Too Long: Hayes Brothers Book 6

IT’S AN ODD FEELING—my heartrate increasing when I spot Addie’s number among the others I got at the end of the dates. The guy handing over the cards looked me over as if wondering what the fuck it was about me that got me seventeen numbers.

My surname was probably the biggest factor. Most girls know who I am. Since taking over the management side of Nico’s empire, I added a dozen spots to our now-joint portfolio and made a name for myself. People no longer refer to me as Nico’s younger brother or right-hand man.

It’s my biggest win to date.

The money that comes with owning and managing close to thirty spots around Orange County is a bonus I don’t care much about. Sure, a big house, a penthouse in LA, five cars, and being able to buy all the luxuries my heart desires is nice, but there are things I want that money can’t buy.

At some point, material things lose their appeal.

“How did it go?” Cody asks when I join them downstairs. He snatches the cards from my hand, rising to his feet, ready to go somewhere else. “Which one are you calling first?”

“Not decided yet.”

“Did that girl you mentioned during break give you her number? Audrey, wasn’t it?”

Cody’s eyebrows bank together as he flicks through the cards. “Doesn’t look like it. Unless…” His eyes snap to mine. “Empty your pockets.”

He’s good, but not as good as me.

“You think I’m hiding it?” I flip my pockets inside out. Her number is already saved in my contacts under Wish, card safely discarded. “She said I’m not the guy she’s looking for.”

If I tell them we’re going out next week—and we are because I will call her—they’ll poke, prod, try to help, and fuck things up for me.

Cody stares a moment longer before handing the numbers over. “You got sixteen, Colt. I expect you to ask out at least three.”

Three might be a stretch. I was so focused on Addie I didn’t pay attention to anyone else, constantly gawking over my shoulder to check on the pretty little Brit, then schooling myself not to jump ahead of the game.

There came a time during the online dating phase when my desperation to find someone reached an unhealthy level. It took months to learn connections like those my brothers share with their girls can’t be faked or forced. I jumped the gun too many times before I figured that out.

“Fine, but not tonight. I need a proper beer. All they serve upstairs is whiskey, vodka, and Bud Light.”

“Tortugo?” Conor suggests, then frowns, looking over my shoulder. “Well, you’re better than him. What the hell’s wrong with that girl?”

I spin around, my heart thumping faster as I spot Addie leaving the building on Wesley’s arm.

Fucking Wesley, the epitome of dullness in any room. Wesley, who can’t hold a conversation that doesn’t orbit around politics. That guy gets to take her out?

He’s got aspirations for the Senate, though he can’t even run his father’s mayoral campaign, and yet, here he is, basking in Addie’s attention while I’m left in the dust.

How? Why? What the fuck does he have that I don’t?

The doubt creeps in. Have I done it again? Jumped the gun and imagined a connection that wasn’t there in the first place because I want it so much?

This is bad…

I thought the week’s stand-down she gave me was to make sure I’m genuinely interested, but now I wonder if I’m giving off a desperate-creep vibe. Maybe it’s her way of letting me down easily.

I’m working myself up, thoughts swirling, scenarios battling for attention. The sting of rejection pricks at my pride, but realizing I misread everything about her is what truly drives me nuts.

“If he’s her type, I stand no chance,” I seethe, and immediately regret it when both my brothers grin. “What?”

“You like her.”

Damn it… I do. How fucked up is that considering: “I spent ten minutes with her.”

“Took me less than that to realize Vee’s the one,” Conor says, finishing his beer.

“Yeah, but you’re weird.” My voice is almost back to normal, but controlling the emotions running rampant inside me takes immense effort. “Come on, you can catch me up on your perfect, blissful lives while I get black-out drunk.”

Tortugo is only a five-minute walk down the road, and as soon as we step inside, I want to leave. Addie’s at the bar, patiently waiting her turn. Every muscle in my body tells me to storm out, but before I do, I notice Wesley’s absence.

“Find a table. I’ll grab the drinks,” I tell my brothers, ignoring their quiet oohing.

Addie rests her hands on the countertop, gaze fixed on the cocktail list above the bar. I had time to examine her pretty face during the dates, but most of her body was hidden behind the table. Now that I’m behind her, my presence unknown, I can’t stop mapping every curve and every dent. She’s not skinny, but not plus size, either, her waistline defined, hips wide, ass round and perky like JLo’s.

I’ve spent two short dates with her and consider myself hooked. She’s interesting. Effortlessly held my attention, but now she fucking left with Wesley, I’m wary to say the least. Wary and second-guessing my every thought but not ready to wave the white flag.

