Into You Series: The Complete Collection

17. Ian

CHAPTER 17

IAN

C ameron is pacing the length of an empty conference room we found in a corner of the resort, mumbling to both himself and maybe us. I honestly can’t tell. This room is the only place we could find to talk bachelor party specifics that also accommodated his anxiety.

Wes’s sandaled feet are propped up on the long boardroom table as he leans back on two legs of a flimsy wooden chair. I notice the twisted edges getting strained. It’s clear that even though this resort has invested money in a lot of the amenities, the secret boardroom was apparently not on their list of priorities.

“That’s gonna break,” I comment, glancing down at the legs then back up to him.

Wes shrugs nonchalantly followed by a small, “Nah.”

“It’s just nice to know Grace and I will have each other’s backs,” says Cam. “Just in case things get crazy.” He’s only talking to himself at this point; I’m not even sure he cares whether we’re paying attention or not.

With the bachelor party being tonight, Grace and Cam planned to have the bachelorette party the following night, the day before the rehearsal dinner. It’s back-to-back celebrations of some sort until the wedding day, and I commend him on at least attempting to be responsible about the schedule.

And, if I’m being honest with myself, I like that I can be available should something happen to Nia at the bachelorette party. She may not be my wife or fiancée like Ramona and Grace are to Wes and Cam, but there’s some weird sense of responsibility I feel like I have with her.

I can’t tell if that thought sounds obsessive or caring.

“Not that I don’t support this—because I do—but what crazy thing could possibly happen with strippers?” Wes asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well, I’ll be sober,” I offer, “so at least I can drive. That will tone down the potential for crazy.”

“Yes, but you’re a wild card,” Cam throws back at me pointedly. “You pick up strays.”

“Hey, I resent that. I try to keep things fairly reasonable, and that goat man from the other night was nice enough,” I say.

“He was on drugs.” Wes laughs.

“Actually,” I correct with my index finger pointing in the air, “he was just super drunk.”

“The point is,” Cam says, exhaling heavily, “I would like backup just in case, and the girls have agreed to be available.”

“I guess it’s probably for the best,” Wes says, leaning farther back with his hands behind his head. The chair creaks. “The other Chambers kid is a wild card too.”

“You people and not trusting the Chambers family.” I shake my head as if in disbelief. “I am, quite frankly, appalled.”

“Do you remember that time Ramona just disappeared? We all walked up and down the interstate looking for her.”

“Sure,” I muse, “but she made it home just fine.”

“She hitchhiked, Ian, and somehow had a stuffed bear when we found her?”

“The origin of that bear is still a mystery.”

“Still not as bad as you,” Cam says. “Didn’t you streak in a park?”

I bark out a laugh. “Hey, I made sure nobody was there, but yeah. That was a good time, thanks very much.”

“Necessary precautions, my friend,” Wes says, slapping my back.

“Okay,” I say, “so it looks like the night’s events are as follows.” I look down at my phone, where I’ve been attempting to take notes. “Strip club, bar, bar, pier?”

“What is this, Duck, Duck, Goose?” Wes laughs. “And why is the strip club first?”

“To get it out of the way,” I say with a raised eyebrow.

“Good call,” he replies, a bit too quickly.

“Agreed,” Cam interjects. I can see the relief in both his and Wes’s eyes, and I wonder why the heck we’re even choosing to go if none of us want to.

“I mean, we can skip it—” I start before immediately being interrupted by the others.

“It wouldn’t be a bachelor party without it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Have to.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, looking between them then back down at my phone again. “So, strip club, bar, then pier?”

“Did you take out a bar?”

“Why is the pier last and not a bar?”

SNAP!

I look over and down goes Wes, butt flat on the floor with the chair splayed under him in various chunks and splinters, a full-on gregarious laugh erupting from his throat.

“This is…going…to be…a shit show, isn’t it?” he asks between laughs, and both Cam and I look at each other with a smirk.

Absolutely.

I spend most of the late morning and early afternoon trying to relax by the pool with my most recent read, but it’s hard to concentrate when I keep wondering what time Nia will arrive. It’s almost three o’clock before she wanders out of the resort’s sliding glass doors and, good lord, she’s as gorgeous as ever. No other woman can pull off a conservative bikini like this woman, and I never really thought I’d say that. It’s probably those long legs still on display. Even at her shorter height, she’s seventy percent legs. Couldn’t hide those even if she tried.

I pop out of my pool chair with my book placed under my arm once she passes, following right behind her as her blue skirt billows next to me.

“Afternoon, Polly,” I say, sidestepping the fabric. “How are you feeling?”

