She didn’t remember putting her phone on charge last night. Actually, she didn’t remember a lot of anything after arriving here. She’d been exhausted. All she’d concentrated on was doing what Butch had told her.
That had been sexy as hell. She’d always had fantasies about submitting in the bedroom, but had never thought she’d act on them. And she’d never thought about having someone take charge in day-to-day life.
But it had been a godsend last night. She’d been able to let go of all her worries and just follow his direction. She hadn’t worried about whether she was doing the right thing. About whether she was inconveniencing anyone.
Her mind had felt so empty, like she could just relax.
But that was a brief reprieve. She couldn’t ask Butch to constantly do that for her.
More’s the pity.
Not like he’d want the responsibility. But what he’d done for her by coming to the motel, and bringing her home with him, and taking care of her . . . it was something she’d never forget.
Her phone rang again, making her groan as she saw her mom’s name on the screen. Shoot. It was just after seven in the morning.
“Mom?” she asked.
“Where are you, Lara? I’ve been calling you for the last half an hour. We’re about to go for our champagne breakfast, and you’re not here.”
Ahh, screw it.
Yeah, she’d forgotten all about that.
“Sorry, Mom, there was a break-in at the motel last night, and I didn’t get to bed until late.”
“You should have set an alarm on your phone, Lara!”
Okay.
She isn’t even going to ask what had happened? Whether I’m all right?
Then again . . . it was Emily’s wedding day. Lara had to make allowances. Her mom was probably running around doing a zillion things.
“Sorry, Mom. I’ll meet you at the hotel later. What time do I need to be there?”
“You were supposed to be here now. But I suppose it doesn’t matter that you miss breakfast. My stomach is too tied in knots to eat anything anyway. Yours is probably the same. So much to do. So much excitement. Your sister will look so lovely.”
Right. Well. The last thing she wanted to do was sit here and listen to how beautiful her sister would be.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Please make sure you are, Lara. The last thing I need is more stress.”
“Sorry, Mom. Bye.”
She closed her eyes with a groan just as someone opened the door to her bedroom. She let out a small screech as Tanner appeared.
His face lit up.
“Lara! You’re here. Yay! Someone else to play strip poker with.”
“What?” she asked as he raced in and threw himself onto her bed.
“Strip poker. You know how to play poker, right?”
“Nope, no idea,” she lied.
His grin widened. “Excellent.” He rolled onto his side, showing off his bare stomach. He wasn’t as muscular as Butch, but he was still well-defined.
“Um, why aren’t you wearing a top?” she asked.
“I think the question should be, why are you?”
“What? I’m not taking my top off.”
“Shame. It would make things more interesting.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And you should be grateful I’m wearing pants. I normally walk around here naked.”
Heat filled her cheeks. He had to be joking, right?
“Tanner, what are you doing in here?”
She glanced up to see another gorgeous man standing in the doorway. Was it something in the water here? Or was it just the Malone men? Were they all this gorgeous?
The guy she was guessing was Raid, scowled at Tanner. “Butch is going to kill you.”
“For what? I’m merely talking to our guest. Me and Lara, we’ve got a connection. I saved her life.”
“That’s true, he did,” she said, backing Tanner up.
“What’s going on? Raid, what are you doing there? Let me pass. Lara?”
Raid stepped forward so Butch could get in. He was carrying a tray of food and what she hoped was coffee. She sat up straight in surprise. She’d never had a man bring her breakfast in bed before.
“Tanner! What the fuck are you doing? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Butch snapped.
“Like I said . . . you all should be grateful I put pants on. I don’t usually.”
“We’ve lived with you for years,” Raid said dryly. “We know. And yes, we appreciate it. We’ve all seen enough of little Tanner to ensure we need a lifetime of therapy.”
“Hey, no calling him little.” He stared at her. “He’s definitely not little.”
She really didn’t need to know that . . . she was sure she never wanted to see little Tanner.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Tanner.” Butch set the tray of food on the nightstand.
“Why not? Lara and I are besties, aren’t we, darlin’?”
“I . . . um . . .” She had no idea what to say. If she said they weren’t besties, she’d hurt Tanner’s feelings. But if she said she was . . . would Butch be mad?