Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 18

18

ZIGGY

“ Z ig—I had ‘the dream’ again.” Daphne sets a slice of birthday cake on the table and lowers into the pool chair next to me.

“The bathrobe dream?” I cringe, pulling off my sunglasses and sliding them into my cloth satchel laying at my bare feet.

Emma looks over from the folding chair nearby where she’s cleaning cake frosting out of Sparkle’s pigtails with a damp towel. “Well, that sounds juicy.”

“What’s the bathrobe dream?” Layla asks, throwing a watchful glance to the inflatable ball pit where her son, Skylar, is bouncing around with Nolan’s daughter, Stella, and a few other children.

It’s Ronan and Nolan’s birthday and Starlight Falls has been having unseasonably warm weather to mark the beginning of Libra season. So we’re all gathered around Ronan’s swimming pool for a blowout celebration. The sun is bright. The music is loud. The backyard is packed.

The Brighton siblings with their significant others, the entire Westbrook family, players from the Sin Valley Saints hockey team, employees from The North Node Tavern and pretty much all the rest of Starlight Falls.

Everybody is here. Well, except for one person.

Whenever I hear an approaching engine, my eyes dart over to the driveway. Every time my peripheral vision picks up on someone stepping into the backyard, my heart starts thudding erratically.

But still, there’s no sign of Darius.

Why do I even care that he’s not here? It’s Saturday. I’m off the clock. Darius Brighton’s whereabouts are none of my business. So I can’t understand this weird, tugging feeling in the center of my chest.

Tying and readjusting the strings of my bikini top, I force myself back to the conversation.

“I keep having a dream where I’m walking down the aisle in my bathrobe,” Daphne is explaining. “I’m so stressed that I haven’t been able to find a wedding dress. Now it’s started haunting my sleep.” Her eyes shift around our table in search of support.

Inez squeezes my sister’s shoulder. “Oh, hun. The wedding is still more than four months away.”

Karli pours herself a glass from the fresh pitcher of bourbon lemonade I whipped up a little earlier. “Four months is way more than enough time to find a dress. Trust me.”

“Are you sure? I’m starting to lose hope.” Daphne whimpers.

As we all speak, Layla is busy eyeballing Archer Brighton. He’s tall and shirtless and built like a brick house as he emerges from the deep end of the pool. The poor woman is practically drooling.

Karli elbows her best friend in the ribs. “Layla!” she hisses under her breath. “Pick your jaw off the ground and say something reassuring!”

Flustered, Layla brings her attention back to the conversation. But clearly, she has no idea what we’re talking about. “Huh?”

Nicky laughs. “Girl, you haven’t heard a word anyone’s said since that man walked by, have you?”

Layla’s blush spreads down her neck like a violent rash. “Sorry. Got distracted.” She shakes her head and takes a big gulp of her drink.

“I’d bet,” Karli says, rolling her eyes.

Giggling, Meghan nibbles on one of the delicious sugar cookies Grammy Westbrook brought along from The Wildberry, her famous Honey Hill bakery. “My friend, Lexi, owns a second hand bridal boutique out in Crescent Harbor. I’ll send you the link to her shopping app. Or even better, we can all plan a trip down there to check out the shop in person.”

“Thanks, Meghan.” Daphne pulls in a breath, but honestly, she doesn’t seem all that relieved. My sister’s eyes turn to me with the most pitiful expression. My heart melts down to goop.

I may not know anything about shopping for wedding gowns. But I do know a soul in need of reassurance when I see one.

“Okay. Maybe I can help.” I slip a hand into my cloth satchel and dig around a bit.

Nicky picks up the pitcher of boozy bourbon lemonade and pours herself a refill. “Uh-oh. Here comes the tarot deck.” The rest of the girls chuckle.

“Oh, shush, all of you,” I say through my grin. “My tarot readings are accurate and all you bitches know it.” I take a deep breath and begin to shuffle my trusty cards .

But before I can start my tarot reading, a supermodel struts up to our table. An actual supermodel. Blonde hair like silk. Legs long enough to serve as airport runways. Boobs like perky twin mountains in her tiny triangle bikini top. I mean—wow!

And I don’t know why, but I instantly get a sinking gut feeling about her.

The woman’s neon white smile floats across the table. “Hey, Karli.”

Karli blinks, her expression registering surprise. “Hey! Cecily, hi! You’re… here. ”

“I’m here!” The woman throws out her arms at her sides with flair.

