Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men Book 9)

Consolation Prize by Linda Kage

Don’t you just hate it when someone destroys all your carefully made plans?

I mean, I had goals: college to graduate in one semester, a future I was working hard to reach, and an image of myself I wanted the world to see. My life was stacked into these precisely placed blocks. But then Colton Gamble came along and knocked them all askew.

I hated how he messed everything up, how he could hog all my attention whenever he was around, how he made my pulse quicken—but only because he ticked me off...not because I was attracted to him. Oh! And I hated how he knew how attractive he was too, the shallow, full of himself, doesn’t take no for an answer, too flirty, too cocky, extremely irritating jerk.

The boy had all the qualities that turned me off. Or so I thought.

One night he wasn’t quite the brainless, overconfident jerk I assumed he always was.

One night, he took care of me when I was at my lowest. He opened up to me and made me open up to him.

Now I’m learning maybe he’s not what I first thought he was. And maybe
I’M
not what I first thought I was. Maybe it’s okay to rearrange a couple of my perfectly set blocks. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop worrying about what I’m afraid everyone else will think and finally reach for something I really want. It’s possible some of my plans need to be destroyed, and Colton Gamble is exactly the kind of mess I need in my life.

What do you think? Should I give him a try?

Desperately seeking your advice,

Julianna Radcliffe

D
EDICATION

One true friend adds more to our happiness than a thousand enemies add to our unhappiness.

~Marie Dubsky

This one’s for

Lindsay Brooks

&

Lauren Sweeney

Thank you for wiping away two thousand unhappies!

A
UTHOR’S
N
OTE

Once again, I’m writing a story to honor the request of a reader!

A little over a year ago, Ms. Ciara Townsend wrote to me: “My best friend and I are avid readers, and my favorite books usually have white lead characters and black minor characters, and they’re usually quite ghetto. It’s a little discouraging when all of the couples are with people of the same race when there are so many mixed people in the world. I would love an interracial romance, especially when there are so many people that don’t believe in it.”

I always crave a good writing challenge, and this one is another for me because like Ciara, I haven’t run across a lot of interracial stories myself. I have no idea what kind of elements are usually in them or
not
in them. So hopefully I do this one some justice! Fingers crossed!

Here is a little bit of forbidden interracial romance just for you, Ciara.

C
OLTON’S
C
HAPTER
|
1

D
amn
, I loved wedding receptions.

Parties must’ve been in my blood because I seemed to flourish at them. There was just something about the noise and energy and hint of wild abandon that got my engines revving. And no better place could I make a spectacle of myself, projecting the image I wanted everyone to see, than in a busy, crowded room like this.

Oh, the things you could hide behind a loud, boisterous personality at a loud, boisterous party were truly amazing.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” I drawled into the microphone I carried as I meandered back and forth behind the wedding party’s table to address the crowd. “Why the hell did a specimen as lovely as Sarah Arnosta settle for my loser of a big brother when she could’ve had all this, right?”

As I splayed a hand down the side of my tux jacket, motioning to myself, my brother Brandt twisted in his seat to punch at me, muttering curses as he swung. But I only chuckled and ruffled his hair before dodging out of his reach. “Well, all I can say to that, my friends, is love must be blind.”

My answer drew a laugh from the crowd. I grinned and waited for the sound to die down before I got serious. “Or maybe Aristotle said it best when he wrote, ‘love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies,’ because despite the fact I am obviously the far more handsome and charming brother, Sarah made the right decision.” Setting a hand on the bride’s shoulder, I grinned at her affectionately. “She recognized the missing part of herself nine years ago when she met Brandt, and there was no separating either of them from that point on.”

When she reached up to squeeze my fingers, I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “For all of us who watched your romance bloom into what it is today, it felt as if it took you guys forever to realize you were meant to be more than just friends. But patience truly must be a virtue richly rewarded because you two have hit the jackpot. This right here, what you have between you, is a love-till-death-do-us-part if I ever saw one. I’m so happy you guys finally figured it out. And I’d say good luck to you, but I know you don’t need it. You already have what you need to make a great life together. You’ll be just fine. I love you both. You’re my inspiration.”

Lifting my fluted glass full of champagne, I called to everyone, “Here’s to fifty years of wedded bliss for Brandt and Sarah, and fifty more after that.”

