AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I slipped my legs down from around him but didn’t move away.
“Then why’d you kiss me like that?” My knees were ready to betray me. The heat from that kiss had knocked me out.
What the hell?
“Coming attractions,” he said. “Now, let’s get you settled on the sofa. We should try to get a few hours of sleep before the main event.”
He left me standing there, in the middle of the room, trying to keep my balance while he opened a closet door and pulled out most of the extra bedding. I watched, unable to move or think clearly as he made up the sofa for me. With the muscles in his arms flexing, his strong shoulders reminded me how easily he lifted his sister, and that granite chest stretched his black t-shirt so that every muscle shown through.
Damn it all, but he was a beautiful man.
The thought was more than I could hold inside my befuddled brain, so instead, I yawned so deep, my eyes watered.
I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that when Cody finally tucked me in on the sofa he’d so nicely made up for me and kissed my forehead, I could barely respond. Instead, I quickly drifted off to a blissful deep sleep.
Dustin 4
I hardly fucking slept.
And not because of the ugly snoring that Bernard did for most of the night.
No, it was all due to Emily Jennings. I couldn’t get her out of my head. That smile, those sexy eyes, and that smokin’ hot body combined to torture my soul. Holy fuck, but the woman was pure sexual fantasy with a capital P for Perfection.
Yeah, I knew she was Cody’s wet dream and had been ever since I’d met him, but hell if she wasn’t fast becoming mine as well. And if I’d read Gabe right, she was his, too. Gabe and I had shared a woman before, actually a couple of times before. The first time had been a little awkward, but after we’d gotten over all the brother crap, we learned that we liked it. Liked watching each other get off with a fine woman who didn’t mind sharing. Neither of those times had turned into anything long term, but they were sure fucking fun while they lasted.
Emily, well, she struck me like more of the serial commitment type. Like sharing a bed with two or three guys at once might not be what she was into, and if she was into it, I had a feeling the moment had to mean more than just one hot-as-hell experience.
After all, she and Cody had a history, a past that needed to be resolved. Why the fuck would she ever want to mess that up with Gabe and me? Besides, neither of us were ready for any kind of commitment. Especially with this new tour coming up. That would be impossible. Being on tour was great in so many ways, but in other ways, it sucked if your woman was halfway across the country.
Shame. I didn’t know how long she’d be here after the wedding, but I could only assume she’d scurry back to her familiar surroundings in LA the very next day. Of course, if Cody could convince her to stay on a little longer, there was no telling what might happen.
I was dreaming again. Dreaming of what could be, instead of what was actually happening. One of my many fucking issues in life… always dreaming of what might be instead of the harsh, cold facts.
Still, it could’ve been one of those epic fucks that we’d all looked back on and get a rush of heat. Or, maybe something long lasting. That might be good, too. Even better, all things considered. I hadn’t had a long-term relationship with a woman since way before our band started. Way too complicated. Might be nice to have one now that we were more established and knew how this damn business worked.
“Everybody ready?” Gabe asked as he walked into Bernard’s bedroom, destroying my fantasy of a crowded bed.
I tried to refer to this filthy-rich bundle of nerves and second-guesses as Bernard, but at the moment, after helping him through a panic attack… several panic attacks… earlier this morning, Bernie seemed more like the more appropriate tag.
Bernie looked about as prepared for this wedding as a turkey on Thanksgiving morning.
Okay, maybe not quite that scared but damn close. I’d managed to get him to take a shower, shave, and all that other morning shit that absolutely needed to be done, and he even slipped on black boxers and a white fancy shirt, but that was the extent of it.
“What the hell?” Gabe asked, looking at me as if Bernie’s lack of proper clothing was somehow my fault. “I thought you were in charge of getting him ready?”
Gabe wore a new steel-gray, tailored suit, with a white shirt and spit-shined boots. I wore a black pinstripe jacket, solid black pants, and my best boots. Neither of us owned a pair of those damn uncomfortable dress shoes, but we owned plenty of fancy cowboy boots, which we always wore. Cody would be wearing his black cowboy hat today, unlike my brother and me. Even though we grew up on a ranch, we never got into the fancy wide-brimmed hat. We were more into baseball caps, but we rarely wore them on stage and certainly wouldn’t be wearing them to a wedding.
Even though Cody grew up in Huston and could barely ride a horse, he embraced the whole cowboy experience and wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I think he did pretty good considering what he looked like when he first opened his eyes this morning,” I told Gabe, who looked a bit rattled at the scene. Bernie sat on the edge of the bed, holding a pair of socks while he gazed down at his bare feet. “Besides, I had my own issues. Bernard here snores like a drunk sailor.”
“Since when do you know what a drunk sailor sounds like?” Gabe asked, walking over to Bernie while he held a large bottle of water. Bernie had already downed two monster mugs full of black coffee to no avail. Maybe water would bring him back to life. More caffeine would most likely send him into a frenzy of some sort. I was hoping it would be a positive frenzy, and the guy would finish dressing himself. I wanted nothing to do with helping this oversized man-child get dressed for a wedding he seemed to be dreading.
“Maybe I don’t know what a drunken sailor would sound like, but if I did, he’d sound like a fog horn, which I do know something about from all those fishing trips with Uncle Colt. Bernie here did his best to recreate that annoying sound all fucking night long.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to come back online. “That only happens when I drink too much, which is rare, by the way. My body’s a temple and all of that… Is there any more coffee?” Bernie finally looked up from his feet. “I sure could use another cup. Maybe a double shot of espresso this time? There’s an espresso maker in the kitchen, next to the sink. Could one of you get that going for me? I don’t think I can make it to the kitchen.”
I couldn’t help, but I sympathized with how he felt. I’d been there way too many times to count. Fortunately, I’d given all that shit up in the last year or so and limited myself to a few beers and a shot or two, and even that was rare. Last night, I’d only had three beers. I didn’t need to feel like Bernie this morning. Not when we had to perform tonight.