Karli graciously introduces Cecily to everyone around the table, but Ms. Supermodel seems eager to get the introductions over with.

She nervously runs her tongue over her bottom lip and her cool girl persona slips as she zones in on Karli. “So…how’s Darius? Will he be here today?”

When she says that, my gut swirls. Darius? What does she want with Darius?

Instantly, I try to fight off my curiosity. That man’s personal life is none of my business. We’re work colleagues. He’s my boss. I’m his employee. That’s all there is to it.

Karli’s response is polite but a bit cautious. “Um, er, you know Darius. He probably won’t show up. He’s most likely at his desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork as we speak.”

Cecily’s face falls with disappointment. “Oh. I was hoping to run into him. I haven’t seen him since that night he took me dancing. You remember?”

“Took you dancing?” Karli chuckles tightly. “You mean, the night he tried dancing, crashed into a waiter and ended up wearing your salmon Caesar salad all over his shirt?”

“Right. In his defense, Darius has never exactly been the dancing type. And he’d had a bit too much to drink that night.” Cecily nibbles on the corner of her lip. “I hope he doesn’t find it too stalker-ish, me showing up here. It’s just that, one of my friends is dating a guy from the hockey team and when I found out she was coming here from New York, I invited myself to tag a long.”

Karli’s expression is genuine but still wary. “Well, my brother is not really a fan of the ‘stalker-ish’ thing.” She flinches with sympathy.

Cecily bites on the edge of her French-manicured thumbnail. “Shit…You’re probably right.”

But it’s too late for her to do anything about it now. Because Darius’s sedan pulls up in the driveway at that moment. He steps out of the car and my stomach dips.

That man is fine .

Monday to Friday Darius always looks like a billion bucks, in his button-down shirts, silk neckties and tailored pants.

But Saturday afternoon Darius ? He’s absolutely mouthwatering.

He’s wearing a blue flannel shirt. Sleeves rolled back to his elbows to reveal his tattooed forearms. Front unbuttoned over a plain white T-shirt. Dark wash jeans.

A pretty basic outfit, yet with his trademark grimace and that lock of golden hair tumbling effortlessly over his scrunched brow, he somehow makes it look expensive.

Yup. Saturday afternoon Darius looks like a billion bucks, too.

He steps onto the grassy path leading toward the gathering. His eyes are downcast as he types on his phone. I barely resist rolling my eyes. He’s working. As always.

I want to look away. I really do. But it’s impossible. Especially when he glances up and—from all the way across the yard—his eyes hook onto mine.

My pulse starts drumming in my ears, so loudly that it drowns out the music and the laughter and the conversations unfolding around me. All I’m aware of is Darius, tall and scowling and honey-eyed and headed straight toward me.

Time slows down as he prowls through the crowd, ignoring every person who calls out to him or tries to get his attention.

My hand leaps up to my tangled hair, absently twirling the wet, knotted strands. I feel self-conscious and I suddenly find myself hyperaware of what I must look like. A sunburnt, pink-haired, drowned rat probably, after frolicking around in the pool earlier.

And the fact that Darius won’t take his eyes off me only makes me feel more self-aware.

But when he’s just a few footsteps outside of my personal bubble, Cecily steps into his path. “Darius!” She throws her arms around him.

At the force of her body slamming into his, he startles and his gaze flits down to her grinning face.

“Cecily…” he mutters with a puzzled expression. He promptly reaches for her wrists, removing her arms from around his neck.

“Surprise!” She squeals in his face, trying to hug him again. “Are you surprised to see me?”

Darius continues to hold her wrists, awkwardly keeping her writhing body at arm’s length. “Very,” he says mechanically, not a hint of a smile on his face. In fact, he looks irritated.

But Cecily doesn’t seem to get it. Every time she tries to tackle him, he dodges, all while keeping a grip on her wrists.

The result is something that looks like a mix between folk dancing and arm wrestling and some lesser known form of self-defense. It’s weird.

His heavy gaze moves in my direction, skimming my crazy hair, my bare torso and my wet, crinkled skirt. I can’t stand the weight of his eyes on my skin. Not when he’s got another woman trying to climb him like a jungle gym.

“Lemonade!” I say, bolting to my feet and slinging my satchel up my shoulder. “Anybody want another bourbon lemonade?” I grab the half-full pitcher.

