The Best Man Read online

  “Shut up,” Samuel scolded as I reached behind to slap at his brother. Samuel smiled, and I turned myself back in the seat to face forward while Nick drove us the short distance to the bar at the edge of town.

  “Moe! We’re here!” I yelled out as soon as we all entered the small establishment. I hurried to lean over the bar and kissed the old proprietor on the cheek. Moe and my father had been friends more years than I could remember. I had talked my plans over with him, and he promised we could essentially have the run of the place. The few locals who chose to line the bar also knew our parents, and they had no issue with what they referred to as “young folks livening the place up” for the evening.

  “Got that beer pong table set up in the back, just like you asked for, Emmy,” he told me.

  “Thanks, Moe.” We all turned to go to the back room when I noticed one of us was missing.

  “Andy? Where’s Nick?”

  “I think he stayed outside to have a smoke.”

  “Okay.” I smiled. “Be right back!” I jogged to the door and stepped back outside to find Nick leaning with his back to the building. He took a slow drag from his cigarette and turned his face toward me with a smile. I moved until I matched his pose. “We’re going to play beer pong,” I told him. “Are you any good?”

  “Not bad.” He shrugged. “Why?”

  “Because I want to win,” I giggled. “I need to know who to pick for my team.”

  I turned to go back to the bar, and Nick stopped me with a hand on my forearm.

  “Em?” He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it under his heel. His hand was still around my arm, and I looked up to see why he stopped me. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Yeah?”

  He released his grip on my arm to push his bangs aside. “I’m having a party at my place at the end of the week. Just a backyard thing,” he said. “The guys from my band sort of...you know...wanted to get together with some friends before we go to LA to do some recording...”

  “And?” I smiled for him to continue.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come. You know...as my date?”

  His words surprised me a little, and I felt the smile leave my face in a moment of indecision. “Nick, I...”

  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine...I just thought maybe I could show you some of the cover art ideas I was talking about.”

  “I would like to come to your party,” I interrupted. His smile was instant, and I felt the need to elaborate. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to come as your date. You know...with this whole competition thing...And you’re a judge...”

  “I’m not a judge after tonight,” Nick said quietly, moving to stand directly in front of me.

  “Oh.” I was unsettled by his closeness but not enough to make me want to move away.

  “Tell you what,” Nick said in a husky voice. “Come to my party. I won’t invite anyone else. And I’ll save you a seat by the fire. Just in case.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “That...sounds nice.”

  Nick moved his hand up to brush his fingers down my cheek. Warning bells went off in my head. If I weren’t careful, he would end up kissing me. And while the idea was appealing, I had made a promise to Andy. I stepped back from Nick’s touch just as the front door opened. Samuel stood looking at both of us silently for a moment. Nick turned his body to face Samuel squarely. I felt like I was in the middle of some odd standoff.

  “Is everyone ready to play?” I asked, walking toward the door.

  “Yes. I was just coming to find you,” Samuel explained.

  “Good. I think we’re ready.” Though I had done nothing wrong, I felt somehow guilty under Samuel’s steady gaze. I stepped around him into the bar and moved quickly to the back room to play beer pong.

  Samuel won the coin toss and called Nick to his side first, thus ending any question about which team he might play for. I chose Andy, and Zack finished my team. Only a few locals infiltrated the back room of Moe’s place while we played beer pong. Most were curious about the loud shouts, laughter, and obscenities that poured out of the area while we tossed the tiny white ball back and forth toward the stacked cups and drank heartily. I knew Samuel picked Dan to be on his team because he was guaranteed to stay sober as our designated driver for the evening. I didn’t even care about strategy. I was having a damn good time.

  Nick’s attention across the table was welcome. He continued to flirt lightly with me throughout the game. I had to concentrate very hard to hit the cups and not pay so much attention to the darkly handsome guy who leaned on the table at the opposite end. When he bent forward to make his own shots, he would blow the hair out of his eyes and send me a rakish grin each time.

  “Down girl,” Andy warned quietly by my ear. “Samuel is onto you. I don’t want any fighting tonight.”

  “A promise is a promise.” I shook his hand off my shoulder. “I’ll be good.”

