Sweethand Page 2

  She blinked at Ava. “What?”

  Ava grinned. “You know, I just realized, this is the first time in a long while you’ve both been on the island at the same time.”

  “This isn’t funny. You can’t.”

  “It’s my wedding, and I can do what I want to,” she sang.

  Cherisse wanted to scream. Ava wasn’t doing this out of malice and probably had a good reason for the joint party, but the combined event meant she had to work with Keiran to plan and pull it off. She envisioned this ending with her conking him over the head with a rolling pin or something. No good could come of this.

  “Oh!” Ava’s grin turned mischievous. Cherisse braced for more news she wasn’t going to like. “Mummy’s in matchmaker mode, just FYI. She’s evaluating all the eligible bachelors here and definitely made one of her pros and cons lists in her head. Avoid her if you can.”

  Oh no, things could get worse. Her mother acted as if Cherisse being single was a personal offense to her. She and a handful of her aunts were always bringing it up in casual conversation. Cherisse wrinkled her nose. “She didn’t put Keiran on that list, did she?”

  Ava laughed. “Unlikely. You know she thinks he’s bad news. He may be the only single man here not included on her list.”

  Bad news, indeed. Cherisse had been around enough music industry guys and had even dated one to believe that. There were also tons of rumors swirling around about Keiran. Cherisse wouldn’t put any of those things past him. Being with Sean had brought her into his circle, and she’d seen and heard some shit and had foolishly thought her ex was different. She still frequented those circles sometimes because of clients, but she tended to stay clear of any advances from the men. Been there, done that, had the emotional scars to show for it. Do not repeat was her mantra where men in that industry were concerned.

  “How do you know he’s single?”

  Ava’s smile was enigmatic. “I know things.” But it was obvious she’d know from Eric. Cherisse didn’t give a damn about Keiran’s love life but thank God for small mercies. Her mother would never dream to put Keiran on her radar.

  Although she wasn’t certain, which was worse: knowing she’d be seeing way too much of Keiran, or that her mother had now made it her mission to set her up with a bunch of men.

  Fuck her life.

  Chapter 2

  Keiran

  “THIS IS REALLY DELICIOUS. You should try it.”

  Keiran ignored his sister. She’d been pushing the cupcakes on him since Remi had announced they were available for devouring. Clearly, their twin connection was broken because Maxine should sense that Keiran wanted no part of the damn cupcakes. Guests scarfed the treats down like they were the last bit of dessert left in the world. He’d refused, for the simple reason that it annoyed Cherisse. He’d felt her eyes on him as he snubbed the cakes.

  He continued to amuse himself by remembering how Cherisse had lost her cool earlier. The perfectly put-together Sugar Queen unraveling right before his eyes was satisfying. Petty of him, but hilarious, all the same. Keiran hadn’t set out to tease to the point of that explosion, but her displeasure over him being the best man had annoyed him more than he’d let on.

  She couldn’t know that he’d also expressed shock over Eric choosing him, sure that Scott would be the better choice. Keiran didn’t know the first thing about being a best man, having never been one before. Could he do a man of Eric’s status justice when it came to something like this? Scott was used to rubbing elbows with the island’s old-money types, Keiran not so much. Sure, Keiran produced music for some big-name local artistes, but their type of money certainly wasn’t at the same level as Eric’s family.

  Not that Eric ever made his wealth an issue, but Cherisse’s casual disapproval had irked.

  “Nah, I’ll pass,” he finally replied, knowing his refusal to eat her dessert would aggravate Cherisse further.

  Maxine rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He glanced over to where Cherisse chatted with Tyler Gray, who was decked out in a navy jacket thrown over what appeared to be a white t-shirt. He didn’t know Tyler well, only that Tyler’s father was a close acquaintance of Eric’s family and that Eric claimed the man was boring as hell. Pretentious, too. Keiran frowned down at Tyler’s bare ankles, exposed by the rolled-up hem of his pants. Was that the kind of guy Cherisse went for? One who didn’t even bother with socks?

