Bedding The Best Man (Bedding the Bachelors Book 7) (4 page)

It always had.

Chapter Two

An hour after he’d talked with Bri on the beach, Gabe sat at one of the large reception tables scattered beneath the wedding tent. He took a swig from his beer and looked around the table. Ryan sat next to Gabe, talking to his pretty friend, Annie. Jamie, Brianne’s brother, was confused, and angry, but he was keeping it together, due in large part to the woman by his side, Lucy Conrad. Cole and Luke were muttering to each other, and from the direction of their gazes were comparing notes on the bridesmaids. No mystery what they were planning to do.

At least the night will end well for someone
, Gabe thought sourly. It sure wouldn’t for Bri.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Gabe muttered, catching Ryan’s attention.

“I know, man. But it happens.”

“Not to Brianne, it doesn’t. Or it shouldn’t.”

“You never know what’s happening in a relationship,” Ryan shrugged. “But all this work… They had to be planning this for months. And I’m assuming because of what she does, most of the planning was done by Brianne. She must be dying of embarrassment.”

At Ryan’s pitying tone, Gabe instantly switched gears. He knew his friend didn’t mean any offense, but hell, no. Brianne Whitcomb was not a woman to be pitied, even if her asshole fiancé had just left her at the altar.

“She’s hanging in there,” he said, nodding toward the dance floor. Since their talk on the beach, she’d been giving her all, embodying the saying
Never let them see you sweat
. She was taking it like a champ, with a mojito in one hand and her train in the other, dancing to some eighties song with a group of girls.

She’d always been the strongest girl he knew.

“What choice does she have?” Jamie, who was sitting next to Ryan, asked.

On the other side of Gabe, Cole spoke up. “Uh, she could have gone postal and chased after his ass. I’ve known a few girls who came after my balls when I didn’t call them after we spent the night together. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if I left them on our wedding day.”

“What
do
you think happened?” Luke asked, leaning in. “I mean, seriously. Did he say anything to any of you?”

All of them shook their heads.

“Not a clue,” Ryan said. “But I can’t believe this is about another woman. I talked to Eric in Vegas, and he told me it had never been easier being faithful to a woman. And Brianne doesn’t seem the type to cheat.”

“She’s not,” Gabe barked, knowing it in his bones.

His friends all stared at him before averting their eyes, as if every one of them knew what he’d held secret all these years.

“You think Eric’s okay?” Cole asked. “I mean, like, really okay? He didn’t do anything crazy, did he?”

“I hope not,” Luke said, looking at his glass.

Probably for the first time that day, Gabe took a moment to think about Eric’s well-being. Guilt stabbed at him. Yes, he cared about Brianne, but he cared about Eric, too. But Eric was the one in the wrong here. He’d
texted
Brianne that he wasn’t coming, for God’s sake—it wasn’t like he’d been kidnapped or in some horrible accident.

He glanced at Jamie and they locked gazes. Gabe knew how protective Jamie was of his little sister. There was no doubt in his mind some part of Jamie wanted to kick Eric’s ass—if he got through Gabe first, that is.

Gabe had never been so angry with anyone, never felt so compelled to come to someone’s defense as he did with Brianne.

Why? Wasn’t he secretly thrilled?

Watching the two of them prepare for the wedding had been torture. Throwing Eric a bachelor party had been hell. He’d died a little inside, watching them rehearse their vows. Every step had taken them one step closer to being permanently cemented as a couple. It had taken her further away from him.

Hadn’t he felt a wave of relief when he’d first heard the wedding was off? Like he was getting some kind of a second chance?

It had been a stupid thought. Eric had gotten cold feet, that was all. Gabe had watched him and Brianne for six years, and there was no mistaking how well-suited they were for each other. It was a fact Gabe was reminded of every time he saw them together. They were from the same world. They knew the same people, ran in the same circles, made a beautiful couple who would make beautiful babies.

They were meant to be.

