Clusterf*ck Read online

  “If that’s the case, why can’t he be nice to me?”

  “I don’t know, but surely he’s past that adolescent ignore-the-girl-you-really-like thing. Is there anything in your past, or his past, like a small-town feud between families or something?”

  Oliver, Luther, Maraea and I were all born in Waitapu. Darcy’s only been here a year so she doesn’t know any historic scandals, but I can’t think of any that affect us, either.

  “Nothing I can think of. Oh, god, Darcy. My body turns to jelly whenever I’m around him. Nothing works properly. Words jam up in my head. My mouth goes dry and I can’t talk properly. Everything inside me quivers. And now I know what it’s like to kiss him and that’s actually made everything worse. I’m contemplating sneaking out the back way and grabbing an Uber.”

  “You can’t do that. I need you. My darling, gorgeous bridesmaid can’t leave the wedding early.”

  “Did you see Luther before you came in here?”

  “He was at the bar, with Oliver. That’s why I came looking for you.”

  “What was his mood like?”

  “How would you know? He looked happy. He and Oliver were laughing.”

  “Probably at me.”

  “Don’t get down on yourself. If you want to pursue Luther, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. He’s certainly an unusual person, but we both know how loyal he is. Anyway, you know him better than I do. Just make sure all viewing is through a clean pair of glasses rather than anything rose-tinted.”

  I laugh. “You sound like my mother. Or, like my mother would sound if she took a minute to think about anyone but herself.”

  Darcy starts to fiddle with a piece of my hair which came loose, probably during the kiss. “Has your mother come around to the idea of you staying at our house while we’re on our honeymoon?” she asks.

  “Not entirely. Well, not at all, to be honest. I’ve convinced her it’s part of my job.” I’ve been working part-time with Darcy, helping out with the marketing and PR business she’s started in Waitapu. “I really appreciate you and Oliver giving me a place to stay.”

  “You’re doing us a favor, staying in the house while we’re away.”

  “You don’t really need me.”

  “We do. Plus I want you on hand to handle inquiries. You’ll be really busy.”

  “Well, I’m just hoping it will show Mom that she can live without me. The ideal situation would be if I never returned home. Like, if I went straight from your house to my own place.”

  “There,” said Darcy, stepping back to admire her handiwork on my hair. “Back to perfect.”

  “Thank you.” I pull open a vanity drawer where I’d stashed some lipstick earlier. “My turn. Let me redo your lips.” I pull the cap off and examine the color. “This one will work nicely against the high color of Madam’s face.” We both giggle. I read out the label. “Costa Chica. That’s you, baby.”

  Darcy grips my forearm. “Oh, do you think it’s an omen? Maybe Oliver’s taking me to Costa Rica. Imagine it, Ginger. Sun, beaches.”

  “You have sun and beaches in Waitapu.”

  “Yeah, but it’s winter here.”

  “That’s true—” I’m stopped by the rattle of the door handle.

  “Are you in there, Virginia?”

  It’s Luther.

  “Yes, I’m here.” My tone is surprisingly normal when you consider the Pavlovian response my body just had to his voice.

  “Let me in. The door’s locked.”

  “I’m fixing the bride’s makeup,” I call back.

  “Fuck.”

  “Luther,” Darcy warns. “Remember your promise.”

  There’s no response. He must have left.

  Darcy snorts. “Since when did he start calling you Virginia?”

  “Tonight, mainly, when he’s trying to be formal.”

  “That didn’t sound formal. That sounded more like someone who wanted to get it on in the bathroom.”

  “Very classy, Darcy. If I’m going to get it on, as you so quaintly put it, with Luther, it will not be in a bathroom. Unless, of course, it’s his bathroom and we’re showering together. Now behave yourself and let me fix that mouth of yours.”

  She waits while I touch up her lipstick then examines herself in the mirror. “Nice job. Thanks, Ginger. In all seriousness, don’t let Luther hurt you. I couldn’t bear that.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her. “I don’t think that kiss meant anything. More to the point, I think Luther values his friendship with Oliver above everything else. He’s not going to do something that will upset his best friend’s wife.”

