His Plus One by Kate Aster
Chapter 6
- GRAYDON -
I’ve always been a morning person.
People assume it’s because I’m in the military. But in reality, I think it has more to do with the battles in my house over who got the bathroom first in the morning because you don’t want to be on the tail end of that shit show.
Literally.
So I’m fully dressed and about to head out for a run with my brothers by the time Hailey emerges from her room looking slightly hungover, disheveled and just this side of… sexy… even wearing her glasses.
Damn.
“So this is what the bottomless drink package feels like the morning after.” She presses her fingers to her temples.
I chuckle, grabbing one of the water bottles the porter left in our room last night and handing it to her. “You’ll feel better after some water and coffee.”
She chugs some of the water and then, eyes more open, gives me a once over, gaze slowing on my bare chest before her eyes meet mine again.
“Not to sound like a chauvinist, but you better cover all that up—” She gestures to my pecs and abs. “—if you want to keep this platonic.”
Laughing, I pull the t-shirt in my hand over my head. “Better?”
Her eyes drift downward again to my chest as she gives a noncommittal shrug.
“I’m going for a run,” I say at her silence. “Want to come?”
She cocks her head and gives me an Are you on crack? kind of look until her face suddenly elongates thoughtfully. “Is it just you?”
My eyes widen, surprised she’s considering it. “No. I’m meeting my brothers.”
“Oh, then no way. I’m okay humiliating myself around you, but there’s no way I’m going to be around them while I’m huffing and puffing after one lap around this ship.”
“Come on. They won’t mind.”
“No, I have to retain my dignity at all costs.”
I chuckle. “Should have thought about that last night before you tried to dance the Electric Slide.”
“Hey—I thought I was pretty good at that.”
I hold myself back from telling her the truth, hoping that no one on the ship posts it on YouTube because there were a lot of phones pointed in her direction. “Want me to bring you back some coffee or breakfast or something?”
“Nah. Think I’ll head up to the buffet later. I have to meet Max and everyone at the spa at ten.”
“For your mani-pedi,” I finish for her with a smirk. “Who are you and what did you do with the Hailey I eat lunch with every day?”
“I think I drowned her in alcohol last night and replaced her with a new me.” She presses her fingers to her temples again.
“Sure you don’t want me to bring you some coffee?”
She eyes the Keurig on the small counter. “Nah, I’ll just fire this up and be good to go. Have a good run.”
I head out the door, but not before starting up the Keurig myself because she looks like any activity outside of breathing is a little beyond her right now.
I suck in some ocean air as I exit onto the deck that has the running track. The air cools my body—which felt just a little too warm around Hailey. Funny, that.
I spot all three of my brothers running in a small cluster at a speed that isn’t their usual. “Hey bros,” I say, falling into stride. “You’re a little slow today,” I can’t help commenting. “Too much partying last night?”
“No,” Mason answers first. “It’s just that I’ve never run on a track that weaves through chaise lounges and a mini-golf course.”
“And has a full bar at the half-mile marker,” Colt adds. “I’m totally ending this workout with a beer.”
I glance over to him as he says it, and can’t help noticing how much more relaxed he seems these days since he left the Army.
“How’s Hailey? Max says she had a little too much to drink last night,” he adds.
“Not bad. She didn’t go really hard, but I don’t think her genius brain usually takes on much alcohol.”
Carson chuckles. “I like her. She’s different from your usual girlfriends.”
“My usual girlfriends?”
“Yeah,” all three of them answer in near unison.
I frown. “I didn’t realize I had a usual kind,” I say, unwilling to admit that they’re right.
“Seriously?” Carson’s eyes widen. “They’re like strands of pasta coming out of my CucinoPro Imperia. Exactly the same.”
I scrunch my brow. “I think I’m supposed to be insulted by that, but I have no idea what the hell you are talking about.”
“My pastamaker. Natasha got it for me for my birthday. Every strand comes out looking exactly the same. Puts the cheap one I bought on Amazon to shame.”
I glance at my other brothers, looking for confusion that mirrors my own, but all I see in their eyes is a keen interest that baffles me.
“Really?” Mason says. “Think I should get one for Freya? She loves to cook.”
“No, no,” Colt chimes in. “If you’re going to get her anything, get her a KitchenAid mixer with the pasta maker attachment. We just got one last month and I swear we use it every other day.”
I stop suddenly, feeling like I have stepped into the Twilight Zone. “Who are you people?” I ask when they look over their shoulders after they notice I’ve fallen behind.
“What do you mean?” Colt asks as he stops, looking genuinely surprised.
“Do you even hear yourselves?” I counter, resuming my run. “What happened to the brothers who used to live on Ramen noodles and protein bars?”
“We evolved,” Carson answers in that older brother tone he sometimes uses and I hate. “You should try it. And you should start by sticking with a woman like Hailey. Those other women—I got exhausted just being around them.”
“I second that,” Mason raises his hand.
“Third!” Colt chimes in.
“Exhausted you? Why?” I dare ask.
Colt shrugs. “You were always training for something with them. Marathons or whatever.”
“Triathlon, the Tough Mudder, climbing the side of El Capitan,” Mason injects, his tone laced with exaggeration.
“I never climbed the side of El Capitan,” I mutter, even though I’ve always wanted to.
