Page 21 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

She doesn’t falter, just exposes her pearly whites with a devious grin. “Tomorrow, then?”

“You’re impossible.” I have no proof and not that I really want to know, but I’m sure they’ve already slept together. We’ve been having sleepovers for years and, well, Kai is easily accessible. And as far as brothers go, he’s not bad to look at. I don’t care if they have, especially because their chemistry is off the charts, but I don’t want to learn the specifics. “Come in.”

Kai hesitates for a second before he sheepishly peeks his head in. He turns his nose up at my outfit, ending his disdainful glare as he flicks his eyes at my bestie. I know he’s only teasing me, but I also know that look is because he’s the protective big brother that would rather I go out in a trash bag and bubble wrap. He gives Foxy a long once over and licks his lips. Lust permeates the air between them.

“Ugh, you guys are so gross.” They share a chuckle, and I toss the pillow Foxy threw at me toward Kai.

“You guys ready to go? Your driveway is gettin’ pretty full, Foxy.” She waves a hand, dismissing him.

“One, I don’t give a shit about that house, and two, I have a bouncer checking IDs ‘cause I’m legit and security is watching everything. I trust them.”

“We’re all underage, what exactly is he checking?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“Fake IDs, of course,” she says flippantly. Kai chuckles, shaking his head at Foxy’s nonsense.

“Let me grab my phone and we can go,” I say on an exasperated breath. I snatch my phone off the bedside table, then file out the door behind Foxy and Kai. He ushers us both down the stairs so we don’t fall on our obnoxious heels and closes the car door behind us after we’ve slid in the back seat. There is no reason to drive when Foxy lives in the neighborhood, but Kai likes to arrive in style. I will not argue with rolling up in his blacked-out Challenger. It looks good and sounds good and goes with our outfits.

When we pull up,the party is in full swing. The crowd hanging around in the circle drive cheer as Kai assists Foxy out of the car. Kai towers over her, tucking her under his arm and close to his side. She leans her head into him, and I can’t help but smile. Jensen may have always been her first choice and the better one regarding her parents because he has the most money, but there is no denying the sparks between her and my brother.

I get out of the car with the help of the valet driver, seeing as my brother forgot all about me, and I straighten my dress, stepping into stride with them.

Inside, bodies bump and grind on each other to the beat the DJ is playing. He’s got a drink in his hand as he spins a record and mashes buttons on his keyboard. He’s handsome and holding his own with huge puffy headphones hugging his head. The crowd seems to love what he’s doing.

Foxy’s house is a mansion, of course—nothing less than the absolute best for the billionaire. Who am I to say anything? Her father earned his money.

The walls are white and sparsely decorated throughout the house. When Mama T left, she took most of the stuff that gave it the homey vibe. Well, I don’t think she took it so much as she and Foxy decided they didn’t want to see it on the walls any longer. Some of the stuff is in Mama T’s apartment, but most of it they put in storage. Everything about the house screams grand, including the crystal chandeliers overhead and the black-and-white marble floors throughout.

The main entrance is vast, open, with a grand staircase crawling up to the second floor on either side. They have a ballroom, but Foxy centers the parties in the foyer because it’s easier to push people out the door when she’s ready for them to leave. The foyer is large enough to house Bleudale’s student body.

We jiggle our way over to the minibar for a drink, then find our way to the dance floor. Kai pulls Foxy into him by placing his hands on her hips. She reaches behind her head and directs his mouth to her neck. He rains kisses down on her flush skin as her eyes roll back in her head, loving the attention he gives her, which he is more than happy to supply.

Attempting to give them privacy, I turn away, headed back to the bar when someone grabs my arm to stop me. I freeze for a beat, ready to turn and knock my fist into the deserving face.

When I pivot, though, it’s not Jonas.

Brett Edmonds, a hockey player and long time friend, smiles down at me. A Bruins jersey covers his torso. Tight-fitting jeans hug his lean thighs, showcasing the bulge of his package. He has his sun-kissed blonde hair haphazardly tucked behind his ears, and his jade green eyes are bloodshot from alcohol and other things. The goofy grin plastered on his pretty boy face brings a smile to my lips.

“Hey, Brett,” I holler over the music. I’ve never noticed how handsome he is. He’s always been a good friend and mentor to me, nothing more. Not that I thought he was ugly, we never went there. He was the one who helped me train for my first season with the school hockey team. He graduated two years ago and started college out of state. I haven’t seen him in a while. Shit, he definitely grew up while away.

“You look good, Charley,” he says, urging me closer by linking our fingers together and stepping in to my space.

“So do you,” I say when I’m close enough that he can hear me. Thankfully, the music is loud enough for privacy but not so loud that you can’t hear yourself think.

“Do you want to dance?” He raises a brow and gestures toward the swarm of gyrating bodies with a serious question in his gaze. I hesitate but give in. Dancing with him won’t hurt a thing. Plus, I’d like some attention that isn’t Jonas.Or Riggs.Screw Riggs. I’m not sure why his name even popped into my mind.

“Why not?” I let him lead me into the thick of people. He swings me around to bring me in close, placing his hands low on my hips. A flush of heat rushes up my neck with his forwardness. I’m not about to act like a nun, but I guess I wasn’t expecting him to get so personal so fast. I lean in to him, unsure of where to put my hands.

He notices my hesitation and smiles. Our chests are a few inches apart, and I can feel his heat seeping through my dress, my racing heart moving faster than the music. To say I’m not excited would be a lie. Brett is hot.

“You can touch me,” he laughs lightly by my ear, sending a shiver cascading over my body.What in the world?When did Brett get so damn hot, so confident, and why am I so nervous? I need to channel my inner Foxy.

“No, I know. It’s just I’ve never danced with a guy that wasn’t my boyfriend,” I admit.

A flirtatious chuckle rolls from him, and he grabs my hand and places my palm assuredly flat against his chest. I try to ignore how rock solid it is, but my attempts fail miserably. He’s a hockey player, of course he feels good.

Next, he takes my other hand and drapes it over his broad shoulder. If the room was quiet, you could hear the sounds of my gulp. I wasn’t expecting to do much at this party other than drink myself silly and pass out in Foxy’s bedroom. But here I am, dancing with Brett, my hands on his body.

They roam a bit, finding a comfortable place to rest as we dance until I wrap my arms up over him and link my fingers behind the width of his neck. He’s a big guy and smells like the summer at midnight, light and breezy. He moves like it as well.

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