Prologue
Blaire
The Aldridge brothers are like a force of nature. They’re like volcanic lightning, fire tornados, bismuth crystals, nacreous clouds, or typhoons echoing through lost caverns. They’re passionate and chaotic. They carry the strength and wisdom of redwood forests and the pride and anger of minor gods. Am I giving them too much credit by painting them to be larger than life?
…Perhaps.
It’s all about perspective. Some people compare them to a nuclear meltdown.
To say they’re interesting is an understatement. The Aldridge brothers are handsome, arrogant, and sinful.
Henry, the hotel mogul, is callous.
Hayes, the doctor, is handsome, nerdy, and detached.
Pierce, the lawyer, is an unrelenting know-it-all.
Mills, the hockey player, is reckless.
Vance, the former Delta Force member, is impulsive.
Beacon, the heartthrob musician, is rebellious.
Make sure to add as fuck to each of them. They all have an alpha side that’s infuriating,
I haven’t heard from them since their brother, Carter, died. Until their father died two weeks ago and they came barging back into my life. Am I ready to face my past?
I don’t know. All I care about is what I’ll get at the end of this deal. This will be like walking through a rose field under a volcanic eruption. Once I cross the bridge into their world, there’s no going back.
One
Hayes
“I didn’t think I’d catch you tonight,” Mom says when I answer the phone. “Are you still working at the hospital? Maybe you should quit and just focus on your practice.”
Obviously, distance doesn’t matter. A mother’s nagging is just one phone call away. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the pounding headache that this conversation creates. We don’t speak often so I let it go and just listen. It’s nothing a pair of painkillers won’t fix once I hang up with Mom, but as she keeps talking, the pounding grows louder. I fight back a groan.
Today has been a long day. I’m tired after the back to back surgeries and almost half asleep. The accident on Highway 5 this morning brought in multiple patients who needed bones reset, consultations, and a couple of amputations. Fuck, I thought being an orthopedic surgeon would be easy, but when things like that happen, it makes me rethink my career.
“I spoke with Hilda Jennings,” Mom says on the other side of the phone.
Walking to the kitchen, I grab a tumbler glass and head to my home office where I have my whiskey. I pour two fingers and take a gulp. I remind myself that there’s an ocean between us, and she’s trying her best to be a part of my life in her own way.
“Sorry, I was working at the hospital, and I had to stay longer than I thought,” I apologize, before she lectures me that I canceled my date a couple of days ago.
“Well, her daughter is waiting to hear from you to reschedule,” she says. “She’s a fashion designer, beautiful and smart, too. You two have a lot in common.”
What can I possibly have in common with a fashion designer? I think the comic book author she introduced me to last year was more my speed, and yet, we didn’t connect.
“I’m sure she’s a nice young lady that comes from a great family,” I say in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like her, but I try my best.
I hold the laugh when she grunts, “You’re not funny, Hayes.”
“You love me, Mom.”
“Well, I really think she is who you need in your life,” she insists.
Obviously, she doesn’t understand who and what I need, or she’d be leaving this alone—me alone.
“Mom, just let me be,” I request for the millionth time.
“I just don’t understand you. There’s nothing wrong with the women I set you up with. Is there?”
“I’ve never complained about them, have I?” I reply with a question of my own, hoping she’ll get tired.
“You never called them back either,” she says. “What was wrong with Paula Sinclair?”
“Which one was that one?” I swear I don’t keep track of them.
They all looked about the same: light hair, slender, beautiful on the outside, but I’m not interested in getting to know them.
“Hayes, I’m doing this because I love you. Every woman I set you up with has a career, a bright future, and is lovely. Why not take a leap and try to find your happiness?”
“Sounds like you screen them well before giving me their contact information. Have you thought about coming out of retirement and starting a matchmaking company?” I try not to sound sarcastic but fail miserably. “You should stop setting me up and profit from it.”
“You’re thirty-five and still single.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being single, Mom,” I insist, pouring myself another two fingers of whiskey.
If this conversation continues the way it always does, I’m going to be drunk soon and nursing a hangover for the rest of the weekend. I’m glad my next shift at the hospital isn’t until Sunday afternoon.
I admit, the social piece of my life is a little pathetic. But dating some socialite from San Francisco won’t fix it—it might make everything worse.
“You’re alone,” she says with a sad voice.
“Oh, Mom.”
What else can I say?
I understand she wants me to be happy, but she has to stop emailing me numbers, descriptions, and pictures of all her friends’ single daughters, insisting I take them out for dinner and get to know them.
Humoring her isn’t hard; I take them out for dinner, but nothing goes beyond a second date. Don’t get me wrong, the women she’s introduced me to are beautiful, but they’re all hoping to be the one who’ll get a ring. I’m not in the market to settle down—ever.
Several times I’ve been close to reminding her that settling down and being part of a couple isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I don’t want to bring up memories of our past. Her first marriage—to my father—was a joke. A complete and utter fucking joke. They divorced when I was only seven.
That’s when she found out that my father had never been faithful to her and that the philanderer had more children than just my brother, Carter, and me.
“Just think about it. Your life is work and nothing else,” she says with a yawn.
“You should go to bed Mom,” I suggest, but then I check the clock I have on my bookcase with the time in Sweden, and it’s six in the morning. “Actually, why are you awake so early? It’s Saturday.”
Mom met Lars, her husband, seven years ago at a conference. They dated for two years, and one day, she announced that she was going to retire and move to Sweden with him. Maybe that’s what’ll happen to me in twenty or thirty years. I’ll find a woman to settle in with who already has grown children.
One thing is for sure, I’m not going to be like my father. A man who can't love anyone but himself. I won’t bring children into this world who I'll neglect because I’m incapable of love. My father never cared about my mother or the women he screwed. He’s never cared about his sons.