit. I don’t think my blood pressure would pass medical right now. So with the women gone, what the hell have you been up to? Tell me it’s something interesting. Because I’m losing my mind.”
He said it playfully, so Dax inclined his head toward the cottage. “Why don’t you come see what I picked up? You’ve got Italian blood on your mom’s side, right? Ariel heard a garlic wreath symbolized a happy home and good home cooking—or something like that.”
“Tiffany doesn’t cook.” Rob’s frown couldn’t be more sour. “Especially lately.”
Dax didn’t ask why that was a sore point. If Rob wanted to talk, he’d talk. But they needed to get back on good terms. Dax swung an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Well, princess, you’re going to help me make this fucking wreath.”
Rob shoved him away. “No way, man!”
Dax snagged him into a neck hold and marched him to the cottage, the kind of prank they’d pulled on each other hundreds of times. “You so are. I got all the necessary items. Think how it will impress Tiffany. Because it’s not like you’ve contributed much to the wedding.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he bit out. “I just want to marry Tiffany. I didn’t know how important all this stuff was going to be to her.”
Dax let them inside, smiling as Sherlock looked up from his place by the fireplace only to put his paws over his head. “Ah, don’t bitch. Think of how much this will mean to her.”
Rob planted his hands on his hips and glared at him. “Fine, but I’m going to need some fucking whiskey. Jesus, the things you do for love. Clearly, you’re in deep like if you’re taking care of Ariel’s dog here.”
He didn’t want to talk with Rob about any of that because he didn’t feel good about where it might go. “Let me call the front desk and get us a bottle,” he said, not that he was going to drink and Rob knew it. “Too bad Carson and Perry aren’t here to help.”
The middle finger was his answer, and Dax smiled. He’d finally figured out a way to do his duty and rebuild their friendship.
They watched DIY garlic wreath videos on YouTube and bitched and moaned the whole time. When Dax lifted up his first braided garlic attempt, Rob said, “That’s pathetic, man. Your braids are totally uneven.”
Dax responded with a pout. “You want to braid this into a heart?”
Another middle finger and more insults to his manhood made Dax grin.
They were back on track.