  Cherisse had Tyler’s attention as he nodded in agreement while her hands moved around. Her gestures made her crop top ride up ever so slightly to reveal a sliver of her torso. So, it wasn’t really a whole dress, as he’d thought initially, but two pieces. Fashion was strange. What was the point of wearing a two-piece thing to look like a dress when you could just wear a whole dress? He’d have to ask Scott about that some time. His best friend had his pulse on all things fashion. Scott kept trying to get Keiran to “take risks” with his style, whatever that meant.

  Scott knew how to pull together an outfit and always looked like he’d stepped off a runway. It was probably a skill all models learned. Keiran figured he’d just fall into the “trying too hard and failing” category if he ever decided to go for something new, so he stuck with his laid-back, casual digs.

  “What’s the point of having money if you dress like that?”

  Maxine popped another sugary treat in her mouth. The damn things couldn’t possibly be that good. “When you got that kind of money, you can walk around in a trash bag and call it fashion.”

  “Seems so. She’s probably boring him to death about batter and cake pans,” he mumbled, unsure why he would possibly care either way. “Match made in snoozefest heaven, I guess.”

  Maxine raised a brow. “You sound personally offended. Why’s that?”

  “I’m not.”

  Maxine didn’t look convinced but didn’t push the issue. “I think Mrs. Gooding is playing matchmaker. She’s been casually striking up conversations with a bunch of dudes who she then casually introduces to Cherisse.”

  Sure enough, Mrs. Gooding was standing, not too far away from Cherisse, talking to a young man dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, and not so subtly gesturing at Cherisse, who, in between focusing on Tyler, kept tossing frowns her mother’s way. Her smile looked strained even from over here. How interesting.

  “You may be right,” he admitted.

  Maxine hooked her arm in his. “I need to hear this conversation.”

  Keiran let himself be dragged over. Curiosity got the better of him, and Cherisse’s narrowed eyes as she spotted them coming over were sure to make for an entertaining time.

  “Hey, girl. Long time, no see,” Maxine said cheerfully.

  Keiran noticed Cherisse’s fingers tighten around her wine glass, but she returned Maxine’s smile. “Hi, yes, it’s been, what, about eight...nine years?”

  “Yeah, about that. Good to be back home.” Maxine had returned to the island late last year with his niece, Leah. “Sorry to interrupt your talk.” Maxine looked the furthest thing from sorry, lips curved up in her trademark grin. “But I had to tell you, Cherisse, those cakes. Damn, girl, so good.”

  Cherisse shot Keiran a triumphant smile. “Thanks.”

  “I tried to get this one to taste, but he refused.”

  Oh, now Maxine was just stoking the fire.

  Cherisse shrugged. “Well, he’s obviously the inferior twin, and his loss, really.”

  “They are quite good,” Tyler spoke up. “Hmm, I’ll need to research the dessert offerings wherever we go on our date. I’ll need to find something that matches up to a woman of your skill.”

  “Date?” Cherisse looked absolutely horrified at the idea but quickly covered up her less-than-stellar expression with a tentative smile.

  Keiran suppressed a chuckle. Tyler and Cherisse, on a date? Now there was something he couldn’t wrap his mind around but would pay good money to witness. Cherisse gave off that I’m better than you air; she was social, outgoing. He’d s
een enough of her social media feeds and the pics from entertainment sites to know she frequented band launches, fetes, and other party-type events. Those sites treated her like some kind of local celeb. He supposed when you dated a popular soca star, it was to be expected; you ended up mingling with those in the local music scene and got to keep that semi-celeb status even if the relationship had imploded. And man, had it blown up in a big public way.

  Tyler was known for turning up his nose at the local party scene, so the two of them going out together just wasn’t something Keiran could picture. What would they even talk about?

  “Your mother said you were on board?”

  “No,” Cherisse said, mouth set in a tight line. She tossed back the rest of her wine, earning a raised brow from Tyler and a cough that was clearly an aborted laugh from Maxine. “I mean, this is the first time we’ve spoken. It’s a little premature to assume a date’s a done deal, isn’t it?”

  Keiran hadn’t expected to have this much fun at the engagement party, but he was enjoying himself immensely. “I think you should save yourself and take the out she’s giving you, Tyler.”

