Bliss Brothers: The Complete Series Boxed Set, page 14
“I don’t think they heard you,” Jenny shouts into my ear.
“I heard you,” says a voice from the front of the stage. Unlike the rest of the people at Beau’s event, this woman looks…perturbed. I glance at Jenny to see if she knows who it is, but when I look back down for her, she’s gone.
Jenny pulls me to the side of the stage and wraps her arms around my waist. “Are you ready to dance?” She’s lit from the inside out with happiness, and I can’t wait to make that happen for her every single day. She doesn’t know it yet, but I have plans for an enormous celebration of our own. Not this summer—the Bliss Brothers rarely take up guest space for personal events during peak season—but a winter wedding at Bliss could be, as Beau would say, off the chain.
Speaking of Beau…
“Not yet. I have to talk to Beau.”
“Okay,” she says, rising on tiptoe to kiss me. The kiss deepens and heats, and Jenny’s about to jump into my arms and wrap her legs around my waist when someone taps her on the shoulder.
“Wow,” says the woman. She’s a blonde, shorter version of Jenny. “You guys should get a room.” She cracks up at her own joke.
“Celestia,” says Jenny with an affectionate shake of her head. “You want to dance?”
“Hell yeah,” her sister says, hooking her arm through hers and dragging her toward the crowd. Everything in my soul wants to follow her.
That’s okay. I’ve got a lifetime to do that. I’m sure of it.
Epilogue
Beau
They’re all having so much fun.
I look out over the crowd, scanning for any sign that someone’s not enjoying themselves. My brothers think I spend all my time drinking and dancing, but in reality I spend the bulk of every event trying to create joy. Trying to create…a kind of magic, I guess.
They don’t know that it’s a magic I don’t feel.
The lights swirl in their holders on the stage, illuminating the crowd, and as hard as I look, I can’t find a single person who’s not having a great time. There’s Roman’s girl, Jenny. They’ll make you believe in love even if nothing else does. I will never forget having to break that news to Roman. It was a job I did not relish.
Secretly, I don’t relish this job, either. But how am I supposed to tell them that?
After all, when it comes to the Bliss Resort, I am the entertainment.
And that’s all I am.
“Hey, Beau.”
The voice at my elbow is level, and I can tell from that one word that he’s not drunk. Not even buzzed.
“Roman.” I lift my cocktail in a salute. “Excellent speech, man.”
“It was good, wasn’t it?” My oldest brother looks pleased with himself for a moment. He looks out at the dance floor and it shifts to something hot and deep when he catches sight of Jenny. Then he turns back to me, and his expression settles into something more serious. “I’m not here to talk about that.”
I take another sip of my drink. I had the bartender make it a virgin cocktail. Don’t tell anyone—it would ruin my image. “What are you here to talk about?”
“You.”
“What about me? Are you unhappy with the event?”
“The event is great.” Roman’s looking at me too seriously. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” This kind of questioning makes me want to disappear into an even louder and more packed club to get away from it.
“You seem…sad.”
“Sad?” I laugh out loud. “I’m not sad. How could I be sad? We’re at my party?”
“There is that ancient saying, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.”
It makes me wildly uncomfortable, how close he’s come to the truth. “Roman, if I wanted to cry at a party, I would do it.” I drag the last two words out so long they echo into a cheer from the crowd. “I promise.” I nudge him with my elbow. “No need to worry about me, old man. Focus on not throwing your back out on the dance floor.”
He rolls his eyes. “See? This is what I get for caring.” He pats me on the back. “You threw a good party. You should be proud.”
“I’m very proud.” Roman gives me a little bow, then turns back toward the crowd. He’ll have his hands on Jenny inside a minute, and inside five they’ll be sneaking off to a private room. A bloom of jealousy fills my chest.
“Hi!” Buzzed girl incoming. She’s tall and blonde and shrill. “Beau! It’s Beau, isn’t it? My friends and I want to dance with you!”
I should feel good about this. I should feel great about this. But instead, I feel nothing.
I put my drink on the bar and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Lead the way, gorgeous.” It’s an act. It’s an act, and I’ll never be able to stop playing this part for as long as I live. “I’m your entertainment for the night.”
Turn the page for Beau’s story in Stuck on You!
Stuck on You
1
Beau
You just know it’s going to be a great morning when the first item on your agenda is to get a spanking from your oldest brother.
Not literally, of course.
Although after what happened last night, I’d probably deserve one, even if it would rank among the most awkward things ever to happen at the Bliss Resort.
“Get in here, Beau,” Roman bellows. I nod to a woman standing stock-still at the desk closest to Roman’s open office door, just one of the many witnesses to Roman’s displeasure. She nods crisply back at me, and the intensity in her eyes—green, a startling emerald green—sends a jolt of excitement screaming through my chest. I’ve never seen her here before, but the cold set of her lips sings of a challenge. If she’s going to be in the office, maybe I could be convinced to spend more time here.
