Happily Ever Afters: A BWWM Best Friends to Lovers Romance Page 3

  “Do…what?”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll be Winston.”

  “Preston, that’s not why I was telling—”

  “I know,” he interrupted resolutely. “But I want to. Your family’s important to you. You want to make your dad happy in a time he’s not so well. I want to help my friend do that. So let me.”

  “I have to be there for two weeks. You have work.”

  “Easy. Today Hamilton forced my hand. I’ve got sixty-two vacation days to burn. Next.”

  “Okay, but there’s so many other reasons why this’ll never work.”

  “Go on. Shoot. What are they?” He gave her his undivided attention, resting an elbow on the counter with blue eyes intent on her.

  Juliette's own brown eyes shrunk into a narrow. She picked up on his subtle persuasion tactics. Things like his unrelenting, focused stare and interrogative questions were trademarks of his. Trademarks of hers were to step up to the plate, A.D.A style. He wouldn’t expect anything less.

  “Well,” she began levelly, “for starters, you’re white. Winston is black.”

  “So? You told me they’ve never met him.”

  “So that might…shock them a little bit.”

  “You’ve told me yourself your folks have never seen a pic of him. You’ve kept him off Instapix, isn’t that right?”

  “Well…yeah, but—”

  “What does it matter so long as I’m a good guy who treats their daughter right?” he reasoned, selecting a couple wings for his plate. He chanced a sideways grin at her. “Don’t know if you know this. But older women love me. Mamas. Grandmamas. Never met one who didn’t think I was the nicest southern gentleman they’ve ever known.”

  “Stop it! You’re bullshitting.”

  “I promise you I’m not. The secret’s in being a good listener.”

  “My mom is chatty. She loves to talk.”

  “I can win her over. It’s your dad that might be an issue.”

  “No man is ever good enough for Gigi and I, but Dom has his blessing.”

  “I’ll get it too.”

  Juliette's right brow arched. “You’re serious? You don’t mind doing this?”

  “No. Not to help you out.”

  “Because if you do, I get it. I don’t want you to feel pressured into this charade. It’s not fair to you,” Juliette rambled on. “Let’s be honest, it’s crazy. I’m still not sure I’m even okay with the idea. Alex had to talk me into asking Winston.”

  “Hey, it can work. How well do I know you? You know me? We’ve spent enough time together.”

  “As friends. Being friends and being an engaged couple are two opposite sides of the spectrum.”

  “We’ll pull it off.”

  Juliette chugged a couple mouthfuls from her beer bottle, in need of the extra alcoholic boost to convince her. After she gave a firm nod and met his gaze.

  “Okay, let’s do it. We’ll have to fly out on Tuesday.”

  “Got it. No problem.”

  “Preston. Thank you. Really. Thank you.” Juliette surprised him by hopping off her stool and flinging her arms around him. She wasn’t much of a touchy-feely, handsy type of person, and neither was he, but the hug was nice. It sent a warmth bursting from the inside out, flushing his skin pale pink. The few seconds ended and they shared an affirming smile.

  “I’m gonna help you make sure things go on without a hitch,” he promised. “What are friends for?”

  3

  “Are you gonna behave yourself?”

  Preston's brows rose. Tank’s head tilted sideways. The owner-dog stare-off was underway with Preston waiting patiently for the stubborn French Bulldog’s surrender. On the lawn outside his family home, Abbott hovered, looking more confused than anyone. He never got the chance to ask what was going on. Tank threw in the towel first. The pudgy dog rumbled in true grump fashion, but rolled over belly side up anyway.

  Preston knelt to give him a goodbye rub. “That’s my boy. Listen to Abe and his family. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “Look at that beer gut. We might get along better than I thought.”

  “He also gets real gassy. You two have a lot in common.”

  “Sounds like my new best friend,” said Abbott, taking the leash. The humor glinted in his eyes as his gaze met Preston's. The partners always gave each other shit. Even in goodbyes. “You have a good time in paradise, Brooker. Drink a Mai Tai—or twelve—for me.”

