Why Don't You Stay? ... Forever (McLaughlin Brothers Book 2)

by Jennifer Ashley

  Austin watches me closely. “Something else is bugging you, because you know you can still be with her even if she chooses not to work for us. What?”

  I don’t want to dump my doubts on him, but heave a sigh. “All right, there’s this guy. Her ex. Good-looking, apparently a great dancer, used to live with her. Erin says she’s done with him, and he is kind of a dick, but—” I spread my arms. “Then there’s me. The gawky guy who forgets to comb his hair. I spend all day in my den. What the hell do I have to offer a woman like Erin?” I drop my hands to my sides. “You gotta help me, bro.”

  Chapter Seven

  Erin

  “So, tell me all about Ben.” Ida, my partner in crime in Clarice’s dance company eyes me over her latte.

  “What about him?” I’m suddenly reluctant. “You met him.”

  We’ve been talking about everything but Ben—how the performances went this weekend, what Ida heard about Clarice’s idea for a new show in the fall, and Reuben’s sudden and annoying return. Nothing about Ben.

  “I met him really briefly.” Ida leans forward, risking smearing whipped cream on a deep blue shirt that matches her eyes. “Then he drove you home, leaving me high and dry.” Ida laughs, clearly not put out. “And then …” She waggles her brows.

  “Then what? Why are you so nosy all of the sudden?”

  “Why are you so bashful all of the sudden? I’m interested. Mostly because a) he’s cute, and b) I haven’t seen you this happy in a while. I like this new, bubbly Erin.”

  “Bubbly?” My face is scalding enough to heat the coffee. “I hope I’m not bubbly.”

  “Effervescent, then. You danced so well on Saturday night, it was like you were born for the part. Dean couldn’t shut up about how well you did. So when we went to Freida’s after the party, we threw him into her pool.”

  I burst out laughing. I hadn’t known that. “He never said a word.”

  “He loved it. Dean swims like a fish. He pretended to need help out, then started pulling other people in with him. Anyway, I wondered where you’d suddenly obtained this sparkle. When I saw you with Ben again yesterday—I knew.”

  “We’re not a couple,” I say quickly.

  “Sure. Because why else would he run interference with Reuben and wait to escort you out, like a gentleman? If you’re not a couple, you’re close to it.”

  Ida has been there for me through it all—my first terrified rehearsals and shows with the company, my infatuation with and then disappointment in Reuben, the breakup, the house makeover, the bad jobs I’ve had with the temp agency, the great job I was sent to with the McLaughlins, and worry about taking over the lead part this weekend. I owe her the truth, but I’m reluctant, mostly because I don’t know what the truth is.

  “All right, all right.” I let my voice go low, so the guys in ties having lunch at the next table don’t hear all about my love life. “We did have Saturday night together. And Sunday morning. And Sunday afternoon …”

  Ida’s mouth is open, her eyes wide with delight. “Seriously? Wow, the best friend is the last to know. I figured you were into Ben, and he’s into you, but I had no idea it was …” She leans closer to hiss, “Consummated.”

  She does get cream on her shirt that time. Ida absently picks up a napkin and wipes it away.

  “Yes, but …” I delicately sip the unsweetened iced tea I ordered with my salad. “It was wonderful, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t know if it’s going any further.”

  “Why not?” Ida’s eyes narrow. “Wait, you mean, because of Reuben? Please, please, please tell me you aren’t thinking of getting back with that turd.”

  She says it loudly. The guys at the next table glance over with interest.

  “Of course not.” I keep my voice steady, because I want the listening guys to know my answer. “I don’t know what I saw in him in the first place.”

  “A charming, hot guy who was all over you,” Ida says with confidence. “Reuben can lay it on thick. I was half in love with him myself. Then I got to know him. I can tell Ben is so much better, and I only said howdy to him while you two were noshing burgers.”