Everyone drank with me, cheers and applause ringing through the hall behind my toast. My brother rose from his seat to give me a quick, hard man-hug as he said into my ear, “Thanks, bro. You weren’t even as annoying as I thought you’d be.”

“That was for Sarah’s benefit, not yours.” I teasingly jabbed a fist toward his gut and laughed when he flinched away from me.

“Whatever. You’re such a pipsqueak.” He jostled my arm and grinned as he stepped back because his wife had swiveled her wheelchair around to face me.

When Sarah held up her arms for her own hug, I knelt down to give her a warm embrace.

“Thank you, Colton. That was lovely.”

“Anything for you, beautiful. You make him happier than you can imagine.” I kissed her cheek one more time and then handed the mic over to Reese, the matron of honor who wanted to give her own toast.

As she spoke, I plopped into my seat next to Brandt, relaxing enough to sling an arm over the back of my chair so I could twist my torso and survey the people sitting nearby on my right. They were all family, even the ones who weren’t blood relatives. They’d helped raise me into the guy I was, and I loved each and every one of them.

A part of me recognized how much I didn’t deserve their affection and support, and that part appreciated every little piece of love they’d ever tossed my way. Yet another part of me was scared shitless, afraid of losing them and eternally certain they’d realize someday they could do so much better, and they’d cut me loose. That part remained an asshat, determined not to show how much he cared about them because everyone knew the moment you let people see what you cared for most, it became your biggest weakness and you were bound to lose it.

When cheers rose and everyone drank, I realized I’d spaced out through Reese’s entire toast. Whoops.

I drank with them anyway and kept guzzling until I drained my glass. Noel had said this one glass was the only alcohol I was allowed tonight, but...yeah right.

Glancing around to make sure no one saw I was empty, I rose to my feet and started toward the waiter nearest me who still had a tray full of untouched champagne. Chin-bobbing and calling out a greeting to people I passed to blend in, I reached the guy in seconds and exchanged my glass for a new one smoothly, without anyone noticing.

Just as I took my first sip of the new bubbly, Remy—one of my non-related family members—passed with another chick.

“Loved your toast,” the chick said with a provocative grin as she trailed her hand up the center of my chest, with the longest, reddest fingernails I’d ever seen. “Damn, you’re a cutie.” Then she winked and kept walking past, her short, tight sparkly gold dress shifting snugly over lush hips and a tiny waist with every step she took.

Without taking my gaze off her, I grabbed Remy’s arm, stalling her at my side. “Who was that?”

“
That
was Carmen. She’s my cousin.” When my eyebrows lifted with interest, Remy patted my cheek and cooed, “Oh, honey. Don’t even bother. She’s twenty-six.”

An eight-year difference. Meh, that wasn’t a deal breaker for me. Tipping my head to the side to check out the lovely curved backside of twenty-six-year-old Carmen, I said, “I have no issues with experience because
she
seemed into me. Didn’t she seem into me?”

Oh yeah, she had definitely seemed into me.

Remy’s voice was dry when she answered, “Carmen’s into anything with a penis.”

Grinning, I finally turned my attention to her. “Well, what do you know, I happen to have one of those.”

“Eww.” She wrinkled her nose and immediately backed away from me. “I don’t want to hear about your icky boy parts.” Then she patted my arm with a maternal sigh. “Just...don’t say I didn’t warn you because she can be a man-eater.”

As she started away to catch up with her cousin, I called after her, “Screw careful. She can snack on me anytime she likes.”

She pointed back at me. “Behave, young man.”

Ha! As if. This was a wedding, the prime opportunity to hook up with lonely women seeking a little TLC. And I was just the type of guy to help them realize it was perfectly okay to be single and unattached.

Behaving was the last thought on my mind. In fact, I
needed
a little misbehavior tonight to help take the edge off more than I wanted to admit. Things at home had been getting a little too intense lately. Temporary escape was crucial.

“Hey, that’s not a
new
glass of champagne, is it?”

I paused from the sip I was about to take to send Brandt an innocent glance as he strolled toward me, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his own glass. “Of course not.”

He didn’t even pretend to believe me. “Just don’t let Noel catch you. You know what a tight ass he’s been lately.”

I nodded and took another drink. Yeah, did I know. Our oldest brother had plenty of reasons to be losing his shit, but damn, I was beyond ready for his asshole to loosen again so that stick could fall out of it.

