Home > Tall, Dark, and Bossy

Tall, Dark, and Bossy
Author: A.M. Hargrove

 


Chapter One

 

 

STACEY

 

 

“Ooh, I’ll take one of those,” I said to the waiter bearing a tray laden with yummy looking appetizers.

My best friend, English, and her sexy husband, Tristian, had renewed their wedding vows and were celebrating with a reception. They’d originally gotten married in Vegas so didn’t have a bona fide wedding reception the first time. They were making up for it with a bang tonight.

The party was being held at Tristian’s family home, which was nothing short of a mansion. Everything was extraordinary. The courtyard, where the reception was held, looked like something out of a fairy tale. Tiny white lights adorned every possible tree and twinkled everywhere. The scent of lush flowers permeated the air. It was glorious.

“You certainly have some fancy friends,” David said as he did a visual inspection of the place.

I chuckled. “Tell me. English sure married up, even though she wasn’t exactly poor to begin with.” David was my current boyfriend. We were both attorneys and had met at the courthouse. We’d been dating for a few months now and things were going pretty well, or at least that was the image we projected. Deep down, I didn’t feel the spark I should have. In truth, there wasn’t very much chemistry between us at all. I’d been asking myself lately why I was even dating him.

He tapped my arm and said, “I’m going to get us another round of champagne. I’ll be right back.”

I was left standing, alone, until Tristian’s brother, Stanton, strolled up.

“Looks like the party is a success,” he said.

“Yes, it’s spectacular.” I was never one to be short on words, but this man was such a stunner, he left me speechless. I’d always thought Tristian was gorgeous, but Stanton left him in the dust. There was certainly a resemblance, but Stanton had that little something extra that made my ovaries do one helluva party dance. Tall, dark, and deadly, his startling blue eyes held more than a hint of mystery that had me curious to know more. Why couldn’t David do that to me?

From across the courtyard, I glimpsed David walking toward us holding two glasses of champagne. Disappointment instantly blanketed me. I questioned those feelings. I should be happy, not sad.

“By the way, you look exquisite tonight,” Stanton said before sauntering off. Exquisite? No one had ever used that word to describe me before. I was especially surprised because Stanton had seemed more stand-offish and broodier than to dole out compliments like that.

David handed me the glass and asked, “That was Tristian’s brother you were talking with, right?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“He seems a bit arrogant to me.”

“I don’t really know him that well. Maybe he’s shy.” The truth was, I’d only met him last night for the first time at the family dinner and nearly swallowed my tongue when we were introduced. Gah, the man emanated sex and all sorts of naughty things had popped into my head. I didn’t think he was shy. It was more like he couldn’t be bothered with things that held no interest for him. Maybe a party and making small talk was a part of that. Whatever the case, the man certainly had a way with my reproductive organs. I imagined he had women by the dozens, chasing after him, tossing their underwear at him.

“What’s that grin all about?” David asked.

“What grin?”

“You were grinning.”

“I was? Probably because I was thinking about how lucky my best friend is.”

He shrugged and downed the rest of his champagne.

“Hey, you should go easy on that. It’ll hit you before you know it.”

He scoffed. “Champagne is just fluff. I can handle it.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when your head’s exploding tomorrow. Besides, you know how I feel about getting drunk, especially tonight.” Men could be so stubborn.

Easton, English’s seven-year-old daughter, ran up to me and grabbed my hand. “Aunt Stacey Bear, let’s dance.”

“Yeah, let’s go bust some moves.”

We pranced onto the dance floor and goofed off like two fools. We did the bunny hop, and skipped around, then made a train and coerced everyone to follow us. We were finally pooped after five songs and I said, “I need something to drink.”

“Me too. Let’s get some Smurf Cocktails.”

I had something stronger in mind, but I could handle one Smurf. We traipsed over to one of the bars and I let Easton do the ordering. She carried a wand wrapped in flowers and told the bartender to sprinkle fairy dust and put extra cherries in our drinks. I almost gagged at the sickly-sweet concoction but managed to choke it down.

“Aren’t these delicious, Aunt Stacey?”

“Er, yes, they are.”

“Do you want to get another one?”

“I’m fine for now. I better go find David.”

Easton frowned. “Are you gonna marry him?” Her tone held a hint of disapproval.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Do you kissy face with him?”

“Easton, why do you ask that?”

“Cuz I wanna know.” Then she leaned closer and asked, “Have you seen his weenus yet?”

Good thing my Smurf cocktail was gone, or I would’ve spit it out all over my dress. “Easton! I can’t believe you’d ask me that.”

“Why not? Mommy sees Daddy’s.”

“That’s because they’re married.”

She crossed her arms and said, “You don’t got to be married to see someone’s weenus.”

“Who told you that?”

“The kids at school. They say grown-ups show each other their weenuses all the time.”

“Let me tell you, young lady, don’t you ever do that. Never show—”

“I know. Mommy says, never to show my pirates to anyone.”

“That’s right. And not all grown-ups go around doing that. The kids at school are wrong so don’t listen to them.”

“Ohhhkayyy.”

“Now go and play. I think other kids might be dancing.”

She looked out on the dance floor and saw her aunt, so she ran out to join her. English walked up and asked what we’d been talking about.

“Weenuses.”

“Say what?”

“Your daughter wanted to know if I’d seen David’s weenus yet.”

English opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“What are you two doing at home?” I playfully nudged her side.

“We’re not running around naked, with Tristian’s weenus dangling in the wind, if that’s what you mean.”

Then we both cracked up. The idea of it was too hilarious.

“Your daughter comes up with the craziest things.”

“She’s obsessed with the idea of weenuses. She stares at Jameson’s when I change his diaper.” Jameson was their six-month-old son.

I snapped my fingers. “That’s why. I never thought of that. Curiosity, I suppose. Seeing one for the first time has to be intriguing when you’re her age.”

English nudged my arm. “Some things never change.”

My brows arched. “I suppose not. And I have a huge bone to pick with you. Why did you not tell me Tristian’s brother was so hot?”

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