My attention idles from Addie to the young guys bickering beside her. Their raucous voices grate my nerves. I was their age not long ago, but I don’t recall acting so obnoxious.

Despite Addie’s blatant lack of eye contact, one approaches, wearing a cocky, drunken smirk.

“Hey there, what are you having? No, wait…” He holds up a finger, scanning her perfect body up and down. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess… Sex on the Beach?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I was definitely never this obnoxious.

A quick glance around tells me that Wesley, who, by the by, should be the one ordering drinks or at the very least keeping his date company, is nowhere to be seen. Has he ditched her?

What a fucking asshole.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested,” Addie says, not even a slight head movement toward the kid.

Undeterred, he snorts out a condescending laugh. “Aah, playing hard to get, are you? I’m patient. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Not my place but fuck it.

I close the distance between us, gripping the counter either side of her waist. “What makes you think she’s alone?” I ask, taken aback by the protective edge of my voice and Addie’s shoulders slumping instead of tensing.

She must’ve known it was me by the ink marking my arms. Not that it explains why she’s relaxing while I’ve got her caged. I mean… she left with Wesley after telling me to wait a week before calling.

Confusing little thing.

Or maybe I’m reading too much into her body language.

Wouldn’t be the first time this evening. Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see.

The cocky teen steps back, eyeing me with a frown before retreating to his friends. I guess he knows me, too. Or decided Addie’s not worth the hassle.

I should give her breathing room now the teen isn’t hitting on her, but my fingers gouge harder into the hardwood, the space between my chest and her back less than an inch.

“Where’s your date?” I ask, dipping my head to speak in her ear. “He should be ordering drinks. And he should also know it’s unwise to leave you unattended. You good?”

A faint shudder shakes her, injecting a shot of intoxicating desire into my veins.

She tilts her head to the side, giving me a glimpse of her profile and pink-kissed cheek. “I’m better now.”

What did I say? Confusing as hell.

“Hey, Colt,” the bartender says, stopping before us. “The whole pack here?”

“Just the trio. Give us the usual and a glass of your finest red. Actually, no. Make it a bottle and get me a corkscrew.”

If he’s taken aback by the request, he doesn’t let it show. “Sure, give me a minute.”

I dip my head again, watching Addie’s neck break out in goosebumps at my warm breath on her skin. She smells like orange peel and spring evening on the beach. It’s distracting.

She is distracting.

And the way my dick swells in my jeans is definitely the most distracting part. It’s been a while since I had sex. Before the accident, racing and meaningless fucks were how I unwound. Not a week went by without at least one of those happening. Now, it’s just the races. It’s been months since I took a girl home. Six, maybe eight. I stopped counting.

Meaningless quickies lost their appeal when my life was flashing before my eyes.

“So, you were looking for a boring politician?” I ask, shaking off the depressing thoughts. “Where did he go?”

Addie spins around, still held hostage in my arms, looking flushed as she glances at my arms holding her hostage. “Restroom. Didn’t I ask you to give me a week before making contact?”

“Yeah, you did. You also said it’s a test window. Why didn’t Wes get the same treatment?”

A small smile crosses her lips, disappearing when the bartender pushes a corkscrew and a bottle of wine my way.

“Eyes on my hands, Addie,” I urge because she’s staring at my face instead of checking I’m not spiking her drink.

“You’re odd.”

A scoff flies past my lips. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re pretty, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like they’re fucking stupid. You could’ve told me you’re not interested instead of letting me think we’ll have dinner next week.” I pop the cork, pour half the glass, then shove the cork back in and hand over the bottle.

I’m ready to walk away, but she grips my wrist, yanking me back with surprising force. Liquid heat fills my chest when her face is suddenly an inch from mine, our breaths mingling.

“I was interested, but I’m away for the next week. I leave on Sunday.” She drops my hand, defiance painting her pretty face. “Wesley’s just a transaction.”

That should be my focus point. I know it should. I mean, a transaction? What does that mean?

But that’s not what I get hung up on. “Was,” I say, hands balled into tight fists. “Past tense.”

“Past tense,” she agrees. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my date’s back.” She storms past me, her hips swaying.

The scent of her perfume lingers in the air, taunting me.

Fuck. I thought I knew what rejection tastes like, but the flavor she’s dishing out is the worst kind.

***

I should’ve left Tortugo promptly after Addie’s blatant—if metaphorical—kick to my balls.

