The Risks We Take Duet Box Set

6. Carys

CARYS

E merson decided we needed to be fashionably late to the party.

According to her, thirty minutes was perfect. We wouldn’t be the first ones there, but we also probably wouldn’t be the last to arrive. My roomie put way too much thought into this, but since I don’t have a car, she sets the schedule.

One less thing for me to stress out over, since I’ve been stressing about how tonight’s going to go all day. I hate that it only took seeing Cooper Sinclair one time, and every feeling I’ve had for him for years has been magnified and taken up all the space in my mind today.

Em didn’t even put the top down on her first love for our ride over to the party.

A baby-blue 1964 Mustang convertible.

Her car is always stocked with rubber bands, a brush, and there’s usually a baseball cap or two floating somewhere in the backseat to keep the wind from whipping our hair everywhere. But tonight, the top stayed up, so there were no hair catastrophes.

I’m eternally grateful for that. My hair is my best asset. My ass is a little too flat, and my boobs are a little too small. But my hair is a shiny dark brown, with natural red highlights that flows in waves down past my shoulders. However, it doesn’t hold a curl for shit, since it’s also super thin. And I spent way too much time making sure it looked nice tonight for it to get messed up in the wind before we get there.

Once we park in front of the address, I run my hands over my hair to tame any last-minute fly-aways and check my makeup in the mirror one more time. I’m not a heavy makeup kinda girl. My lashes are long and black with a swipe of matching eyeliner to make my green eyes pop. And other than some pink lip gloss, that’s it for my makeup routine.

I turn toward Em. “You ready?”

She adjusts the barely there top she paired with painted-on white skinny jeans. It’s a beautiful soft black shirt with skinny straps that’s held together by a few well-placed black ribbons connecting the back. I made it for her a few months ago, and it’s pretty perfect, if I do say so myself. I love to design pieces with ribbons. There’s just something I love about the idea of them being untied by someone special. And let’s face it, you should be wearing lingerie to either make yourself feel confident and sexy or to make someone drop to their knees before they rip it off you.

The shirt Em’s wearing tonight was one of the last pieces I made before I fell in love with designing lingerie instead of clothing. Sometimes you’ve got to try out everything before narrowing down what works for you. I like designing clothes, but I love creating lingerie.

Once we get out of the car, she turns toward me and tugs at her shirt. “Is everything where it needs to be?”

I make her spin so I can adjust her ribbons before giving her my stamp of approval.

Then she tugs my white boho shirt off my shoulders and down a little further in the front. “That’s better. Nothing wrong with showing a little clavicle, CC.”

I went with a tamer look than my roomie, with short black shorts that make my vertically challenged legs appear a little longer and a flowy white boho shirt that slips off my shoulders in a very casual way. Sexy but comfy. At least, that’s what I’m going for. Not in-your-face. Last night’s look was as much in-your-face as I can take for one weekend.

As we walk up the short driveway, loud voices and laughter carry on the breeze, along with the heavenly smell of a charcoal grill, and my stomach growls in anticipation. We follow the red-stone path toward the sounds of the party, and Em knocks on the tall, wooden privacy gate, then pushes through it like she owns the place.

I want Em’s confidence when I grow up.

We walk into the small backyard, and damn , that view is incredible.

And the ocean’s not bad either.

The guys from the bar last night are scattered throughout the small space in board shorts and t-shirts. Two of them are shirtless, with droplets of water clinging to their golden skin, as they carry surfboards over to where a few are hanging from the fence. And holy hotness, Batman. I’ve never seen so many abs on one man before.

And my stepfather coaches pro football.

There are athletes around all the time.

Linc jumps up to welcome us, nearly tripping over his own feet to get to a giggling Emerson. No lie. She giggles like a little girl, and I look at her, wondering what happened to my badass roommate.

The door to the house clicks shut behind me, and I turn to see Cooper stepping out, stuffing something in the pocket of his dark-blue board shorts, water dripping from his damp blond hair, and a tight white, damp tee stretching across his firm chest and clinging to his muscles.

And I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop my tongue from falling out of my mouth.

His eyes lock with mine as he smiles.

Just smiles that megawatt smile of his, and I’m done for.

Damn him.

He throws an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Wasn’t sure if you guys were coming.”

I flush, thinking about our texts last night. I spent the day trying to forget most of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emerson and Linc slipping through the door Coop just vacated and roll my eyes.

Traitor left me alone already.

“Yeah. Em doesn’t move super fast on the weekends. Sorry if you were waiting.”

He drops his arm and presses his palm to the small of my back. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the rest of the guys.” He guides me toward three guys lounging on a luxurious outdoor sectional with an equally expensive-looking firepit at their feet.

Actually, the more I look around, this place is way nicer than I was expecting.

He points to the two guys who hung up their boards before grabbing beers and sitting down. “You remember Ford and Rook.”

I wave awkwardly.

“You met Axel last night too.” Coop extends his arm toward the Texas twang guy from the bar, who stands and tips the straw hat he’s wearing in my direction.

“Future baby momma.” He snags my hand and drags me down next to him on the couch.

