The Dare

At least I had that memory.

His hands on my body.

His mouth, hot and urgent.

I'd probably retell the story to my cats once I got home and fully gave up on the male species as a whole. Maybe I should count myself lucky that I hadn't fallen in total irrevocable love with him. Because at this point, walking away would be doable. Hard, but doable. Another four days, and it may have wrecked me to see Jace turn his back on us.

"You look like you need this." Char pushed a shot of tequila toward me. "Pinch your nose and throw it back. I don't care how vile it tastes, because right now you look like someone just told you Vampire Diaries got canceled."

"Not fu

"Take the shot," Char countered.

I took it and winced as the liquid burned down my throat.

"Olé!" Jake shouted, joining us at the table.

The man could try the patience of a saint. He had the most gorgeous hazel eyes and dark hair, both Titus men did.

"Beth, seriously, if you want me to assassinate Mr. Senator, just say the word. Or nod." When I didn't do anything, he continued, "Or blink. Hell, just breathe. One exhale and I'll do it."

"I doubt she wants me dead when I can make her feel things I'm doubting you've ever made any woman feel in your entire existence," Jace said in a tense voice from behind me. His hands rested on my shoulders and then ran down my arms. I shivered in response and gave Jake a cocky grin.

"So," he returned my grin, "I guess a cheers are in order."

"Cheers?" Jace repeated.

"To the senator who found his heart." He held up his glass.

"Just like the squirrel who found its nuts." Jace winked.

"What?" I looked around the table.

Travis laughed. "Just go with it."

"Seems to be a common theme," I muttered, lifting my rum punch.

"Always is." Kacey clinked her glass with mine. "So what's the plan for the day?"

"Plan?" Grandma waltzed up to the table like a woman on a mission. "I've got everything settled. First a fake bachelorette party, and, Jake, try to keep your pants on this time. We don't want any more elderly ladies having strokes."

His eyes narrowed. "That was one time."

Grandma ignored him. "Followed by a lovely outing tomorrow morning after group therapy. Of course we'll later have a rehearsal di

"Fake wedding pictures," Jace corrected. "You're not pulling a Jake and Char on us."

"Aw, we're like a verb." Char and Jake bumped fists.

I ignored their cuteness just like I ignored the excitement bubbling around me. What would it be like to be a part of this family? What would it be like to be so in love with someone, so in sync that you were deliriously, hopelessly happy?

Jake and Char shared a kiss and laughed.

"Of course not." Grandma put her hand over her chest and sighed. "I would never. Believe me, I've learned my lesson. It's best that love happen naturally. At any rate, we'll snap some pictures and lie about the wedding, saying it's too private to share with the world."

Jace gripped my hand. "So we pretend."

"Of course." Grandma's keen eyes examined our joined hands. "After all, you have three more days of the fairytale, don't you, Jace? We wouldn't want to mess with curses and folklore, now would we?"

I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing.

"Who told you?" He slammed his fist down onto the table.

"Oh, the captain and I go way back," Grandma smirked.

I hoped to God that Jace wouldn't ask what that meant, because by the looks of the way she was blushing, it probably wasn't appropriate for the general public, or anyone for that matter.

"Now," Grandma sat down at the table, "enough of that. I've set up a few outings for us to go to as a family. Javier will take pictures, and everyone will go home with smiles on their faces. Of course, at the end of the next three days."

"Does that mean I get a new honeymoon?" Jake asked. "Since you crashed this one?"

"Ditto." Travis grumbled.

"Oh, please." Grandma waved them off. "I let you have at least three days. I thought it very generous, all things considered."

"How do YOU FIGURE?" Jake asked.

"Jake stop yelling. You should be thanking me, not scolding me." She waved him off. "So are we in agreement?" Grandma looked hopefully to everyone's faces.

Was no even an option with this woman?

"Question," Jace asked calmly. "If this is all supposed to be a ruse to save my career from tanking, and I'm supposedly at my own destination wedding, wouldn't my parents be here? And what about Beth's?"

Grandma's smile grew. "Perfect timing, wouldn't you say, Your Honor?"

Jace's face drained of all its color as he slowly turned around and swore. "Father."

"Son, we need to talk."

Chapter Twenty-five

"I find it hard to believe that you were able to convince the judge to make an impromptu trip to Hawaii in order to attend a fake wedding for his wayward son."

"Oh, it didn't take much convincing." Grandma laughed. "After all, I told him it was life and death. And when that didn't work, I told the judge that his son had been kidnapped by pirates scouring the Hawaiian islands.

"And he believed you?"

"He had no reason not to."

"Why's that?"

"It's amazing what one can do with a microphone, voice encryption, and email these days. It truly never ceases to amaze me."

"Shall I add that to your rap sheet as well?"

"Genius?"

"No. Lying to a judge."

Grandma sighed. "If you must. But he won't be pressing charges. I hardly think it matters, considering his son's missing."

"The son you kidnapped."

"Details."

Jace

As a child, I'd always hated getting scolded by my father. It was rare when he had scolded me; after all, my entire goal in life had been to make him proud of me. So when I did get in trouble, it had been life-altering.

After the accident, things had gotten worse. I'd woken up with no recollection of how I'd even gotten in the hospital — my parents said a light in my eyes had died. It pissed me off that after all this time, I felt like I was still trying to get the old Jace back. The one who believed in fairytales and magic; the one who believed in optimism instead of cynicism.

I could still smell my dad's musty study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every single wall of the room, and a green leather chair was always facing the mahogany desk. Dad wouldn't turn his own chair, not until I spoke up and alerted him of my presence. Then, ever so slowly, he'd turn in his chair, lean slowly across the table, and say, "Are you ready?"

I'd nod as tears streamed down my face, and then I'd confess what I'd done wrong. I never usually had to be told. I always knew when I was in the wrong, whether it was from disrespecting my mother or eating cookies before di