Accidentally Married to Brother's Best Friend Page 6

  “I’m going to start arranging the flowers,” I said. I had to put the centerpieces and the tablecloths on the tables in the ballroom. The serving team was supposed to iron them but I could do that myself.

  Preston shook his head at me. “Lyric…”

  “You need to find something nice to wear for when the party arrives,” I said. “So I won’t be at the wedding. That’s fine. The caterer and DJ and the waitstaff will still be here early, and everyone will get up here this afternoon. We did the rehearsal yesterday, I’m sure the parents can keep everyone in line and will remember how it goes.”

  At the end of the day, a wedding ceremony was rather simple. As long as the bridal party and the groomsmen walked down the aisle before the bride, we’d be good.

  Preston sighed. He was looking at me with sympathy and that, somehow, pissed me off more than anything. Why was he being so nice? How dare he be so understanding when I was resolved to hate him?

  “Lyric.” He grabbed me by the wrist and walked me over to the sofa. “Nobody can get up here. We can’t get down here. We are not a priority for the roads getting plowed and even if we were, this snow isn’t stopping. Nobody’s going to want to drive up in this. It’s not happening. We’re stuck here.”

  The last of my resolve broke, and to my horror, I found myself crying.

  “Aw, shit.” Preston pulled me to him and guided my head to rest it on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

  “They’re going to blame me and say it’s my fault and—and everyone’s going to be stranded, the DJ, the caterers, everyone—and I can’t even talk to anyone to confirm that it’s cancelled—and I was so excited to get this job, it would mean so much for my business—”

  “Shh, shh, hey, I know.” Preston stroked my hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Nobody’s going to blame you. If they try, I’ll rip ‘em to shreds. Champion of the debate team, remember?”

  I couldn’t help but smile just a little. It was true, Preston had been the debate champion in high school.

  “And hey, I’ll reimburse Bree’s family for the food, okay? I’ll take care of the finances.”

  Normally I would balk at the idea of someone covering finances, but this wasn’t someone trying to deal with my own finances—this was dealing with an irate bride’s family who would want their money back from the mansion, the caterers, the hotel, all of it.

  “They’re going to have to pay, still,” I pointed out. “Whether the mansion was used or not by them, it was still rented, and they didn’t cancel. The food was still made and set up here. Supplies was bought. Everyone’s using the hotel rooms. The church… nothing’s been properly cancelled or returned so they can’t get their money back.”

  “Well, they’re rich as hell, so they can swallow it,” Preston replied. “And if they don’t want to, I’ll see about paying for what I can. I can afford it and I’m technically part of the family so it’ll keep it a… a family matter. That kind of thing matters to us.”

  “Thank you.” I wanted to resent him, but I couldn’t deny that he was really going above and beyond here to help me out of this jam.

  “Hey, it’s no problem. You’re upset and that’s okay. I’d be upset too. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I’d never been able to let someone else take care of things. Tenor was a great brother, and he’d raised me more than Mom had, always looking out for me, teaching me how to cook and ride a bike, helping me with my homework. But he was busy with college and his band, living his own life, and he wasn’t really my parent. Then I’d transferred out of Amherst and I’d had to make my own way in a new college, find a way to get a loan to start up my business, get it all off the ground… all by myself.

  I hadn’t been able to relax and take a day off in ages. And the idea of having to deal with this absolute crisis, with these spoiled rich people—I mean it would’ve been a crisis either way, but it also would’ve given me less anxiety if I had been dealing with more polite, less self-centered people.

  Having to cover all of this on my own would’ve been a nightmare. And so as much as I hated to admit it—having Preston promise to take care of things was a major help. I couldn’t turn away his assistance.

  Although, that didn’t mean I had to sit with my head resting on his shoulder while he stroked my hair. Crap. I pulled away. I wasn’t going to fall for his charms again, no way, nuh-uh. No matter how good of a guy he was being right now, I knew I couldn’t trust him. At least not where a relationship with him was concerned.

