Page 72 of Dark Horse

“Lashes, please,” Hazel answers as she blinks and lowers her eyes to look at my work. “I wish I had half your talent.” She grins up at me.

“Glad you like it.” I return the smile and pull the eyeliner out. I draw a thick line along her upper lashes while she waits patiently. “By the way, I put hangover kits in everyone’s room. Water. Headache medicine. Drinks with electrolytes. Make sure you use them before bed!”

“Yes, Mom,” Marlowe teases me.

“I had one sent to Ramsey’s room for you, too, just in case,” I muse as I finish Hazel’s other eye.

“I won’t be in Ramsey’s room. He can survive onemore night.” Hazel’s determined to make him sleep alone the night before the wedding.

“You’re torturing that poor man.” Marlowe shakes her head but then grins. “I love it.”

“He’s going to tear that gorgeous dress to shreds,” I warn her.

“I know. That’s why I’m switching to the shorter one at the reception.” Hazel taps her temple as I step away.

“Smart.” Bristol nods at our friend’s forethought. “I love that dress too much to see it in pieces. It needs to be framed.”

“I love yours.” Hazel touches the edge of Bristol’s hemline. “All of yours really. We need to get pictures tonight!”

“We also need to get pregaming.” Marlowe pulls out a flask. “We have questionable decisions to make, ladies.”

“Big plans?” I raise a brow at her.

“I need to break this little dry spell I’ve been on.” Marlowe downs a shot’s worth of alcohol and passes it on while she grimaces from the burn.

“I’m supportive of this.” Hazel takes one, hands the flask to me, and then turns to Marlowe for help with her lashes.

“I think we could all use the end of a dry spell tonight.” I down a shot and hand the rest to Bristol.

“You didn’t take that insanely hot man to bed?” Bristol raises a brow at me over Hayden.

“He’s too much trouble for me.” I hedge my bets. Hazel has backed off the idea since the wedding game night, but we haven’t exactly discussed me crushing her hopes and dreams yet.

“Isn’t that the point?” she asks.

“She likes more trouble than that,” Marlowe mumbles as she works on Hazel’s lashes, glancing at me with a mischievous look dancing behind her eyes.

“Wait… what does she know that we don’t?” Bristol’s still grimacing as she slides the flask back to Hazel.

“There’s nothing to know.” I shake my head, lying through my teeth. I plan to tell my girls everything after this weekend because I’m in way too deep with the devil, and I need perspective. He can stay anonymous, but I’m desperate for advice.

I want this evening and tomorrow to be about Hazel. After that, it’ll be time to figure out what the hell the two of us are doing and if there’s a future beyond sexting. Tonight, though, I at least plan to finally get the man in bed.

TWENTY-NINE

GRANT

When Ramsey,Levi, and I walk into the private room we reserved for the bachelorette party, they’re in the middle of enjoying a demonstration from a stripper. But not some guy in a police outfit or a cowboy hat and assless chaps, no. These women decided they’d rather learn to give lap dances themselves and so all five of them, my sister included—God fucking help me—are bent over in front of chairs wiggling their asses at their imaginary clients.

“Bend like this and give him or her a nice preview.” The tiny woman, whose thick blonde hair overwhelms her stature, explains as she slowly rises back into a standing position. “Then stand and turn around. You have two choices, depending on the seating height and how comfortable you are. You can stand like this, one leg on either side of their thighs, or you can climb intotheir lap. If you’ve got a chair like this, I highly recommend reaching over their shoulder and using the back to help steady yourself and keep your balance. Use it like you would a headboard at home, okay?” She grins at them, and they all follow suit.

“Holy fuck.” Ramsey’s jaw drops next to me as he watches his once and future wife wiggle her ass and then start to dry hump the chair. “I’m not going to make it to the wedding night. This is unfair as fuck.”

“I think I would have preferred male strippers,” I mutter as I watch Dakota roll her lip between her teeth as she follows the motion with her hips.

“Fuck that. I don’t want some guy’s sweaty junk in her face,” Ramsey grouches, tearing his eyes off Hazel and looking at me. “And I don’t need you beating someone bloody because one of them flirted with Dakota.”

“Well, now we have to watch our sister learn to strip.” I wave my hand in her general direction while trying not to watch too closely.

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