“Hey! Where are you going with that?!”

“Bring back the booze!”

“Ziggy! Come here!”

The girls yell after me but I’m gone with the wind before anyone can stop me. “I’ll be back with more drinks!” I promise.

This recipe that I stole from my Honey Hill bartender, Jane, has been a hit here this afternoon. Whipping up a fresh batch is the perfect excuse to get away from the table.

I just know that the last thing I want, is to spend my Saturday afternoon watching my boss flirting with some picture perfect porcelain doll in a teeny tiny bikini.

Darius pays me well. But not that well. Not well enough to withstand that kind of torture.

And I can already tell it’s going to take a whole lot of reiki healing to fix my bruised ego after seeing Cecily all over him like that.

Why the hell am I freaking out about Darius talking to some girl anyway? Maybe because it brings up memories of how he rejected me in my teenage years.

That was more than a decade ago. I should be over it—I know that. Also, I shouldn’t be jealous.

But I am. I’m only human, after all.

Aunt Rainbow says that sometimes, the best thing you can do is admit your feelings to yourself and be strong enough to remove yourself from a situation that’s triggering you. So that’s what I’m doing.

To neutralize my jealousy, I remind myself of the bottom line. Darius and I are just work colleagues. He’s my boss. I’m his employee. There is absolutely no reason for us to be associating with each other in a social context.

As I hustle away, I take another peek around the yard. Everyone is having a good time. The Brighton brothers are gathered around the grill, drinking beers and laughing it up with the Westbrook boys. Aunt Rainbow is deep in conversation with Grammy Westbrook.

I don’t get very far before the birthday boys step onto the back deck, trying to grab the crowd’s attention.

Nolan cuts the music and Ronan cups a hand around his mouth. “If I can get everyone’s attention.”

It takes a moment, but soon enough, the guests simmer down.

“Firstly, thank you so much for finally gracing us with your presence, Darius.” Nolan lifts his red plastic cup in his older brother’s direction and shoots him a sarcastic look.

Darius shrugs a shoulder, completely unbothered. “I had shit to do.”

Stella gasps, her eyes going wide. “That was a swear word, Uncle D! You said a swear word!”

Nolan sighs, his glare on Darius as he motions to the kids playing in the colorful ball pit. “Watch your language, would you?”

Stella runs across the deck to grab her father’s hand. “No, Daddy. That’s a good thing.”

“A good thing?” Nolan looks absolutely horrified by his daughter’s words.

The little girl explains. “I made a deal with Uncle D—every time he says a bad word, he puts money in the swear jar.” She jumps around in excitement, her eyes twinkling. “That’s passive income, Daddy! Passive income is how you get rich! Uncle D taught me that!”

Nolan looks conflicted—equal parts annoyed with Darius and impressed with Stella. She scampers toward Darius, stretching a hand out and silently demanding her payment. With a huff, he digs his wallet out of his back pocket and slaps a five dollar bill into his niece’s hand.

The crowd goes wild.

“Go, Stella!”

“Atta girl!”

“Nice work!”

When the amusement dies down, Ronan speaks up, demanding everyone’s attention. “Noles and I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for coming out to celebrate our birthday with us.” He clamps a heavy hand down on his twin’s shoulder. “Usually, I can’t convince this guy to throw a huge party. But this year is different. This year is special.”

Nolan’s head bobs in agreement. “This year, we were both lucky enough to find the most incredible women.” He reaches for Inez and she rushes across the yard to be by his side.

Meanwhile, Ronan is pulling Nicky up the deck and wrapping her in his arms .

And then, the unexpected happens.

The twins both drop to their knees, each one pulling a velvet jewelry box from his pocket and flipping it open to reveal a glittering diamond ring.

As for Nicky and Inez—I don’t know whose mouth gapes wider as their men begin to propose.

I’m so choked up that I miss the actual words spoken. I’m too busy stifling back my sobs and wiping tears from my eyes.

There are hoots and whistles and big fat tears all around the yard as the happy couples celebrate their engagements. Then we all rush the deck, getting tangled up in hugs as the girls show off their engagement rings.

I can’t even remember where I left the lemonade pitcher. All I know is, I’ve got Inez gripped in a tight embrace when I glance over her shoulder and make eye contact with Darius. He’s glaring intently at me, that regular scowl on his face.

My stomach clenches again. Damn that handsome, grumpy, infuriating man.