  Preston stood up as I moved away. “I’m going to break out some champagne.”

  “You can’t!” My instinct was still to preserve as much as I could, just in case…

  Preston snorted. “I sure can. I’m stuck on a mountain at a wedding I didn’t even want to go to for my asshole cousin who I will bet you anything is causing a damn mess right now because I’m not there to keep him in line, it’s freezing, the power’s out, and I can’t get in touch with anyone. I’m going to get something to drink.”

  Well, when he put it that way…

  Preston returned a minute later with two glasses and one of the bottles of wildly expensive champagne that Bree and Chad had wanted. I was pretty sure Chad couldn’t tell the difference in taste between a fifteen dollar bottle and a hundred dollar bottle, but it was the label that mattered, not the actual contents.

  I chewed on my lip. We probably shouldn’t drink this. If anyone found out that we’d gotten into the catering… well, the food could be explained. There was nothing else here to eat, and nobody would want us to starve. But the champagne? That was another matter.

  “Don’t worry,” Preston said, like he could read my mind and knew what I was worrying over. “I’ll cover the cost of whatever we use. You’re under my protection.”

  He winked at me, and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. I didn’t need anyone to protect me—I could take care of myself—but just for a moment, the hot fantasy of it, the sensual possibilities, flitted through my mind.

  “Are you my lawyer then?” I asked, accepting the glass of champagne he poured for me.

  “I take on a few pro bono cases per year,” Preston replied. “And you’re a worthy client.”

  “So glad I could pass your test of worthiness, whatever that entails.” I couldn’t completely hide the bitterness in my tone. I sure hadn’t passed his test last time.

  Preston gave me an odd look but didn’t say anything as he sipped his champagne. “So. Did they really plan on holding the reception here?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I nodded.

  “This place is huge!”

  “I’m aware,” I said dryly, taking another sip of champagne. “Look, Bree wanted a fancy ass mansion in the mountains for her Valentine’s Day, Harlequin novel, picture-perfect dream wedding.” I paused.

  I shouldn’t be talking shit about the bride and the groom. They were, after all, my clients. I had to be professional. And Preston was related to the groom. But… he didn’t seem all that fond of Chad. And we were up in the mountains, the wedding was off…

  Besides, of all the ways that Preston could destroy me by spreading rumors, well. He’d already proven that he knew which ones would hurt a lot more than ‘Lyric complained about a demanding client’.

  “You want my opinion?” I asked.

  “Oh, please.” Preston sounded eager, draining the rest of his glass and pouring himself another.

  “I think Bree was more into the wedding as a big event than she was into the marriage. Which… sucks.” I shrugged. “In my opinion. I mean, the wedding’s just one day. It’s basically just another fancy party. The marriage is going to last for years. Hopefully for the rest of your life. Why set yourself up for a miserable life for the sake of one day?”

  Preston topped off my champagne and I silently toasted him in thanks. “She just wanted everything to be as fancy as possible. Not even—you know this, you’re rich. There’s the kind of high-end stuff that is high-end b
ecause it’s quality but it doesn’t really stick out as ostentatious. It’s not screaming oh look at how fancy I am! But Bree wanted the other kind, the kind that’s obviously expensive, the kind that sticks out.”

  “Hence, the mansion.” Preston looked around. “If you ask me, I’d prefer a cozy cabin. If I was doing a damn wedding in the snowy woods at all which I wouldn’t be. Whatever happened to eloping to Ibiza?”

  “Right?” I groaned, then jumped to my feet, nearly spilling some of my champagne. “C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour so you can see how absolutely batshit this place is.”

  Preston chuckled and got to his feet. “Lead the way.”

  I took him first to the ballroom. “Who has this kind of thing in a mansion up on a mountain? I’m serious. How often did they use this? Not often enough. Must be why they rent it out all the time.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can hear a singing teapot,” Preston joked.