  “Thank you.” Andy pushed his glasses up his nose and ruffled my hair before walking away. I almost pouted a little at the reprimand. But he was right. Samuel was sending Nick some dirty looks. I didn’t need him thinking I was trying to influence the judging that way.

  When my team lost the match, we took a break so Andy could choose music at the jukebox while we all refreshed our drinks.

  “Where’s Nick?” Zack asked. “I want to play darts!”

  “Outside improving the whiteness of his smile with another cigarette,” Samuel said moodily.

  “Hey!” I hit Samuel lightly on the arm. “Be nice.”

  He turned and went to the bar to talk to Moe then, grumbling under his breath as he left. I looked up at Andy, hoping he’d have some explanation for Samuel’s surliness.

  “What’s next?” Andy asked, shrugging off his brother’s behavior.

  “I think we should play darts while you’re still sober enough to see the board.” I grinned.

  “Honey, I could drink another twelve-pack and still dominate,” Andy laughed. I laughed too. He was only telling the truth. Andy was awesome at darts. I chose this night out because I knew for a fact he would have a good time. And so far, everything was going according to plan. Everyone was relaxed, everyone was comfortably buzzed, and everyone was having fun.

  Samuel walked over to the group when Nick rejoined us. “I talked to Moe about the setup,” Samuel began to explain. “The board is rigged with sensors. It sounds simple. If you hit a spot and make the red light up there go off, you have to take one of the white slips of paper out of that ice bucket on the bar. Then, to get your points, you have to do whatever that paper says. If you don’t do the task you’re given, or if you screw up, your points don’t count.”

  “It’s like Dare Darts!” Andy was almost slurring, and I cracked up at his enthusiasm.

  “Bring it on.” I looked at the men around me. “Unless you boys are afraid?”

  “Hell no. I’m in.” Nick smiled and stepped over to my side.

  Zack and Dan both agreed, and Samuel had already moved to press the buttons on the electronic dart board to start our game.

  It was clear from the beginning that Andy would win easily. Even after he was the first to set off the red light and was forced to eat five pickled eggs from a large container behind the bar, he still threw darts better than the rest of us. I probably would have hurled. Zack’s alcohol consumption made him a truly terrible contender. Nick and Dan held their own. But it was Samuel and me who seemed to be neck and neck for the second-place position. Every time I managed to get ahead, he caught up and hit the points needed to take the lead in front of me. I was getting incredibly frustrated. “Give it up.” Samuel finally said with a smirk. He was pleasantly drunk and was wearing a pink feather boa, thanks to his recent trip to the bucket. “You aren’t going to beat me.”

  His overconfident attitude irritated me, even through my buzz. “Wanna bet?” I asked smugly. I was pretty sure I could take Samuel for second place. So far, we had been throwing evenly
.

  “Are you suggesting a side wager?” Samuel asked with his eyebrows raised.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Tell you what,” Moe called out. “Whichever of you two knuckleheads comes in third...has to stay behind tonight and help me clean up this mess!”

  “You’re on!” I nodded. Samuel shrugged like it didn’t matter. It only made me want to beat him more.

  Of course, my next throw hit a sensor which sent me right up to collect another dare. I groaned when I read the paper. There was no way I could get my points.

  “What?” Andy asked, sidling up to me. He read over my shoulder and laughed.

  “It’s not fair,” I complained.

  “Rules are rules,” Samuel called out.

  “It says I’m supposed to wear my shirt on my head for the rest of the game!” I wailed. Samuel smirked, and Nick grinned widely.

  “Rules are rules!” Dan mimicked Samuel’s earlier statement and got punched in the arm by Zack for his outburst.

  “I can fix this,” Andy muttered. “Hey, Moe? Hook me up with a pair of scissors, will ya?” Moe handed Andy an orange-handled pair of shears. “Arms up,” Andy instructed. Oh, hell. I wasn’t sure if I trusted Andy in his drunken state holding a pair of scissors so close to me.

  “Be careful,” I whimpered. Andy smirked and moved in a circle around me, carefully snipping the bottom six inches of material from my shirt. When he held the long strip of cotton in his hands and my entire abdomen was bare, he reached up and tied the jagged piece of material around my head like a headband.