Sadly, I’m in no position to take the time to ask her what her name is. I may never be in such a position again, depending on how this meeting goes. At the moment, I’m only in a position to finish the long walk into my brother’s office.
“I’m here, Roman. Stop acting like the resort burned down.”
Technically, it was early yesterday morning when the Bliss Resort’s second disaster of the season—if you count my brother’s accidental exposure, shall we say, on Instagram as the first one of the season—concluded. And the resort is still here, so….
He fixes me with a look that could nail me to the doorframe. “The resort almost did burn down.”
“Whoa.” I raise my hands up defensively in front of me, pasting what I hope is a non-threatening smile on my face. “That’s a little melodramatic. Let’s stick to the facts.”
Roman narrows his eyes. “What are the facts, Beau? Because last night, five hundred people showed up on our private beach expecting free alcohol and setting up an illegal fireworks display from a rowboat. Is there something I’m missing?”
I can’t help laughing. “I’m sorry—it’s just that it’s so stupid that it seems like something out of one of those novels that—” Roman’s expression transforms from thunderous to lightning strike. I clear my throat and wipe the smile off my face. “I know it wasn’t fake. I was there, same as you. And I take full responsibility for the typo.”
“The typo.”
“Yes, the typo.” It was one slip of the thumb on a quick post that Jenny, Roman’s hot girlfriend and our resident social media director, didn’t need to be bothered with. “Do you honestly think I intended to invite five hundred people to the beach with that little warning? That would be over the top, even for me.”
“Would it? I’m beginning to think this carelessness of yours isn’t a bug in your personality—it’s more of a standard feature.” Roman is clearly proud of this insult.
“Very fancy.” I ignore the customary hurt curdling in the pit of my gut and wish for an alcoholic beverage. “I didn’t know you considered yourself a tech bro, too. Tell me, Roman. What are my other features?”
He has the grace to look slightly ashamed. “Okay. That was at least fifty percent uncalled for.”
“And the other fifty percent?”
“What are you doing, Beau? This kind of shit should be easy to avoid.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We are booked to the point of being overbooked, so your job—” He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time, which I know for a fact isn’t true. “It should be getting easier. You have a captive audience. There was no need to invite half the drunk public of Ruby Bay to your party.” His voice rises at the end of the sentence. It doesn’t take a genius to know the entire bullpen is listening with rapt attention. And here I’ve forgotten to close the door behind me.
“For the last time, Roman, I did not intend to invite all of Ruby Bay to the party last night. There was no way for me to know that an entire fraternity was going to show up and commandeer that rowboat.”
“It wasn’t even our rowboat. You know that, right? I also have to contend with our wealthy neighbor before he goes down to the yacht club and tells all of his friends the Bliss brothers harbor criminals.”
“Okay. First, they gave the rowboat back.” I let the hint of a smile slide onto my face. “And second, we are...also wealthy. Couldn’t I go down to the yacht club and tell everyone that this was all a hilarious misunderstanding and no rowboats were harmed during the situation?”
“The rowboat was scorched on one side. Then they sank it into the water to put the fire out. I had to have several of our staff members go out into the water to haul it to the surface. Where were you for that, restocking the bar? Hell, I bet you stopped by the damn thing on the way over here.”
I can tell, because I’m not a fucking idiot, that now is not the time to tell Roman that he’s been taken in by the illusion of my fun-loving ways. The vein in his forehead is already pulsing. There will be other opportunities to confront his misunderstandings as soon as I smooth this over…and as soon as the poor guy has had a nap. “It was my fault it happened. I get it. I know there are things to be improved upon when it comes to event planning and execution.” I keep the automatic smile from appearing on my face. Sinking a rowboat—good God. I was too busy trying to clear out the “guests” to get a good visual of the rowboat shenanigans, but now I wish I had.
My brother crosses his arms over his chest. “Then it should come as no surprise to you that we’re changing how we do things.”
I groan. “Oh, God, please. Tell me it’s not one of your lengthy approval processes. I thought you were past that, after what happened with Driver’s deal.”
“You’re right. I have moved past micromanagement.”
“Good, because I can fix—”
“Ms. Cashmore?” Roman calls out loudly. “Could you step inside my office, please?”
Cashmore? What kind of name is that? Who— The woman with the emerald eyes from outside Roman’s office appears at the door like she’s been waiting for this moment all her life, or at least part of this morning, which she clearly has.
“Beau, this is Claire Cashmore.”
I wasn’t looking before.
I wasn’t looking, because if I had been looking, I would have seen that Claire Cashmore is exactly the kind of person I want nothing to do with.
It’s true that I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with my brothers about my feelings when it comes to the endless nights out on the beach, but this woman? This woman? She’s standing so straight and tall she could be a robot, albeit a robot with a very nice body. A robot swathed in a pencil a skirt and a blazer—long-sleeved, despite the summer heat. And that face. That. Face.
“Hello, Claire.” I turn back to Roman, ignoring the buzz singing in my veins and the faint scent of her perfume wafting in the air. “You don’t need to overreact to this, Roman. You can let it fade into a faintly hilarious memory and move on. Things are good. We got past the last crisis, and this doesn’t have to count as one.”