  Dammit, that was pretty funny. I found myself laughing. Preston grinned, like he was pleased that he could get me to laugh. He’d been doing that a lot—cracking jokes and then looking at me expectantly.

  I couldn’t quite reconcile this conscientious person with the man who’d hurt me. It had been five years, of course. A person could change, or so they said. But could I trust that? He’d seemed like a great guy before we’d had sex, after all. And then I’d learned the truth too late.

  Clearing my throat, I turned away and swept my hand over the raised dais over at one end. “That was where the DJ was supposed to go. I talked Bree down from a live orchestra. Chad wanted a DJ to play more modern hits and that was when Bree agreed.”

  “She’d have to be a party girl to get Chad’s attention.”

  “She is, but she wanted to impress her family too.” And Bree’s family was loaded. Old money. Just like Chad’s family. It was why they were both so spoiled.

  Preston put on a horribly fake and horribly posh British accent. “Would you care to take a turn about the room, Miss Dean?”

  I had to smother another laugh as he offered me his arm. Sure, why not? I took his arm.

  We walked around the ballroom, pointing out the insanely huge floral centerpieces, the tablecloths.

  “I couldn’t believe how many bedrooms there were,” Preston admitted. “And did you see the tub?”

  “Oh, you think that’s crazy? Check out the honeymoon suite. It’s nuts.”

  “Oh my God I’m not sure I want to. Will I be scared?” He pretended to cower behind me. “Hold me!”

  “Hey, where’s the guy who just said he’d protect me?”

  “From crazy spoiled relatives, not insane honeymoon suites.”

  He was being so goofy, I had to laugh. I suspected that was his goal—to get me to relax and find the humor in the situation so I stopped being so anxious and upset. I hated to admit it, but it was working.

  “Seriously, though.” Preston straightened up, then poured us each another glass. “We should sleep in the honeymoon suite. I took one of the other guest rooms last night and it as not ready—I had to get sheets out of the closet.”

  “I’m not sleeping in the honeymoon suite!”

  Technically it wasn’t even the honeymoon suite, it was the master bedroom, but whatever, it was the honeymoon suite for our purposes.

  “You can sleep there if you want, but I’m taking the couch.”

  “Right.” Preston didn’t look impressed. “Because that was so comfortable last night.”

  He’d slept on the other couch for half the night, so I supposed that he knew how uncomfortable it was. And it was true, no matter how comfy a couch was, it just wasn’t the same as a bed. A nice, firm mattress underneath me sounded so good…

  “No.” I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Lyric. What other choice do you have? Do you really want to punish yourself?” Preston grabbed my hand. “C’mon.”

  He dragged me upstairs to check out the suite. I had to admit, it was… well. It was as pretentious as the rest of the house—it even had a damn chandelier in the ceiling—but it did have a huge, insanely comfy-looking bed and that was the most important thing. I’d ironed tablecloths, arranged flowers, and been running around all day after running around for a week, and all for nothing. The very top thing on my wish-list was sleep.

  “Y’know, I’m kind of disappointed there’s no animal heads mounted on the wall,” Preston observed.

  “Oh, no, those are in the library.”

  Preston burst out laughing. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Still laughing delightedly, Preston went into the ensuite bathroom. “You could fit an entire baseball team in this tub!”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be rich as fuck?” I called after him. “You shouldn’t be impressed with this bullshit!”

  Preston emerged again. “I am always impressed with people’s ability to be rich assholes,” he assured me with a grin. “My place is… I mean it’s nice, I’m not going to lie about that. But I never went in for this kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Sometimes when you grow up with a lot of something you start to become… immune to it. You’re done with it. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that. I like that I can buy the finer things in life if I want but I’m not going to go splurging on ridiculous things that I don’t need and won’t even really appreciate.”

  That—that took me by surprise. It impressed me, honestly.

  And then he spied the fireplace.