  “Darned right he’s not. He’ll have me to contend with, and I will take sides. I just want you to be happy, Ginge. We’ve got to get you out of your mother’s house, permanently. I’ve got plenty of work for you, so you’ll be able to afford your own place—”

  “Enough, Darcy. It’s your wedding day. The only thing you should be thinking about is shagging your gorgeous husband.”

  “You’re right. And it’s probably time to cut the cake. I have to keep pinching myself. This whole thing feels like a beautiful fairytale.”

  “It is. And you’re going to live happily ever after. Now, you go and find your husband and I’ll make sure chef’s got the cake ready.”

  5 ~ LUTHER

  I shouldn’t have kissed Ginger, but I’m so pleased I did. I want more of her. All of her? Yeah, all of her. But I can’t hurt her, and of course there’s Rachel to consider. That could turn nasty very quickly.

  The cake has been cut so that pretty much marks the conclusion of the wedding. Oliver’s keen to steal his bride away and he’s back to glancing at his watch every few minutes. Maraea and Ginger work the room with a tray of cake slices, offering napkins and wedding cake to the guests. I’m at the bar, nursing my umpteenth scotch and a hard dick that won’t let up until it becomes better acquainted with Ginger. Perhaps I should go for it. Fuck her out of my mind and deal with the consequences. I’ve had so much experience being offhand with her, I’m sure I can slot right back into that mindset tomorrow.

  She’s walking towards me. I swear her hips sway just a little more now that she’s noticed I’m watching her.

  “Cake, Luther?” she asks.

  “There’s something sweeter than cake I’d prefer.”

  “Is that so?” she says, all smart-mouthed and confident.

  Normally when she catches my eye, her cheeks color and she looks away. Not this time. This time she holds my gaze while she traces her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

  “Tell me your mind’s going to the same place as mine,” I say.

  She swallows. “I’m not psychic, so you’ll have to elaborate.”

  “I’m thinking about your sweet mouth and how we never really got started with that kiss before you bolted. You’ve been thinking about it, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m thinking about how our bodies fit so well together when we danced, and the way you deliberately short-stepped sometimes so that our bodies collided. You felt my hard cock and never shifted away. I don’t think that’s a Marcia Sneddon move.”

  “I—”

  Now there’s a bit of color. “Don’t deny it. Own it, Ginger, it was very sexy. I’m trying to imagine what your fantasies are like when you lie in bed at night. I want to know how you touch yourself, the sounds you make when you come.” Inappropriate, I know, but part of me is trying to sabotage the seduction attempt my more careless side is attempting to make. I expect I’ve offended her and brace myself for the face-slap I deserve.

  She lowers her cake tray to the bar and sets the napkins alongside it. I’ve got a cautious eye on her hands, ready to grab her wrist if she takes a swipe at me, but notice instead an almost sly smile creep across her face. She glances around, as if checking we’re alone, then leans in close.

  “I stroke myself slowly at first, Luther. Just my thighs, my stomach. I keep my legs pressed together as if I’m somewha
t reluctant to offer up my pussy. My nipples tighten as I run my fingertips so very, very lightly from my shoulders, over my breasts, down my ribs, across my stomach, the jut of my hipbones, down my thighs. Every time I get close to my pussy, I lift my hips, and moan, like this.”

  She looks around again, then gives me this soft, agonizing moan. I’m so fucking hard and she slides a glance to my crotch, then back to my face. I had no idea she could match me at this game. One kiss and I’ve unleashed Ginger’s dirty side. I wonder what a second kiss and a finger in her pussy would do.

  She continues with her story.

  “I nudge my thigh open, crook one knee, and use the same featherlight touch over my pussy lips. It throbs, my pussy. It’s wet, and ready, but I make myself go slow. Still, I beg my imaginary lover to touch me. Please, I say, please touch my clit. Push your fingers into my soaking pussy, Luth—”

  I put my hand across her mouth. “Cool. I get the picture.”

