Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) Page 8

  “You’re married, dumbass,” I drawled, picking up the slimy ball that Koda had let drop into my lap and tossing it across the room.

  Koda ran for it, bumping into a dozen things before she finally got it and carried it back.

  The wooden stool that normally sat at Casten’s bar clattered to the floor, and I smiled.

  She only liked me for my ball playing skills.

  Sometimes, if I tried to pet her, she growled at me.

  And I don’t know why I continued to throw the ball for her when she didn’t really care for me. It didn’t make any sense.

  She loved Casten, though.

  I’d heard from CeeCee that Casten had brought Koda home with him after his last tour in Iraq. She said that Koda had saved Casten’s life while on a mission. They were both injured in a roadside blast, and it was those injuries that left them both scarred.

  Casten’s crew had saved Koda while Casten was hospitalized for his injuries he’d sustained in the same blast. Both Casten and his team had petitioned for her to be sent home to him.

  It’d happened, but apparently it’d taken seven long months.

  So she was allowed to be a little grumpy every once in a while.

  “I know I’m married. But I don’t remember any of it. It’s all a blur. And I think everyone wore jeans and a t-shirt to mine. Mig told me that Casten said that this is some sort of formal affair,” Annie explained.

  I sighed.

  “Shit.”

  I hated getting dressed up.

  Hated it with a passion.

  And the dresses that Casten had picked out weren’t going to be very flattering to my ass.

  But, with no other choices, I opened the bag and pulled out both dresses.

  One was a red number that reminded me of a fifties-style, pin-up girl type of dress.

  It had a halter top that pushed my breasts up really high, making them seem a lot perkier than they really were.

  The other dress was black and white polka dots. It was a little more modest, but the fit was tighter, and less skin would be showing. It molded to my body, showing off more in the long run.

  “So, you think I should try them both on and send a picture to you?” I asked, placing the phone on speaker.

  “Wear the red one,” came the gruff reply from behind me.

  I turned to find Casten standing there.

  I thought I’d been alone in his big old house but apparently, I was wrong.

  “When did you get home?” I stammered.

  His eyes took in my undressed self and lifted an eyebrow.

  “About ten minutes ago,” he informed me. “I was watching you play with my dog.”

  I blinked.

  “Why?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “It’s nice to see Koda actively trying to interact with someone besides me,” he replied vaguely.

  “Oh,” I murmured, turning around and giving him my back as I stripped off my t-shirt.

  I was already in my strapless nude bra, something my mom had to get from my old room at her place.

  The last time I’d worn it had been to my senior prom six years before.

  I hoped the elastic made it through the night.

  I picked up the red dress and slipped it on over my head, grimacing almost instantly when I tried to push it further down my hips, only to realize that that was as far as the fucker was going to go.

  “I can’t wear this to a freakin’ wedding,” I muttered to myself, looking at the mirror like it was showing me a monster instead of my own reflection.

  Casten cleared his throat.

  “I don’t see why not. It looks fantastic,” Casten cleared his throat quietly.

  I blinked.

  “Was that a compliment, Casten Red?” I teased him.

  He didn’t bother to reply.

  “I gotta get dressed. Stay in that fuckin’ dress but do something with your hair,” he mumbled.

  I looked at my hair in the mirror and winced.

  Yeah, it did look bad.

  I’d yet to do anything with it since I’d gotten out of the shower, and my hair had dried into some semi curled, semi straight, slightly frizzy hairdo that was in desperate need of styling and hair products.

  I walked to the bathroom and put my hair into a high and tight ponytail, then started to stick bobby pins into my hair at varying intervals, pinning back more and more of my ponytail until it was all secured in a nice, tight up do at the top of my head.

  That’s when I realized my sister was still on the phone and hurried back out to snatch it off the bed.

  “You still there?” I queried.

  “Yeah,” Annie answered. “Vitaly had a diaper explosion, so I put it on speaker phone and waited for you to remember you forgot about me.”

  I laughed.

  “How are my babies doing?” I asked her.

  “They’re fine. Mig likes your ferret,” Annie laughed. “Although, Mom freaked out when the ferret got too close to Vitaly’s crib today. And, Jesus, she acted like your cat was attempting to kill our kid when he got up there to investigate Vitaly in his crib. She started spouting some nonsense about cats stealing baby’s breath or some bullshit.”

  I blinked.

  “I think I’ve heard that old wives’ tale before. But I don’t think there’s any truth to it,” I said, walking back into the bathroom and pulling out my new tube of mascara.

  I wasn’t much of a make-up wearer and hadn’t used it since high school.

  I withdrew the wand from the tube and started to apply it to my lashes, hoping that I wouldn’t wind up looking like a raccoon.

  Then followed suit with the eyeshadow and blush.

  “I’m not supposed to have two red dots on my cheeks when I apply blush, am I?” I asked my sister.

  My sister snorted.

  “No. I don’t think that’s in right now, not unless you’re going for the clown look,” she teased.

  I sighed and wet down a wash cloth, then scrubbed the blush off my face.

