The Best Mistake

  The Best Mistake

  Text copyright © 2020 Airianna Tauanuu writing as Cookie O’Gorman

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  Cover Design © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations. All rights reserved.

  Interior Formatting: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Julia Quinn, Mom, Pat, and Colleen

  &

  To anyone who brings a paperback to a party

  This one’s for you

  Did all frat houses smell like beer, sweat and regret?

  Tonight was my first—and hopefully last—college party, so I didn’t know. Could’ve been that guys of Omega Beta thought everyone in the room was just too drunk to notice. And maybe they were. Earsplitting bass pumped through the walls, rattling my bones, as I took in the room. I was pretty sure that guy in the corner was peeing in a potted plant, two girls were grinding on a human banana (no lie, someone came dressed like a banana), and one girl just nearly puked on my (borrowed) red shoes as she made a mad dash to the bathroom.

  I shook my head. This was so not my scene.

  “Honor, you’ve gotta relax.”

  I raised a brow. “Who says I’m not?”

  Charlie, my roommate and best friend since birth, rolled her ice blue eyes. “First, you’ve been hugging that stretch of wall since the moment we got here. Second, you’ve got this deer-in-headlights look that I recognize from grade school. It means you’re about to bolt.”

  “I’m not,” I lied.

  “Yeah, right,” Charlie said. “I see you gripping your copy of Jane Eyre.”

  I instantly eased my grip on the paperback.

  “Chill out, girl. As far as college parties go, this one’s pretty tame.”

  I looked over to the makeshift dance floor and the writhing mass of bodies. The level of grinding was escalating by the second. Where did girls learn to move like that? I wondered. Had I missed some required course called Pole Dancing 101?

  “Tame?” I asked. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” she said, “which you’d know if you hadn’t waited until now to break out of your hermit’s cave.”

  “That’s not fair. I go out sometimes.”

  She gave me a look. “The library doesn’t count.”

  “How could it not count?” I asked. “It’s one of my favorite places, and I get to spend time with all of my favorite people. Besides you and Rose, of course.”

  “Fictional friends.” Charlie shook her head. “Don’t lump us in with them.”

  “And?” I said back. “Fictional people are awesome. Real people often suck. It’s an indisputable fact.”

  Charlie’s sigh seemed to rise up from her feet. “And that right there is proof you have no social life.”

  I frowned, looking down. My eyelids felt heavy with all the mascara I was sporting, my lips slick with gloss. Charlie had straightened my hair to within an inch of its life. The glossy dark brown strands falling against my face looked like they belonged to someone else. I felt like an impostor in my own body.

  “Honor, I thought tonight was supposed to be about busting out, taking chances.”

  “It was,” I said. This night had a lot riding on it. “It is…but you know how I get nervous in strange, new places.”

  Charlie nodded, fluttering her lashes at a rocker-type who’d been surreptitiously eyeing her since we’d arrived almost an hour ago. Jet black hair, brooding expression, beer in one hand, acoustic guitar in the other, he was staring at Charlie like he was starving. For her. But he hadn’t come over yet, which was enough to pique her interest.

  “Seriously, Charlie? Not another musician,” I said.

  “See how he’s pretending like he hasn’t noticed me?” She tilted her head. “That’s so cute.”

  “Didn’t you get enough self-absorbed, gloomy poetry from the last guy?”

  She smiled as Rocker Guy finally rose to cross the room. “The last one was lead singer,” she said. “This one might actually be good with his hands.”

  I groaned.

  “And what do you care anyway? I thought you were here for one reason and one reason only. You should be over there getting cozy with Baylor O’Brien, not here salting my game.”

  True enough. O’Brien was the sole reason I had come tonight. After hearing so many stories about the legendary playboy—and his many, many conquests—I figured he was the one guy guaranteed to solve my little issue.

  If only I could work up the lady balls to approach him.

  As if she’d read my mind, Charlie said, “Just take him by the hand, lead him upstairs, and say: I’m a twenty-one-year-old virgin, and I need you to have sex with me. Immediately.”

  Good grief.

  Eyes wide, voice low, I said, “Charlie, not everyone here needs to know about The Plan. Try to keep it down, okay?”

  Pushing her long dirty blonde hair over one shoulder, Charlie laughed. “He’s a sure thing, honey. Baylor O’Brien is God’s walking, talking gift to women. Far as I know, he never says no and always leaves his partners more than satisfied.”

  This wasn’t news. It was exactly why I’d chosen him. “That’s what Anna in my Stats class said. And Clara in Business Accounting…and Jeanette.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” she said. “He’s hot, easy, and I know you’re packing protection. You’ve still got the condom I gave you, right?”

  I nodded, very aware of the little foil packet currently in the confines of my modest B cup. The edges bit into my skin. Like Hester Prynne and her scarlet letter, I had a Trojan horse stamped on my left breast. With the ridiculously tiny dress, there was no other place for it.

