Chapter 6 Eagle
EAGLE
If this is the last weekend I’m employed by Villa Lantana, at least I’m going out in style. For all my resisting and bitching, this overpriced tux does feel like luxury. For a guy who lives in leathers and denim, I gotta admit, this thing feels fantastic. Too bad I can’t say the same for me.
Last night, I couldn’t even get myself off. After leaving Lacey in the ladies’ room, I drove home, replaying the whole fucking thing in my head. I know what she said. She loves her job, blah, blah. But what she didn’t say is the same goddamn refrain I’ve heard over and over in my life.
No, Eagle.
Not you, Eagle.
You’re not good enough, Eagle.
She didn’t say those words, but she might as well have.
My fucking cock was out. My dick was in my hands and about to slide inside her, and she stopped it.
She didn’t think to stop me on that couch.
My shirt still smelled like pussy when I balled it up and threw that shit into the bottom of the hamper.
She didn’t stop me when I kissed her, when I sucked her tits. But that’s the story of my life. I get this close to something really, really good, and it all gets pulled away.
I get that Lacey is my boss. I’m her employee.
And I’m no corporate asshole, but I’m sure there’re laws about fucking your boss or some shit.
But still, she said no. No to me. And the fact that I almost went there with the woman I’ve been lusting after for months—scratch that, years now—makes the rejection cut that much deeper.
I should know by now what to expect from women, but I’m a damned fool. After Linda… Fucking Linda… I should have sworn off women for good. At least anything more than fucking them. But apparently, I can’t even get that much right.
When I finally arrive for the wedding, I worry for a split second that things might be awkward between Lacey and me. But when I lay eyes on her, I know it’s going to be way, way worse than awkward. It’s going to be torture.
Brute and I had to wear tuxes, but I put no thought whatsoever into what that meant for Lacey.
When I see her, her discreet radio clipped to the dramatic low back of her dress, I know for a fact that the bride’s going to feel like shit when she walks down the aisle.
Poor woman. Nobody wants to be outdone on their wedding day.
And ain’t no way anybody’s going to be looking at the bride while Lacey’s in the room.
When I first see her walking into the chapel, I can tell it’s her from the rear. And no, it’s not the radio that gives it away. I’d recognize that perfect ass anywhere, and the way it’s tightly sheathed in the skin-hugging lavender gown…
Fuck.
I should have asked that seamstress to give me a little extra room in the crotch. Even with humiliation fresh in my mind, my body wants what it wants, and I want Lacey Mercer.
The sun has begun to set as the guests gather for the ceremony. Brute is standing by the pond, yawning into his fist and tugging on the collar of his expensive-ass shirt. I nod at him as I join him.
“How was the gig?” I ask.
“Easy,” he says. “But that don’t mean I ain’t ready for a couple hundred hours of sleep.”
I nod. “Been thinking about what you said.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Brute asks.
“You think Crow’s got room in his crew?”
Brute gives me wide eyes and nods. “Yeah, fuck yeah. You hate the suit that much? You thinking of cutting loose from this cush gig?”
“Maybe,” I say with a shrug.
A golf cart is just pulling up to the white stucco chapel. I recognize the groom’s grandma and know that means I’m on duty.
“I’ll talk to Crow,” Brute says. “You serious? He could probably get you on the crew this week. He wanted me Monday, but I told him I needed a day off after working the brunch tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I say.
The golf cart comes to a stop, and I leave Brute to offer my arm to Grandma Warner.
“You look beautiful today, ma’am,” I tell her. “Congratulations.”
The groom’s grandma can’t be a day under eighty, but she twists her neon-pink lips together and clings to my arm. “Wanna make it a double wedding?” she asks. “I’m not taken…”
“Gram.” One of the bridesmaids swoops in and practically peels Mrs. Warner off me. “Let’s leave the flirting for after the ceremony, shall we?”
She ushers the old lady into the chapel, but Grandma Warner looks back over her stooped shoulder and gives me a wink so big it’s hard not to smile.
Well, at least not all my prospects have dried up.
Just as I’m mentally tearing myself down again, Lacey comes hustling down the path toward the chapel. She’s got a tablet in her hands and looks focused on a couple of old ladies who are asking if they can get champagne delivered to the chapel.
She says something to them very quietly but very firmly and sends them off into the chapel in search of seats.
