Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
That was the Tessa of old. She appreciated all of those things. She let her hair down and was always ready for a party.
I take another sip of the champagne and let the bubbles dance over my tongue. And the tears… They’re there, ready to spill. Emotion. I’m feeling something.
It’s been so long that it nearly guts me.
“Speech, speech, speech,” the girls chant.
They drag Skye to her feet, and she stands next to me.
“Tess, I love you more than anything.”
“Not more than Braden,” Kathy shouts.
“In an entirely different way,” Skye laughs. But then she gets serious. “Tessa, you’ve always been there for me, even when I wasn’t there for you. Thank you for forgiving me when I didn’t deserve it. Thank you for this amazing weekend.” She looks around at the tropical decor, none of which I had anything to do with. “I’m in awe of what you put together. You’ve always been great with parties, Tess, but this is amazing even for you.”
Again the guilt gnaws at me. “I’m really glad you like it,” I say sincerely.
“Are you kidding me? I love it. So what else is going on tonight?”
I wish I knew. Ben said something about putting together a DJ and some dancing in one of the ballrooms. But now I’m wishing we had just done it all outside. It’s a beautiful night, and I don’t want to leave it just yet.
“First we have gifts for you,” I say, “and after that you’ll just have to wait and see.”
But then—
The beat of a drum, steel drums, actually—and some reggae music.
I look around. Where is it coming from?
And then I see.
Oh my God…
The band. A steel drum player, a guitar player, and…
Some of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen.
Jamaican men—their skin dark and their muscles rippled.
Oh. My. God.
All wearing tight white trunks—and nothing else.
Damn you, Ben.
Fucking damn you.
Chapter Eighteen
Ben
The ladies are here, and they’re hot.
And they come in a spectrum of colors.
From the darkest brown to the fairest white.
Four women, all with bodies to die for and luscious racks too, of course.
We’ve moved from the beach into one of the ballrooms. The ladies gyrate around us, and one by one, they shed their bikini tops.
They crowd around Braden, dancing for him.
And of course he’s got a scowl on his face. “Jesus Christ, Ben. What did I tell you?”
“I believe you said no strippers.” I smirk. “These ladies aren’t strippers. They’re topless dancers.”
He shakes his head.
“Good call, son,” my father says.
He gets up and starts dancing with the half-naked women, taking each one in his arms and twirling her around in a makeshift waltz.
I’m not surprised. My father likes them young. Kathy, one of Skye’s friends here in Jamaica, used to date my father. I have no idea how or why that ended, and I’m not asking.
Braden finally lets his lips curve into a smile.
“You seriously thought I was going to let my big brother leave bachelorhood without a true party?” I chuckle.
“They’re not hookers, are they?”
“No,” I assure him. “Like I said, they’re not even strippers. They’re not taking the thongs off. Just topless dancers. No lap dances or anything. They’re only here to party and have some fun with us.”
He narrows his gaze. “Dad seems to be having fun.”
Braden and I get along well with our father now, but we didn’t always. During most of the formative years of our childhood, he was an alcoholic. Things I don’t like to think about much.
But even those aren’t the darkest secrets I harbor.
I have demons not even my brother knows about.
But tonight is not the night to think about those.
Tonight is the night to celebrate the end of my brother’s life as a bachelor. I’ve never seen him happier than he is with Skye. My brother isn’t the happy sort. He’s carried a load on his shoulders for far too long, and Skye has helped him bear the burden.
He’s finally forgiven himself—I hope—for his part in our mother’s burn scarring and eventual death.
I’ve forgiven him, too.
Because God knows I’ve done way worse when I knew way better.
Braden was just a child.
I was not.
But again…
I erase the thought from my mind. I can’t have those memories tainting this party for Braden. My father and I both owe him a lot. It was his genius that created the product that made us millions. We gained our billions through outside investments, and Dad and I both had a huge part to do with that. But we wouldn’t have been able to do that without Braden first creating the company that put us on the map.
I take another sip of my Wild Turkey. “Get up and dance, brother. This is your sendoff.”
He chuckles. “I’ll leave that to Dad. And you. Why aren’t you dancing?”
Yeah, I should be, actually. I haven’t been able to get Tessa Logan out of my mind, but I also need to remember that tonight is about Braden and not me. I should participate in the fun.