Jess
“Shit,” I murmur to myself as I scurry along the side of the dance floor being built. Or should I say, the dance floor that was being built… before the entire crew we hired for the event decided to go on strike.
Literally.
“Everything okay?” Brittany asks when I pass her. She’s looking over something on the iPad with our intern — likely the bride’s instructions for centerpieces or the seating chart.
The smile I force comes too naturally, and it scares me a little how easy the lie spills. “Yep! Right on schedule. You good here? Need me?”
She waves me off. “No, just going to wrap this up and then we’re both leaving. You should go, too. You’ll need rest for tomorrow.”
“I just have to check on a few more things and then I’m out.”
She nods to excuse me, and when she’s back in the works with the intern, I resume my cursing as I run back to the kitchen where the owner of the event company we hired is desperately trying to get her crew to stop packing up their things.
“We told you,” one of the guys says when I push through the swinging doors. “Meet our demands, or we’re out. You thought we were bluffing. Well, now you know we’re not.”
“Jeremiah, we can discuss this at the office on Monday,” the owner tries to say — calmly, especially now that I’ve made myself present. “But right now, we have half a dance floor to assemble, chairs and tables to set up, lighting, and—”
“And you can do it yourself,” one of the other guys says, which earns him some enthusiastic agreement from his comrades.
I watch in horror as this fight continues on, something about Christmas bonuses being canceled this year, as well as them having to work all through the holidays, plus some murmurings about what they’re being paid. Whatever is going on, the crew isn’t happy.
And no matter how hard the owner, Sammi, begs them, they don’t go back into the ballroom I need turned into a glamorous wedding venue by the morning.
They all just leave.
Sammi sighs when it’s just the two of us alone, pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering something that sounds like a prayer in a language I don’t recognize under her breath before she turns to me with a dazzling smile.
“Well,” she says, and I wait for the solution.
But instead, she just throws her hands up, let’s them clap down on her thighs, and starts crying.
Another curse word finds my tongue.
“It’s okay,” I soothe her, running a hand along her back.
She blubbers something about being a failure and how her father is going to gut her like a fish, and as much as I feel for her, as much as I would comfort her even more if I was her friend, the fact of the matter is that I’m the woman who hired her.
And now I’m in a bind.
“Why don’t you go home, talk to your dad, figure out what can be done to get your crew happy again, okay?”
She sniffs. “What about you? What about the wedding in the morning?”
I tongue my cheek, but force a smile against my urge to scream. “I’ll handle it.”
“Are you sure? I… I can stay to help, I can—”
“Go,” I insist again, already shoving her toward the back hallway that her entire crew left through. “Just leave all your supplies and I’ll… figure it out.” God help me. “Can I call if I have questions?”
“Of course, but—”
“You’re not going to be any help to me or anyone like this,” I interrupt before she can argue again. “Go work through whatever needs to be worked through. It won’t ruin our relationship with you, okay? We’ll give you another chance, but you’ve got to get your crew happy.”
She nods, nearly bursting into tears again when I tell her she’ll have another chance. In this industry, a mishap like this can be the difference between a booming business booked every weekend, and a sad sap going door to door at event agencies begging for work.
I don’t want to be the one to hang her up to dry.
But I also have to do my job.
As soon as Sammi leaves, Brittany pops her head into the kitchen.
“Alright, we’re heading out.” She frowns, looking around the empty space.
“I thought I saw the crew come back here. I was going to tell them they need to move the dance floor about seven inches to the left. It’s not going to be center with the stage. ”
“They just took a quick break to eat,” I explain. “Ran down to their favorite restaurant. Don’t worry, I’ll stick around until they get back.”
She arches a brow. “You sure?”
“I got this,” I assure her. “I want to take a second look at the cake, anyway, and you know how picky I am when it comes to table runners. I just want to make sure it’s all in order, then I’m out the door. Promise,” I added when she went to argue with me.
“Okay, but don’t stay too late.” She sighs, shaking her head. “A morning wedding. Who does that? I’m already crying thinking about setting my alarm for three AM.”
My smile is tight. “You and me both.”
With a salute, my boss leaves, and then I’m alone.
“Motherfucking shit balls!” I scream, grinding my teeth as I lean back against the countertop. I tap my fingers on the edge of the granite, thinking.
