Boss Next Door Page 6

  “How about a drink?” I offer. “The lounge is open all night.”

  She chews on her bottom lip and looks like she’s about ready to decline, but then surprises me when she nods.

  “I think I’d like that,” she grins.

  Together, we head into the lounge and take a seat in a corner as far away from people as we can get and pick up our conversation where we left off in the car. As I watch the flames flickering upon her smooth, milky skin, I reflect on the fact that she hasn’t changed one bit. Granted, it’s only been a couple of years, but she still looks every bit the same sweet girl I remember. And she still has the same profound impact on me today she did two years ago.

  I know how stupid this is. She’s going to be getting on a plane and jetting off to England the day after tomorrow. And when she does, I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see her again. Running into her again – in Vegas of all places – has been amazing on every level. Unexpected and entirely amazing. But I know it’s a fluke. I know it was a one in a billion chance – a chance that may not ever come around again once she gets on that plane.

  Which means that much like that final night of summer two years ago, all we have is tonight.

  She looks at me, and I can see her starting to shut down. I feel every single grain of sand slipping through the hourglass, each one hitting me like a hammer to the gut and know that our time together is running short. But I’m not ready for the night to end. I rack my brain, searching for some way to extend it.

  “Truth or dare,” I blurt out.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” I nod.

  Her eyes widen, and her smile broadens. Chloe’s laughter is like music that fills my heart and soul with a lightness I’ve never known before. One I can’t seem to get enough of – one I don’t want to let go of. She raises her chin, and there’s a defiant gleam in her eyes.

  “Truth,” she states.

  “Bold and daring choice,” I chuckle.

  “I am nothing if not bold and daring.” She grins.

  “Okay, bold and daring girl,” I tease. “That last night at the lake two years ago, did you want to sleep with me?”

  She covers her mouth and giggles, her blush apparent even in the dim light of the lounge. Chloe looks away and won’t meet my eyes.

  “I’m not going to answer that,” she gasps between giggles.

  “Then you have to take a shot.”

  “What? That’s not –”

  I laugh. “That’s the rule,” I inform her. “You either answer the question or take a shot.”

  I signal the waitress over and ask her to bring some tequila shots to our table. Chloe is still sitting there, avoiding my gaze. I can see the debate going on in her head as she tries to decide whether to answer my question or not. The waitress comes back and sets three full shot glasses in front of each of us.

  Chloe looks down at the golden liquid in the glasses and then back up at me with a small smile playing upon her lips. Without a word, she picks one of them up and throws it back, grimacing as she slips a lime into her mouth. I laugh and shake my head.

  “Okay, my turn,” she croaks, still grimacing.

  “Fire away,” I tell her. “I’m an open book.”

  “I guess we’ll see,” she challenges me with an arched eyebrow. “That last summer at the river, how many girls did you sleep with?”

  “Two,” I admit.

  “That’s all?” she sounds surprised. “I would have thought –”

  “Nope. And if you want to know the truth, I wasn’t into the two I did sleep with,” I tell her. “My heart was set on somebody else.”

  I hold her gaze, the meaning of my words clear, which sets off another fierce blush in her face. But she smoothly moves onto another question, apparently not wanting to even open that door.

  Back and forth, we take turns answering questions – or taking shots – laughing together wildly and learning a lot about each other. Maybe it’s the tequila amplifying my feelings, but I’ve never felt anything quite like what I’m feeling for Chloe right now. I feel closer and more open with her right now than I’ve ever felt with anybody in my life.

  My friends are my brothers, and I’m close and relatively open with them, of course, but even with them, there are certain parts of me I don’t share. No, this is different. With Chloe, I feel like I don’t have to put up any pretenses and that it’s okay to let my guard down entirely. I don’t fear being judged by her for any aspect of who I am.

  And it kills me to know that this feeling has an expiration date on it.