  Ben is so much better. I realized that when I first laid eyes on him. He’s also great in bed, funny, kind, and chivalrous, something not talked about a lot these days.

  “I like him.” I try to shrug as though it’s no big deal. “But it was a weekend. Who knows if it will be anything more?”

  My heart burns as I say the words. It’s far too late for me to be casual now. If Ben walks away from this, I will hurt far, far worse than I did when Reuben left. Realms beyond that.

  Ida knows. I see it in her eyes. She has a long, thin face, which she softens by letting her dark hair hang past it in soft waves. She thoughtfully sips her latte and swipes cream from her lip with her tongue.

  “Tell you what you do,” she says. “First, get back with Reuben.”

  I choke, nearly spewing my tea. “What? Why the hell would I do that?” I don’t even want to speak to him again. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

  “Hear me out. You get back with Reuben, cheat on him with Ben, then kick Reuben to the curb. What’s good for the gander …”

  Ida’s voice carries, and the guys at the next table are grinning now, not bothering to mind their own business.

  “No.” I look over at them. “No,” I repeat. “Not gonna happen.”

  “She’s too nice,” Ida tells the guys. “But Reuben’s such an asshole.”

  The work buddies are laughing at us. They get up, tell us to take it easy, and walk out, heading back to the office.

  Like I should be doing.

  “I have to work with Ben,” I say. “It’s very distracting. Office romances never succeed, right?”

  “Then quit your job,” Ida suggests.

  “Sure, cause I don’t need that income.” I roll my eyes.

  “Then jump his bones.”

  Ida has a solution to everything, but it’s not her love life we’re talking about.

  We finish up and leave the restaurant. Outside, Ida gives me a crushing hug.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’m teasing the hell out of you, because it’s so nice to see you happy. If you need any help, you let me know.”

  “Just keep me from going insane.”

  “Stay away from Reuben, and you’ll be fine.”

  I let out a sigh. “I hope I won’t have to dance with him. I’d have to leave the troupe.”

  Ida squeezes my arms. “Clarice will never pair you with him. She won’t put together dancers who hate each other—she doesn’t need the drama. Besides, you and Dean are perfect together for now. Fluid.” She releases me and moves her arms in a graceful wave. “I’m so jealous.”

  “I’ll ask Clarice to make you my understudy,” I offer.

  “No way. I like dancing in the back. If I screw up, no one sees. You have nowhere to hide as a principal.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Ida hugs me again. “You have nothing to worry about. See you at rehearsal.” She kisses my cheek and runs off to her car, carefree.

  I return to my own car and sit thoughtfully after I start it up. I briefly consider running away, but I pull out of the parking lot and drive resolutely back toward McLaughlin Renovations.

  Who am I fooling? I’ll always go back.

  Ben will be there. I can’t wait to see him again.

  Ben

  That week, I get to know Erin.

  We have lunch together each day after Monday, grabbing a bite at a local place. We talk. I’m not a talker, but with Erin, I find myself opening up.

  I tell her what it’s like to be the McLaughlin brother who isn’t into sports and who learned machine language at age twelve. I could insult my brothers in binary code, and loved it when they had no idea what I was saying.

  I’m tight with my brothers though, and I tell her about that too. How Zach and Ryan would be right there when bullies messed with me, and h
ow they taught me to fight back. How we’d protect Austin too, the baby of the family, though his defense was his smart mouth and quick comebacks.

  Erin tells me how she’d wanted to be a dancer since she was a little girl and her mother signed her up for lessons at the local Y. How she’s fallen in love with dance and doesn’t want to do anything else. She majored in dance performance in college, and then tried out for every dance company in the state and across the western U.S.

  Reuben had seen her dance in a performance at the university, introduced himself backstage, and suggested she give Clarice a call. That’s how she joined the West Valley Dance Company.

