Brad's Bachelor Party (6 page)

“I’m glad we could get you two beyond your fight,” she said.

A burst of edgy laughter erupted from Brad’s throat, and he pulled out his wallet and handed Brandy another five hundred dollars. “Only fair I take care of the tip.”

As evidenced by the expression on her face, Brandy the heart-of-gold stripper now thought she was God’s gift to couples therapy. Brandy tucked the money into her halter top, beaming at them both.

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, boys,” she said.

And for the first time in Cole’s memory, even Brad managed to look embarrassed.

Chapter Seven

Awesome. Just awesome.

There was no way around the truth; Brad was going to have to go down to the beach and talk to Cole. Putting it off until tonight’s wedding rehearsal seemed like a bad idea. And lately Brad had been collecting bad ideas like there was a 50-percent-off special down at the garage sale for dumb shits.

Staring at the blue waters and the majestic green mountain of the cove beyond, and his friend lounging on a hammock in the shade of two palm trees, Brad sucked in a breath and forced his bare feet across sand warmed by the noontime sun. Cole hadn’t spoken more than five words to him since they’d left the strip club last night. After dragging a seriously intoxicated Martinez from the club, with Ryan not too far behind, they’d poured their two friends into bed at their hotel and then split, Cole claiming the adjoining room while Brad stayed behind to stretch out on the couch. Pretending to sleep for five hours. His mind replaying the scene from the VIP room over and over and over…

In the morning, he was so exhausted he could barely see straight.

Cole hadn’t looked much better, and Ryan and Martinez were positively green around their nonexistent gills and every other part of their bodies. The plane ride back to Kauai was one Brad wouldn’t wish on anyone, unless one happened to enjoy the smell of Ryan’s sweat and Martinez’s puke and a silence so tense, so full of pressure, it warranted its own friggin’ weather system.

Despite the strong, salty breeze and the sound of the ocean waves, Brad’s approach to the hammock wasn’t as stealthy as he’d hoped.

“How’s Jenny?” Cole said as he opened those violently blue eyes and held Brad’s gaze, leaving him pinned.

No one had the ability to communicate so much with such a simple look. Or with a two-word question.

Fuck.

“She thought I was recovering from one mother of a hangover,” Brad said, staring across the waters of paradise and wondering if this was what hell felt like. “I decided not to correct the assumption.”

Cole let out a grunt that sounded like a reprimand, which irritated the heck out of Brad.

“Use your fucking words, Cole.”

“Which words would you like me to use,
Brad
?” Cole said.

Long, lean, jean-encased legs stretched out on the hammock. One arm rested across his camouflage T-shirt, the other crooked above his head, Cole looked for all the world like he was relaxing. Which, judging by the fire blazing in his eyes, he wasn’t.

That someone’s-been-clinging-to-my-head-during-sex hair Brad had teased Cole about for years had real meaning now.

And,
Jesus
, hands on a surgeon were expected to be elegant and attractive, but when had bare feet become so freakishly sexy?

Brad swiped his hand down his face, shifting uncomfortably in the sand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” He dropped his arm to his side and cleared the baseball from his throat, trying again. “I didn’t mean for the kiss to go so far. I didn’t mean to make things so awkward between us.”

“Christ.” Cole shifted to a sitting position. “Maybe you should have thought of that
before
you came all over my stomach.”

The surge of heat that shot through Brad’s body nearly knocked him on his ass. And he’d seen the well-fucked look on Cole’s face, the dazed eyes, the slack jaw, the boneless slump of his limbs.

“I wasn’t the only one who left a mess,” Brad said.

Great, now he sounded defensive.

Cole looked at him as if he were insane. “Of course, what did you expect?”

“Any dick will do for a dry hump, eh, Cole?”

Cole’s lips tightened, but he said nothing.

Brad hated that his dumbass actions and his stupid, dumbass mouth were creating such friction between them. He’d been ready to steal a simple kiss, both in payback and out of long-held curiosity. He’d been thrown for a loop when Cole had looked as if he was about to pay for a personal lap dance. But then Brad had spied Brandy’s hands on Cole’s shoulders, Brandy’s mouth at his ear, and the surge of jealousy that shot through his body had been shocking. Enlightening. A goddamn revelation.

