I wouldn’t have it any other way. We roar off into the night, and I’m not sure if we’re going to my place or his. I don’t care as long as I fall asleep in his arms.

  EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER - CARSON

  “Hey, man, you still going to be able to get those tickets for me?” Myron asks, looking nervous.

  I grin, patting his thick shoulder. I won’t call him a buddy, but we’re simpatico now. “Of course. Though I couldn’t get the front row ones I promised.”

  Myron’s face falls, but he rallies quickly. “No worries, no problem. General admission is fine,” he says hopefully.

  I can’t hold a straight face much longer. Myron’s too good of a guy. Despite looking like he could beat the shit out of you with one punch, I’ve learned that Myron is a real softie like Jayme said. Case in point, he looks out for the widow and daughter of one of the guys he served with, and when we announced that Jazmyn Starr is coming back to headline the second annual Freedom Fest this spring, he asked if I could help him get tickets.

  Of course, I said yes.

  “Yeah, I could only get VIP Access ones. I hope she won’t mind being part of the on-stage group instead of in the crowd.” I let the mic drop on that, waiting for it to hit the floor of Myron’s mind.

  “Holy shit, man! Are you for real?” He shakes my hand so hard that my teeth rattle in my head. “Thanks a lot!”

  “No problem. Glad I could help,” I tell him. “I’ll bring them home as soon as the lanyards come in.”

  Myron goes to grab the door and then whispers, “She has no idea.”

  “I know,” I reply, excited for what’s happening tonight and impressed with myself for being able to plan something right under Jayme’s nose without her realizing a thing. “We’ll go up top at five o’clock sharp.”

  Myron nods. “I’ll call if there’s any delay.”

  Upstairs in our apartment, I find Jayme sitting at the dining table, stacks of contracts surrounding her and her laptop glowing brightly. She usually works in her office down the hall, but sometimes, she prefers the windows out here as a change of scenery. She waves at me with a distracted smile, talking sharply into her headset, “I’m glad you agree with me that the priority here is accessibility. Your client comes off as out-of-touch, quite frankly, and that’s concerning beyond the scope of this current issue. He needs to adjust more than his tie to make that happen.”

  She’s quiet, listening thoughtfully, and then hammers right back. “If that’s all you’re looking for, Patrick can assign you a different consultant from within the Compass family. That’s not what I do and not what I recommend. If you want the best, that’s me. If you want results, you’ll do what I say. And so will the client.”

  Fuck, she is sexy as hell when she’s in boss mode.

  Thankfully, she hasn’t had to save my ass again. Once Jayme worked her magic with her initial suggestions and the first Freedom Fest, both my reputation and Americana Land’s image were restored. There was a small blip with the video of me asking for help, but the duet with Taya proclaiming success was equally viral and settled everything down . . . after a bit. At first, people wanted more answers . . . especially who I’d fallen for and what was going to happen next. People even started an online petition for us to have a live streamed wedding ceremony!

  But time passed and people forgot about it in favor of the latest media storm. And since then, Americana Land and I have had nothing but positive scores on every analysis Jayme runs.

  She nods, her mind on her new client and the firestorm she’ll have to put out, apparently. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  Jayme taps a button on her earpiece and then smiles as though she didn’t just cut some suited, power hungry asshole down to size. “Hey, babe, how was work?”

  “Not as good as yours, I’d bet. You get the Rollins deal straightened out?”

  She wrinkles her face cutely. “Yeah, kinda wish he’d decided to let Patrick send someone else, though. It’s going to be a pain in the ass.”

  I press a kiss to the top of her head. “People want the best, and like you said, that’s you.” I take both of her hands, pulling her up from the chair, and take her earpiece out, laying it on the table. “We have dinner plans with your parents tonight, remember? We need to leave by five.”

  She groans. “Can we stay home and order out? We can get Korean barbecue, and you have that new bourbon to open.”

  She’s negotiating hard, dangling all my favorites in front of me . . . her, barbecue, and liquor. But not tonight. Instead, I spin her in place so that I can’t see the pout on her lips or the disappointment in her eyes and push her toward our bedroom. “Nope. Go get ready. Maybe wear that new dress you bought?”

  She peeks back over her shoulder coyly. “You like that dress?”

  The dress is a backless, swoopy sundress that falls to her ankles. It also comes completely undone with a quick release of a single tie at the waist that lets me open the dress like wrapping paper on the best present I’ve ever received—Jayme.