  She pulls my hand away. “You chickened out of that game pretty quickly.”

  “I was saving you from yourself. There’s a guy a few feet behind you who looks as if he came for the cake, but stayed for the masturbation fantasy.”

  Ginger’s eyes go wide. “Shit,” she hisses, picks up the tray and a napkin and swings around to the guest. “A slice of my delicious cake?” she offers.

  “Nice,” he says. He wears a filthy smirk as he eyes her slowly, head to toe. I think he’s someone from Darcy’s side because I’ve never seen the guy before. Still, I’m happy to take the nosy fuck outside and explain that eavesdropping on private conversations might be bad manners, but looking at Ginger the way he just did is even worse.

  “Super,” Ginger says. “Help yourself, and here, have a napkin to wipe up any mess.”

  I concentrate on the ice in my glass to hold my control. I never realized Ginger was such a tease. The guy takes his cake and disappears.

  “Looks like he wanted to have his cake, and eat me, too,” she says.

  “He’d have to get past me, first,” I mutter.

  “So, where was I? That’s right, you wanted to know the sound I make when I come.”

  “I think I get the idea,” I tell her, because there’s a limit to my control when it comes to Ginger, and I think we passed that somewhere around the point where she described her pussy.

  “It’s a lawyer thing, isn’t it?” she says. “Being sure to know the answer to a question before you ask it.”

  “Something like that.”

  She grins. “Except, you can’t possibly know how I sound when I come. I might sound like a steam engine, huffing and puffing down the track to ecstasy. Or, maybe I give a high-pitched squeal? What about a long groan, and a sigh? Or a yes-yes-harder-ohmygod-yes-yes-yes?”

  She’s killing me, deliberately. “How about I find out for myself?”

  “You don’t even like me.”

  Looks as though I’ve played that hand a little heavily over the years. “I’m willing to put my feelings aside for the sake of research.”

  “You’re really not a very nice person, are you, Luther?” she says.

  “Not really, although I’m a superb fuck.”

  Ginger cocks an eyebrow at me.

  I shrug. “I understand if you need actual evidence. Why don’t you try me out? Tonight. Tomorrow we can return to normal.”

  “A hook-up?”

  “If you like.” I must be insane. This is the worst idea I’ve ever put into words. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing I’d like more than to finish the night with Ginger in my bed. On the other hand, the worst person I could have in my bed would be Ginger.

  Maybe I can fuck her out of my system. I always thought that was a stupid excuse when clients caught cheating turned up in my office trying to make the most they can out of a divorce. Not that I ever want to know the why of their troubles. But for some reason, the guys always seem to think ‘I only did it once, to get her out of my system’ doesn’t constitute any sort of betrayal.

  And, it’s not like I’m cheating on anyone. Not even Rachel, really. It’s just that it could make things very difficult.

  Oliver and Darcy are in my line of sight. They’re talking to Reuben and Stella. Two couples, happy, in love, and seemingly made for each other. It wouldn’t surprise me if pink love hearts burst from their mouths as they spoke. I glance back at Ginger. I can almost read her mind. There’s no doubt the attraction between us is mutual. I’ve wanted her for a long time. I care about her in a way that means I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she’s safe, protected, and that no man is ever an asshole to her. But, I can’t lay a finger on her.

  Unfortunately, the promise I made five years ago means there is no future for Ginger and me. And if she ever finds out about Rachel, I can be certain she’ll hate me.

  “Okay,” she says.

  I’ve been so entrenched in the little battle I’ve got going on in my head, at first I’m not sure what she’s agreeing to. “Okay, what?”

  “Okay. One night for you to prove to me what a superb fuck you are. Then we go back to normal.”

  I love the way she says ‘fuck’. She goes long on the k like she’s trying out a new sound. Her beautiful eyes are bright with excitement, and her hands are closed into tight fists as if she can barely contain herself.