Eric would return. They’d patch things up and get married, maybe eloping somewhere on a beach. Gabe would be wrangled into standing up as Best Man all over again. And then he would have to watch the only woman he’d ever loved marrying his best friend.

This wasn’t a pardon. It was a reprieve.

Ryan leaned toward Gabe, cutting into his thoughts. “Either you do something about that, or I’m going to.” He nodded in the direction of a tall, blonde goddess in a blue sheath dress. Gabe had noticed her glancing at their table a few times—it happened a lot when he got together with his friends. Now she was staring at Gabe.

“Like you would do anything about that,” Gabe snorted. “You’re head-over-heels in love with someone already.”

Ryan quickly glanced at Annie, who was now at the bar chatting with another woman.

He patted his friend on the back, then got up to approach the blonde.

Why not? It wasn’t like he was tied to anyone.

But even as he flirted with her, and she flirted back and tossed her hair around and did all the things women did when they wanted to get into bed with a man, he only had eyes for Brianne. She danced, and ate, and drank, and did everything she could to put her guests at ease.

Like a true lady was supposed to do.

His brave, fragile, beautiful girl.

Chapter Three

Two weeks later…

Gabe shook his hands out as the ref walked him and his opponent, Javier Montoya, through the rules. Then he walked to his corner of the ring. Over the past few years, Gabe had extended his fighting skills to include mixed martial arts and usually stepping into the ring was enough to clear his head of everything but the match ahead.

Not today.

Just before the bell rang, he felt the familiar clench of nerves and the racing of his pulse thanks to the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. Unfortunately, the feeling reminded him not of the last time he’d fought, but of two weeks ago, when he’d almost kissed Brianne on the beach.

He heard the bell ring and before he’d even made it to the center of the octagon Javier was right in front of him throwing punches.

Gabe was able to stave off about three out of every four. One of the punches caught him just over his left eye and within the first thirty seconds, he was bleeding. He shook it off and came back fighting. He connected a swift right cross with the side of Javier’s head. The other man’s head snapped to one side and the sweat off his forehead flew across the cage. Javier shook his head as if literally shaking the punch off then lunged forward and grabbed Gabe around the waist. He pushed forward and the momentum of his body propelled Gabe back into the ropes. Gabe crossed his arms so his biceps pressed up against Javier’s chest and he used all of his weight to push the other man back, knocking him off of him. That netted him two quick punches to the head and a kick to the upper part of his right thigh. Once again, he was knocked back into the ropes.

“Get your hands up, he’s coming with a cross next!” Sam, his trainer, yelled.

Sure enough, Javier came at him with a left cross. Sometimes it was like Sam was psychic. He could read a fighter’s moves better than anyone Gabe had ever known.

Gabe caught the fist with his palm and closed his hand down over it. He then used Javier’s own momentum to push him back. As he did, he spun the other man around so that he was facing away from him and wrapped an arm around Javier’s throat. He planned on taking him down to the floor but just as he pressed his legs into the backs of the other man’s knees, the bell rang.

Gabe let go of his opponent and returned to his side of the cage.

He sat down on the stool and spit his mouth guard into the bowl that Sam held out for him. Then he leaned back and let Sam squirt Gatorade into his mouth before starting his repair of the cut that was still bleeding. Gabe closed his eyes while Sam pressed the Enswell to the open cut and then swiped a thick gob of Vaseline across it.

“Gabe!” The crowd was loud, but he thought he heard a tiny little voice calling his name. He opened his eyes. His right one felt sticky and gooey from the Vaseline and he blinked a few times before turning his head towards the sound.

Of course, it wasn’t Brianne. She’d never be caught dead in a place like this. But it was a beautiful woman. She was young. Probably not even old enough to drink legally yet.

Maybe even as young a Brianne was the first day Gabe had met her all those years before.

He grinned at the brunette, though his heart wasn’t in it.

“Hey, lover boy, throw her a kiss then get your ass up. The bell’s about to ring. She won’t like that pretty face so much once this guy crunches the cartilage in your nose and the bones in your cheeks.”