  Chapter Seven

  Chloe

  I’m drunk. There’s really no other way to put it. I’m lightheaded and feel almost – goofy. I’m laughing a hell of a lot more than I usually do, and I’m definitely telling a lot more truth to Braxton than I typically share with anybody – although I’m sure the tequila is helping with that. But the fact is, I feel a lot freer than I usually do, and that makes me happy. Even though I know it’s fleeting and isn’t a state of being that’s going to last.

  Eventually, I’m going to have to sober up, put my big girl pants back on, and get back to being the steady and responsible person I have to be every day. The person everybody relies on back in the London branch.

  That’s not to say everything about London is terrible. It’s not. There are a lot of things I love about being over there, and I have some good friends. But it’s not home, and I can honestly say I don’t usually have a lot of fun. I’m usually too burdened by responsibility to even entertain the notion of having a good time.

  My father says that the burden of leadership and the weight on my shoulders will ease with time. He tells me that once I start building a base of people I trust and can delegate to, some of that pressure on me will lighten up. It’s a burden I never wanted, but one I’m saddled with, nonetheless.

  Which is why I want to wring every last drop of fun I can out of tonight – I don’t know when I’m going to have an opportunity to cut loose like this again. This night out with Braxton was entirely unexpected, but I realize it’s exactly what I needed on so many levels – levels I didn’t even know I had, let alone needed to be energized like this.

  “Okay, your turn,” Braxton announces. “Truth or dare.”

  I give him a smile. “Truth.”

  Braxton laughs as he shakes his head. “Do you ever pick dare?”

  “With you assigning the dare?” I grin. “Do you think I’m insane?”

  “Well I was hoping you were, to be honest,” he fires back.

  I watch as a couple stumbles their way into the lounge, laughing like lunatics and holding on to each other as if their lives depended on it. She’s wearing an over the top wedding dress, and he’s in a powder blue tuxedo with a ruffled shirt. It looks like something straight out of the 1970’s.

  The lounge is only half full, but the crowd applauds wildly when the couple takes a seat at the bar. The man gives the crowd a smile, and a wave as his literally blushing bride buries her face in his jacket, hiding her face from everybody.

  The smile on my face slips slightly, as I look at the newlyweds. Sure, maybe this intense love they’re feeling right now will fade in time. I mean, it’s a spur of the moment wedding in Vegas, it’s not like these things are built to last. But that feeling of intense love I’m sure they’re sharing right now fills me with a wistful longing. I’d love to feel that burning intensity. I’d love to be so wrapped up in somebody – and have them be equally wrapped up in me – that the world around us just ceases to exist. I would love to be consumed by that kind of emotional inferno.

  But I’ve given up the notion that it’s in the cards for me. At least for now. I have too much to focus on right now, and I know I can’t give all of myself to somebody. And to divide my attention between my career and somebody in my life wouldn’t be fair to them. If I can’t give one hundred percent of my heart, mind, body, and soul to somebody, I have no business even trying. I want to be fully presen
t in any relationship I have, and I can’t do that right now. I don’t know if I’ll ever be in a place to do that.

  I clear my throat and give my head a small shake, pushing all those melancholy thoughts out of my head, and bring myself back to the here and now. Braxton is smiling at me, and I almost feel like he can see through me. Like he can read the thoughts that are swirling around in my mind. It’s crazy, I know. He’s not a mind reader. But the intensity of his gaze, even clouded by alcohol, makes it seem like he is.

  “Okay fine,” I grin at him. “I’ll take dare.”

  His smile widens, which immediately softens his face. It makes him look more boyish and handsome, in my opinion. His eyes flick over to the newlyweds at the bar. I can almost let myself believe I see the same sort of wistful longing in him that’s coursing through me at the moment. In this moment, he looks as lonely and empty as I feel. But the expression on his face changes a moment later, that mesmerizing smile back on his face along with a mischievous sparkle in his eye as he turns to me.

  “Dare, huh?” he grins.