  The burly Vice Detective walked Tank up the path leading to his front door. Preston watched for only a second before pulling away from the curb and driving off. Nine miles later, he rolled up outside the tall luxury sky-rise Juliette called home. His closest friend happened to be emerging through the revolving glass doors with her suitcase and carry-on. He hopped out to help her.

  “Got everything?” he asked in cheek, loading her big suitcase.

  Juliette's hands shot to her hips. “If you think I’m bad, you have no idea what Gigi’s like.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “How’d the drop off with Tank go?”

  “Smooth as can be. Tank’s stubborn, stinky butt tried to guilt-trip me.”

  “How can you not feel bad with those big, puppy dog eyes?”

  “Juliette, he’s eight.”

  “He’s a puppy at heart. Always will be.”

  Preston let out a bark of a laugh. Tank won over most people, bad attitude and all. Few more than Juliette, though, loved the rollie pollie pooch. Tank loved her too. The word ‘park’ was synonymous with Juliette in the dog’s brain; every Sunday morning she met them for a long walk and game of fetch.

  “Pop quiz,” Juliette said out of nowhere on their drive to the airport.

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “What are my mom and dad’s names?”

  “Easy. Brandy and Thomas.”

  “True or False: you can call my dad Tom.”

  “Really? You’re trying to trick me?” Preston shook his head with another laugh husking out. “False. It’s Mr. Lowry or sir ’til he says to call him anything for short.”

  “And my gram?”

  “Your Gram Babes? What about her? She’s seventy-three-years-old, single and ready to mingle.”

  Now it was Juliette who clapped her hands together and laughed. “Why do I have a feeling you were telling the truth? She might actually love you.”

  “I got her and your mom special gifts. Some flowers and another surprise.”

  “So they are going to love you.”

  “Told you. Hide your mamas. Hide your grandmamas. Preston Brooker is coming through.”

  “About that. I know we talked about what to do with the name thing,” Juliette said slowly. Her features sharpened with concentration. The expression was a trademark whenever she wore her A.D.A hat at work. “I think it makes the most sense we go with the Preston Winston Brooker angle.”

  “You sure? Wouldn’t that be weird that you’ve been calling me Winston all this time when you can call me Preston?”

  “It’s a nickname. It’s easier than you assuming Winston's identity. My parents are the most tech-challenged fifty-five-year-olds on the planet, but on the off chance they have figured out how to google, Winston has an Instapix account. Preston Brooker has an old MyFace account from ten years ago that has a picture of him in a band t-shirt eating pizza.”

  Preston chuckled. “Forgot about that. Those were my pre-Academy days.”

  “I could tell.”

  “Alright, whatever the lady wants. Richard Winston Brooker it is.”

  Paradise Key was the tiniest island in the Florida Keys. The island was more tropical beach than anything, surrounded by a rainbow of conch-style homes from shore-to-shore. The narrow streets entertained foot traffic and flimsy modes of transportation like bicycles, pedicabs and mopeds only. No automobiles allowed. Not even planes. Without an airport, travelers reached the island by ferry, crossing the crystal blue to touch the legendary white shorelines.

  But that
was part of the small island’s charm.

  Juliette stood against the ferry’s railing and marveled at the paradise around her. The water shimmered like liquid sapphire under the summer sunlight. Beyond the deep blue, the docks waited to usher them into paradise. The view was better than their imagination; the next week would be like living in a dreamworld.

  Whether stuck in a sentimental wave or flushed from the heat, she smiled at Preston. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “If I had to fake an engagement to attend a destination wedding, I’m relieved it’s you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, smile brightening. “If I were here with Winston? I’d be ready to throw myself overboard.”

  “He’s pretty insufferable.”

  “Unfortunately it took me over a year to see it.”

  Preston put his arm around her shoulders in a squeezing side-hug. “Hey, you saw the light eventually.”

  “You’re lucky you’ve earned the right to gloat. You always said he was a shit head.”

  “I’ve got radar for that sorta thing. But it doesn’t matter. He’s in the past. We’re here now. Let’s make this a happy time for everybody.”

