Never to Keep (Accepting Fate #1) Page 2

  “It also helps that my teacher’s salary keeps the gold diggers away,” I said. “I just have to worry about chicks finding out that my brothers are loaded.”

  “You need to be careful; that’s for sure. I’ve come up with the perfect system.” Thomas’s face beamed with pride. “The first thing to remember is to never fuck a woman bare. I don’t care if you have a written report from a doctor that confirms she’s both clean and on birth control, it’s not worth the risk. Bitches are crazy and will fake that shit.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.” I didn’t think I would even let a woman blow me without a condom.

  “The best way to avoid a mess like Finn’s is to never get involved to begin with. The rule of thumb when it comes to females is one-and-done, catch and release. Fuck them once, and then walk away.” Thomas tugged on the collar of his shirt. “Women are like these God-awful orange ties Kristy made us rent. They serve a specific purpose, but we would never keep them. We use them once and then return them.”

  “Hopefully the women aren’t as ugly as these ties,” I joked.

  “If she’s extremely hot, you can go three-and-out, but that should be reserved for rare circumstances, like super models and porn stars.”

  “What happens if I do something stupid and fall in love?” I plopped into the chair behind the desk. Thomas’s reasoning made sense, but didn’t sit quite right with me.

  “You run. Far and fast. Keep in mind that romantic love is an illusion. You may think you’re in love, but it’s really just lust, and lust always fades eventually.”

  “What about Mom and Dad?” They had been together over three decades.

  “I have a theory about those situations,” he said. “I think in some cases lust eventually transforms into a familial love, like friendship.”

  “That makes sense.” I’d heard a lot of stories about married couples losing the passion and turning into glorified roommates.

  Thomas pushed my chair backward and sat on the desk in front of me. “My final rule is to never, under any circumstances, tell a woman you love her.” His dark stare directly into my eyes told me he was dead serious. “Once you say the ‘L’ word, you’re screwed, and not in the good way,” he explained. “Love is the worst of all four-letter words. It gives her all the power.

  “If you do find yourself hooked on a particular pussy, take my advice and never say the word ‘love’, no matter how you think you feel. The only way to keep up the status quo is to maintain the upper hand. If you ever slip up, or she says she loves you, cut your losses and find another warm hole to stick your dick in.”

  “That sounds a little extreme. Surely it can’t be that bad,” I countered. I could have easily been wrong, since I didn’t have the experience of my brothers, thanks to my awkward teenage years and subsequent Thomas-induced fear.

  “Let’s use my oldest kid’s mother as an example. I thought she was great. We got along, had fun together, and the sex blew my mind.” My brother left his perch on the desk and began to pace the small room.

  “I accidently dropped the ‘L’ bomb once while we were fucking. The next thing I knew, she had my entire life planned out. She made plans to move in with me, told me where we were going to get married, what we would name our kids… Hell, she even picked out side-by-side plots at the cemetery. I also quickly found out she was up to her eyeballs in debt and expected me to pay it off.”

  “Why didn’t you leave then?” I asked. It seemed like a no-brainer.

  “I still thought I was in love. And did I mention she was a fantastic lay? I didn’t realize what I’d gotten into until my bank account was empty. When I started to pull away, she ‘accidentally’ got pregnant. Once she thought I was trapped, she hung a ‘closed’ sign between her legs.” Thomas’s eyes drifted to the burgundy rug that rested on the dark hardwood floor. “Now I have to pay her every month, and she makes me jump through hoops to see my son.”

  “She’s a bitch. You can’t judge all women based on your experiences with her,” I reasoned.

  “That’s just one example. I have two other baby mamas just like her. Not to mention all of the other crazies I dated before I figured it out.”

  Thomas was an expert at failed relationships, and Finn was getting ready to prove his point. I didn’t particularly care about money, probably because I didn’t have much, but I’d be damned if I couldn’t see my own kid.

  Finn finally came back to the small room. “It’s not too late to back out,” I said.

  “I’m not going to leave her at the altar,” he snapped. “I made a commitment, and I love her. You need to get over it.”

  Thomas gave me a knowing smirk. Before I could say anything else, the door opened just wide enough for the maid of honor—I think her name was Hailey or Hannah or something—to stick her head in the room. She eye-fucked me for a second before she spoke. “Hey, Sawyer, can I talk to you in the hallway for a minute?”

  “What do you want?” I huffed. The slender blonde was attractive, but I could tell she’d been around the block more times than I could count. She gestured for me to follow her out of the room. I decided it would be better to shut her down in private. I didn’t want to explain to Thomas why I turned down a hot bridesmaid.

  “Kristy wants to talk to you,” she said once the door was closed.

  “Does she realize she’s getting married in twenty minutes?”

  “She said there’s plenty of time.”

  Praying to see or hear something that might convince Finn to run, I reluctantly followed her down the hallway to where the women were getting ready. The spacious Sunday school room was nearly overflowing with cookie cutter bridesmaids covered in floor-length taffeta dresses that matched my ugly tie, and most had spray tans to match. The carrot-top redhead was particularly difficult to look at.