The wedding is huge — two-hundred-and-sixty guests, plus all the vendors. There’s no way I can set up the tables, chairs, linens, centerpieces, and dance floor by myself. I’d be lucky to get even half done before Brittany showed back up in the morning.
I sigh, pulling out my phone and dialing the first person I can think of who might be able to help.
Which, coincidentally, happens to be the last person who was inside me.
The phone rings and rings, but Jarrett doesn’t pick up. I debate just hanging up but decide I don’t have time for pride right now.
“Hey, I need your help. I’m texting you an address now. Can you grab some of your coworkers or a couple buddies and help me with some event set up? I can pay. Long story but… I’m in a bind.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I hang up and text the address.
As soon as I do, Jarrett texts back with a line of question marks. Then, he texts Is this where I should go when I’m ready to ravage you after the rally?
The rally.
Shit.
I close my eyes and force a breath as I text back Going to be honest, completely forgot about the rally. Disregard my voicemail and have a good time. Text me after.
Jarrett asks if everything is okay next, to which I lie and say of course.
His agency is running a rally downtown for the guy they want to support in the next election for mayor.
I know how important it is for him, and how hard he’s been working on it.
I can’t steal him away just because my vendor left me in hot water.
My stomach twists as I pull up my next option — who would have been the first person I called, if I’m being honest with myself, had I not been avoiding him for weeks.
I just don’t know how to face him, now that I’ve spent time with Jarrett.
I don’t know how to tell him that I still have really intense feelings for his brother.
I don’t know how to tell him that I might…
No, I think to myself, shaking my head. These thoughts can wait for another night.
Before I can talk myself out of it by reminding myself just how shitty a person I am, I find Kade’s contact in my phone — heart squeezing at the photo of me on his back, arms wrapped around his neck, both of us smiling.
“Jess?” he answers on the second ring.
“I need you.”
And that’s all I have to say.
***
It’s an absolute masterpiece to watch, Kade and his brothers whipping a ballroom into immaculate event shape in under three hours. They’re all so brawny and attentive that I just point and instruct and like little worker bees, they do exactly what I ask of them.
Of course, it’s a little rowdy, too. After all, it’s a Friday night and I’ve suckered them into working. But when Kade said he could come and he’d have a crew, I immediately ran to the store and grabbed provisions — meaning lots and lots of booze.
And pizza, of course.
Someone hooked their phone up to one of the giant speakers and has been blasting dubstep all night, and I’ve seen just as many shots being taken as I’ve seen tables being set up.
But I don’t care.
Whatever gets the job done.
And as much as I’m running around and supervising everything, helping where I can, ensuring all the details are exactly as the bride described, I can’t keep my eyes from wandering to Kade.
He was emotionless when he got here — no hug or kiss for a greeting, just a thin smile and a What should we do first?
I can’t blame him. He knows I’ve been with Jarrett. He knows I haven’t been with him.
I know it’s killing him.
It’s killing me, too.
He must be working his frustrations out in the gym, because his already-impressive physique is even more cut than I remember, and I watch every muscle ebb and flow as he unstacks chairs and places them around the room, helps his brothers rebuild the dance floor, and sets up the band’s equipment on the stage.
It’s almost midnight by the time we get everything where we need it, and Kade dismisses his brothers after I hug them all and pay them cash out of my own pocket.
What Brittany doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and they saved my ass tonight.
When they’re gone, taking what’s left of the bottles and the music with them, the ballroom door swings shut and an eerie silence falls over me and Kade.
My soul wants to jump out of my body, the way he’s looking at me.
His hands are in his pockets, eyes under folded brows, jaw tight.
He still doesn’t have a shirt on, and I can see the band of his briefs peeking out above his basketball shorts — a sight that makes me ache for him right between my thighs.
“Thank you,” I finally manage. I open my mouth again to say that I would have been fucked without him, that he saved me, that I love him, that I’ve missed him.
But I close it just as quickly, because the menacing look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t want to hear it.
He watches me for so long I can’t bear to meet his gaze anymore, and I don’t know why, but my eyes sting with tears when I look away.
Kade sighs, and then he slowly crosses the space between us, until he’s just inches from me.
“Jess.”