  Juliette's lips stretched further, showing off her pearly whites. Preston was spot on. Paradise surrounded them from the clear blue waters to the sand dunes christened by shady palm trees. To top things off, Gigi was getting married to Dom, and Dad would get his wish seeing the magic unfold firsthand under such opportune circumstance. What could go wrong?

  On shore, a pedicab driver greeted them to load their luggage and peddle them deeper into town. Preston and Juliette slid into the back as the man dressed in a flowery shirt and khakis hopped in the front and pumped his legs. The pedicab surprised them with its speed, zooming through Paradise’s winding streets at unexpected speeds.

  Being mid-afternoon, many tourists wandered the sandy sidewalks and music began to swell from various establishments. In Paradise Key, every night was worthy of a celebration that kicked off hours before sunset. Preston and Juliette glanced at each other and couldn’t stave the blissful laugh that burst free from their mouths. Something about the atmosphere, from the soft swish of the surf to the salty scent in the air, was endlessly pleasing.

  The infectious energy manifested itself in how playful they became. Juliette bit her bottom lip and couldn’t stop the shine in her eyes. When she leaned against Preston, seated close in the toy car-sized pedicab, she distantly recognized they must’ve looked the part: a happily vacationing couple welcomed into the fold of paradise.

  Was that so bad?

  After all, it was what they were supposed to be for the next week. They had to sell their romance to not only Giselle and the other wedding guests, but more so, Mom and Dad. If they were going to be remotely believable, they had to blur the lines in their friendship. At least a little.

  The pedicab driver hauled ass until they arrived at the Brosman beach house. The triple floor, double terraced home was the biggest on the island, featuring twelve bedrooms, ten bathrooms and a prime waterfront view. Colored a deeper shade blue than the ocean, the vacation home looked postcard ready against the bright sky and silky sands.

  Preston and Juliette collected their things from the pedicab driver and rolled their luggage down the path leading up to the beach house. They made it halfway before the double front doors burst open. Gigi spilled out the doorway in her shades, bikini top and denim shorts. Behind her, on her race to tackle Juliette with a huge sisterly hug, her tailbone length box braids swung.

  “Gigi!” Juliette laughed despite herself. The sisters stumbled, locked in an embrace. “Are you drunk? Why are you acting like it’s been a decade since we’ve seen each other?”

  “I’m sooo happy you’re here, Jules! And…I had a couple tequila shots. But that was an hour ago!”

  “It’s your wedding. Whatever the bride wants.”

  “Exactly! Thanks, sissy. C’mon, lemme show you the house!” She bounced on her feet, grabbing Juliette by the arm to lead her.

  Juliette resisted, shocked that Gigi hadn’t noticed Preston. Maybe she had more to drink than she realized…

  “What’s wrong—oh. Oh!” Gigi’s gaze flitted beyond Juliette to Preston and cringed out of embarrassment. “I didn’t realize you helped my sister all this way with her bags. Here, lemme grab your tip.”

  Preston's ears reddened and Juliette cut in straightaway.

  “Gigi, this is Winston. My fiancé.”

  Gigi’s hands darted upward to cover her face. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s alright. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “That shit is embarrassing. I shoulda figured it out. It’s just…I sorta thought you’d be…uh…less pale?”

  Preston didn’t miss a beat, teasing back with, “I usually have a better tan.”

  Gigi liked that. Juliette watched the humor unfold on her younger sister’s face and relief washed over her. If there was one thing Gigi appreciated in a person, it was someone with a sense of humor. The key to Gigi’s heart was through laughter. So long as Preston rolled with the punches he had her stamp of sisterly approval.

  The couple followed Gigi into the massive beach house. The home was high-ceilinged and open-spaced with too many windows to count. The natural island sunshine brightened up the already blinding white inside. Juliette walked past the modern-stylized white furniture and the subtle tropical decor, imagining what it must be like to wake in the home each morning.