  “That’s what I said,” I challenge him.

  He chuckles deviously, curling up his lips in a drunken smile. “Let’s go find a chapel and get married.”

  My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open. A moment later, I start to laugh like it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.

  “Are you serious?” I finally manage to gasp.

  “Yeah,” he confirms, trying not to slur his words. “Why not?”

  “But why is a better question.”

  He picks up his shot glass and downs the tequila inside without so much as a grimace. He’s clearly the more experienced drinker between us. The lightheadedness and goofy grin on my face are just more proof of that fact. Well, that and the fact that I haven’t immediately shot down his insane idea.

  “Because it’d be fun,” he grins sloppily, still barely keeping his alcohol in. “I mean, getting married in a cheap Vegas chapel is one of those crazy memories we’ll think back on and laugh.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You are insane.”

  “Maybe a little,” he chuckles. “Come on; it’ll be hilarious. And it’s not like we’ll really be married or anything. The paperwork will never be sent in. It’s just a goof.”

  “Seriously insane,” I repeat.

  “I’ve done just about everything there is to do in Vegas except for that. I’d like to have a good story to tell when I head back to New York. Besides, you’ve been dared, and you can’t just decline.”

  “Oh, I’ve been dared, huh?” I laugh.

  “Double dog dared, in fact.”

  I burst into laughter, then pick up the shot glass and down the tequila, wincing at the fire sliding down my throat. I slam the glass down and give him a grin I hope looks somewhat sober.

  “Let’s do it,” I laugh. “It’ll give me a good story to tell back in London too.”

  “Excellent,” Braxton laughs. “This will be fun.”

  He takes my arm and helps me up from the table. I grab hold of his arm tight, feeling the floor spinning beneath my feet as we make our way out of the lounge and toward the front doors. Standing on my feet shows me I’m a lot more drunk than I thought I was when I was sitting down. But I’m determined not to let it slow me down. After all, we have a fun memory to make together.

  Chapter Eight

  Braxton

  Arm in arm, we step through the doors of the chapel called Taste of Britain. It sits on a side street in the shadow of Treasure Island. “God Save the Queen” is playing in a lobby that’s festooned with British flags, knick-knacks, and photographs of various English landmarks. A pair of bouncers dressed like the Queen’s Guard stand beside the two doors that lead into the chapel, wearing the very recognizable red jackets, tall bearskin hats, and customary scowls, worn by the soldiers outside Buckingham Palace.

  Of course, the expression in their eyes is significantly more bored than the real guards. But they’ll do.

  “Oh my God, this is so kitschy,” Chloe laughs.

  “Which makes it perfect.”

  She laughs and leans against me. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to me tightly. The feel of her body pressed to mine is warm. Comforting. Not to mention, it makes my cock stiffen.

  A door to our left opens and a woman who looks a lot like a young Princess Diana steps out, a wide smile upon her face.

  “Well, good evening,” she chirps in a clipped – and probably fake – British accent. “Lovely to see you.”

  I look around the lobby, then down at Chloe, who is blushing like mad. It makes me smile, and I pull her to me a bit tighter. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but something about this just feels so… right.

  “We’re looking to make a memory tonight,” I announce.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place, love,” the faux-Diana says. “Can I show you our available services?”

  She steps behind a counter that’s set beside the door she came out of and opens a large three-ring binder. Chloe and I step over and start looking at the different packages they offer with the accompanying photos. I look up at faux Diana and smile.

  “Just give us the top of the line package you have,” I tell her. “We don’t want to have to think about anything tonight.”

  Faux-Diana’s smile widens, and she nods. “Of course. And why would you want to think about anything other than the love you two are memorializing here with us tonight.”

  Chloe buries her face in my shoulder and bursts into laughter. I admit the absurdity of it all is funny. But this is the kind of goofy, off-beat fun I wanted to have with her. A memory she can take back to England that will make her think of me. That won’t let her forget me so that when she comes back to the States, we can pick up where we left off.