Did I?

No. Of course not.

I took it like a sadomasochistic champ and had a few beers with my brothers. The one thing I did was turn my back on Addie and Wesley.

No way I’ll willingly watch their date progress.

It’s been an hour. Two beers haven’t calmed the mind-numbing whirlwind of thoughts stripping away my brain cells. I’m restless like a bee in a matchbox.

Addie relaxed when I approached, trembled at my touch, then promptly shot me down.

A walking mixed signal.

A red fucking flag, for sure.

“Oh-oh,” Conor nudges his chin over my shoulder.

“What?” I clip.

“He’s ditching her.” His eyes widen as he watches the scene unfolding behind me. “Holy shit, he looks pissed.”

There must be something fundamentally wrong with this girl. She’s a looker. Smart, coy with a hint of attitude. Perfect at first glance, but she’s somehow alienated five men tonight. Each one had the same expression—halfway between deep shock and cringe.

“Maybe she’s married,” Cody chips in. “What else would scare away so many guys?”

“Pregnant?” Conor drops his gaze at the beer he’s sliding between his hands. “Whatever it is, if neither Finn nor Wesley wants her, you should steer clear, bro.”

“That’s the plan,” I mutter.

“Yeah… good luck,” Cody muses in a hushed tone, his back suddenly arrow straight. “She’s coming over.”

Sure enough, that’s when Addie saunters closer. She grabs a stool from a table nearby, dragging it toward ours, her steps a little wobbly, eyes glossy, swimming with the bottle and a half of wine in her system. The half she hasn’t downed yet is protectively tucked under her arm as she sits between my brothers.

“Hi.” She sets her empty glass on the table, holding the bottle out to me in hopes I’ll uncork it. “I’m drunk.”

“You don’t say,” I clip, annoyed she’s here and drunk alone. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Probably,” she waves me off, the resigned expression clouding her face not something I enjoy in the slightest. “Keep it flowing. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Cody kicks me under the table. Either to get my attention or let me know I should watch my attitude. “What did you do to Wes?” he asks.

Addie’s drunken gaze eventually finds Cody’s.

How the hell will she get home safely in this state?

There’s a pause, then a deep eleven creases her forehead. She turns to me, back to Cody, then me again, head whipping left and right like she’s watching a tennis match.

“Twins,” she mumbles.

“Triplets,” Conor corrects, and Addie’s world tilts on its axis when she finally zooms in on him.

“Wow… so pretty, pretty, pretty times three. That’s nine times pretty.” She sits up, her hopeful eyes wider than saucers. “That’s three chances!”

“I hate to interrupt your train of thought, but you’re making literally no sense,” Conor says, hailing the passing waitress to order more beer. “Three Coronas and a glass of ice water.”

“Unless you tip it over her head, it won’t help,” Cody chuckles.

The amused sound fades, his face contorted by a horrified look when Addie leans in like she’s considering falling asleep on his shoulder. He scoots his stool as far away as he can, his arm touching mine.

I pass Addie the wine, watching her down half the glass in one chug, her ladylike manners long forgotten.

“What happened with Wes?” I repeat Cody’s question.

“He got offended. Turns out fifteen grand isn’t enough.”

It’s fun talking to drunk people. Kind of like solving a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

“Fifteen grand?”

“I can’t afford more right now without making it look suspicious,” she whines, running a hand down her face and smudging her lipstick. “I said I’ll pay thirty, but he’ll have to wait a few weeks for the second half.”

“What were you trying to buy?”

“Him.” She rolls her eyes like I’m saying dumb shit. “Duh.”

I shoot Cody and Conor a look, checking whether they follow this, but as expected, they look as clueless as I feel.

“Elaborate,” Conor prompts. “What do you mean him?”

Addie presses the wine glass to her full lips, her unfocused eyes fixed on the almost empty bottle. “I need a boyfriend.”

“You tried to buy a boyfriend?”

“Only for a week!” She slaps her palms against the table. “God, keep up, will you? I need a boyfriend for my brother’s engagement…” She trails off, scrunching her nose like she’s deep in thought. “His engagement… thingy. My mother wants to invite Grant. I wasn’t thinking, okay?! I told her I met someone tall and handsome with dark hair, but I haven’t, and no one wants to cruise the Caribbean with me for fifteen grand unless there’s sex, so now I have to go alone, and Grant will propose a million times and my mother will be so happy and what if he wears me down and I marry the idiot just to get him off my back and end up with a herd of mini-Grants on a farm in Huddersfield?!”