I try to pull myself away, spare myself the embarrassment of looking her in the face, but I can’t walk away.
Not from her. I watch, my feet stuck to the ground like I’ve been poured into the stamped concrete path.
All I can do is cross my arms over my chest and hope I don’t rip this expensive-ass suit.
“Hi, Eagle,” she says, meeting my eyes. Her lips are vibrant red, and her makeup is sultry, her brown eyes glittering under lids coated with some sparkly looking eyeshadow.
Harp music starts up inside the chapel, and I nod at Lacey then start to move out of the way to allow the last of the arriving guests a clear path inside.
“Eagle, may I speak to you, please?” Lacey asks, her voice all business.
My gut tightens as I imagine she’s going to tell me off.
She’ll say last night was an accident. That it can never happen again.
That she’s my boss, and all the other shit I’ve been telling myself since I got home last night.
I don’t want to hear it. I half consider saying no to her, calling Brute over and letting him work the chapel while I look down into the koi pond like he is, not a care in the fucking world.
But I can’t. I don’t. My brain wants to leave, but my body ain’t having none of it.
“Evening.” I firm my lips and try to stare past her, but fuck, it’s hard.
I’ve never been a romantic. Been married, but never had one of these fancy parties.
Linda and I were just teenagers—me with a bad attitude and a worse haircut, and her with what we thought at the time was a late period.
The courthouse, some quick signatures, and bam.
Before I knew what I signed on for, the bitch I’d been fucking in the back seat of my daddy’s work truck was my wife.
That was a lifetime ago, and yet somehow, all the shit I’ve felt over the years on the roller coaster with Linda comes rushing back at me.
“Eagle.” Lacey meets my eyes and lifts her chin. “That tuxedo…” She smooths down one shoulder of the jacket, although I’m not sure it needs it. Then she nods. “You look as handsome as ever. Gorgeous, in fact. Tom Ford should be proud to dress you.”
Well, that’s unexpected. I don’t smile but study her face as I return the compliment. “You do too,” I say cautiously. “As beautiful as always.”
She holds up one finger to me and taps the button on her radio. “Mmm-hmm,” she says to whoever has called her. “I’ll be right in.” Then she turns her attention back to me. “Eagle, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah,” I say, braced for anything and having no fucking idea what she’s thinking.
She’s so tall in her heels, when she leans close, her face almost reaches my ear. “Can we talk later? After the wedding, I mean.” She leans back, her smile gone. She looks determined, not at all the flustered woman I’ve been lusting after for far too long.
“I need to go,” she says, nodding toward the chapel. “Let me know later how you feel. I understand if your answer is no.” She starts to head into the chapel, but then stops, turns to me, and smiles. “But I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain.”
I don’t say anything. There really isn’t anything to say.
I don’t need an apology, and I sure as hell don’t want an explanation.
She did what she needed to do, and the last thing I need is to hear some sorry-ass excuse, when what she really means is, yeah, this thing can’t happen.
I get it. I don’t need it shoved in my face by yet another woman.
I look away from her retreating ass and instead look over the guests shifting in their seats.
This damn place must cost a fortune. To pay for a wedding here…
Fuck. If they’d spend six grand a piece on tuxes for the damned security guards, then I cannot imagine what a rehearsal dinner, wedding, and day-after brunch cost the Acostas.
Mr. Acosta may be an entitled dick, but he’s exactly the kind of rich dickhead that someone like Lacey deserves.
Probably wants. Even if she might be tempted to scratch an itch with an asshole like me. But apparently not that tempted.
I scan the chapel and then step outside into the fading evening heat. These tuxes are luxurious, but if I’m grateful for anything, it’s that the wedding starts late in the day. No bride wants to sweat her tits off on her wedding day, and I sure as shit don’t need this tux to become a wet suit.
I tug at the collar and adjust my sleeves, then wander back over toward Brute. That gig working with Crow is sounding better and better.
From my vantage point, the wedding was easy money.
The ceremony itself happened at dusk, and since I didn’t have to wrangle any drunk groomsmen or jealous bridesmaids, I could keep an eye on things and enjoy the gorgeous sunset.
Brute spent a good part of the ceremony on the phone, so I stayed near the chapel, roaming the exterior and discreetly looking in to make sure everything was okay.