  “Mom and Dad are out with Dom’s folks having a late lunch. Dom is with the groomsmen. They were doing some golf tourney thing today. You’ll meet the girls soon too. They’re at the beach. I was too, but I came back early to see you,” Gigi explained as she gave them the house tour. She gestured to the gourmet kitchen, shining silver with its state-of-the-art appliances. “There’s round-the-clock staff on shift, so don’t feel like you guys have to lift a finger. If you’re hungry at three A.M. and want a grilled cheese, Ty’s got you. He’s head cook.”

  Juliette smirked. “It sounds like you’ve made that special order once or twice.”

  “Once, twice, every night. Appetite’s been kinda crazy with this wedding stress.” Gigi paused at the foot of the staircase, hand curled around the banister’s shell-shaped newel. “I’ll show you guys your room. You’re on the third floor alllll the way at the back. Some real good privacy. Pretty sound proof. Nobody’ll disturb you.”

  Preston and Juliette exchanged a glance, fighting off the heat from their skin. The burning reaction really shouldn’t have happened, but it caught them off guard. For as much as she’d talked a big game, claiming it wouldn’t be a problem to pretend with Preston, being presented with the reality flustered her. Why did she want to giggle like a silly school girl? She needed to get a grip!

  “I’ll leave you guys alone. You guys prolly wanna unpack and get settled,” said Gigi in their room. She slid her shades back over her eyes. “I’m gonna head to the beach and lay out for another hour. Text me if you need anything!”

  The instant they were alone, Juliette rounded on Preston and apologized. He dismissed the apology with a quick wave of his hand.

  “Sorry for what? Your sister’s blunt and she’s got a sense of humor. I like her.”

  “And you don’t mind sharing a room? Sharing a bed?”

  Preston put his hands on his waist and surveyed the suite-sized bedroom and the California King. “It’s a huge room. A huge bed. I’m fine with it if you are.”

  “Maybe we can use some of these throw pillows as a dividing line between us like a border between two countries.” Juliette had plopped down on the bed, plucking a pillow into her arms. She was kidding, of course, and Preston got that. He caught onto her playful humor and brandished some of his own.

  “That’s not gonna work, Juliette.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re greedy.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I’m greedy?!”
>
  “Uh-huh.”

  “How so? Explain,” she demanded, appalled.

  “You remember the City Holiday Banquet we went to last December? How we came back to my place and watched a movie? We fell asleep on my couch and you hogged the blanket to yourself. I was shaking like a chihuahua.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Yep,” he said, grinning. “It doesn’t matter if we have a border. You’re gonna cross it and you’re gonna take my blanket and my pillows.”

  Juliette exploded in laughter, tossing the pillow already in her grasp halfway across the room. Preston's reflexes helped him dodge the airborne pillow last second. He ducked and his grin only spread.

  “You’ve gotta work on your aim, Miss Prosecutor.”

  “We’ve got a week and two dozen pillows on this bed. I’ll get better.”

  Over the course of the next hour they focused on settling in. They unpacked their belongings and smoothed out more details about their relationship. The clock inched closer to four P.M. and they showered and changed for the evening. Juliette went first, picking out a cerulean maxi dress that looked like it’d flow brilliantly with the wind.

  She sat at the vanity, gathering her silky black strands into a half-up, half-down style. Mom and Dad were due back any minute now. She wanted to make the best first impression possible with Preston. Rarely had she introduced them to any of her boyfriends, but she knew they valued presentation. Mom and Dad wanted a prince—a king—for their eldest daughter. Preston and she had to look the part.

  “Alright. You tell me. Blue or maroon?”

  In the mirror’s reflection, Preston stood in the bathroom doorway holding up two shirts on a hanger. He had emerged freshly showered, dressed except for his shirt. Juliette left the vanity behind and considered each shirt with the trousers he already had on.

  “Blue,” she said. “It’ll subtly go with what I have on. They’ll notice and like that. Plus blue makes your eyes pop.”

  “Blue it is.” Preston tossed the maroon onto the bed and began sliding on the blue shirt. His fingers fastened the buttons much too quick and he mismatched a couple. Juliette tried to resist the urge to step in, but she couldn’t help herself. She smirked at her good friend and closed the space between them.