She drops her head on the table, letting out a pathetic groan, probably a little tired after the world’s longest sentence.

I’m still processing when she lifts her head enough to awkwardly pour the last of her wine down her throat.

“More,” she demands, pushing the glass my way. “I don’t want to get married. I don’t want kids!”

Ah, so that’s what the acting reference was about during our second five-minute date.

Conor and Colt trade those infuriating loaded looks, their grins so bright I swear you can see them from space.

I know what they’re thinking.

They want me to be the boyfriend. Swoop in and save the damsel in distress. The thing is, Addie’s had the entire evening to ask if I’d be game. If she did, I’d have a hard time coming up with a reason against the idea.

But she didn’t ask, deeming me less of a catch than Wesley the boring fucking weasel.

“Don’t even start,” I snap at them.

Ignoring my glare, Cody gently taps Addie’s shoulder. “Did you ask Colt?”

It doesn’t happen often, but there are times I wish I was an only child. The question earns him an under-the-table kick in the shin. Childish, but he started it.

Addie straightens her back, big brown eyes idling between us. “No. I can’t—”

“She made it quite clear I’m not fit for purpose,” I say, aiming for jocular, and failing. It comes out pathetic. Bitter.

Great.

“That’s not it,” Addie sighs. “I just can’t afford you. Your watch is very expensive.” With another light-bulb moment, she turns to Conor, grabs his wrist, and checks his watch. “Yours is cheaper, and you’re pretty, pretty, pretty, too, and tall.”

“And married,” he says, gently yanking his hand from hers. God forbid any woman who’s not part of the family puts one finger on him. “Before you grab Cody, he’s married, too. Colt’s your only option.”

“Colt’s not available,” I clip.

Addie bobs her head in understanding.

I pretend the sad, resigned expression marring her beautiful, drunken face doesn’t affect me in the slightest.

It’s her fault she’s been left high and dry. Not my problem.

“It’s okay. I knew there was no point asking.” She puts her wine glass to her lips, forgetting it’s already empty, and rises on unsteady legs. “Besides, you’re cute. I hope you’ll ask me out next week.”

Didn’t she say she was interested in me less than two hours ago? Past tense no longer past.

She changes tune faster than a DJ.

As if she’s not drunk off her ass, she mumbles goodnight, flings a bag over her shoulder, and saunters toward the exit.

She shouldn’t be alone.

It’s not safe.

My leg bounces against the floor harder with every step she takes away from me.

“I agreed to the dates, but there’s no way you can blackmail me into playing pretend,” I tell my brothers, feeling their eyes burning holes in my face. “Don’t ask. That’s crossing lines.”

Not that they care. Crossing lines is always on our agenda. We’ve been pushing one another out of our comfort zones since I can remember.

Might be why we turned out better than our older brothers.

“We would never,” Cody gasps, faking offense that’s clearly laced with amusement. “I mean, come on. A week sailing the Caribbean with a girl you find attractive… sleeping in the same bed… kissing, cuddling, laughing… Do you really think we’d subject you to such torture? That’s outrageous, bro.”

I liked him better before he married Blair and got all happy.

“Forget it,” I say, emphasizing both words, my body in high-alert mode when I hear the door open behind me. She’s drunk. It’s not fucking safe for her to be alone. “I have work. No time for vacation.”

“I get it,” Conor says, toying with his Corona. “Work’s important. It’s not like Cody and I could keep an eye on things for a week.” He jerks his head side to side, making fun of me in the process. “And we’re certainly not implying we’ll keep your secret forever safe if you help Addie.”

“Good.” I glare at my white knuckles, clenched around the Corona in my hand. “Glad we cleared that up.” The door shuts behind Addie, and the sound jolts me to my feet. “I’m just… it doesn’t fucking mean anything, alright? I’m just gonna get her home safe.”

They both nod, pulling serious faces while barely keeping their laughter in check. Assholes.

“Call us!”

“Fuck you,” I mutter, already halfway out the building.

I’m only making sure no one takes advantage of her while she’s wasted. I’m doing a good deed. That’s all it is. Just half an hour of my time to get a drunk girl home.

It’s nothing.

It would certainly be nothing if the half-hour didn’t stretch into two hours. When I finally fall face-first onto my bed, it’s close to three in the morning.

My head hurts. There’s long, pink scratches covering my arms, and I bet I’ll wake up with a bunch of bruises.

Jesus, that woman’s wild.