CHAPTER 3
Everly
“Don’t be nervous,” Jackson Connolly, one of my brother’s best friends, says to me as we pull up to the palatial house of Vanessa and Christian Taylor.
“Easy for you to say. This is my first business meeting.”
“It’s a casual barbecue where business may be spoken about,” Jackson reminds me.
I wish my brother Charlie was here. He would help ease my nerves, but no, he’s away on a romantic weekend with his partner. Damn him and being in love.
“Yeah, at one of the biggest rock stars in the world’s home,” I add. The teenage fangirl inside me is giving me butterflies.
He chuckles. “You know who my brother is?”
“Yes. I know Finn Connolly is your brother now.” I huff.
My brother, Charlie, met Jackson in recruit school. We had no idea at the time that his brother was a rock god, not until we ran into his family at the hospital after their accident. We were already in shock finding out Charlie and Jackson’s patrol had been hit by an IED and were being rushed to Germany for medical treatment. You can only imagine rushing into the hospital, hoping your brother is okay, and running right into your celebrity crush. It was surreal, confusing, and surprising.
Thankfully, they made it, but many didn’t in their unit. Jackson had damage to his leg from the shrapnel, which left scarring, but it’s been years since the accident, and the limp he once had is almost gone.
Charlie, unfortunately, lost his leg in the accident when it was crushed as the Humvee flipped over. It’s taken a long time for Charlie to recover from the accident. He suffered severely from post-traumatic stress disorder, and we thought there was a time when we might lose him again. It’s been years of extensive therapy, which was hard for him to accept.
The turning point for my brother wasn’t until they lost one of their friends who survived the accident but took his life when he came home. He didn’t want to be another statistic of a returned vet.
Jackson reached out once Charlie was in a better headspace and asked him to come work for his security company in Los Angeles. After being medically discharged from the military, Jackson began his own security firm specializing in hiring ex-vets and helping them return to civilian life, especially those who were medically discharged, who lost their brotherhood and purpose.
It’s an amazing idea—helping all those men and women who have fought for our country get back on their feet once their military career is over.
It took a lot of convincing for Charlie to move to LA from the seclusion of our family’s home in Montana. And the only reason he did was because I agreed to come with him. Charlie hated being back in society, where people would look at him differently, especially in body-conscious LA. At least back home in Montana, everyone knew him before the accident and didn’t bat an eye when he came back home different.
But everything happens for a reason. If he hadn’t taken Jackson up on his work offer, he wouldn’t have met his partner and be living his best life.
“You’ve been around the crew for a while now with Charlie. Today is no different from all the other times we have gotten together,” Jackson reassures me.
“I’ve never been to Vanessa and Christian’s house before. And today could be a big deal if they are interested in bringing me on to work with them. For my small business to have Dirty Texas on my books as my first client …” I take a deep breath, “… it’s life-changing.”
“You’ve got this. If you don’t fangirl over Dirty Texas,” Jackson says, giving me a look.
“I’m a professional,” I argue back, but my voice raises an octave.
Jackson raises a brow. “Just act normal,” he warns as he presses the doorbell of Vanessa and Christian Taylor’s home.
Be cool, Everly, be cool.
“Jackson.” Vanessa answers the door with a glass of champagne in her hand. The sound of music and people talking filters past the open door while she greets Jackson with a kiss on the cheek.
Vanessa is gorgeous with her caramel hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and her makeup-free skin is flawless. She’s dressed in a chambray dress with sky-high heels and looks effortlessly cool.
I look down at what I’m wearing and internally sigh. Even though it’s a barbecue, I wanted to look professional but not like I am trying too hard—it’s a fine line on the dress code. I’m wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans, a loose white button-down shirt, a pair of jeweled flats, and my lucky diamond necklace my parents gave me for my twenty-first birthday. I thought I looked good, but standing beside the goddess, Vanessa Taylor, yeah, I’m not feeling as confident.
“You remember Everly Nash, Charlie’s sister,” Jackson introduces me again to Vanessa.
“Of course I do, Jackson. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you,” she says, reaching out and giving me a warm hug.
“It has. I’ve just moved into my place. I’ve been busy unpacking boxes.”
“Oh wow! How exciting. Where did you end up moving to?”
“Not far … just off Hollywood Boulevard near Nichols Canyon.”
“Nice.” She nods, giving me a smile. “Come on in. Everyone’s here.”
We head through the large foyer and down the grand staircase, which looks out over the pool area. We continue through the living room and out the open doors to the entertaining deck where all their guests are hanging out.
Holy shit! My ovaries are about to explode, and I think my heart is about to stop. Is this some kind of DILF porno or something? Because they are in all their tanned half-naked glory. Christian Taylor with his cute little twin girls, Evan Wyld with his two boys, and Finn Connolly. Just needed Axel Taylor and Oscar Eriksen to finish the Dirty Texas rock star bingo card, but they are living overseas with their wives.
Be professional, Everly. Stop ogling the rock stars, especially in front of their partners. I shake my head to rid my mind of my wild thoughts.
“Christian,” Vanessa calls out to her husband.
The golden-haired, tanned Adonis turns around and looks up at his wife, and nothing but adoration and love falls across his face as he looks at her. My heart skips a beat as the two of them exchange a heated look between each other.
“Here … let grandma take over,” an older woman says as she moves from the daybed to the pool, taking over the supervision of the two gorgeous little girls.
I watch in utter fascination as Christian emerges from his pool like a groupie’s wet dream, grabs his towel, and begins drying himself off.
Everly, you need to calm the fuck down.
This is a professional meeting.
You cannot be ogling a future client.
Plus, he’s married.
“Babe, you remember Everly, Charlie’s sister,” Vanessa explains to her husband.
Christian wraps himself in a towel and heads over to where we are standing. “Everly, it’s so lovely to see you again,” Christian says, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek, which makes my legs weak.
Hold it together, girl.
“Everly here is an accountability coach,” Vanessa explains to her husband.
Christian’s eyes narrow on me as he rubs the scruff on his jaw. “Accountability coach?”