Sam was a poet. He was also Gabe’s savior. He’d been like a father to Gabe when he’d needed one most, teaching him to use his anger, to channel it. At sixteen years old, Gabe had been standing in front of a judge because he’d finally snapped and beaten the crap out of one of his mom’s abusive boyfriends. His mom hadn’t said a word about the black eye and broken ribs the giant piece of shit had given her, but as soon as Gabe had seen it, he’d been determined to get the scumbag responsible out of their lives.

He’d beaten the guy bad, and been thrown in jail for his efforts. His Mom? She hadn’t tried to bail him out. She hadn’t even visited him. He’d known then, sitting beside his court appointed public defender, that the alcohol and the terrible men would always come first in her life. He’d just been a mistake she wished had never happened, a burden she didn’t want the responsibility of any longer.

Sam had worked with juvenile offenders in the district, taking them on at the gym and giving them purpose again. He’d done that with Gabe, and they’d spent hours together. Sam never let any of his boys think they couldn’t achieve anything they wanted, no matter where they came from. The shining Olympic gold boxing medal in his office was tangible proof that a kid from the streets could make it to the top.

Gabe pushed himself to his feet. The brunette was still standing there staring at him. He winked at her with his good eye.

Just as the bell rang, Gabe went out fighting and so did Javier. The force of the punches he was throwing and absorbing reverberated through his body. Sweat ran in rivulets down his bare chest and arms. Yet even as Gabe fought, part of him was still distracted, which was why minutes later, when the fight was called, it was called in Javier’s favor.

Gabe took the verbal spanking he deserved from Sam and then headed into the musty and dim locker room for a shower. The gym was smack dab in the middle of Gabe’s old neighborhood and looked as rundown as ever, the floor sticky with dried sweat and spilled energy drinks. Funny how, as much as he’d wanted to escape the neighborhood when he was younger, being back and in the old gym again always made him feel better. Centered. As if it was all a reminder of how much he’d accomplished in life.

But why the hell did he continue to need that validation?

He flexed his knuckles, then rolled his head on his shoulders. He’d been here for over an hour and while he was sore and tired his brain had yet to let go of the problems that had sent him into the gym in the first place.

Brianne.

He closed his eyes.

He knew wanting her was wrong; it had always been wrong. He’d had a chance to be with her and he hadn’t taken it. Eric had. Eric, no matter how big of an asshole he’d turned out to be, was still Brianne’s fiancé. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. Eric had called off the wedding, and except for a text to Brianne the day of and a subsequent email to his friends telling them he was fine but needed his space, no one had heard from him. Still, eventually he’d come out of hiding and make things right.

At the thought, Gabe punched a locker and had the grim satisfaction of pretending it was Eric’s face below his fist. Then, eyes closed, palm flat against the locker, all he could picture was Brianne and what might have happened if he’d actually acted on his urges for once and kissed her that night on the beach.

If he’d done everything he’d wanted to do to her.

He’d wanted to slide his hands down the long smooth column of her throat, feeling the satiny texture of her skin below his fingertips as his mouth held hers. He’d wanted to press against her, grind his growing erection against the lean span of her pelvis, and hear her gasping loudly as he tangled his hands into the thick and silky tresses that crowned her head.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, hoping to banish those thoughts. No luck. His mind was caught up in a delicious fantasy. He could almost feel the firm plumpness of her lips under his, taste the intoxicating flavor of her mouth as his tongue plundered every corner and crevice.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails biting gently into the flesh below his shirt. Her body arched upward against his, her narrow hips meeting his as she pushed harder, rubbing against his thickening erection. Her tongue darted into his mouth then twined around his. She tasted of spearmint gum, and deep red wine. Her lips, glossed to perfection a moment before, parted even further as his hands moved along her body, measuring the gentle swell of her breasts and then slid downward, resting against the sexy and delicate breadth of her ribs. He felt those bones moving in and out with every breath she managed to drag into her mouth between kisses.