One Wild Night Read online
Cover design by Mollie Wilson at M J Wilson Design. Mollie, thank you for making the stupid, vague and totally unhelpful idea I had look totally amazing!
Thank you to my amazing editors – Emily from Ruston Hutton, and Kristin and Becky at Hot Tree Editing.
For no other reason other than she was beautiful, smart, strong, and loved the occasional F-bomb, I dedicate this one to my Auntie Pauline who sadly passed away this year.
Rest In Peace, Auntie, and know that you’ll be missed and never forgotten. xx
All of my author proceeds and profits from the sale of this ebook will be donated to MacMillan Nurses for the wonderful work that they do.
[Registered charity number 261017]
I really couldn’t procrastinate any longer. After taking one last look at my girl, I forced myself to walk out of the front door and down the stairs to the lobby. Tonight was my bachelor party, but I wasn’t ready for it at all. If I was honest, all I really wanted to do tonight was lie on the sofa with my fiancée, Rosie, and watch TV, maybe catch a little early night so I could ravage her body. However, my best friend, Ashton Taylor, had decided I needed to go out and celebrate my last night of freedom.
As I stood in the lobby waiting for him to arrive, a bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea where we were going or what we were going to be doing tonight – all I knew was that when Ashton had gotten married a few years back, I had taken my best man duties seriously, and of course had teased the shit out of him all night long. Tonight was probably going to be payback.
As the front door swung open and Ashton strutted in with a shit-eating grin on his face, I groaned loudly. He was wearing a black T-shirt that read: ‘Best man of the pussy-whipped party’ on the front.
“You ready for this, Nate?” he asked.
“Seriously? You’re wearing that?” I asked, pointing down at his chest.
He laughed and nodded, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “This is going to be one wild night, but don’t worry; I’ll get you so drunk you won’t even remember it in the morning,” he assured me, leading me out of the building
I sighed deeply. I had a feeling I was going to live to regret ever meeting him by the time morning came. This was probably going to be the most painfully embarrassing night of my twenty-five years of life.
When I stepped out of the door, I already wanted to cry. They were all standing there, all of my friends, waiting for me in front of the minibus we were obviously using tonight. They cheered and chinked beer bottles, grinning like morons even though it was barely past lunchtime. All of my friends were decked out in T-shirts like Ashton’s, but instead, theirs read: ‘Team member of the pussy-whipped party’ on it. My dad, Evan, was there, too; his said ‘I’m the daddy’. Even George, my soon-to-be father-in-law, wore one that said ‘Father of the bride’ on the front.
Something flew towards my face, so I caught it quickly, looking down at my own T-shirt. ‘Groom’ had been printed on the front, but they’d crossed it out and written ‘Bride’s Bitch’ there instead. I flipped it over and looked at the back. ‘It’s my last night being single, please spank me’.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I hate you guys,” I grumbled, but my meagre protests just made them cheer and chink their bottles again.
“Let the bacheloring begin!” Ashton enthused, grinning.
I sighed and decided just to go with it. I knew I was in for strippers, drinking, probably some embarrassing display of being tied up naked somewhere, and whatever else could come out of Ashton Taylor’s warped little mind.
My friends all started piling on the minibus, and my gaze settled on the large sign that had been hand-painted onto an old bed sheet and stuck to the side of the bus. “Son of a bitch,” I grumbled under my breath, following reluctantly behind them all and climbing on the bus. As I stripped out of my nice shirt I’d chosen for tonight and pulled on the party shirt instead, I smiled apologetically at the driver who had obviously been paid to ferry us around all night long. No doubt, he would see some embarrassing antics tonight before he dropped us all home.
I glanced down the bus, seeing everyone properly for the first time. On top of there being my best friend, dad and soon to be father-in-law, there was also eight other guys. All of whom I was close friends with; one of them I knew from work.
My eyes settled on Seth; he was grinning like an idiot. “I’m guessing you were the one who made the huge ‘pussy mobile’ sign on the side of the van?” I asked, raising one eyebrow at him. Out of all of my friends, he was the one who was most similar to what I used to be before I met Rosie and settled down. He was a player. He was the only one who didn’t understand my desire to marry the girl of my dreams. To Seth, getting married was like the death penalty.
He grinned and raised his beer bottle to me in toast. “You guessed right.”
Nodding, I looked around and immediately spotted a case full of beer on the front seats, along with various other bottles of alcohol and a couple of duffle bags. My curiosity spiked immediately. Part of me wanted to know what was in the bags; the other part, the more rational part, told me I needed to be drunk before I found out.
I plucked out a beer and popped the cap, raising it in cheers to the group who were watching me excitedly. “To getting married,” I toasted.
“To the last fling before the ring,” Seth countered, raising his bottle, too.
I rolled my eyes and George, Rosie’s dad, cleared his throat, raising a warning eyebrow.
I smiled back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, George, the only sex I’m having tonight will be some phone sex with your daughter later,” I joked, winking at him, which just made him groan and shake his head in disapproval.
I plopped down in the seat next to Ashton. He grinned and tapped his bottle against mine. “To getting so hammered that we have no recollection of this in the morning,” he said, grinning wickedly and sipping his beer.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what I had let myself in for with these guys. Was getting married really worth this afternoon and night of torture? Rosie’s face popped into my head, and the face of her little four-year-old son, DJ. They sure as hell were worth all this torture, worth a lot more, too. I’d literally already walked through fire for them, so this little night out would seem like a walk in the park compared to that. I laughed despite myself when everyone in the minibus – including the driver – started to sing, ‘I’m getting married in the morning’.
By the time we pulled up at our desired destination, I was already onto my second beer and my nerves were starting to dissipate. I’d decided to roll with it; they could do their worst to me, so long as I made it to the church for 1 p.m. the following day. I was only planning to go through this whole wedding thing once anyway, so at least this night of celebrating would be a one-off.
As we pulled into the parking lot, George stood up and gasped. “I thought this was a joke! I thought when you suggested this, you were just fooling around!” he practically shouted as the colour drained from his face.
Confused, I turned to look at where we were. An airfield. Panic made me jerk in my seat. “Please tell me we’re staying in this country. If I’m late tomorrow, then Rosie’s gonna have my balls! Well, actually, she wouldn’t have my balls, and that would be worse,” I joked, looking at Ashton pleadingly.
He grinned and patted my knee. “We’re staying in this country, just maybe a little higher than usual,” he confirmed, wagglin