  “I should be grateful to him,” Erin says as we finish our sandwiches on Wednesday. “He was really nice to me at first. But …”

  “You don’t have to talk about him,” I tell her quickly. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

  “I want to explain.” Erin’s eyes are soft. “I don’t think I was ever in love with him. Excited to be doing what I’d always dreamed of, and thankful he’d helped me. But it is over. O-V-E-R. Reuben promised what we had was forever, then he was gone.”

  “He’s an asshole,” I say in disgust. “You’re better off without him.”

  “I realized that the day I woke up alone. It was like I could breathe again.”

  Erin flashes a smile. I smile with her, but I’m a little bummed. Does she mean she never wants to be stifled with a serious relationship?

  Because that’s what I have in mind, a relationship. I crumple the sandwich wrapping to keep from having to respond. I’ll have to figure out how to introduce the idea without scaring her off.

  I consult with my brothers. Austin has given me some good advice, but I approach Ryan for more. I avoid Zach, because he knows me too well. Zach, who is now goopy in love with Abby, will try to march me straight to Erin and make me go down on one knee.

  But Erin’s been burned. I want to gain her trust, not terrify her.

  “A grand gesture,” Ryan tells me when I corner him in his office. I pretend I’m in there to install an upgrade to one of his programs, and I hit him with my problem. “That’s what women love. How do you think I finally got Calandra to say yes?”

  “I remember us beating on you until you two got back together and figured things out.”

  Ryan flushes. Once he saw the light with Calandra, he became this enlightened guru on love and relationships. He’s so full of shit.

  “What kind of grand gesture?” I ask.

  Ryan taps his fingers together and swivels his desk chair back and forth, like a detective about to wrap up a case.

  “You have to tailor it to the woman. Make it something she can’t resist.”

  “Stellar.” I click the last button on the upgrade and drag the installer into the trash. “Your brilliant advice is that I’m on my own.”

  “Hey, love’s a bitch. But it’s also worth it.”

  Ryan, who used to glower every time anyone mentioned Calandra, beams like a ray of sunshine. Calandra announced she was pregnant a few weeks ago, and now Ryan is not only the love guru, but the expectant father one too. Like I said, full of shit.

  On the other hand, I’m really happy for Ryan. He’d been a serious pain in the ass to live with when he and Calandra were going through their issues.

  “Thanks, Ryan.”

  “Not a problem.” Before I can get out of the room, he lands the bomb. “When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

  “When I figure out where this is going. If it’s going.” I point at him. “Do not say a word.”

  Ryan crosses his heart. But his grin when I turn away is huge.

  I put Austin’s plan into motion first.

  “So,” I say to Erin on Friday afternoon when the business is starting to wind down. I’m behind her desk, again with the software updates—I’ve had to do so many this week. “Um … I’m thinking about going out tonight. Want to come? If you, you know, don’t have other plans.”

  Of course she’ll have plans. She has friends, and her performances, though she told me they don’t do the shows on Fridays. Saturday night and Sunday matinee is all, and in June, the season will be over.

  Erin slides a pile of contracts neatly into a file drawer with her slim fingers. I love watching her handle paperwork.

  “Okay.” Her effortless response has my hopes rising. “What did you have in mind?”

  Austin had suggested everything from a luxurious restaurant to staying home and watching a movie online—I would provide the pizza and snacks. That way, if things start going well, the bedroom’s only a few steps away.

  Austin thinks about only one thing. Not that I wasn’t tempted to try it out.

  I say the words in a rush. “How about we go dancing?”

  Chapter Eight

  Ben

  Erin stares at me after I make my request, and I realize how lame the idea is. She dances all the time. Why would she want to do it on her down time?

  I should have gone with the movie and snacks idea. Austin is better at this than I am.

  Erin’s smile flows across her face. “Okay. Sounds like fun.”

  I try not to make my relief obvious. “Great. I’ll pick you up? Say seven?”

  “I think clubs don’t really get rolling until nine or later.”

  I’ve never been to a club, so how would I know?

  “We can eat first,” I say quickly.