  I let my eyes trace down over her back to her ass, imagining her in the new dress instead of the still-hot pencil skirt and blouse she has on from her meetings this morning. “Fucking love it. I’ll fuck you in it when we get back. Just that dress and—” I freeze, knowing I almost spoiled the surprise I’ve been working on for weeks.

  “And?” she prompts. I lift a wry brow and she smirks. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, can ya?”

  I pop her ass with a solid smack, and she whoops out in laughter as she scampers toward our bedroom to get ready.

  We take the elevator up to the roof level at four fifty-eight. I heard the rotors of the helicopter several minutes ago as it landed and had hurried Jayme along, mostly so we actually made it out of the house with her in that dress. I shift from my right foot to my left, trying to get my cock to relax. But damn, she looks good in that dress. I stare at the numbers instead of Jayme, gritting my teeth. Dinner is going to be torture.

  When the elevator doors open, we step into a safety area until we get the all-clear. The co-pilot holds open the helicopter door and waves us forward. I hold Jayme’s hand, helping her, and then I step up into a luxurious cabin that’s clearly designed not only for comfort but also to impress—the dark leather seats, each of them embossed with a scripted B, the wood accents, even the soundproofing that reduces the roar enough that I don’t have to scramble to yank the headset down over my ears just to preserve my eardrums—all of it subtle nods to the wealth and power at the fingertips of the Brooks family.

  “Welcome aboard,” the pilot says through our headsets. “Beautiful flying tonight. Should reach our destination shortly.”

  I reach over and take Jayme’s hand, tracing the length of her fingers, especially her empty ring finger. If everything goes to plan, it won’t be naked much longer.

  “Do you know who all’s coming tonight?” Jayme asks me.

  We’ve done the monthly dinners at her parents’ numerous times now, but it’s always a bit hit-or-miss on who’s there, depending on travel schedules, work, kids’ bedtimes, and more. But not this time.

  Tonight, the whole Brooks family is going to be there.

  I shrug. “Who knows? Hell, your dad might be skipping out in favor of work.”

  Jayme laughs, knowing Jameson Brooks would never do such a thing. He looks forward to the monthly dinners as much as Leah does.

  The flight is smooth and the landing gentle, with barely a bounce. We tell the pilot thank you and take our headsets off. The co-pilot opens the doors for us once the rotors stop, and we exit the helicopter.

  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to coming to the Brooks home. Or imagining Jayme growing up here.

  The property is a deep green valley surrounded by the giant protective natural barrier of the mountains on two sides. Forests of trees spread for miles in every direction, only broken by a peek at the stark white of the fencing surrounding the homestead area, which is still nearly fifty acres. The bright beacon of the Brooks home stands tall and proud in the center of it all. It’s truly more of an American-style castle, large and with so many wings and floors that you can get lost inside. Or at least, I have . . . several times.

  The whole property is like a paradise on earth, with everything you can imagine—a movie theater, bowling, horses, pools, a lake, ball courts, and more. Being a teenager here would’ve been amazing.

  Though growing up at Americana Land with roller coasters wasn’t too bad either, I think with a smile.

  Dad and I are doing much better now too, at work and as a family. We haven’t heard another peep from Archer since his unexpected showing at the charity event, and I agree with Jayme that it was intended as some sort of shakedown for money. When that didn’t work, he crawled back under whatever rock he lives under.

  But along with these Brooks family dinners, Jayme and I have started having dinner with Dad, Izzy, and Toni regularly too. Dad still tries to get Jayme to come work for Americana Land, but I think it’s more of a joke or habit now. He couldn’t afford her full-time consultant rate, anyway. Sometimes, even Topper comes, though I’ve yet to hear him string together more than seven words at a time. Toni says he writes her poetry, though, so I guess there’s that.

  We walk through the side door of the house, the entry closest to the private helipad, and Jayme calls out, “We’re here!”

  From deep in the house, in the direction of the family room, an echoing cheer sounds out. “In here!”

  Jayme takes my hand, pulling me in the direction of all the voices, and I let her go in before me. “Oh, my God! You’re all here!” she shouts, looking around the room. “This is amazing!”

  This is the first of my surprises, and honestly, the hardest one. Getting all the Brookses together at the same time can quite literally require an act of legislation, or at least a threat of death from Momma Brooks.

  James, Yuri, and their son, Kent.

  John, Sarah, and their boys, who I can never tell apart, but one is Grayson and one is Hunter.

  Jordan and Drew.

  Joel, Keilah, and their new baby girl, Norah.

  And of course, Jameson and Leah.

  All stand to greet us. “The gang’s all here,” Jameson says with a hearty laugh.