  “I think Mom forgot to teach me how to apply makeup,” I said to Annie.

  “She didn’t forget, you just never wanted to learn,” my sister challenged.

  I sighed, snatching my lip gloss from the counter and heading back into my room.

  “Do I have to wear hose with my heels, because I…” I trailed off as I got a good look across the length of the hallway. “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  “What?” Annie asked.

  My mouth wouldn’t work to answer her, however.

  It was too busy hanging open as I got my first good look at Casten Red in a freakin’ tux.

  Black pin striped. Sharp, polished shoes. Red undershirt.

  “Sweet baby Jesus,” I breathed.

  “What?” Annie’s voice rose.

  I swallowed thickly.

  “Casten’s in a tux,” I exhaled.

  “Shit,” Annie sighed.

  Annie was against me and Casten.

  Apparently, I was hard on men, or so Annie said.

  According to her, I loved them and left them, even though I hadn’t had sex in well over two years.

  Not that she wanted to know that. Every time I brought it up, she’d cover her ears and start humming in order to get me to stop.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Don’t hurt him, Tasha. He’s a good man,” Annie pled softly.

  I bristled.

  “What makes you think he’s not going to hurt me?” I shot back.

  “The fact that your head is still stuck in the past, and Casten has a soft spot for women that are broken,” Annie informed me.

  I narrowed my eyes, not at Casten, but at my sister’s words.

  “I’m not stuck in the past, and what makes you think Casten has a soft spot for broken women?” I asked.

  Annie laughed. “His sisters are living with him, and both of their parents are alive.”
<
br />   I blinked.

  I hadn’t really given much thought to why his sisters were living with him, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about why they lived with him instead their parents.

  Given, I hadn’t even thought to ask.

  The doorbell rang, and Casten exited his room without even a glance in my direction.

  Now worried about the prospect of him not finding me attractive, I walked out of the room after him as I said goodbye to my sister.

  “Give my kitty some kisses for me,” I ordered her.

  “Will do,” Annie drawled. “Take care of yourself, and be good.”

  I didn’t bother to answer her.

  “Night,” I hung up.

  I moved down the hall and into the living room, stopping in front of the recliner.

  Taking a seat, I slipped my feet into the incredibly uncomfortable heels I was lent for the evening—courtesy of CeeCee—and watched as Casten opened the door for a man I’d never seen before.

  He was handsome, though.

  Very handsome.

  He wasn’t Casten, but he could’ve easily been a contender had I not known Casten.

  “Joe,” Casten greeted the newcomer in that deep, rumbly voice. “Good to see you.”

  Joe nodded. “My wife ready yet?”

  I blinked.

  Wife?

  “I’m not your wife anymore, remember?” CeeCee called as she rushed into the room, simultaneously trying to put a bracelet on her wrist.

  Joe moved past Casten without invitation and stopped beside CeeCee.

  “I don’t know why you don’t just ask someone to do this for you instead of struggling to do it yourself for God knows how long,” Joe mumbled as his thick fingers deftly fastened the bracelet with practiced ease.

  He’d obviously done it before.

  Multiple times would be my guess.

  “I’ve had to learn to do a lot of things on my own since you left me,” CeeCee noted primly.

  I let my gaze roam over to Casten, expecting to have his attention on the couple.

  Instead, it was on me, watching as I shook while attempting to bend over and put my shoes on without causing too much pain in my midsection.

  I was doing pretty well post-surgery, but it still hurt to bend down.

  Casten, ignoring the couple still bickering, walked across the room and went down on one knee directly in front of me.

  There, he helped me with both shoes, fastening the delicate ankle straps as if he’d done it a million times before.

  I held my breath as his large thumb swept over my ankle twice before standing up and offering me his hands.

  “If y’all are in for a quick fuck, try not to use any of my furniture,” Casten commanded as he pulled me along behind him to the front door.

  I gasped and slapped Casten’s arm, looking over at the couple, who was still in their own little world.

  “Thanks, bro. I’ll see you at the wedding,” CeeCee waved.

  I shut the door behind us, and stifled a laugh when their lips collided before I’d gotten it all the way closed.

  “That happen a lot?” I asked Casten.

  He grunted.

  “They’re still in love with each other. Still are and always will be. They’re both stubborn, though, and refuse to give even a little,” he explained as he led me to his bike.

  “Why’d they divorce?” I asked.

  That didn’t sound like a normal relationship.

  “Cecelia wanted to join the police department, and Joe didn’t want her to. They fought, then decided to break up,” he expounded. “In my opinion, it was a stupid fight. CeeCee only wanted to be a police officer because Joe said she couldn’t handle his job.”

  “Joe’s a police officer?” I surmised.

  He nodded. “He’s active duty Army. He’s MP.”

  “Ahhh,” the light dawned. “So she wanted to try it because he said she couldn’t handle it. He forbid her from doing it, and she did it anyway. They broke up because neither one would listen to the other, and they still love each other.”