  “I’d say that’s close enough.” Andy winked. “Any problems?” His suddenly fierce countenance as he faced the other men was enough to dissuade any arguments. I got my points, smiled, and walked over to join the play once again.

  We continued to drink. We continued to do ridiculous dares from the jar. Andy continued to win, and Samuel and I continued to battle for second place. Somehow Dan managed to never set off the red-light sensor. We were treated to an image we’d all be happy to forget when Zack had to go outside and press his bare butt against the barroom window to show us his “canned ham.” Nick had to sing “What’s New Pussycat” while standing on his head in the corner. All in all, it was a great game.

  “This is your last shot.” Samuel had moved close to whisper near my ear. I shivered and stepped back to glare at him for trying to distract me. “Better make it count,” he said. I needed to take the lead now, or he could very easily win. Our score was tied.

  “Step back and see how it’s done.” I projected a confidence I did not feel. When Samuel moved to lean next to Andy at the table beside us, I stepped to the line and concentrated on the board. Samuel’s cocky smirk pulled up the side of his mouth while he watched me. I swallowed hard and let the dart fly.

  Bull’s-eye. Bull’s-eye!

  My mouth opened wide in my surprise, and I threw my arms over my head, yelling in victory as soon as I saw my dart buried in the center red spot on the board.

  Celebratory cheers rose around me, and the guys patted my shoulders roughly. It took a moment before I realized the red light above the board was blinking. We all stopped and stared.

  “You don’t get the points unless you do the dare.” Samuel shoved his finger toward the container on the counter. My feet felt sluggish beneath me, and the path seemed to lengthen as if I were marching down death row as I carried myself toward the paper that would determine my fate in the game.

  “You can do it,” Andy encouraged me. I reached into the bucket, swirled the paper strips around under my fingertips, and grabbed one tight in my grasp.

  “What does it say?” Nick asked. I read the words and looked up with a smile.

  “Tequila body shot,” I laughed. No problem! I could handle that assignment with ease. The other men seemed to realize it at the same time I did. They were congratulating me again when Samuel stepped to the line and threw his last shot.

  “Bull’s-eye!” he yelled. We all turned incredulously toward the sound of his happy proclamation. “I got a bull’s-eye too!”

  “Bullshit, Dalton!” I stormed over to the board. Sure enough, his dart had landed in the center target as well.

  “Well? Now what?” Andy asked.

  “Let them both do the body shots as a tiebreaker.” Moe shrugged. “I’ll be the judge, and the loser stays behind to help me clean tonight.” He repeated the conditions of our bet. I cringed. Then I straightened my shoulders and tossed my hair behind me.

  “I’m willing to bet I’ve spent more time at frat parties than Mr. Columbia here. Break out the tequila. This game is mine.”

  “Don’t make me call your bluff, Emelia,” Samuel said with a deep voice, moving to stand in front of me. “I’m creative when pressed into a corner.”

  “Put your money where your mouth is,” I goaded him. “The game isn’t over until the final points are tallied.”

  “Bring the tequila,” he said to the side while looking into my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him look so determined.

  Moe lined up two tall shot glasses of tequila and a salt shaker. “Lemon or lime?” he asked us.

  “Lemon,” we replied in unison. Samuel and I both laughed a little while Moe placed the garnish beside our shots.

  “You first.” Samuel smirked. I smiled at him with as much saucy confidence as I could muster and put my hands against his chest to direct him until he sat on the barstool behind his legs. I forced my mind not to consider how hard his chest felt under my hands. If I gave it too much thought, I would chicken out.

  “Rules again?” I asked over my shoulder. Dan stood up with a grin.

  “Once you get the shot set up...no hands. And don’t spill your drink. You need to drink the whole thing for it to count.”

  “Simple.” I smiled. Samuel just looked at me with one eyebrow raised. I took his cocky look as a dare and stepped forward to kick his legs apart on the floor. Then I moved to stand directly between his thighs and slowly pulled the feather boa from around his neck, dropping it on the bar beside me. He didn’t say a word. He just watched as I reached past his arm for a slice of lemon. Then I looked into his eyes before twisting his hair into my hand and tugging his head sharply to the left. He smiled when I did it, and I rubbed the lemon against the side of his neck.