  “What do you want, Kristy?” I asked my soon-to-be sister-in-law from across the room. She adjusted her veil before turning away from the full-length mirror.

  She strolled over to me, not stopping until she was well in my personal space. She walked two of her bony fingers up my chest and brought her other hand up to smooth my lapels. “I thought I’d give you one more chance to change your mind before the ceremony,” she said, not caring that at least seven of her friends might hear every word she said.

  I took a step back. “I’ve told you no at least fifty times over the past year. What makes you think I’d change my mind right before you marry my brother?” Everything from the top of her bleached blonde head to her hot pink toenails was utterly repulsive.

  She closed the distance I’d put between us. “This is the last opportunity you’ll have…for a while, anyway.” I felt her nasty breath on my neck as she leaned in to whisper, “Thought you’d want to take advantage of it before it’s too late.”

  “No.”

  “What kind of guy turns down a free fuck?” she asked, clearly befuddled by the notion.

  “I have standards that you could never meet, not to mention I would never betray my brother.” I had to get out of there before all of the ugly in the room made my eyes bleed. “Now get your skanky ass away from me before I tell Finn about your offer.”

  “He didn’t believe you before. What makes you think he’ll believe you this time? I have him wrapped around my little finger.”

  “I can’t wait until he wakes up and realizes he’s married to the devil,” I spat as I retreated from the room.

  “By then it will be way too late,” she cackled.

  I had never seriously considered committing homicide until that moment.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sawyer

  “What’s on tap?” I asked as I mounted one of the padded counter-height stools in front of the granite bar. The hotel in the heart of Indianapolis was the most expensive in the area. Kristy wouldn’t agree to hold the reception anywhere else. I selected a mid-range brand from the list the bartender handed me and passed him some cash.

  I doubt Finn even realized I’d
ditched the reception in favor of getting wasted at the bar just off of the main lobby. I couldn’t get out of that stifling tuxedo and hideous tie quickly enough. I gave the barkeep a nod of thanks as he placed the frosted mug on a coaster in front of me.

  I nursed my beer and thought about my conversation with Thomas at the church. Maybe I was being too picky; surely one of Kristy’s disciples would have been decent enough to at least blow me.

  “I’ll have a shot of Jack and a pint of Miller, please.” The melodic voice to my right immediately captured my full attention. I nearly forgot how to blink when I looked up from my drink. A gorgeous woman in a fitted black dress and matching stilettos carefully took a seat at the bar. Her outfit would have clashed in most sports bars, but like everything else in the hotel, the bar was sophisticated enough for her to blend in.

  I fought the urge to move over two seats and eliminate the distance between us. “Genuine Draft, not Lite,” she corrected as the bartender reached for the wrong handle.

  Her cherry red lips and soulful brown eyes were striking against her ivory complexion. Her bare arms were well-defined, and she had voluptuous curves in all the right places. This woman definitely did not need to drink light beer.

  I envisioned releasing her sleek, dark hair from the tight knot that rested just above the slender column of her neck. I wondered what it would feel like to sink into the heat between her soft thighs.

  The startling direction of my thoughts pulled me back to the present. I shook the vivid images from my mind and forced myself to look away. I turned down offers all the time, yet a few innocent words from a stranger’s luscious mouth made me forget every misgiving I had about the opposite sex. When I looked at her, I saw perfection, not a walking disease or eighteen years of manipulation.

  The tight smile she gave the bartender in exchange for her drinks didn’t sit well on her beautiful face. Her dark gaze briefly met mine when she sensed my stare. I felt the loss when she diverted her eyes back to the pair of drinks in front of her. I watched with pure astonishment as she threw back the shot of whiskey without the slightest flinch.

  “Keep ’em coming,” she muttered to the bartender after she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Rough day?” I asked as she downed a second shot.

  “You could say that,” she answered as she slammed the glass on the counter. She turned her attention to her beer and absently swirled a fingertip through the froth. I held my breath as I followed the smooth motion with my eyes. I worried that I might burst through the zipper of my now painfully tight pants as she brought the beautiful finger to her mouth and sucked it clean.

  I was done playing it safe—I had to get her in my bed. I’d never actively pursued a woman. After my face had cleared up and I grew into my body, I had to perfect techniques to get rid of the superficial bitches that flocked to me. Unfortunately, that meant I had no idea how to chase after someone. She’d probably heard every line in the book, not that I had many in my repertoire. A conversation about the weather wouldn’t get me anywhere near her panties.

  I caught a break when she asked the bartender to change the channel to a preseason football game. A spark of light came to her eyes as she focused on the plasma screen hanging on the wall in front of me. She moved closer to the television, leaving only one stool between us. “Who’s your favorite team?” I asked.

  She startled, as if she’d forgotten I was there. She didn’t take her eyes from the screen as she spoke. “Indianapolis, of course,” she said and pointed to the banner hanging on the wall behind the bar. “Well, they were until they cut all of my favorite players, so, now, I’m playing the field a little.” She took a sip of her beer before continuing, “I’ll forgive them someday. They’re my home team, so I can’t stay mad at them forever.” The cadence of her words intoxicated me. I could listen to her speak for hours. She watched the game in silence for a few minutes before asking, “You?”