  “And for God’s sake, are you ever going to take that coat off? It’s like a hundred degrees in here.”

  “I will in a minute,” I mumbled.

  “You said that forty minutes ago.”

  I had. “Well, I’m working up to it.”

  “You said that, too.” Charlie sighed—then shot a smile at Rocker Guy who’d finally reached us.

  “Hey,” he said in a gravelly smoker’s voice. “I’m Vayne.”

  Figures, I thought.

  “Hey yourself,” Charlie said, “I thought you were just gonna stare at me all night and never come over.”

  “Well, you’re so beautiful for a second I thought this might be a dream.”

  “Cute,” she said, reaching for his beer. “May I?”

  “Sure thing,
sugar.” Vayne grinned. “What’s mine is yours.”

  She smiled at him, slowly running the edge of the bottle against her lips. “Thanks.”

  Vayne followed the movement, eyes entranced as she took a small sip.

  “And it’s Charlie, not sugar.”

  He was so awestruck he didn’t notice her slight frown, how her eyes suddenly lost interest. But I did. I’d seen it too many times to count. Vayne/Rocker Guy didn’t have a chance with my best friend now. He’d made it too easy. Shaking my head, I had to give it to her. Charlie was a master at this whole seduction thing. Too bad I wasn’t more like her. If so, I might never have been in this situation.

  Shifting her eyes to me, she said, “Honor, are you sure you still want to do this?”

  “Do what?” Vayne said, but we both ignored him.

  “Because if not, that’s totally cool,” she added.

  “I’m sure,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. The Plan had been my idea, after all, and I did want this.

  “Then take off the coat. I’m not going to ask you again.”

  “It’s actually kind of cold in here,” I said, faking a shiver. “I think I’ll just wait another—”

  “21 years?” she finished. “Sorry, don’t think so.”

  “Charlie!” I shrieked as she directed a small spray of beer my way. I scrambled out of the coat, holding my book out, checking it frantically for damage. “What the heck was that for?”

  “Just giving you a jump start.”

  The book was safe, thank God, but the coat was a lost cause. Did beer stain? I wondered, watching the liquid drip to the floor, glad it hadn’t gotten on my skin. It was only a small amount. I’d admittedly over-reacted because of my beloved book. But the smell was awful, and I still didn’t understand why people drank it. “What do you mean jump start?”

  Charlie shrugged as I shot her a glare. “You now have the attention of every guy in here, including the O’Briens.”

  “Huh?”

  It wasn’t until that moment I realized two things: Charlie was right. Everyone in the living room had stopped what they were doing to stare at the crazy, flailing girl in the corner. And if that wasn’t horrifying enough, without the protection of my outer layer, I was now completely exposed. The red mini dress Charlie had convinced me to wear wouldn’t quite reach mid-thigh no matter how much I tugged. The V in front seemed a lot more risqué than it had in my bedroom, and I still wasn’t convinced that high heels weren’t torture devices. I tucked my hair behind my ear. Why couldn’t they just look away already?

  “Smile, dammit,” Charlie muttered.

  I forced a smile while adjusting the much-too-short dress.

  “And stop fidgeting. They’re staring because they like what they see.”

  “Really?” I asked, taking in the faces again.

  Even if their last name hadn’t been written across the back of their jerseys, Charlie had taught me how to spot an O’Brien. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, dark-golden-brown hair and the most unusual, piercing gray eyes. They were all man, and their pure masculinity made any female glad to be a woman.

  Actually Charlie’s exact words were, “They’re hot as hell. One look and you’ll go up in flames.”

  Having four pairs of those gray eyes on me was unsettling.

  I didn’t know which one of these guys was Baylor—and that was a problem. I mean, how was I supposed to offer up my V-card if I couldn’t tell one O’Brien from another? They were all “hot as hell” in their own way.

  The first brother I noticed was leaned back against the fireplace, flicking his lighter open then closed, a curl to his lips as he watched me. Or actually, that could’ve been from the scar. As I watched, he flipped that lighter again, the flame highlighting a scar that ran from his temple to the corner of his lower lip, pulling it up just slightly. I knew in my head the imperfection should make him less attractive.

  It didn’t.

  Hair close-cropped to his scalp, silver earrings and a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his jersey completed the whole bad boy image. He lifted a brow, his grin turning a bit wicked, and I swallowed. Nope. I was so not ready for that. Unable to hold his gaze a second longer, I looked away…

  …and immediately caught sight of another O’Brien.

  This one was sitting in a recliner off to the side. He wasn’t any less attractive, but he was a whole heck of a lot less intimidating. Maybe it was the clean-cut, all-American look—fresh face and windblown hair—that contrasted so greatly with his brother’s. It could’ve been the small smile he flashed me, as if to say, “Hey, it’s alright. Everyone gets a beer to the chest at some point.” It was probably the book resting in his lap. Yeah, I thought, definitely the book. I returned his smile instantly recognizing a kindred spirit, a fellow bookworm.