  “Hold this,” I ordered, placing the lemon between his fingers.

  “No problem,” he murmured. I could see him fighting back that damn smirk of his.

  I picked up the salt shaker and shook the tiny glass container until the white granules rained down and stuck to the lemon juice on Samuel’s neck.

  “Last chance to back out,” I warned him while pressing my shot glass into his free hand.

  “Bring it.” He smiled and closed his eyes. He looked so comfortable that I started to feel more pissed than nervous. He really thought I didn’t have the nerve. I made a show of shoving my hands into my front pockets, just to indicate I was ready to begin.

  Working with my aggravation to strengthen my resolve and the alcohol in my bloodstream to provide bravery, I leaned forward and touched my tongue to the bottom of the salt trail on his neck. Samuel jumped a little at the initial contact, which made me smile. He wasn’t as sure as he pretended to be.

  With the flat of my tongue pressed against his skin, I pulled my mouth up his neck. Mmm...citrus...and salt...and the indefinable taste of the man in front of me. I blamed the alcohol when my hormones suddenly kicked into overdrive and all I wanted was to bite him and suck his warm skin into my mouth. I shook my head and concentrated on the end goal. Fifty points for the bull’s-eye and the body shot.

  When I reached the end of the salt, Samuel held the liquor to my lips. I put my mouth around the shot glass and tipped my head back until the tequila fell into my mouth. Then I swallowed hard and pulled my head back down to drop the glass to the floor with a dull thud. Samuel smiled while he held the lemon to my mouth, and I bit into it eagerly to chase away the harsh
flavor of the tequila.

  “Bravo.” Andy clapped beside me. I grinned and put the lemon rind on the napkin on the bar before beginning to step away from Samuel’s legs.

  “Not so fast,” Samuel straightened himself on the stool and looked me directly in the eye. “I win.”

  “What?” My voice sounded as incredulous as I felt. “You haven’t even had a shot yet!”

  “Nope. But when I do...I win.” He stood and adjusted the neck of his shirt.

  “You can’t be so sure of yourself.” I placed my hands on my hips and gave him a dirty look.

  “Oh yes, I can, Emelia.” Samuel smiled. “When Dan gave us the rules, he distinctly stated ‘no hands.’ You used my hands to hold your lemon and your liquor. You are clearly in violation of the rules.”

  My mouth popped open, and I turned to look at our judge. Moe just shrugged and nodded in confirmation of Samuel’s statement. “Damn dirty lawyer!” I huffed. “I’d like to know how in the hell a person does a body shot without having someone hold the shot glass!”

  “Someone holds it,” Samuel said lowly. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned my back to the bar. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he whispered near my ear.

  I was struck speechless when Samuel dropped to his knees in front of me. “What are you doing?” I asked. Then I breathed, “Oh...”

  Samuel already had his lemon wedge in hand and was meticulously dragging it across the skin of my abdomen. I had to stop myself from trembling when I felt a drop of juice slide down my stomach toward the waistband of my shorts. Samuel didn’t look up from his work. He simply brought that gorgeous head of his closer toward me as he reached to the bar for the salt shaker.

  “Lean back,” he commanded. My body automatically moved to accommodate him, and I pressed my elbows against the stool behind me. The salt tickled across my skin until it stuck to the wet lemon juice. Samuel placed the shaker back on the bar and stood with the shot glass in his hand. “You asked for this,” he whispered with something a bit dark and dangerous glinting in his eyes.

  Samuel quickly bent one long finger into the collar of my shirt and tugged it down until the deep V-shape he created exposed an obscene amount of cleavage and the center of my red bra. His face had taken on a clinical look of professionalism when he firmly wedged the shot glass between my breasts. Shocked by the coolness of the glass as well as his actions, I opened my mouth to protest. Samuel didn’t give me a chance to say a word. He shoved the edge of the lemon into my mouth. “Bite it,” he ordered through gritted teeth.