  “New England.” I regretted my answer before the second word passed my lips. Her face scrunched in disgust, and she dramatically leaned away from me as if I had a contagious disease.

  “Are you from New England?” she asked.

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Sorry, I don’t associate with New England fans unless it’s their home team. I think rooting for a team with their record is lazy.” She took a swig of beer. “I mean, what does it say about a person who roots for a team that usually wins? The risk of defeat, or the possibility of an unexpected victory, is what makes the game exciting.” The challenge in her narrowed eyes as she gave me a sideways glance was a welcome relief from the sadness that had weighed on her face a few minutes earlier.

  “You’re one to talk about being a fair-weather fan. You’re cheating on your team after a less-than-stellar season.”

  “Touché; however, I’m not divorcing them. I’m cheating on them because I’m angry, not because I stopped loving them or because of their inability to satisfy my needs.” The warm smile fell from her face as she neared the end of her rebuttal. The television drew her gaze away from me. I wondered if she was intentionally avoiding eye contact or if she was really that enthralled with a luxury car commercial.

  “Would it make you feel better if I told you I was lying? My home team sucks ass, and I didn’t want your pity,” I said. The corners of her mouth lifted at my embarrassment. She didn’t have an agenda and didn’t give a damn about impressing me.

  “Hmm.” I was insanely jealous of the finger she tapped on her pursed lips. “You’re definitely a liar because you could be lying about lying, and possibly a New England fan. I’m not quite sure what to think of that. I’m also not sure which is worse.” Her eyes darted briefly my way. I was relieved to see humor soften her features. “If you were lying, why wouldn’t you just agree with me? Everyone in town is wearing a blue and white jersey, so it would’ve been believable.”

  “It would’ve been a hard sell because I know very little about them. I’m not from here,” I answered honestly.

  She nodded in response and took another sip of her beer as she refocused on the television. “Where are you from?” The white in the corner of her eye was briefly replaced by chocolate brown as she spared me a glance.

  “California,” I said hesitantly and pointed at the television that showed her team kicking my team’s ass.

  “Oh, in that case, you’re forgiven. Even I might’ve been tempted to lie about that.” Her crooked grin was adorable, as was the way she poked fun at me.

  “Are you saying you never lie?”

  “‘Never’ is a strong word. Nothing in this world is absolute or guaranteed.” She took a shaky breath as she straightened her features.

  I could see she was teetering on the edge of something painful, so I decided to change the subject. “Did you grow up here? I’ve never heard anyone speak with such a beautiful cadence.”

  “Mi madre es de España.”

  “I’m sorry; my Spanish is a little rusty.” I cursed my foolish decision to take French in high school and college.

  “My mother is from Spain. She speaks very quickly and refused to speak to us in English until I was five. It must be an artifact from that,” she said with exaggerated inflection. I wondered if her dark hair and eyes were gifts from her Mediterranean mother. “It was confusing. We had to speak Spanish to Mom and English to Dad. Sometimes we got mixed up and used words from both languages in the same sentence.”

  She continued to watch the game while I watched her. She cheered for her team and laughed at the stupid mistakes of my team. She didn’t care who watched her or how silly she might look when she did her touchdown dance. She really was perfect.

  Near the end of the first half, her team executed a highly entertaining trick play. She laughed to the point of tears. “You would’ve loved that,” she said on a sigh with a slight hitch in her voice. I knew she wasn’t talking to me.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” A young punk approached her from the other side. Well, he
was probably my age and was wearing a suit, but I didn’t like the way he looked at her. He seemed vaguely familiar; he might have been a guest at Finn’s wedding.

  She looked him up and down before replying, “I already have one,” she held up her beer to show him, “but thanks anyway.” Immense relief coursed through me.

  “I was thinking I could buy you a drink from the minibar in my room.” I could tell the asshole wouldn’t back down from the challenge easily. Maybe he was related to Kristy.

  Her jaw clenched as she responded, “Sorry, not interested.” She nearly fell onto the stool between us when she jerked away from the douchebag’s extended hand.

  I jumped from my seat and wedged myself between them, shielding her with my body. “She said she wasn’t interested. I suggest you leave her the fuck alone!” It would have felt damn good to slam my fist into his puny jaw. He looked at the clenched fists by my sides and the strain of my expression. He held up both hands and slowly backed away.

  I turned around and rested my hands on her smooth shoulders. “Are you okay?” She didn’t seem fazed at all. She shrugged out of my grasp and turned her attention back to the television.

  “I could have handled him, but thanks nonetheless.” The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “It’s been a while since someone defended my honor.” Her voice was distant. I didn’t like it.

  “What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, guys like him are all talk.” She was probably used to unwanted attention; she could be a freaking supermodel. That thought reminded me of what Thomas had said earlier—three-and-out for supermodels. She crossed her mile-long legs and glanced around the room. “I should be safe, since you’ve put the fear of God in everyone.” I hoped I’d imagined the hint of frustration in her voice.

  A ball of fire formed in the pit of my stomach as I scanned the room. Every guy in the place was staring at her. The thought she might take one of them to her room tonight turned the smoldering embers into a blazing inferno.