“Not dead. At least there’s that.” Her tone lacks the familiar underlying bite of irritation that I’m used to. Dare I say it has a slight sweetness to it? I can get behind this change.

We walk down the stairs that lead to the beach. She removes her sandals to pocket them in her tote bag. She eyes me for a bit then slightly opens the bag as if to invite my own sandals in as well. It’s weird how such a simple gesture can cause my heart to swell three times as big.

“Wow.” I slip my sandals off. “I like this new politeness. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m trying this new thing where I try not to completely hate you,” she says, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Is she flirting with me?

I use my hand to widen the bag’s opening and drop the sandals inside. Just as they plop in, I catch a glimpse of a DVD. The DVD. My jaw drops.

“So, you do still have it,” I say, and her head jerks toward me, face flushing red.

Her eyebrows rise above her dark sunglasses. “I take it back,” she says, her mouth twitching into a constrained half-smile. “I still hate you.”

“Tell me why you have it,” I prod, a grin spreading across my face.

This woman is effectively carrying pornography just a foot or two away from me. This entire situation feels like contraband that has been caged and locked away from me, and I finally have a piece of the key.

“There’s a story, I swear.”

“And…” I urge as we begin to walk once more.

I’m getting hard just thinking about Nia sitting on her bed watching it, and I trip over some sand. My mind can barely register anything past the idea of her watching that goddamn movie.

She laughs at my stumble. “Grace told me you guys would like it as a bachelor party present. So, I was going to give it to you.” Her tone is all business.

“Were you, now?” I say, quirking an eyebrow. “And did you and Grace watch it together?”

“You pig.”

“I feel that’s a legitimate question.”

She stops mid-step and I’m so close to her that my chest bumps against her back. Then she stays there, unmoving, her head tilting to face me. We’re maybe an inch or two apart, my head hovering next to hers, both of us looking straight ahead.

“You’re starting this again,” she whispers. Her breath is so close it makes my hair stand on end. Every bit of pressure in my body rushes directly down to my crotch.

“Starting what?” I ask.

“The suggestive, seductive whispering.”

“ You started the whispering.”

“Listen, I told you things I shouldn’t have last night,” she says. “Let’s get over it.”

I chuckle, my breath moving a tendril of hair hanging next to her ear. She inhales sharply at this. Does she really regret everything? I take a step back.

“Stop that,” she says.

“Stop what?” I whisper back. I’m starting to feel like a yo-yo being thrown down and wound back up, just wrapped around this woman’s finger.

“That weird grumble guttural sound you make,” she says. “I heard enough of that last night.”

I didn’t even know I made a sound.

“I liked finding out more about you,” I say, and I mean it. I loved the honesty, the raw admissions about our personal lives, and everything in between. There’s a moment now where she stares into my eyes. She steals a glance down to my lips. It reminds me of how she looked last night—hungry and wanting.

“We don’t talk about that,” she whispers.

“What?” I whisper back.

“You know what.”

What is she referring to? I open my mouth to ask, but I feel a quick slap on my back that jolts me away from my focus on Nia’s smooth lips.

“Corinne,” Nia says through a shaky breath, a large grin spreading on her face. It’s fake and I could sense that from a mile away. I wonder if Corinne can too, but even if it’s possible, her own face doesn’t give a hint of being any the wiser.

“What’s going on?” she asks. “Are we sharing secrets?” I have never wanted to hear Corinne’s peppy voice less in my entire life. In fact, I’ll even go so far as to say I’ve never wanted to see a tall perky blonde in a small pink bikini as little as I do now.

Corinne is much smarter than she lets on. I swear I can see mischief lurking behind those absurdly large, winged black sunglasses.

I try to speak again, but a loud ringing from Nia’s tote bag interrupts.

“Do you always keep that at max volume?” Corinne asks. Nia tries to flash another fake smile, but I roll my eyes at the ridiculous effort of it all.

“It restarted and I guess the volume triggered back to a default,” Nia says, digging through her bag, pushing past items as the ringtone wails on. How do women find anything in bags that big?

“The bottomless bag,” I comment to Nia, smirking.

“I keep forgetting to check it this morning,” she says before yelling, “Finally!” once she locates the phone. Then, with a quick glance at the screen, her face shifts from triumph to shock.

“Woah, uh, I should probably take this.”

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“I have about ten missed calls from my brother.”

I try to see what’s on her screen because I’m a nosy fucker, but the light of the sun and my lack of sunglasses causes me to squint and only be able to make out vague details. All I know is when she goes to her messages, I see paragraph upon paragraph of texts sent from the other person.

Finally, with a small twist of her wrist, the sun stops reflecting off the screen just long enough for me to see one simple and clear text at the bottom: Call me now.