Dylan heard Serena scream his name, but with the first punch thrown, all bets were off, and Dylan hurled toward Ashton to return the shot, only to be brought up short by someone grabbing the back of his suit jacket.
“I don’t think Leo would be happy to hear that his brother was in a brawl at his wedding reception,” Aiden said, the big-brother voice of reason. Then, he glanced at Ashton, his tone far more direct and unyielding. “As for you, I suggest you leave the premises, or I’ll be more than happy to make a call to the police and have them escort you out. It’s your choice.”
Ashton glared at Dylan before shifting his gaze to Serena and issuing one last nasty barb. “You’re not worth the trouble.” Then he stalked toward the gate leading to the front of the house and his car.
“Neither are you, pencil dick,” Dylan called after him, which earned him a flip of the bird and a big ’ol fuck you from the other man.
Aiden shook his head. “Jesus, Dylan, how old are you?”
Dylan smirked at his brother, despite the slight ache in his jaw. “At the moment, fifteen.”
“No shit,” Aiden said with a laugh, then went to rejoin his wife, who’d moved herself and a sleeping Isabella far away from rest of the group, just in case a fight broke out.
“Oh my God, Dylan, are you okay?” Serena rushed up to him, concern knitting her brows as she touched her fingers to his jaw, where he’d taken one for the team.
Her fingers were soft and cool as they caressed the spot, and he had to admit that he liked her fussing over him way too much. “I’m good,” he assured her with one of his charming, dimpled grins. “Though I might need you to kiss it and make it better,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes at him. “How about I take you home and put some ice on it instead.”
“Okay, but I kind of like my suggestion better,” he joked, then settled his arm along her shoulders and tucked her against his side, knowing exactly how the night was going to end.
With Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and Hallmark movies.
4
By the time Serena finished watching a sappy, romantic, albeit predictable movie with Dylan a few hours later, while listening to his funny commentary on what was going to happen between the characters before it happened, which admittedly made her laugh, she actually felt marginally better about the less-than-ideal way her evening with Ashton had ended.
But now here she was again, back to square one on the dating scene, which she was beginning to loathe, she thought with a sigh.
“You okay?” Dylan asked, turning down the volume on the TV.
She glanced at him and smiled, grateful that he was always there for her, that he was a man who wouldn’t, and didn’t, hesitate to step into a potentially volatile situation and be her knight in shining armor and defend her honor—even if he’d never return her deeper feelings for him.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I always am, though I’m seriously thinking of hiring a private investigator to vet my future dates,” she said, only half joking.
He laughed. “I’ve been thinking and I have an idea. Maybe you just need a palate cleanser before starting the dating process again.”
She raised her brows, trying to follow his idea. “Kind of like indulging in a mint sorbet in between men to remove any lingering bad taste in my mouth so I can enjoy the next guy with a brand-new perspective?”
“Yeah, exactly like that,” he said with a nod.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
He shifted on the chaise part of the couch where he was reclining to better face her, causing the muscles in his arms and stomach to flex. When they’d both arrived at Dylan’s place, the first thing they’d done was change out of the dressy clothes they’d worn for the wedding. Like always, she’d picked one of his comfy T-shirts to slip into, and he’d returned to the living room in a pair of gray cotton shorts. The fact that his chest was bare made him temptation personified, and during the course of the movie, she’d casually looked her fill of his lean, toned abdomen and that trail of dark hair that provided an enticing path to parts of his body she’d only fantasized about. A lot.
“So, Eric and I are heading to Las Vegas next weekend,” he said, forcing her attention back to what he was saying. “Mainly, it’s because I have a meeting with the marketing manager at the Sapphire Casino and Hotel to finalize the contract on the app Stone Media is creating for them and their guests. It’s a quick, one-night, turnaround trip. We’re arriving Saturday morning around nine so I’m there for my one o’clock meeting, and we’re leaving Sunday afternoon. Why don’t you and Chelsea come with?”
A frivolous weekend away from the same old grind sounded fabulous. “Are you serious?”
He gave her a cute, lopsided smile and slid his index finger down the slope of her nose in a playful manner. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious, silly girl. You and Chelsea would have your own room for the night, and you can hang out at the pool or indulge in some retail therapy or do a spa day and just relax and rejuvenate while I’m taking care of business. Then, once I’m done with my appointment, it’s playtime in Sin City for the four of us. I’ve already been comped dinner tickets at Sap
phire’s five-star restaurant, and we can check out the night club they just opened. Who knows, you just might find the man of your dreams there.”
She laughed at that. “Doubtful.” Because the man of her dreams was sitting right in front of her, oblivious to her feelings for him.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think it sounds great . . . as long as Chelsea and I won’t be cramping your and Eric’s style?” The last thing she wanted to be was a tagalong.