  “Okay, now this is perfect.” He walked over and bent down, piling logs inside without further ado. “Normally I’d joke about a fireplace in a bedroom but with the power out… it’s actually kind of a smart idea. This’ll keep us warm.”

  After sleeping on a couch piled in blankets to try and keep warm, I had to admit the idea of a warm fire was more than appealing. Except for the whole… well. At least there wasn’t a bearskin rug in front of it. I wasn’t going to be making love to this man right in front of the fire anytime soon, I could say that much.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as Preston started up the fire. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and it was… okay, it was hot. Especially in that dark blue sweater he was wearing, the fabric stretching over his broad shoulders and back.

  Down, girl, I warned myself. This was not the time to get distracted by sleeping with a guy, even if it wasn’t the jerk who’d broken my heart and screwed me over five years ago.

  It didn’t make sense. Preston was taking care of me. He was being kind and considerate. Nothing at all like the guy who’d fucked me and then told every single person at Amherst. Well. Not every person directly. But he hadn’t had to. He’d just bragged about it to his friends and they’d done a great job of spreading it all over the school.

  Did you hear that Lyric Dean’s a slut? I’d heard the whispers in my eight a.m. class the next day, that was how fast the news had spread. Preston had told everyone that I was easy and would open my legs for anyone, and that if you wanted a good time, well, you knew who to call.

  It had been the most humiliating moment of my life. So what if I’d had a lot of sex? That wouldn’t have been any reason to shame me for it. But more than the slut-shaming was the lying. The sheer audacity of the lie. I’d been a virgin until him and he’d known that—he’d grown up with me, he knew what kind of person I was.

  How could he have possibly said that about me? How could he have done such an about-face from the kind person I’d once known?

  And now—he was acting courteous all over again. Looking out for me. Talking me down from panic. What was I supposed to believe?

  Preston stood up, wiping off his hands. “There we go.” He nodded towards the bed. “I’ll pile some pillows up between us.”

  I hadn’t even had to ask him. Wow.

  How could this be the same person? Maybe he really had grown in the last five years.

  I didn’t have any pajamas with me, and I didn’t feel comfortable wearing my tight white dress to
sleep in yet again, so I borrowed the shirt that was supposed to be for Chad from the silk pajama set that had been left for him. Yes, there were silk honeymoon pajama sets for the couple. It was insane.

  Preston had his actual luggage with him, so he changed into some pajama pants and a t shirt, and then we climbed into bed. The pillow between us was awkward, but I could make it work.

  I was more exhausted than I’d realized, and before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep.

  My dreams were… interesting.

  Of course, with dreams you couldn’t quite remember how you got there or where you were. You were just suddenly there. And in my dream I was somewhere warm, and comfortable, and I was feeling fingers trailing up my body. They teased me, torturing me with their light touch, until I was moaning with need.

  Something slid between my legs, and I ground against it, desperate for friction. Oh, God, yes, it felt so good, so good—

  My eyes flew open as my body realized this wasn’t a dream sensation, but a real one, and I froze.

  Somehow, in the night, I had rolled over and kicked the pillow out of the way so that now I had a leg thrown over Preston’s and I was—I was grinding against it shamelessly.

  Oh my God. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so ashamed of myself in my life. How could I have done this, even in my sleep?

  I started to move back—only for Preston’s eyes to open.

  I glanced down automatically, and I could see his erection straining the soft cotton of his pants. Preston’s gaze followed mine, then shifted to his leg where I was straddling him. I knew he could see the wet spot I was leaving against his pants.

  My heart was racing in my ears. I could remember, as if it was yesterday, the feel of that thick cock inside of me. My memory didn’t lie—he was still big. And my mouth was watering.

  Preston leaned in, pushing himself up onto his elbow, his hand sliding up through my hair to cup the back of my head. I knew what was happening, and what was about to happen, but I didn’t stop it—I wanted it.