When had he turned into such a drama queen?

Him.
Jealous.

Wasn’t that just the fucked-up icing on this fucked-up cake, because
he
was the one set to walk down the aisle tomorrow.

He dropped into the hammock beside Cole, and they spent the next few minutes staring at the scenery, their thighs and hips too close for comfort. Avoiding everything that had become too much to be addressed.

“Dry humping?” Cole rolled his eyes in exasperation, with that hint of fondness that Brad didn’t deserve. “You have such a juvenile way with words.”

“What the hell would you call it, then? Grinding? Rubbing one out?”

“The technical term is
frottage
.”

Brad’s lids blew wide open, and he grunted, both horrified and vaguely amused by his brainiac of a friend. He’d never heard the term before, but he wasn’t a genius like Cole. Neither was he gay. Bicurious maybe. But not gay. At least he didn’t think he was. But lately he couldn’t look at Cole without thinking of how much he wanted to fuck him senseless, so some version of gay was looking more and more like a definite possibility. Probability. Whatthefuckever.

Frottage.

Brad let out an amused huff. “You’re a hopeless geek, you know that, right?”

“Better than being a terminal asshole.”

And the return to their familiar interactions was such a relief Brad slumped back against the hammock, his shoulder touching Cole’s, so grateful he was afraid to speak or he might start babbling like the idiot he was. For a moment he simply enjoyed the quiet and the absence of hostility and the reassuring heat of Cole’s hips and thighs so close to his. The very fact that his friend was
present
. That Cole hadn’t given up and ditched him like he should have a long time ago.

The breeze rustled the fronds of the palm trees overhead, the gentle sway of the hammock and the sunlight dappling his face lulling Brad out of his douchebaggy state.

“Dude,” Brad finally said, his voice rough. “I really am sorry.” He knew he was overcompensating so he wouldn’t sound so much like the big teenage girl he was slowly turning into. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Do what?” Cole asked.

“Anything. Everything,” Brad said, frowning at his friend. “Damn it, my
life
.”

The Cole-shaped cavity that Brad had endured those five miserable years still haunted him. Dealing with an addicted Danny alone had been exhausting. Terrifying. Worrying about his brother while he was clean had been lonely as hell. Always braced for the next relapse. Brad didn’t deserve Cole’s friendship; the past few days had proven that. The thought of a life without Cole scared the ever-loving shit out of Brad.

Cole was the smartest guy Brad knew, and one day the man would wise up and leave Brad’s sorry ass behind.

“Why are you marrying her, Brad?” Cole asked, the words barely audible.

Brad closed his eyes, the truth lodged low in his throat.

“Hey, I hope the party didn’t start without me,” a familiar voice called.

Brad twisted in the hammock and spied his brother crossing the sand.

Danny made his way across the beach, a big, goofy grin spreading across his big, goofy face. His long blond hair caught in a ponytail, his surfer shorts and surfer attitude giving him the look of a stoner. But not a stoner anymore. His skin color was good, the gaunt look of his addict years gone.
Still
gone, thankyouverymuch. And the twist of love in Brad’s heart nearly broke him in two. Danny had been the darling of their three-person family, the apple of his mother’s eye. The baby brother Brad adored. Nothing was more important than keeping Danny safe. Keeping him
alive.

And no sacrifice was too great to ensure that happened.

From beside him, Cole’s voice was low. “He looks good, Brad.”

His friend could tell at a glance when his brother was clean and when he’d started to slip.

“Yeah,” Brad said, the smile spreading across his face as Danny drew closer. He had his brother,
healthy
, and the best friend in the world. They’d figure out their shit later. But for right now, Brad was going to enjoy the moment. “Yeah, Danny looks real good.”

Chapter Eight

At some point in the last twenty-four hours, Cole had decided with absolute certainty that the VIP room of the Honolulu Lei, a nearly naked wannabe counselor, and Brad’s cum on Cole’s stomach had been as awkward as the four-day weekend could possibly get.

He’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry I missed your private lap dance last night, Brad,” Martinez whispered.

