The Troublemaker - Cathryn Fox
1
Cason
I nudge my best bud Cole as he lifts his near empty beer bottle to his lips. “Who’s the cute girl with Kinsley?” I ask and take in the hot blonde shaking her ass on stage, as our good friend Kinsley dances wildly beside her. Kinsley, with her bright pink hair and numerous piercings, never fails to stand out in a crowd. I always liked the way she marched to the beat of her own drum. The saying is cliché, I know, but confidence radiates off her, and her refusal to cave to the ridiculous societal pressures put on women has always impressed me.
Cole takes a long pull from the bottle, and he scans the Vegas nightclub. “You mean the cute blonde?” His gaze rakes over our eclectic group of friends as they butcher some Neil Diamond song, giving zero fucks that my ears are bleeding from the off-key notes.
But I’m glad they’re all having fun with the karaoke machine. That’s what weddings in Vegas are all about, right? Tomorrow our friend Rider—aka the Wingman—and his gorgeous fiancée Jules will be tying the knot. I couldn’t be happier, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get up on that stage and make a fool of myself like everyone else in the wedding party.
My younger sister Nina—Cole’s wife—takes the microphone, and things go from bad to worse. I must have done something shitty in a past lifetime to be subjected to this kind of torture. Cole cringes and turns my way.
“Sweet baby Jesus. Don’t tell her I said this, but she needs to stick to her day job,” he says.
I laugh at that. My sister is a New York Times bestselling author, and the love of my best friend’s life. I smile, because she looks happy and all I’ve ever wanted was for her to have the life she deserves—with a guy who knows her value, and knows how to treat a woman with respect. The two have been happily married for a few years now, and after a successful NHL season, this break away from work and their two kids looks good on them both.
“Do you know who she is?” I ask again as the blonde looks my way.
“She’s a friend of Jule’s and Kinsley’s. I think all three of them go way back. I can’t remember her name. Maybe it’s Emma or something. Why, you like her?” he asks.
A trio of barely dressed women in heels so high it’s a wonder their noses aren’t bleeding, giggle and stare as they walk by our table—obviously trying to get our attention. The people in the club went a little wild when half of the Seattle Shooter’s team sauntered in. The staff quickly quieted them, but many have been trying to crash our private party.
I smile at them as they pass. “She’s cute and fun. What’s not to like?”
Cole nods and takes another pull from his beer. “She’s definitely your type. Then again, who isn’t?”
“Hey,” I say and push him. The server comes by with a couple of fresh beers and sets them in front of us. “Can I get you boys anything else?” she asks as she drops a napkin in front of me, her name and number scribbled on it.
“We’re good for now.”
“Okay, just shout if you need anything.” She offers me a big smile. “I do mean anything.”
I nod, and she saunters off, an extra little shake in her backside.
“Are you denying that every woman is your type?” Cole asks when it’s just the two of us.
“Well yeah…I mean…no. I just like women.” It’s true I do, although I have to say I am so goddamn played out these days, it’s killing me. I’d love to go to bed with the same woman every night, and more importantly, wake up with her every morning. Too bad settling down just isn’t in my future—and it’s not because I’m commitment phobic.
“And they like you,” he says, nodding to the napkin in front of me. “Obviously, but someday though, the right one will come along, and once you fall in love, your priorities will change big time. Next thing you know, your ride will be a minivan and a stroller.”
I shrug, not worried about trading in the sports car—because I want that. Cole is my best friend, and on some level, he must know I want what he has, but it’s out of my reach. What is it women say about me? Emotionally closed off? Yeah, that’s it. It’s no secret that two