  “And I think no one cares what the f—” Cherisse’s words died away as Remi sauntered over and placed a hand on her friend’s arm.

  “Hey, sorry, I just need to borrow Cherry real quick,” she said, dragging Cherisse away until they stood in front of some fancy white wrought iron benches. Remi appeared to be lecturing Cherisse. Cherisse’s arms were folded, body language screaming defiance. She didn’t seem to like whatever Remi was saying and kept shooting daggers his way. He couldn’t resist; he gave a little finger wave that had her jerking her eyes back to Remi, who shook her head and looked to the sky as if asking for patience.

  “Why the heck are you so willing to go on a date with her anyway?” Keiran asked.

  “Her mother seemed to think we’d be compatible.” Tyler rubbed his annoyingly square jaw.

  “Dude, you being serious right now?” What sort of reason was that? He couldn’t begin to gauge what Mrs. Gooding was basing this supposed compatibility on, but at the very least, Tyler should want to date Cherisse for more than that. They were both good-looking people, not that Tyler was Keiran’s type. Cherisse, however...

  He’d snuck looks at her in her shorty shorts lots of times when they’d been teens.

  He remembered her scowling at him from behind her gate whenever he cycled by with Scott, who always threw a big wave and smile her way. Somehow, she’d become friends with Scott, who didn’t even live in the area but visited Keiran for sleepovers and football games in the savannah so much it was like he was an honorary part of the community. He’d spent a lot of time at Keiran’s when their school closed for holidays. Scott’s step-dad had made his home life hell, so Keiran’d been happy to offer up a little haven for his friend. But then, Scott and Cherisse had gotten friendly. Keiran, however? Not at all. Their blood didn’t take to each other.

  But he’d still checked her out. His entire guys’ crew gaped at Cherisse and Ava when they’d moved into the area. Even living two streets away at the time, word had reached him about the sisters.

  Cherisse had all that wavy hair that, if asked, he’d say was brown, just brown, but that would be a damn lie. In the sun, her hair was a riot of browns, reds, and golds. The red was new. He remembered back when she wore her hair natural, how it had gone from kind of curly when still sort of wet and then poofed up into this fro that glinted golden in the sun when fully dry. Like a halo, except to him, Cherisse had been no angel. Did angels glare at people the way she had at him?

  Her eyes were golden-brown, ringed with a darker brown that oddly enough reminded him of a tiger’s eye stone he’d found once. Her lush mouth with its fuller bottom lip was reason enough too. If Tyler said he was eager to date Cherisse because he found her attractive, now that would make sense.

  “Her mother thinking you’re both a good match shouldn’t be the only reason.” Keiran risked another look over at Cherisse and Remi. They sat side by side on the bench, Cherisse’s skirt rucked up to a little above her knees, and Keiran’s traitorous eyes drank in her legs.

  There was another reason, too. Her calves, fleshier now than back when they were teens, made Keiran wonder about her thighs. Were they fleshy too? Soft to the touch?

  Whoa. Pump those brakes, buddy.

  “She seems nice.” Tyler’s words brought Keiran back to the conversation at hand, dragged him away from wayward thoughts of possibly soft thighs.

  “Nice?” he scoffed. “Cherisse Gooding isn’t nice.” Nice didn’t mean a damn thing. The word was just too bland to describe Cherisse. She wasn’t nice; she was a nuisance.

  “Everyone says she’s nice,” Tyler insisted.

  “Okay, buddy, whatever you say.” Arguing with this guy was pointless. Cherisse had maintained a squeaky-clean reputation. Well, except for that major public meltdown she’d had last year, which in Keiran’s opinion had been warranted.

  And now it was like she was trying to over-compensate for that one less-than-perfect moment. Seemed exhausting to keep up a front like that all the time. But she was in the public eye more than he was. An intentional move on his part—all that attention made him squirmy—and yet, people still made shit up about him. He didn’t have the time or desire to keep crafting statements to address any of them, so he ignored it all.

  His music was his focus. Anything else was an annoyance that didn’t warrant his attention.