I ease out of the hug. “How about another pitcher of bourbon lemonade to celebrate?!”

The crowd shouts their assent and I grin.

I duck into the cool shade of Ronan’s ultra spacious, ultra modern kitchen. Helping myself to the dishes and utensils I need, I get to work on the cocktail.

Before long, a cute hockey player steps into the room, coming to take a seat at the counter where I’m stirring the pitcher.

“That looks good.” The man smiles flirtatiously, his twinkly eyes scanning me up and down. “Can I get some?”

From the innuendo in his voice, I can tell that the lemonade is the last thing on his mind.

Still, I grab a plastic cup and fill it, sticking a lemon wedge on the rim. “Here you go.” I slide the drink across the counter to him.

He takes a sip. “Mmm. Sweet but sharp. It’s got bite.” His eyes rake over me again.

I check him out, too. Sitting there, all sexy stubble and sparkly eyes, his hair and shoulders still glistening from swimming in the pool. And I decide to flirt a little. Because, why not? With all that turmoil Darius has been making me feel, I could use a distraction.

I lean a hip against the lower cabinet door and grin. “Oh, you like it?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dropping his elbows to the counter, he leans closer. “And you know what? I like my women sweet and sharp, too. Just like my lemonade.”

I almost laugh out loud. Cheesy much?!

Right then, another cute hockey player is here, punching his teammate in the arm. “Get lost, Raines. I called dibs on her,” he grumbles.

Raines punches him back. “I saw her first, Parker.”

“Called dibs on me?” I ask, eyebrow hiked up threateningly. “Dibs for what?” These guys had better choose their next words wisely.

Parker reads my threatening expression and flinches. He nervously clears his throat. “For, uh, for a…a palm reading.” He thrusts a massive hand out to me, face up. “You’re a fortune teller, right? I saw you shuffling cards earlier.”

A fit of cackles breaks out of me. I know, I know—these guys are only trying to get laid. But the attention is fun nonetheless.

As my head is flying backward in laughter, my eyes catch on Darius’s. I have to do a double take. Now, the man is standing on the deck with Cecily all up in his face. But even as she rambles away, he’s busy staring daggers at me through the glass sliding door.

My heart stutters a beat. I run a hand over the soft pouch of my fluttering stomach.

What the hell is his issue with me now ? Is he angry that I’m here, hanging out with his family and friends? Or did I miss a phone call from him? Did he need me at the office today?

Well, whatever it is, it’s not my freaking problem.

I turn my attention back to the hockey players seated in front of me. I’m determined to show Darius that I’m having a good time, despite the bad vibes he’s sending my way.

Raines knocks Parker’s hand out of the air. “I can tell you your fortune, dipshit. You’d have a much easier time picking up the ladies if you’d moisturize those dry-ass hands of yours. No woman wants to feel those flaky reptile hands touching her in the dark. And you wonder why you can’t get rid of your V-card.”

Parker rolls his eyes, his cheeks going red. “How’s that case of the Sin Valley Itch treating you, by the way? Did your doctor finally find a prescription that works?”

Raines gives his teammate a shove, pushing him off of his stool. “Fuck off with your dumb lies. They won’t help you get the girl.” His pleading eyes come to me. “I don’t have an STD, by the way. Promise.”

Parker sighs in defeat. “Fine, I made that up. I’m off to find some moisturizer. I’ll be right back."

Once we’re alone, Raines is grinning at me, his hand resting on the counter, palm facing up. “So, can I get a palm reading?”

“Sure.” Darius is still glaring at me through the glass door, so I shine my brightest smile in Raines’s direction, giving him all my attention. I cradle his big hand in my small one, leaning closer to inspect the network of lines in his palm. “What would you like to know?”

The flirty hockey player leans in, too, his forehead almost brushing mine. “What do I want to know? Is there any chance I can convince the cute tarot reader to go grab a drink with me later on tonight?”

Wait—did this totally gorgeous, totally charming hockey player just ask me on a date? No freaking way. It doesn’t mean anything, Ziggy. You should know that by now.

He’s interested in sex. Only sex. That’s the way men operate when it comes to me.

Before I can open my mouth to spew out a playful comeback, a massive paw clamps down on Raines’s shoulder from behind, jerking him upright.

Darius boldly looms over the hockey player and me. “Go find yourself another booty call, Raines.” His fiery irises zero in on me. “Ziggy is mine for the rest of the night.”