  “Even better.”

  “Good.” But wait, there’s more. It was easier to date when I was younger—no one had any money so we just hung out at whatever pizza or burger place was nearby. “Um … where would you like to go?”

  Erin’s eyes crinkle behind her glasses. “Wherever is good for me. You pick the restaurant.”

  “Oh, sure, no pressure.” If it sucks, it will bring down the evening before we start.

  “How about …” Erin scans the menus she collects so my brothers can decide where to take clients out to lunch. “This one. It seems fun.”

  It’s part of a local chain, with easy-to-understand food and a patio. I read the menu, noticing the price range lies somewhere between cheap and stupidly expensive. “We can try it. If it’s bad, we’ll blame my brothers.”

  “It won’t be bad. Looking forward to it.”

  My family begins to stream out of their offices, ready to hit their weekends. They all have plans. Ryan and Calandra will do what newlyweds do—curtain shopping or something, plus sex. Zach and Abby will do what engaged couples do—wedding planning and sex. Austin, probably just sex.

  Austin pauses at the desk and taps the top of it with his fists. “Later, kids.” He saunters out.

  Erin finishes shutting down the office for the night. I do the same on my end. If any computer glitches occur over the weekend, guess who gets the whiny texts about it? I decide that if any glitch happens tonight, I’m ignoring it. Plenty of time to fix whatever in the morning.

  Erin and I are the last to leave. She locks the door, like the responsible employee she is.

  I walk her to her car. Since no one is around, parking lot empty, I kiss her lightly on the lips. “See you later.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  I love how jazzed I am as I get into my truck. She drives out first, me hanging back to see that she leaves safely. Then I crank up my sound system and sing along with T-Bone Walker, badly, at the top of my lungs all the way home.

  The restaurant is decent, which I think relieves us both. We like it enough that we tentatively say we’ll come back. Together.

  We hit the club and that’s when things change. What was I thinking? This is Austin’s kind of place, seriously out of my comfort zone. Erin looks apprehensive as we walk in, and I say bad things about my brother in my head.

  The club is jammed. It’s cavernous, with a high ceiling. Bright lights shine on the dance floor, where bodies gyrate up and down. The floor is ringed with tables on three shallow tiers, receding into darkness, with a bar snaking along one of the side w
alls.

  It looks like people come here in packs, clusters of girls together or a mix of men and women. There aren’t many couples alone.

  I hold tightly to Erin’s hand as we make our way to the bar, afraid I’ll lose her. She might go down in the sea of people, and I’ll never find her again.

  Erin keeps it simple with wine, and I go for an even simpler beer. Now to find a place to sit while we drink. The pounding music makes it impossible for us to discuss where we want to go—we mouth and use hand signals.

  Ten minutes later, we luck out with a table in a corner on the upper tier as a party leaves. A harried waitress gives it a sloppy wipe down, and we sit.

  “We can’t ever get up and dance,” I shout to Erin over the music. “Someone will snag the table.” Probably why everyone arrives in groups. There’ll always be someone to save the spot.

  “We’ll guard it for you.” A woman at the next table, who is planted firmly on her boyfriend’s lap, offers this with a big smile. The boyfriend, who has his hand on her thigh under her skirt, pays no attention. Their friends, another couple, are thoroughly kissing each other.

  “Thanks,” Erin says. “Appreciate it.”

  The other woman waves off the thanks and nuzzles her boyfriend.

  Erin regards the dance floor in longing, one foot tapping to the thumping beat. My worry that she’ll be unhappy with my choice of outing fades. But there’s another problem.

  “I can’t actually dance,” I call across the table. “Zach tried to teach me, but he gave up. Said it was hopeless.”

  “Zach isn’t me.”

  “What?” I lean toward her, not sure I heard her right.

  “I said, Zach isn’t me. I’ll teach you. I’ve taught four-year-olds. You can’t be much harder.”

  I want to laugh. “Sure, I can.”