  “You got it,” Casten nodded. “It’s nauseating at times.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  “Where are you going?” I asked as he passed his truck.

  He pointed at his bike.

  “To my bike,” he answered, sounding like he didn’t understand where my question was going.

  I blinked.

  “But…why?” I pulled on my hand.

  He lifted his helmet off the handlebars, and then produced another one from the other side that I hadn’t seen before.

  It was purple with a huge white lotus flower on the side.

  It was beautiful.

  “Because it’s my main ride. And I don’t like driving in my truck. Not to mention you just said you felt good enough to ride on my bike earlier today when I took you to the grocery store for some whole wheat shit bread that you insisted you needed,” Casten added.

  My eyes widened. “But I’m in a dress!”

  Casten didn’t bother saying anything to that. Apparently, it was too insignificant to warrant an answer.

  “Get on and stop stalling,” Casten ordered.

  Gritting my teeth, I fitted the helmet over my head, knowing it would fuck my hair up, and strapped it down tight.

  Then, with an evil glint in my eyes, I hiked my dress up until the bottoms of my ass cheeks peeked out from underneath, and straddled the bike.

  He wanted me to get on a bike in a dress, then I’d be getting on his bike in a dress.

  I scooted in close to his backside, fitting my legs up against his until there was nothing left between us. Not even air.

  My panty-clad pussy was pressed up against his backside, and the tip of his wallet was pressing deliciously into certain happy spots on my body.

  I wound my arms around his chest, then laid my head against him.

  But I had to move when he started to squirm out of his jacket.

  I watched as he took off the jacket, pulled his cut out of the saddle bags and slid it on over his red dress shirt.

  He handed me his jacket.

  “Put that between us and don’t lose it, ‘kay?”

  I nodded, placing it between us as he’d asked, then leaned forward to rest my head on him once more.

  It should’ve looked ridiculous, but surprisingly, it worked.

  I knew he wasn’t going to wear his cut to the wedding.

  But while he was riding his bike, he wore it because he was proud of it.

  From what I’d heard Mig say, the members of the club wore their cuts whenever they could, but especially when they were on their bikes.

  And, apparently, this was one of those times where he wore it because he could.

  The ride to the wedding would take about an hour.

  It was in a vineyard on the outskirts of Pittsburg, Texas.

  From the photos I’d seen on CeeCee’s phone, it was a little upscale compared to my usual haunts.

  A loud rumble had me looking up just as Casten passed another motorcycle going the opposite direction.

  Casten lowered his arm to the ground, holding out two fingers.

  “Did you know him?” I yelled.

  Casten shook his head. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Then why’d you wave?” I pushed.

  “Bikers are a friendly lot,” came his muffled reply.

  As he started to accelerate, all I could hear was the wind as it rushed past my face and the loud rumble of Casten’s motorcycle.

  I never really gave much thought to riding on a motorcycle before. Although I thought they were cool looking and badass, I just wasn’t drawn to them enough to ride one.

  I never planned to actually ride on one until Casten showed up in my life.

  Now, it was my preferred method of transportation with him.

  We’d ridden in his truck, but I noticed just how much he didn’t like it c
ompared to riding his bike.

  All the windows were always down.

  He always cursed when he couldn’t see around some part of the truck.

  Now though, even dressed to the nines in a tuxedo, he was completely at ease and looked happy.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in Casten’s smell, wishing that we had something different than we actually did.

  Wishing that our date tonight was real, and not just because he needed to bring someone to his mother’s wedding.

  I daydreamed for the next forty-five minutes as we drove, winding and weaving the last ten minutes of our ride along the back roads that led up to the vineyard.

  By the time he parked, I was half convinced that, maybe, we could have something.

  Then he spoke.

  “When you get off, try not to flash anyone those panties of yours. You might cause someone to have a coronary,” he grumbled.

  How was one supposed to not flash someone while getting off when you forced them to ride a motorcycle in a dress?

  He didn’t even offer me a hand as I got off the bike.

  Instead, he got off and yanked the jacket away from me, pulled off his cut and yanked the jacket back on.

  I dismounted, holding my helmet in front of my crotch as I did. I was happy that I didn’t give him the satisfaction of being embarrassed by me, causing someone to have a coronary in the process.

  Why was I here again?

  Oh, right.

  I was stupid.

  I placed the helmet down none too gently on the seat, then started walking away as fast as my still healing belly would allow me to move, which happened to be not fast enough to get away from the annoying man.

  “Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?” he mumbled at my side, walking like it was a leisurely stroll for him.

  “To the bathroom,” I grunted when my heels caught on a rock.

  If my estimation was correct, we had less than five minutes until the wedding started.

  Casten steadied me, and I glared at his hand on my upper arm until he removed it with a chuckle.

  “I have to go take some pictures or some shit. Then I am going to stand up next to my mom while she gets married,” he said. “Will you be okay by yourself? You can sit with Joe.”

  He pointed at Joe, who had somehow magically managed to get there before we did.

  How, I had no clue. They had to have left after us, but I just shook my head.