The Barrett Brothers Collection
KB Cinder
Copyright KB Cinder (2020)©
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any way, shape, or form without written permission from the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. All characters, scenes, and dialogue are entirely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or incidents is purely coincidental.
For badasses everywhere
Contents
Privately
Barrett All
Painted Love
Elena
Post-wedding disaster, I’m ready to move on, and what better way than with Privately?
Its wild success stories dominate morning talk shows, so why can’t I be one of them?
Although, it will be hard finding anything close to a happily ever after while dealing with Jason - my new, incredibly sexy, yet temperamental, boss — a man who has hated me since day one on the job.
* * *
Jason
I hate how I feel around Elena.
Her presence ignites a fire inside no cold shower can douse.
She blurs the boundaries between work and play, leaving me with an uneasy urge to explore the flames.
Neither will bend in their disdain for the other unless of course, they’re brought together...
Privately.
Prologue
Phones only ring at the worst times. The always sound off on full blast with the ringer that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin at the moment. You know the one, whether it’s Pony rearing at a funeral or Bump N’ Grind during a meeting when seated next to your boss.
Of course, it happens when hands — or worse - mouths are full. In this case, it was my hands, clutching bags stuffed with enough supplies to craft smores’ kits for an army.
“Oh, come on!” I grumbled as 90s R&B erupted from my purse.
A woman sidestepped me, her face strained in irritation as if she didn’t get jiggy with it back in the day, too. Then again, maybe if she had, she wouldn’t have a see-you-next-Tuesday haircut, the angled bob declaring her disdain for all things fun from a mile away.
If it weren’t a week from showtime, I'd ignore the call, but with my luck, I’d miss something major. I juggled the bags, snaking the blaring cell from my tote and pressing it to my ear. “Hello, Elena Julian speaking.”
“Good evening, Elena. This is Serena from Gardenia Gables. I'm calling to confirm the headcount for next Saturday.”
I adjusted my grip on my cell, relieved it was just the wedding planner, and not a crisis. I feared something would go wrong with how easy everything was going. It seemed unnatural compared to the catastrophes plaguing wedding reality shows. Shouldn’t I have at least broken a zipper or gotten food poisoning already?
“Hi, Serena. Our final headcount is two-hundred-sixty.” I had the number down pat thanks to smores planning.
Two chocolate squares were the ideal ratio. One square was sacrilegious, and three-squares-or-more psychos were not ones you’d invite over again. The soon-to-be in-laws didn’t know smores would be handed out along with their pricey wine favors, but they were in for a sticky surprise.
“Wonderful! We're sticking with the original tallies for sea bass, chateaubriand, and pheasant, correct?”
“Yes, ma'am.” There were no changes as far as I knew. For how much Gardenia charged per head, everything had to be delicious, even the napkins if anyone got adventurous.
I hurried toward my Lexus from the grocery store promenade, leaves crunching beneath my heels with each step. I scored a spot in the front of the lot, earning a happy dance after a long day in the office and a grueling barre class.
“Well, that's wonderful! Congratulations again, Elena! I look forward to seeing you and Justin next Saturday for the big day!”
I beamed. “Thank you so much, Serena!”
I still couldn’t believe the day was so close. That after four years, we’d finally be one. Despite declaring on our first date that he’d never settle down, the eternal bachelor chose me as his life partner.
“Anything for a Gardenia bride. Have a great night.” I could hear the smile in her voice and couldn’t be happier.
I tucked the phone in the pocket of my cardigan as I struggled to open the rear hatch of the SUV, a recent gift from Justin. It was flashier than my old jeep, but I was getting used to it.
One by one, I stuffed the bags in, careful not to crush anything. No one wanted a smashed smore, and I didn’t need straggler pieces lingering in the meantime as temptation. I had a dress that fit without the extra chocolate goodies.
I rushed inside to the blessed heat, and my cell rang again, Justin's ringer blaring. He was working late at the firm, unable to join in the Friday night shopping excursion, but I couldn't complain. The extra hours in the office earned his latest promotion.
“Hey, Baby!” I greeted as I buckled in, spying it was just past eight on the dash.
No wonder I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since scarfing down a kale salad at noon — a gross kale salad, at that. Then again, kale was always gross, even if it was swimming in dressing.
“Hi, Elena.”
No Laney? He always used his pet name for me.
Crap. He must have found the Louboutins I bought for the wedding. I landed a hell of a deal on the silver pumps, a pair that rivaled those of his coworkers’ wives. I was hoping he’d love them, too. He was always steering me toward designer brands.
“Are you on your way home yet? I'm starving!” I tossed my purse in the passenger seat, more than ready to stuff my face. “Maybe we can grab dinner somewhere. We haven’t gone out in forever.”
We hadn’t seen much of each other at all in the last few weeks. If I wasn’t at fittings or last minutes appointments, he was at work or out with friends as more than one bachelor party lit up his life.
As much as I loved