“I live with him,” I said dryly. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Brandt shifted closer, his gaze clouding with worry. “Aspen’s still not getting any better, is she?”

Bothering him with doom and gloom on his wedding day wasn’t what I wanted, but there was really no way to sugarcoat it. So I shook my head miserably, finished my glass, and then stole his, switching him out with my empty.

He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he only looked more concerned as he watched me gulp from his champagne. “Has he taken her back to the doctor?”

Opening my mouth, I planned to tell him I didn’t want to talk about it. Tonight was for celebrating and merrymaking. We could go back to worrying about our sister-in-law in the morning. For one evening, I just wanted to forget about that shit. Aspen’s problems weren’t going anywhere; they’d still be there tomorrow.

But before I could try to distract him, Asher—Remy’s husband—joined us. “Man.” He bumped his elbow into Brandt’s. “Juli can’t stop staring at you tonight.”

“Juli?” That name perked me to immediate attention. “Julianna’s here?”

I followed Asher’s gaze to a dimly lit table in the back corner that bordered the dance floor. It was empty save for one individual, one of the loveliest individuals to grace the planet.

I have no clue how she did it, but Julianna Radcliffe always managed to look equal parts disdainfully untouchable and wet-dream sexy.

Tonight, her dress was pure sin. She wore a long, strapless light gray number that had a front slit, exposing a perfectly toned leg most the way up her thigh and a bustier top that hugged proud, ample breasts. The paleness of her dress made the tone of her skin appear even darker than usual, which made my stomach knot with tension because I yearned to investigate all that dark, dark skin, see how it felt under my hands, how it tasted against my tongue, how it trembled when I stroked it.

Yet I knew without a shadow of a doubt there was no way that would ever happen because that lady right there was a ball-breaker. You could tell it by the straight-backed, poised way she held herself as if she might as well be behind a boardroom table, doling out punishments to her inferior subordinates, and by the way she had no tolerance for stupidity or players. I swear, her stare alone could shrivel a guy’s family jewels to impotent nothingness. I usually had the itching urge to cover my junk whenever I talked to her.

And yet she was an irresistible challenge to idiots like me. Not just because she was model-worthy stunning, which she was. Nothing on her was ever out of place. But because her flawlessness always struck me with the urge to mess her up…in the best ways possible. I felt the need to be the exception to the rule, the one who got past her defenses and scaled that impossible mountain of poise and perfection.

“Fuck,” Brandt groaned.

I glanced at him, forcing my brain back to the problem at hand, that being Julianna and her inability to take her eyes off my newly married brother.

“Hasn’t it been months since you and she were over?” I asked, confused.

He sent me a sharp glance. “Over? We never
started
. There’s nothing to be over. Juli and I didn’t even finish the one date we went on.”

Asher sniffed. “Well, it looks as if
she’s
still willing to finish it.”

“Dammit.” Brandt glanced toward his wife. “I hope Sarah doesn’t see her watching me. I don’t want anything upsetting her on our wedding day.”

Asher shook his head. “So, why’d you even invite Juli?”

“I
work
with her.” Brandt moodily tugged at the collar of his tux.

It seemed odd to me that someone so classically beautiful worked in a nightclub as a bartender. To me, Julianna clearly belonged on a runway, displaying the latest fashion, or—

“It would’ve been strange to invite everyone else from the club and leave her out. Besides, we’re still friends. She’s probably my favorite coworker.”

“Hey,” Asher muttered, offended since he occasionally bartended at the Forbidden Nightclub with Brandt too.

Brandt rolled his eyes. “You don’t count.”

But that only seemed to confuse Asher more. “Why don’t I count?”

Ignoring him, Brandt brought his hand up to his mouth so he could chew on his thumbnail. “We need to distract her somehow. Someone needs to...” Trailing off, he turned slowly toward me, and the intent in his gaze was pretty damn clear.

I paused mid-sip. “Wait, what? You can’t possibly want
me
to distract her?”

“You’re the one who’s always flirting with her,” he hissed.

“Because she
hates
it,” I muttered right back. “It’s fun to piss her off and watch her blood pressure boil.” And seriously, it was. Knowing I could make such a flawlessly controlled woman like her come unhinged was an adrenaline rush every time.