He raises his eyebrows. “The last crisis pales in comparison to what happened on the beach last night, and I think you know that.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Claire pursing her lips. I bet that’s her default expression. Oh, I’d love to loosen up that smirk, even if it meant tossing her fully clothed into the pool and jumping in after her. She needs it. I can tell by the uptight energy coursing through the room. It’s like the highest note of the soundtrack of a slasher film, running over and over in my head. I could probably dull the noise if I was as much of a drunkard as Roman thinks I am. Alas, I am stone-cold sober, and I have been since before the fateful rowboat incident.
I relax my own shoulders then, even though I don’t feel very fucking relaxed. It’s habit now, more than anything. You can’t be the guy at the center of the party if your shoulders are hiked up to your ears and you’re wearing a perma-frown. “It was ten fireworks, maybe twenty, and I can handle this. I’ll even go down to the police station.”
Roman scans my outfit—shorts and a button-down—and frowns in disapproval. If Claire Cashmore wasn’t standing in here, I’d call him out on it. The shorts are pressed, for God’s sake. It’s a clean button-down. Roman might not have slept last night, but neither did I. I won’t get any brownie points for telling him that I went to the gym at dawn and ate a fucking egg white omelet even though it was like eating a tasteless, joyless cloud, but he should at least be able to see that I’m dressed. Even if it’s not in a blazer that’s straight out of our father’s closet. “No, I don’t think you will. It’s me they want to meet with, since everything that happens on this resort is ultimately my responsibility.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” I cite in a world-weary tone.
“See? You can’t be serious for long enough to meet with the police. We’re trying to avoid a hefty fine. We’ll be lucky if the city council doesn’t sanction us.”
“When is the last time the city council sanctioned a revenue-generator like the resort?”
“I don’t know,” Roman says lightly. “Maybe the last time one of the resorts on the lake scared everyone half to death with an illicit fireworks show. That shit is dangerous,” my brother scolds, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes right out of my head. “People could have been seriously injured.”
“I know that. I feel that—in my heart.” Roman takes this as a joke, but it’s true. I felt as sick as anyone last night when I realized what was happening. I was on the beach right next to him trying to control the situation. “But no one was seriously injured, so I think we can all take a deep breath and move forward from here, with the intention of—”
“Claire, we’ve been so rude,” Roman interrupts. I don’t bother to tell him that cutting me off mid-sentence is also rude. “This is my brother, Beau. He’s been in charge of planning entertainment events here at Bliss.”
I don’t like the sound of that. He’s been planning sounds like something that’s firmly in the past.
It has been eight hours since the rowboat incident.
Roman cannot possibly think that firing me in front of Claire Cashmore, who is still looking at the both of us with the seriousness of a brand new military recruit, is the right thing to do, rowboat incident or not. The last time he made a hasty decision about changing things at the resort it backfired. He’s not doing it again now. Is he?
Claire steps forward and offers her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Beau.” She doesn’t sound pleased to meet me. We shake, and her grip is firm—but there’s something about touching her skin that seems potentially far more dangerous than fireworks going off in the lake.
Roman considers us both, his arms crossed over his chest again. “I don’t have any more time to spend on introductions. Beau, Claire is here for the next two weeks.”
“For what?” I take a step back, putting some distance between us so I can breathe. “If you hired me a handler, then we should really sit down and talk.”
My brother lets out a harsh laugh. “Not a handler, no. Claire is an event planner. She’s going to be taking over planning all events and activities on the resort for the next two weeks. You’ll be helping her.”
2
Claire
“What do you mean, helping her?”
The newly introduced Beau Bliss tears his riveting blue eyes away from me and follows his brother out the door and into the larger office, which they call “the bullpen.” I’m not in favor of terms like that, since they tend to bleed the class out of whatever they’re attached to, but that’s clearly not on either of their minds. I do a quick mental calculation. Is it more awkward to stand in here alone, or to follow them both out into the common area? I settle for the doorway. My mother would hate that, hovering in the doorway, but Roman could call for me any moment, and I won’t be doing myself any favors standing in here staring at the wall of an empty office.
“I meant what I said—no, actually a little more than what I said.” Roman adjusts the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. I wish he was the one I was set to work with instead of his younger brother. I know his type. Sloppy. Exuberant. Out. Of. Control. It took a single glance at his clothes to arrive at that assessment of him, and still—still. My heart beats hard, like I’m looking at someone extraordinary. “We need good press, and we need it now. So she’ll be arranging the events for the next two weeks.”
“All press is good press,” Beau remarks with a casual shrug. “I’m not sure it’s in your best interests to fire me when all that happened was something to create a little buzz.”
“We’ve been over this.” Roman looks like he’s losing patience. “It wasn’t a little buzz, and you know that. Unless you’re too drunk to know that, in which case you should go sleep it off.”
“I’m completely sober, but thanks for the offer. I’d rather nap than—”