  God, I hoped this was Baylor.

  A flush stained his cheeks, and he quickly lowered his gaze. I frowned. Nothing I’d heard about Baylor “Take-Me-to-the-Bedroom” O’Brien made me think he’d blush at…well anything let alone a little smile. Come to think of it, no one had mentioned a scar either.

  A sudden feeling drew my attention to the other side of the room. I couldn’t really explain it. It was hot like electricity, something magnetic. My eyes searched for the source of that strange pull—and clashed with gray.

  My breath caught.

  It was like looking into the heart of a storm, intense, powerful. I hadn’t gone up in flames for any of the others, but this guy… Well, this O’Brien who was staring at me—devouring me—with those unusual gray eyes, wearing a frown like he never smiled, a stare so focused I thought he might be memorizing every move I made? Or reading my mind?

  “Wow,” I said, voice nothing but a shaky exhale.

  This guy caused a slow burn inside me. I wanted to run. Either to him or away, I wasn’t sure. But as his eyes traveled the length of my body, all the way down to my shoes, and back up again to meet my gaze, everything inside me turned to wildfire. I licked my lips, thighs clenching together instinctively.

  His frown deepened, jaw tight.

  And that made him seem even sexier.

  Dangerous, my mind whispered, ignoring my tingling girly bits.

  This brother could not be the one, I decided, hoped really. Anyone who made me feel this out of control was out of the question. I wanted one wild night. I wanted passion and heat, something to remember. What I didn’t want was someone who would ruin me for all other men.

  And this guy could.

  I knew it just by looking at him.

  That was why I broke the connection, looked away, as a hand landed on his broad shoulder. Following that arm up to its owner, the first thing I saw was a playful grin. I remembered this O’Brien because he’d done a keg stand minutes ago that had everyone cheering. He was a dead ringer for the bookworm. They could’ve been twins, probably were, one good and one devious. Two girls were plastered to his sides, but I couldn’t care less. I was trying too hard not to look at his scowling brother. Shooting me a wink, he leaned down to whisper something—which made the other man stiffen, ripping his eyes off of me.

  “Looks like you’re approved.”

  Glancing at Charlie, I said, “Approved?”

  She smiled. “At this point, you could have your pick of the O’Briens in the house. Told you that dress was a knockout.”

  “You did.”

  “Well?”

  I gulped. “Well what?”

  Charlie rolled her eyes as Vayne tried to put an arm around her. “We didn’t come here just to look at the scenery, Honor. You remember the plan?”

  I nodded, but my head would not shut up. Was I really ready for this?

  “You remember everything we practiced?”

  Another nod, but Charlie seemed to pick up on my mood. Shaking Vayne off, she stood in front of me, looking straight into my eyes, hands on hips.

  “Tell me the three S’s.”

  “Charlie—”

  “Co
me on, Honor, I gave you all my best tips,” she said. “Now let’s go: What are you?”

  “Sexy, smoldering, seductive,” I muttered.

  “Damn right.” Charlie nodded. “And what’s our mantra?”

  I repeated the words she’d said to me tonight as we were getting ready. “All good girls need to experience a bad boy once in their lives.”

  “And do you want that experience?”

  “Yes,” I said with more conviction.

  “Do you want it with a guy who we have on good authority is a great lover? One who never gets attached? One who is sure to leave you more than satisfied?”

  “Hell yes,” I breathed.

  She gestured to the two brothers standing by the staircase. “Then get your butt over there and introduce yourself to Baylor.”

  The thought had me shaking in my high heels. So, it wasn’t the scarred one or the bookworm. Don’t let it be the one with the sexy frown. Don’t let it be him. Not him, not him, not him. I crossed my fingers before asking the question I feared but knew had to be asked.

  “Which one is he?” I said.

  Charlie gave me a vaguely pitying look. “The hot one, honey.”

  I shook my head. “They’re all hot.”

  “True, true,” she said then glanced back over to the brothers. “He’s the one with the vodka. Now go have some fun, Honor. That’s what this is, wild, sexy, impulsive.” She lowered her voice. “And make sure he gives you at least one absolutely mind-blowing orgasm.”

  “That’s just wrong.” I shook my head.

  “You’re right,” Charlie added. “With his rep, he should at least give you two.”

  I laughed despite myself, glancing back over my shoulder just in time to see some girl yell, “Baylor!” before suctioning her lips to the O’Brien who’d been frowning at me from across the room. My blood stilled as I noticed the half-empty vodka bottle in his hand.

  Oh goodness.

  Pushing the girl away, he said one last thing to his grinning brother, who just shook his head, then began to make his way up the stairs.

  On the third step, he glanced back, his gaze unerringly finding mine. The heat, the pull, it was all still there. But now, he was the first to look away, continuing his trek up the stairs and to what I assumed was his dorm room.