My eyes shoot to Coop’s for help, but although he doesn’t look thrilled, he doesn’t say anything.

Well, okay then.

“Baby momma, did you meet the owner of this esteemed abode yet?” Okay, this guy is obviously the clown of the group. He kinda reminds me of a hyperactive puppy.

Cooper growls—actually growls. “Her name is Carys.”

Hmm. Interesting .

Axel’s eyes light up with mischief as his arm moves behind me on the couch in a very first date at the movies kind of way, and he plays with the ends of my hair.

“‘Baby momma’ just has such a nice ring to it though.” He kicks his feet up on the firepit. This guy does absolutely nothing for me, and if Cooper wasn’t here, Axel might actually creep me out a little. But I get the distinct impression he’s doing this to rile Cooper up. And I’m all for it.

“Hey, Trick,” Axel calls.

The tall brunette guy manning the grill turns to look at us. His golden skin glows against the bright orange Hawaiian-print board shorts hanging off his hips and the long-sleeved Salt Life t-shirt stretching across a broad chest. A big dog is sitting obediently at his feet. Watching.

“You met my future wife yet?” Axel’s fingers skim my bare shoulder, then dip just under the elastic band at the top of my shirt.

I pull away while Cooper simultaneously kicks Axel’s legs off the firepit.

Trick chuckles at Axe’s annoyed huff. “You mean your future alimony payment?” He scratches behind the dog’s ears and quietly says something that causes the big, scary, red furball to move faster than I’ve ever seen any dog move and promptly plant itself between Axel and me.

I look helplessly from the man next to me to the one manning the grill, and I hold as still as possible. “Um, am I...” I stutter and hold my hands up carefully in front of myself. “Am I allowed to touch him? Is he a military dog?”

Trick whistles and the dog goes from sitting up at attention to dropping its head down on my leg, completely relaxed. “ Her name is Wanda, and you can touch her now.” He sips his beer and watches me tentatively run my hand over Wanda’s soft red hair.

“Oh my God. She’s a redhead.” I look over at Cooper and can’t hold back my smile. “Like Wanda Maximoff.”

Coop’s corresponding smile does insane things to my insides.

“Dude, Axe. You can fuck right off. Wanda likes her, and the girl knows her Marvel. She’s way too good for you.” Trick closes the lid of the grill and opens a cooler. “Want something to drink, Carys?” He reaches inside and grabs a beer, but Coop takes it from him before he can hand it to me.

“You driving, Carys?”

I look around the backyard to see if Emerson’s come back out yet. “Em drove us here, but I might be driving home.”

Coop digs back into the cooler and produces a bottle of sweet tea.

“You remembered.” My heart does a crazy little flip that he knows what I like to drink.

“Like I could ever forget.”

And there goes my heart.

T he sun is setting by the time Emerson and Linc make their way back outside, slightly disheveled. The guys tease Linc until the tips of his ears turn red from embarrassment.

We’re already eating around the firepit.

“So, Carys. Tell us about yourself.” Trick turns the grill off and finally makes himself a plate, before coming to sit down in one of the chairs across from me.

It’s strange to think that these men, who remind me so much of my brother and his friends, are elite soldiers who’ve seen and done things I can’t even imagine. They seem like goofballs. Mouth-watering, elite, deadly goofballs.

I wipe my mouth and take a sip of sweet tea. “Hmm.” I look from Cooper to Trick, suddenly inexplicably nervous. “Well... I’m a student at SDU of A, studying fashion design and vocal performance.”

“Bor-ing,” Axel announces loudly. “So do you wanna be a rock star or pick out clothes for rock stars? Gotta say you sounded fucking killer last night. So my vote is rock star.”

“You don’t get a vote, asshole.” Cooper stands across from me and grabs my empty plate, then dumps them both in the trash, grumbling.

“Why can’t she do both?” Emerson asks from Linc’s lap, nursing her third beer. Looks like I’m driving tonight.

I just shake my head. “I don’t want to do both. Or either. My dreams of a career on the stage never included being a rock star. They included Broadway. And those days are long gone.”

Em looks at me with surprised eyes. “But you’re going to keep singing with Jack and Theo, right?”

Before I get a chance to answer, Axel stands, then lifts me from the couch, cradling me to him like he’s about to carry me over the threshold. I wish this was the guy who made my heart beat faster. I laugh, but it’s a little awkward the way he picks me up like he has a right.

“Future wife, do I need to beat someone down? Are you dating one of those guys?”

“Swear to God, Axe,” Coop growls. “I’m gonna beat you if you don’t put her down.”

Axel nuzzles his nose against my hair as he whispers, “I’d think Sinclair had a claim to you if I didn’t know better, future wife.”

Damn, I wish I didn’t desperately want Cooper to have a claim on me.

I don’t tell Axel that though.

He jogs toward the back gate like I weigh nothing, and I lock my arms tighter around his neck, afraid he’s going to drop me.

“Who feels like a little night swimming?” he yells over his shoulder.

I screech, and chairs scrape against the stones behind us. “No night swimming.”

Axel runs down the beach with me in his arms, screaming.

No longer liking this game and silently wishing it was someone else carrying me.