  I can’t do it. I’ve spent years being a prick to her, strapping down my attraction to her so that it never gets loose. I’ve seen the little flashes of hurt that cross her face when I’ve dismissed her as meaningless to my world. If I take her home tonight and fuck her, I would be that asshole I’m trying to protect her from. Even I’d hate myself.

  “Forget it,” I say. “Just take my word for it.”

  Her head jerks back and she blinks a couple of times as if I’ve just doused her with water. “Seriously?”

  She looks like a kicked puppy. Fucking great. Letting my cock have the final say on any decision is always a shitty idea. “Seriously, Ginger, I like you too much to—”

  She holds her hand up to stop me. “Don’t. Do not go there. Do not tell me you like me too much. You lead me on, and let me humiliate myself. That’s not the sort of thing you do if you like someone. I don’t believe you like me at all.”

  “Fine.” I can see by her face she hates me right now, but I’m sure we’ll settle back to the air of moderate dislike it’s always been.

  She picks up her cake tray and I’m wondering if I’m about to wear it, but she holds her head high, turns on her heels and walks away.

  That was close. I have no idea why I just started that, but I’m thankful I stopped before it was too late. Cole joins me at the bar and orders cognac for the both of us. The first swallow burns my throat in a way scotch never does.

  “She’s got a crush on you the size of a small Pacific nation,” Cole says.

  I give a short laugh. “Not any more.”

  “Bullshit. The two of you are inevitable, but judging by the look on her face, you’ve just made her unhappy. Go and sort it out.”

  “She’s busy doing cake stuff.”

  “We have waiting staff for that.” Cole is another partner with Oliver and me in this Lodge.

  “It’s symbolic for the bridesmaids to do it.”

  “You’re following rules, Luther, and that’s scaring me.”

  It scared me, too. “Like you said, Cole, it’s a crush, she’ll get over it.”

  “Good. I hope you can get over watching her go home with somebody else tonight. I’m sensing a revenge fuck is on the cards. There are two guys over there near the courtyard. Sharp suits. Confident. See them?”

  I look over. One of them is the eavesdropper.

  “They’re tracking every move Ginger makes,” Cole continues. “I recognize them from a club in Auckland. They work as a pair. It’s their thing, and they’re good. Ginger won’t know she’s being played. You’ve just pissed her off so she’s vulnerable.”

  “She’s also an adult, and completely capable of tak
ing care of herself.” I don’t believe that for one fucking minute. Inside, I’m seething. I’ll watch Ginger and make sure she gets home safely without the assistance of those two sleazy bastards.

  Fucking predators, everywhere.

  6 ~ GINGER

  I’ve only got myself to blame for that humiliating little episode. Why I ever imagined I could play Luther at his game is beyond me. Sure, I’ve probably drunk more champagne than I’m used to, but, hell, confessing my fantasy, then having it thrown back in my face is a new low point for me. And anyway, what was wrong with my story? It wasn’t hot enough for him?

  Fuck you, Luther. My fantasies are hot enough to get me off to a very fine orgasm, thank you very much. And there was more. More sexier, hotter, dirtier things I had to tell him.

  Combine anger and humiliation and you end up with one high-octane cocktail. I’m marching around the edge of the dance floor with a force that belies the heels I’m in, when I all but shoulder-charge a guest. My tray flips, and we both end up wearing cake and frosting. He’s worse off than me because that his football field-sized chest makes a big target. I’ve hit bullseye and the borders.

  Apologies fly from my mouth like scatter gun pellets. I attack his beautifully tailored suit with a fistful of napkins and he catches my wrist.

  “Slow down, babe. It was an accident. Come on, we’ll find a restroom and clean up properly.”

  Two waiters have appeared with cleaning gear and the tray and cake remnants magically disappear.

  I head off to the private restroom Darcy and I used before. The guy who follows me is gorgeous. There’s that broad chest, of course. His jaw is square, good smile, athletic. Brown hair, brown eyes. He’s a little liberal with his touches as he pushes the door open with a hand above my head and another one almost on my ass, but seeing as I just threw cake all over him, I can’t really complain.