  “I’m so happy,” Leah chokes out, tearing up.

  We work our way around the room, hugging and shaking hands with each other, and I realize that though Jayme talks about her brothers as though she’s seen them recently, for some of them, they haven’t seen each other in over a year. Especially James and Yuri since they moved to Japan. They stay in touch with phone calls and texts, but this is different.

  I stand back, taking it all in.

  “You sure you haven’t changed your mind?” Jameson whispers to me from behind his scotch glass.

  “Not a chance.”

  He smiles, giving me a proud nod. “Can I make a suggestion then?”

  He waits for me to disagree, which I’m definitely not going to do because my heart is racing, my stomach is flip-flopping like I’m on the loop-de-loops of our The American Revolution roller coaster, and my feet are drumming on the wood floor like I’ve taken up tap dancing.

  “Do it now. Get it over with before anyone has to leave. There’s going to be a crisis somewhere, or a diaper that needs to be changed, or something. Right now, everyone’s here. Do it.”

  Oh, shit. That’s what this whole night is for, but I thought I’d have a chance to build up my guts. Maybe slip it into conversation at dinner or something. But Jameson is right.

  I clear my throat and step forward.

  “Uhm, everyone . . . if I could have your attention for a second, please?”

  The chatter of various Brookses talking over each other dies out as all eyes turn to me. “Carson?” Jayme whispers. “You okay?”

  I cover the few feet between us and take Jayme’s hand in mine, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.” I take a big breath, trying to remember the words I practiced, but they’re gone, simply lost to the static in my head. I decide to speak from the heart and hope it’s enough. “Jayme, the first time I met you, I thought you were a smug bitch, and you called me an arrogant asshole.”

  One of her brothers let out a small chuckle, and someone whispers, “She can be.”

  “We’ve come a long way since then, learning and growing, both together and apart, supporting each other and taking some really fun and rewarding risks. There is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. So, Jayme Brooks Rice . . .”

  I drop to my knee in front of her, pulling a black velvet box from my pocket. I open the box, hoping she likes the ring I had custom-made for her. It’s a sapphire, not a diamond, but the stone and setting felt like Jayme—unique and bold, delicate and strong.

  She gasps, covering her mouth with her free hand as tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, Carson!”

  “Will you do me the honor of being my wife? Will you marry me?” I ask, fighting off tears of my own.

  Jayme nods wildly as the tears fall down her cheeks. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  She holds her hand out, and I push the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly, but I don’t think she’s even looking at it. Her eyes are locked on me and filled with joy. I scoop her into my arms, spinning her around in her parents’ family room as I kiss the hell out of her. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to ever stop, but after a moment, Jameson clears his throat and reluctantly, I set Jayme down.

  Still only a breath apart, I tell her, “I love you, and I’m going to spend forever making you happy.”

  She smiles. “You already have. I love you too.”

  One of the kids—Grayson, maybe, or Hunter?—says, totally unimpressed by what just went down, “Does that mean we can eat now?”

  Jayme laughs through her tears, looking at her nephew. “Yeah, we can eat. And then I’m gonna beat you at snooker.”

  John chuckles, telling his son, “No way. We’ll play teams, you and me against Jayme and Carson.”

  I put my arm around Jayme’s shoulders, keeping her right at my side. “I’ll take that action. I’d bet on Jayme anytime,” I tell John confidently, though I know all the Brookses are skilled snooker players because Jameson enjoys the game quite a bit and has taught them all.

  “Hmmph.” Jayme snorts. “I’d bet on us. Show me the money! No risk, all reward, baby!” And then she holds up her hand for a high-five.

  I don’t smack her hand, though. I grab it in mine and kiss the back of it, just above her new engagement ring. I look up at her with a smirk designed to remind her of some of our riskier endeavors. “Well, maybe some risks are worth it.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Truth Or Dare Series:

  The Dare || The Truth

  Big Fat Fake Series:

  My Big Fat Fake Wedding || My Big Fat Fake Engagement || My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

  Standalones:

  Drop Dead Gorgeous || The Dare || The Blind Date

  Bennett Boys Ranch:

  Buck Wild || Riding Hard || Racing Hearts

  The Tannen Boys:

  Rough Love || Rough Edge || Rough Country

  Dirty Fairy Tales:

  Beauty and the Billionaire || Not So Prince Charming || Happily Never After

  Get Dirty:

  Dirty Talk || Dirty Laundry || Dirty Deeds || Dirty Secrets

 

 

  Lauren Landish, Risky Business

 

 

  Thank you for reading books on GrayCity.Net
Share this book with friends