Bad Boyfriend: Billionaire’s Club #7 Read online

“Aruba.” Bas sighed. “The surf. White sand. And, more importantly, no cell phones.”

  “That bad?”

  “Not bad,” Bas said, navigating the airport’s exit. “But Rach and I both have a hard time turning it off sometimes.”

  “I know the feeling,” Tanner agreed. “Always seems to be one more thing to do, another project to squeeze in.”

  A punch to his arm. “Which is why I appreciate you coming to the wedding. I know your work schedule is just as crazy as ours. Where are you heading next? Antarctica? Some uninhabited part of the Amazon? Or, to keep with A’s, Australia?”

  Funny story, Tanner wasn’t actually going anywhere.

  That’s what happened when a man burned out at the top of his career. Or at least, that was the route he’d taken, fucking idiot that he was.

  He just hadn’t told anyone yet.

  “Well, actually—”

  Bas’s cell rang. “Oh, sorry, man. That’s Rachel. I should make sure she’s—”

  “Don’t have to explain to me,” he said. “Pick up.”

  Since Bas had already pressed the button to answer the call, his reassurance was moot. Rachel’s—or what he assumed was Rachel’s—voice filled the car’s speakers.

  “Hey, babe,” she said. “I grabbed a table. Has Tanner’s flight landed yet?”

  “Yup. His ass is currently plunked into the passenger’s seat.”

  “Tell him to not mess with my settings,” she said, laughter lacing her tone. “I just got the recline perfect.”

  “Hi,” Tanner said. “That recline sounds serious. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “Hi, Tanner,” she said. “I’m kidding about the seat, obviously. Live vicariously and recline all you want.”

  “Noted,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” She had a nice voice—warm and kind. “I’ll let you two catch up, though I hope you like tacos.”

  “Love them,” he replied, smirking inwardly because at heart he was a twelve-year-old boy. And also because after spending the last six months in the most remote parts of Southeast Asia, it had been way too long since he’d had tacos of any variety, food, female, or otherwise. “Carnitas?”

  “Of course. This place has the best . . .”

  They spent a few more minutes exchanging pleasantries before Rachel broke off. “Oh! Kels just walked in. I’m going to grab her. See you guys soon!”

  Click.

  But he barely registered the sound of Rachel hanging up.

  Because—

  “Kelsey’s here, too?” he asked, gut twisting. He hadn’t heard from her in years, random call almost a year back aside. She’d phoned out of the blue, apologizing for being a bitch to him in the past, for ruining things between them, when clearly he’d been the asshole who’d blown it and then hadn’t been able to recognize that in time to get her back.

  He’d assumed the call had come because she was drunk, though she’d assured him otherwise. But why she was holding on to guilt about their fling going south when she hadn’t played any part didn’t make any sense.

  He should have known better.

  He should have done better.

  The only thing he could make sense of was that they were both young and impulsive, and while neither of them were so young anymore, Kelsey didn’t appear to have grown out of the impulsiveness.

  Bas smiled. “Yeah. It’s great,” he said. “She moved out here not too long ago, so I actually get to see her now and then.” Another nudge of his shoulder against Tanner’s. “You don’t mind walking her down the aisle, do you?”

  And considering Tanner had once contemplated that very same action—before he’d panicked and ruined things—he couldn’t do anything but force a matching smile and nod.

  “Of course, I don’t mind.”

  Whether Kelsey would, was a completely different story.

  Three

  Kelsey

  Tacos.

  The only reason she could get through that night.

  Well, tacos and nacho cheese dip and prickly pear margaritas.

  Fitting that her favorite alcoholic drink involved the word prickly, given that she was feeling exactly that way. Spiked. Barbed. Desperate to keep Tanner at a distance. Of course, that wasn’t exactly necessary because he was doing an admirable job of keeping his own distance, but the intention was there, and she was sticking to it.

  She didn’t hate Tan anymore. Or . . . at least the mature part of her didn’t.

  However, the eighteen-year-old who’d loved him desperately enough to give up her lucrative job and follow him around the world still did.

  But she was older now, an actual grown-up who understood that he’d prevented her from making a huge mistake.

  Seeing him still stung though.

  Especially when he had grown up in the nine years since she’d seen him. He’d filled out, muscled up, and had all sorts of interesting scruff and lines and scars on his face. And he was tan, a lovely olive color that her pale ass skin could never achieve, mostly because of genetics but also because of her lifestyle and being married to her computer and lab.

  “Here you go,” the waitress said softly, deftly snagging Kelsey’s empty glass and replacing it with a full one, and totally proving that the hundred Kels had slipped her early on had been totally worth it.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “Absolutely.” Then the pretty blonde was gone, and Kelsey was slurping down her fourth—fifth?—drink. A prickling on her nape had her glancing up.

  Tanner.

  Chocolate eyes locked on her. Disappointed, judgy chocolate eyes.

  Because she was drinking?

  Or because she was just a general disappointment?

  And wow, now that was the alcohol talking. She normally was a one to two drink girl because alcohol went to her head. But prickly pear margaritas were the best, and so sometimes she went up to three.