  Before he could protest further about Cherisse’s supposed niceness, she came back, all traces of her anger gone, replaced by a smile so radiant it almost knocked Keiran back a couple of steps. Aimed in Tyler’s direction, he got the full brunt of it. Tyler didn’t look the least bit affected.

  Cherisse waved her phone at Tyler. “Your number, please. So we can settle on date, time, et cetera.”

  This was really happening. Keiran struggled not to let his mouth drop open as Tyler complied, typing his number into Cherisse’s phone. Her phone case had tiny cupcakes and donuts prints all over it. Of fucking course it did.

  “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled.

  “You pronounced hilarious wrong,” Maxine countered.

  “See you soon.” Cherisse flashed another of her blinding smiles at Tyler, waved at Maxine, and ignored him completely as she headed back to where Remi was still sitting on the bench. She’d barely gone two steps before a voice rang out.

  “Hey, Cherry!”

  She turned just as a body barreled past Keiran to wrap Cherisse in a big feet-off-the-ground swinging-her-around hug.

  “Scott, oh my God!” Cherisse giggled. Keiran scowled as his best friend finally let Cherisse’s feet touch the ground.

  “You’re wearing the hell out of that outfit, I gotta say.”

  Cherisse held the ends of her skirt out and struck a pose. “Well, I try to be as fashionable as you sometimes.”

  Ugh. Keiran couldn’t believe this. Even Scott was fawning over Cherisse. Wasn’t it common courtesy to greet your best friend first or something? Scott had almost bulldozed Keiran out of the way to get to Cherisse. He wasn’t having any of that. He also needed to get away from Maxine’s annoying snickering. She wasn’t even trying to cover that shit up this time.

  “Oh man, I missed home,” she wheezed.

  A hand landed on Keiran’s shoulder, stopping him from stomping over there to reclaim his best friend. He flicked a glance at Eric. “They tend to have that effect on people.” Eric sounded amused, too. “Nothing’s changed, I see. You two are still like oil and water.”

  Keiran folded his arms. “Why’d you have to go fall for her sister anyhow? The island’s small, but not that small, man.”

  “Love knows no rhyme or reason.”

  Keiran scowled at his grinning friend. “That makes no sense.”

  “Love makes no sense sometimes, but you roll with it when it’s the right for you person.”

  “You’ll be insufferable these next few months, won’t you?�
� Keiran didn’t know if he could deal with this extra moony-eyed version of Eric.

  “Having second thoughts about this best man gig? I’m sure Scott’ll fill in for ya.”

  “No.” He wasn’t about to give Cherisse the satisfaction of thinking she’d run him off. Plus, he was honored Eric had chosen him, even if it meant having to plan the joint party with Cherisse, which he’d protested when he’d found out. A lot of good that did—but he was going to run with it and be the best at it. He’d already started making plans for the epic gift he wanted to give the bride and groom. Now that he knew Cherisse was the maid of honor, he was determined to top whatever gift she had planned. It wasn’t a competition, but Keiran would be damned if he was shown up.

  “‘Sup, guys?” Scott greeted as he strolled over.

  Scott “don’t call me Scotty, only I can refer to myself as such” Trim was all long, lean limbs, rich umber skin that was enviably smooth, ridiculously high cheekbones, and dark eyes framed by the longest damn lashes that he’d gotten hated on for back in secondary school. His tight black curls were trimmed low, the sides shaved down. Even with the pointy ears that Scott hated, he was ridiculously attractive. Keiran’s teenage crush on Scott had blindsided him, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d gotten over it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t silently appreciate the chiseled work of art that was Scott’s face.

  He’d never seen Scott take a bad photo, ever. No matter the situation—awful fluorescent light included—Scott made everyone around him look like a potato left out too long. It surprised no one that Scott had done modeling in his teen years. He only did it sometimes these days, occasionally sending people into a frenzy by showing off his well-sculpted chest in carnival costumes for band launches, preferring to focus more on his role as Creative Director of his own company. He dabbled in fashion and beauty editing, too, also doing the makeup artist gig on the side. Keiran didn’t know how Scott juggled all these professional hats or when the hell he got to sleep.