“But you see our point.”
“What’s wrong with that? Training for stuff is how I tend to meet women. Would you rather I slap my face on Tinder or whatever damn new dating app they’ve got out there? I like dating women I have something in common with,” I point out.
“Sure, but it shouldn’t be just the stuff you do that you have in common,” Carson argues. “It’s who you are—your values, your goals—”
I tuck my chin inwards. “You don’t think running a triathlon is a goal?”
“Not the kind that matters.”
Colt butts in. “They’re right. If I’m proof of anything, it’s that you’re not going to be running triathlons or jumping out of planes forever.”
“For the record, I don’t jump out of planes with women I date,” I say, even though as soon as I say it, I recall that I did go skydiving with one once.
And after she and I had checked that off our list together, we parted ways.
Ditto for the one I trained with for the Marine Corps Marathon last year. Or the Ironman the year before that.
Crap. Could he be right?
“Even if your back holds up better than mine did,” Colt begins, “don’t you want someone you can just be with? Without feeling you have to get up and do anything?”
“Let up on him,” Mason comes to my defense, surprising the hell out of me. “He obviously figured it out with Hailey. She’s cool. Funny, too. I never thought one of the most memorable moments in my wedding cruise would be watching my brother’s girlfriend try to do the Electric Slide.”
“Hey—she was doing her best.” I leap to her defense.
“No, no—I’m being serious. It was awesome. I like people who just go for it.”
I like that too, I realize, a smile touching my lips, thinking of Hailey last night.
“Well, she was—what?—twenty-two or so when she went on her first mission, right? Talk about going for it…” Colt’s voice trails, thick with admiration. His eyes track upward to a higher deck where we spot Max standing, aiming her camera at us. “Hey, baby!” He waves at her.
We all glance up to our future sister-in-law, and I’m slammed with the memory of her making me wait to eat my brother’s birthday cake when we were kids so that she could first take some pictures of the slice because, as she put it, “You don’t get many perfect slices in life.”
The philosophical bantering of a budding food photographer. And now, she’s going to be a permanent part of our family. I guess I should be annoyed by the idea of it. But really, she was always a part of it, I suppose.
“Don’t look at me,” Max shouts, reprimand in her tone. “I want this to be a candid shot.”
“Candid like all the staged kisses she’s having Freya and me do,” Mason grumbles as we continue our run, trying to ignore her snapping photos of us from above. “Never thought I’d tire of kissing my wife for the camera, but I’m headed in that direction. Besides, I thought Max would be at the spa with the others this morning.”
Colt shrugs. “She never lasts more than an hour in a spa. Probably bolted early. And don’t complain. She’s saving your ass.”
“How?” I ask.
“Last minute,” Mason begins, “they told us that the ship’s photographer won’t cover ceremonies unless they’re actually on the ship, despite saying the opposite a couple months ago.”
“They told you this last minute?”
Thankfully, the conversation diverts from my choice of a date and delves into the horrors of destination wedding planning.
After hitting eight miles, we stop at the bar along the track and hydrate before Colt gets that beer he promised himself.
“I’ve never had a beer before noon. I like cruising.”
We spot a group of college kids who appear to have started drinking a hell of a lot earlier this morning than even we have, and I can’t help thinking of what a CO of mine once said about booze and boats being a dangerous mix.
“Were we ever that young?” Carson ponders.
I shake my head. “I wasn’t. I saw what the party scene did to you three in your early twenties. I wasn’t anxious to replicate it.” I take a look at the texts that came in while we were running. Even with the ship’s wi-fi, it seems like the only ones coming through are from people on the cruise. Which I suppose is fine. The only reason I would want to hear from anyone back home right now is if my fish died.
Scratch that. I wouldn’t even want to hear that.
I sigh. “Why is Freya’s mom telling us the ship’s wedding planner won’t handle turd party suits and we’ll have to have them pressed by an outside vendor?”
Colt pulls his phone out of his pocket. “What the hell is a turd party?”
“Third party. Come on, guys. Think.” Mason taps his skull as though we’re all idiots.
I can’t help suggesting, “She really might want to check her texts before she hits send.”
“Yeah. You want to tell her that?” Mason queries, annoyed. “I want to keep my future mother-in-law on my side. Besides, I can translate her texts just fine.”
I scroll down and see another text, this one from Hailey. I frown when I read it.
Carson cocks his head. “What is it?”
I shrug. “Nothing. Hailey’s just having lunch with all your fiancées.” And not with me, I want to grumble, but don’t.
Mason chuckles. “Aw, you look so dejected.”
Carson snorts.
“I’m not dejected. I’m glad she’s having fun,” I say, trying to hide the defensiveness in my tone because it makes me feel like I’m a kid again when my brothers gang up on me.
But the fact is, I am a little disappointed.
Lunch—it’s kind of our “thing.” If Hailey and I had a thing, that is.
I finish off the water the bartender brought me. “Besides, it will give me more time to take a real run while my brothers drink at the bar and get soft.”
“Hey…” A couple of them mutter behind me as I leave them in my dust, taking off at a pace that is much more in line from a guy who wants to command in SOCOM.
Or a guy who’s running away from brothers who might pick up on the fact that I’m enjoying Hailey’s company a little too much for our current arrangement.