  Never four or five because then she got like this.

  Self-hating.

  But if she managed to get to six, she was the freaking life of the party.

  To hurry the process along, she chugged like she was in college again . . . or, well, she chugged pretending she’d been of legal—or near legal—age while she’d been in college.

  A glass of water appeared in front of her.

  “Drink.”

  Her eyes flicked up and, full disclosure, she lost herself in those judgy chocolate eyes for a good thirty seconds.

  Tequila.

  But then her favorite server in the history of all servers appeared next to her, and just like the genie from Aladdin, managed to swap out the empty for another full glass before Kelsey blinked.

  Tanner, however, wasn’t as impressed by her skills. He snagged her arm, ordering, “No more.”

  Yeah, no. He didn’t get to do that. Ever.

  “How many have I had?” she asked the waitress.

  She opened her mouth, but he beat her to answer. “Six.”

  Kel glanced at the waitress, who nodded in agreement.

  Damn.

  She’d been hoping it had been five.

  Six drinks was her limit, but not because Tanner had declared it. Six was her limit because seven meant she’d go from the life of the party to the puker of the party, and that was not a role she wanted to play.

  “I’m done,” she told the waitress, “but not because this asshole ordered it. I’m done because I don’t want to upchuck at my brother’s celebration.”

  The waitress nodded, lips twitching. “Seems like a good call.”

  Kels reached into her pocket and pulled out another hundred. “Thanks for being awesome. Water from here on out.”

  “You don’t have—” The waitress tried to hand the money back, but Kelsey took her fingers and closed them around the bill.

  “Next night off, enjoy a few drinks of your choice on me.”

  A beat of hesitation before she nodded and shoved the bill in her apron pocket. Then she
made her away around the table, checking glasses and bringing more chips before announcing the entrees would be out any minute.

  And all the while Tan stood by Kelsey’s chair.

  Since she’d chugged the previous, she made sure to savor this one. So freaking delicious—tart but sweet and cold enough that it slid down her throat with nary a burn.

  Hence the reason she could suck them back like glasses of water, but also the reason they seemed to sneak up on her, if her spinning head was any indication. She grabbed a handful of chips, ignoring Tanner’s glowering presence at her shoulder.

  “Trying to kill yourself?” he muttered.

  She glanced up at him sweetly. “Hi, Tanner. Lovely to see you. Hope your worldly travels have been fantastic.” A beat. “Now, kindly travel your ass over to the other side of the table and leave me alone.”

  Fire in his eyes.

  And not the good kind.

  The lashing out, stinging type she’d felt that night nine years ago. The kind of verbal laceration that someone never forgot.

  Or at least, she hadn’t.

  Her stomach clenched, preparing herself for the hit.

  “Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

  She’d had practice with this, dealing with asshole men of all sizes and shapes, so she knew she revealed nothing. Kelsey had grown up in a lot of ways over the years, but the biggest of which was getting really good at hiding her pain.

  Tanner had taught her that.

  How to pretend everything was perfect and amazing, even while her world was collapsing around her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I hate to think I had gray hairs and wrinkles already.”

  Lame.

  Not that she had any gray hairs, or visible ones anyway, because her stylist had her back and dyed those little fuckers immediately upon appearance.

  He opened his mouth, but she managed to fake a little better. “I have, however, grown out of obsessing over the Jonas Brothers, even if I do love their new music. Prince Harry”—she put her hands over her heart—“he’ll always be part of me here.”

  Bas nudged her shoulder, and she could have kissed him for his perfect timing. “Stop waxing poetic about your princely love and pass me the chips.”

  She scooped up a handful and plunked them on her plate before doing her sisterly duty and relinquishing the chips. “You know how much I love you, right?” she said, sufficiently drunk enough to move on from self-hate and diving right into the life-of-the-party stage. Which basically meant she teased and then enjoyed being teased back. Luckily, the parties involved—perhaps with the lone exception of Tanner—thought she was hilarious in this state. Apparently, it was the only time she let loose enough to not get her tender feelings hurt over said teasing.

  Which may or may not be true.

  Fine, it probably was true because she did like to dish it out, but often had a hard time taking it. Not fair, she knew, but Kels was well aware she wasn’t perfect.

  “Just saying, only the best sister in your family would be nice enough to offer you their chips.”

  “You’re my only sister.”

  “Details, details.”

  Bas smirked. “Also, pretty sure they’re the table’s chips.”

  She shook her head. “Personal baskets.”

  “What?”

  “There are ten baskets and ten of us,” she said. “Hence, personal baskets.” Oh, look. Her drink was right there. She might as well finish it. But when she went to lift it to her lips, Tanner was there, arms crossed and glaring down at her.

  “There are not—”

  Bas broke off, probably counting.

  Meanwhile, she turned to Tanner and matched his glare, though his higher position meant she had to glare up, while he got to glare down, and everyone knew that glaring down was the better strategic position.

  Tan opened his mouth, and Kelsey realized she really was drunker than she’d realized. Her normal mental tangents and taken her down a few very strange rabbit holes in the last minutes.

  Personal baskets of chips.