  “She’s a little shy,” I explain to Faux-Diana.

  “Of course,” she nods reassuringly. “It’s a big day for the both of you, after all.”

  “Absolutely,” I laugh, my words slurring. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Chloe looks up, her smile and that sparkle in her eye lighting up the whole room as she slaps me playfully in the chest.

  “Huge day,” she giggles. “Enormous. I can’t wait to marry you.” It’s all she can do to stop from bursting out laughing.

  Faux-Diana smiles like a car salesperson who just closed the deal on a one-hundred-thousand-dollar Maserati. She quickly taps a few things into the computer on her desk, then turns to us.

  “I’ll just need to see your identifications, please,” she informs us.

  Almost absently, Chloe and I both fish our driver’s licenses out and hand them over. The woman takes them with a nod and then keys more information into her system. A moment later, I hear the whirr of a printer warming up, followed by the sound of a paper being printed out. She reaches under the desk and pulls out the form, attaching it – and our IDs – to a clipboard. She hands it to me with a smile.

  “Just read these over and throw your signatures down at the bottom if you would, please,” she instructs. “It basically says that with the Crown Jewels package, we’ll take care of everything for you, from the rings to the paperwork. All you two need to do is enjoy yourselves and make some memories that will last you a lifetime.”

  Chloe giggles again and gives me a roll of the eyes as if she can’t believe we’re actually going to go through with this. Frankly, I can’t either, but this is just the sort of odd fun I think will stick with her – which is what I want.

  “Would you like to rent wedding attire?” Faux-Diana asks. “We have a wide range of –”

  I shake my head. “No, that’s okay –”

  “Hey now, if we’re going to do this, I at least want a veil and a bouquet,” Chloe finally interjects. “I want to do this right – or at least, as right as we can.”

  I laugh. “Fair enough,” I slur, and turn to Faux-Diana. “Can you accommodate my blushing bride?”

  She inclines her head. “Of course
.”

  “Great,” I chuckle as I slip a credit card out of my wallet and hand it over. “Just put it on the final bill.”

  Faux-Diana snatches the card out of my hand with a little less grace than I expected. She takes it like she doesn’t want to give me time to reconsider and back out. I guess with so many competing wedding chapels in the area; they need to scrape and fight for every last dollar. She quickly swipes the card and waits for a moment until the machine beeps and spits out the receipt. As I sign it and the forms on her clipboard, she disappears into a back room, coming back a moment later with a bouquet of fresh flowers for Chloe.

  “For the beautiful bride,” she chirps.

  “Thank youuuu,” Chloe smiles, dragging out the last syllable in drunken giddiness.

  Faux-Diana steps around behind Chloe and affixes a lace veil over her head, slowly letting it settle down over her face. She takes a step back and admires her handiwork.

  “Beautiful,” she states. “Absolutely perfect.”

  Chloe and I exchange a smile as I slide the clipboard back across the desk. Faux-Diana takes up the clipboard and goes over all the information, making sure all the i’s are dotted, and the t’s are crossed.

  “Excellent,” she says. “I believe the Queen is ready for you now.”

  “Oh, we’re going to be married by the Queen herself, huh?” Chloe asks. “What an honor!” she says, collapsing into a giggling fit.

  Faux-Diana beams. “But of course,” she nods. “The Queen’s blessing is included with the Crown Jewels package.”

  We share another laugh as we follow Faux-Diana to the doors. As we approach, the guards each grab hold of the brass handle nearest to them and pull the door open for us. Faux-Diana gives us both a beatific smile and gestures to the chapel.

  “The Queen awaits,” she intones.

  Chloe and I stumble into the chapel – which looks like a miniature version of Westminster Abbey – laughing as we cling to each other. The sounds of the “Wedding March” accompanied by a choir pipes through the speakers, as Chloe and I dramatically walk down the aisle together, on the verge of busting up.