Cole sucked in a silent breath beneath the gazebo overlooking the Pacific. Brad stood to his right, and to his left was Danny, with Ryan and Martinez lined up just beyond. Cole kept his eyes on the discussion happening up the aisle. The power-pantsuit-wearing event planner gestured frantically about some detail while the wedding officiant listened patiently. The rows of white chairs on the grass were empty save for a few family members of Jenny’s, and the bridesmaids were at the other end of the aisle, giggling or gossiping or doing whatever women did that looked suspiciously like fun. Which left the five men up onstage, bored out of their minds.

With Cole as the only chaperon.

He was really beginning to hate his life.

“Brad?” Danny leaned forward to shoot his big brother a grin. “You got the VIP treatment, eh? Nice.”

Brad shot Cole a look before laying a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to address Danny. “Cole paid for it.”

And he was
still
paying for it.

A gorgeous sunset painted the sky while a cool breeze provided relief from the lingering heat, but Cole was painfully aware of the warmth of Brad’s fingers on his shoulder. Despite everything, his friend felt no inclination to give him a little space. Was as free with the one-armed hugs and the pats on the back as ever. In fact, Brad looked easy and relaxed. His usual self. Was he really that unaffected by the previous day’s foray into sex with his best man?

He’d said himself that things had gotten out of hand. Had been pushed further than Brad had planned. Maybe for him, as far as their friendship was concerned, nothing had changed.

An exchange of spit and cum—no big deal, chalked up to the zany antics of a bachelor party gone wild.

“You bought Brad a lap dance?” Danny said, sending Cole an approving look. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Not only did he pay for it,” Ryan said, “he got to watch.”

Cole fought the urge to close his eyes, the slow, oncoming train wreck of a discussion happening right before his eyes. There wasn’t a thing he could do about it except pray that one of the elderly family members observing the proceedings suddenly collapsed from the heat and needed urgent medical attention. Cole would be only too happy to comply.

His friends would have a hard time harassing him while he performed CPR.

“Cole, you sly dog, you,” Danny said. “I can’t believe you watched my brother with a stripper.” Danny whispered loudly to Ryan and Martinez, “The quiet ones are always the kinkiest.”

Heat crept up Cole’s back, but he kept his face as bland as ever. “Brad was the one who wanted me to watch.”

Given the strained pause that followed, perhaps his words hadn’t eased the awkwardness like he’d hoped.

Danny winced. “I don’t even want to know what the hell that was about.”

“Just tryin’ to keep everything aboveboard was all,” Brad said.

There was a burst of laughter up the aisle, the bride and her female entourage enjoying a moment with the event planner. The conversation around him died, and Cole was grateful they were moving on from the current, very uncomfortable topic.

Danny leaned closer to Cole. “How much?”

Cole shot him a questioning look.

“How much did you pay?” Danny went on.

Cole didn’t bother trying to suppress the sigh. “Five hundred. And Brad matched that amount with his tip.”

Danny coughed, as if managing the saliva in his mouth was suddenly an overwhelming task.

Brad huffed out an amused breath. “Cole told her to make it special.”

Four sets of eyes were suddenly trained on Cole. Ignoring the bead of sweat forming at the base of his neck, Cole tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. But Brad? Damn him, Brad found the situation amusing. His mouth twitched in humor, and Cole stared at his friend’s attractive neck, briefly wondering how much force it would take to cut off his air until he couldn’t speak.

A mute Brad would be a definite advantage.

“Special, huh?” Danny studied Cole closely. “Cole Winston,” he said slowly, curiosity and questions and accusations filling the spaces between the syllables. “Did you just have your first heterosexual experience?”

The sarcastic spurt of laughter from Cole almost hurt. “No.”

No, the experience had been erotic as hell and very clearly homosexual in nature.

“Did she do a twofer?” Danny asked. When Cole stared at him blankly, Brad’s brother clarified. “Did she give you both lap dances?”

“No.”

“But she got paid
a thousand dollars
.” Clearly distressed that the two had overpaid, Danny went on. “At least tell me there was some touching involved.”

This time it was Brad who had trouble keeping his airway clear, coughing like he was choking. Eyes burning, Cole fought the urge to blink.