  Yikes. Time for some water.

  She set the margarita down, feeling sad for wasting the deliciousness of the prickly pear, and picked up the glass of water.

  “You know that cocktail doesn’t have actual feelings, right?”

  “Why are you still here?” she snapped.

  Uh-oh.

  Tanner’s expression went deadly, but she’d drunk enough that her normally meager filters were gone. Finished. Done-zo.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” she said. “You didn’t want me then, so you don’t get to talk to me now.”

  The table had been loud and raucous up until the moment she said that, or rather yelled it. But all night, the restaurant had been beyond noisy, music blaring, people chatting and laughing, plates and silverware clanking. Yet, the moment those words crossed her lips, silence reigned. The music was between songs, conversations had lulled, and everyone heard that Tanner hadn’t wanted her.

  Everyone.

  Including Bas.

  Her brother’s face clouded. “What did you say?”

  She stifled a curse, the buzz of alcohol creeping away from the edges of her mind and letting soberness claw its way in. If she’d thought Tanner’s glare had been deadly before, now it was positively nuclear.

  Fuck.

  Her laugh was forced and loud. “I’m kidding,” she said, shoving Tanner’s arm. It made her head spin, and that was only the alcohol talking, definitely not the fact that the contact had sent tingles up her arm. “Oh, look!” she announced at large. “Food’s here! Thank goodness. Those margaritas are deadly.”

  More laughter, awkward on her part, gentle on the part of her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s friends.

  The Sextant, as they’d dubbed themselves—and they were fully aware that wasn’t the proper term for a group of six, but apparently too much wine at book club had led to them googling while intoxicated and misnaming themselves. Still, it had stuck, and Kels had even gone to a few of their so-called book clubs. They were fun, beautiful women both inside and out.

  But she also knew that she’d just prickled their drama-seeking antennae with that loud declaration.

  Hell would be paid.

  Though, not as much as what Tanner would be enduring from her brother, if Bas’s expression was any indication.

  However, the friendly server once again saved the day, moving around the table with practiced speed and depositing plates at regular intervals, including stepping between her and Tanner to set her food down. He shifted back to let the blonde beauty in—Kels really needed to find out her name because she owed a serious debt of womanhood—then he glared down at her for one more long moment before turning on heel and going down to his end of the table.

  If only that end could be a little further away.

  Say, Antarctica.

  Yeah, he’d fit in with the penguins down there.

  Kels smirked, imagining him waddling around and sitting on an egg for months at a time. He was patient, was well used to being still while waiting for that perfect shot. Further that, he’d always been patient. Not just behind the lens, but in bed, then at outwaiting her until she gave up on them as a them.

  She’d picked up her taco while thinking those lovely thoughts, chowing down on the carne asada and whitefish varieties she craved on a regular basis because they were just that good, when the memory of how he’d out-patienced her reared its ugly head.

  Suddenly the tacos weren’t so tasty.

  Cardboard had more on them. And maybe some shards of broken glass.

  Or perhaps nuclear waste.

  Whatever it was, the memory of Tanner breaking up with her, of his cruel words and her response to them—strike back, strike hard—brought the two emotions that always seemed to be roiling beneath the surface straight to the top of the pile.

  Embarrassment and shame.

  Cute.

  Sighing, she set down t
he taco and pushed up from her chair.

  “Be right back,” she murmured to Bas when he looked up.

  His brows drew down. “You okay?”

  A forced smile, that really good one she’d perfected. “Yup.” Her shrug was self-deprecating. “Too many liquids.”

  He relaxed and turned his attention back to Rachel, who was sitting on his other side, not taking long for his focus to be only her. As it should be. This was their night. But his concern for Kels, checking in, watching out for her—she was lucky enough that it was like that with all the male members of her family. Dev, Bas, and her dad were just really good people, always looking out for the people around them, loving the ones who had a piece of their heart without reservation. Even when Bas had gone through his distant stage, he’d still been kind and considerate and protective.

  And she’d never resented the care.

  Mostly because being in the spotlight of it didn’t feel like she was stuck in a jail cell, but also because she and her mom gave that same care back. Having been in one relationship that had been on the wrong side of that line, when protection had felt smothering, was a life experience that made sure she knew and appreciated the difference fully now.

  Lucky for her, she’d gotten smart and dumped the guy.

  Even though the bathroom wasn’t actually her stop, Kelsey didn’t risk drawing attention by going for her jacket as she walked from the table. Instead, she left it and slipped down the hall that lead to the back doors of the restaurant.

  There was a tiny patio there, and while it was often packed on summer days and evenings, this fall night was too cold. The chairs were stacked along one wall, the umbrellas collapsed, and the tables were topped with condensation. But it was quiet, and for her rapidly sobering brain—thanks to you for that, memories—it gave her a moment to breathe.

  Clear enough to see the stars and cold enough that her breath fogged in front of her, Kelsey leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  It was going to be fine. Everything would work out the way it was supposed to, and just because she was the single Scott who couldn’t seem to find a person to love her for all her flaws, didn’t mean she was going to die alone in her apartment with her seventy-two cats eating her face off.