by Lexi Ryan
Jake sinks into the chair beside me and stares out at the trees lining the back of the property. “I walked by the office while you two were”—he clears his throat—“in there.”
I hear the apology in his voice. I know my brother. He didn’t mean to spy, and he’s not totally comfortable nosing into my business, but he feels weird knowing there was more to last night than we’re letting on.
“So, I can pretend I didn’t see anything. That’s not a problem, and I won’t tell anyone.” He winces. “I mean, Ava already knows, but . . . if you want advice or to talk or something, I’m here.”
I cough. “Advice?”
“I do know something about having feelings for a friend.”
He and Ava might be the very best example of two people who were afraid to risk their friendship for something more but eventually made it work. Keyword being eventually.
“Teagan and I aren’t you and Ava.” I laugh softly. “God, you are a lucky sonofabitch, though. All those years of pining, and look at you now.”
“Don’t I know it.” His voice is thick with emotion. Fatherhood has softened him, leaving all those gooey emotional insides showing. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. And I don’t mean about your love life. I mean . . . I know you miss Max.”
Shit. Not off the hook like I hoped. “I’m coping,” I say.
“It was awful.”
“It’s part of the job.”
“Have you talked to anyone?”
“Bethany has been a good friend through this. She gets it, you know?”
He studies me for a beat, but I can’t tell if he’s about to call me on my “talks” with Bethany or if he’s trying to decide if he should insist I see a professional. “Good.” He nods—once, twice, three times. Like he’s trying to convince himself. He pokes my bicep. “You’re getting soft.”
“Just because I’m not working out with you doesn’t mean I’m not working out.”
He arches a brow. “Is the same true of eating? You’ve lost weight.”
“I’m fine.” I used to meet my brothers at the gym every morning I wasn’t on duty, but I haven’t returned to that old routine since the warehouse fire. There’s nothing appealing about the idea of hanging out with my brothers and trying to banter with them and pretend everything’s okay.
It’s something I should get back to. Maybe I will. Soon, I’ll make myself join them again. Just . . . not yet.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket.
Myla: If I’d known you needed a fake girlfriend last night, I’d have gone to the fundraiser. Did Teagan keep you safe from the crazy ladies?
Well, at least Myla knows it was an act. Before I can reply, another text buzzes through.
Myla: Want me to come over tonight? I can bring beer and pizza . . . and my mouth, of course ;)
Jake snorts. “Shitty closer, my ass.”
I scowl at him and turn off my phone screen. “Don’t read over my shoulder, fuckface.”
“I didn’t mean to, but . . .” He shrugs.
“But what?”
“Like I said, I’m worried about you.”
I stiffen and shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. “Why? Because I have a healthy sex life but no girlfriend?”
Jake’s brows disappear under his shaggy hair. “One might argue that’s not possible.”
“What?” I laugh, but the sound wouldn’t fool anyone. I don’t find this conversation amusing. “Now that you’re married, you’re going to lecture single guys about sex without emotional commitment?”
“Since when is this what you want?” he asks. “I’ve seen women throw themselves at you for years, but you’ve never been promiscuous before. You wanted more than that, but now . . .”
“Now I’m what?”
Jake groans and braces his hands on his knees. “You’ve been different since Max died. You try to hide it, but that shit? Your phone blowing up with offers for blowjobs or booty calls or whatever the fuck she was offering, and you drinking too much, then disappearing with random women—”
I fly out of my chair and spin on him. “Like you didn’t have a little fun before you and Ava settled down. Hell, you almost slept with your sister-in-law. I really don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me right now.”
Jake’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t like talking about that night with Molly. It was fucking years ago, and long before he and Ava, or Brayden and Molly got together. I’m a jackass for throwing it in his face like this, but I’m not about to be lectured just because he’s finally settled down.
Jake stares me down. “I don’t give a shit if you want to sleep with every single woman in this town, but Teagan is practically part of this family. If you’re planning to make her one of your new fuck buddies, do us all a favor and make sure she understands it isn’t actually about her, but some half-assed coping mechanism.”
I feel my hands curl into fists at my sides. I haven’t punched one of my brothers in more than a decade, but I’m itching to knock this one out right now.
Jake’s gaze flicks to my fists before meeting mine again. Slowly, he stands. “I see what the rest of them don’t, and I haven’t said shit because I know you’re grieving. I know this is hard for you.”
“You don’t know shit about how this is for me.” I shove him, and he stumbles into the chair but doesn’t fall. I wait for him to shove me back or take a swing—I fucking want him to—but he doesn’t. He looks . . . devastated.
He shakes his head one last time, then turns around and heads inside, stopping only when he has one foot in the door. “You’re my brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. For a while, that meant giving you space to deal with what happened, but right now, it includes calling you on your bullshit.”
Teagan
I scored big when I found a house in my budget within walking distance to downtown Jackson Harbor. I love that I can get almost everywhere I want to go on foot, and when the weather is nice, I usually do. But after talking to my mom this morning, I hesitate outside my front door, fidgeting with my keys. It’s a beautiful October evening. The sun sinks low on the horizon, painting the sky in red and orange and casting a magical glow around the rainbow of autumn colors in the trees. The light breeze is cool and bites at my cheeks, but I know it’ll feel amazing when I start walking. If I can convince myself to walk.
Rich Nasser isn’t in Jackson Harbor. He won’t be here for another few days. But knowing he’s coming has made me skittish in my own town.
“Screw you, Rich.” I shove my keys into my purse and head to the sidewalk. I won’t let the anticipation of his presence scare me into hiding.
It’s a ten-minute walk to the bar, but I get there in eight, my steps quicker than usual. Usually, I enjoy the solitude of the short walk, but tonight, I’m anxious for company. I get my wish the moment I step into Jackson Brews.
The bar is bustling with activity. The Chicago Bears are playing on the big screens, and the booths are filled with familiar faces enjoying a meal as they watch the game. I’m struck by a tug of tenderness. For this place. For this town.
Saanvi planned to do a destination wedding from the start—her genius way of avoiding the massive guest list of virtual strangers Mom and Dad wanted to put together for a wedding at home. When she picked Jackson Harbor, I was thrilled and not even a little surprised. She fell in love with this town at first sight, just like I did. She would’ve moved here after college if her fiancé, Liam, didn’t already have a job back in Alexandria. She might not be able to move here with me, but if she can have her special day in the town that stole both of our hearts, I’m happy.
Or I was until I found out about Rich.
Now I wish Saanvi had allowed our parents to throw her the wedding of their dreams back in Virginia. I hate the idea of Rich being in this town—my town—even for a few days.
I could tell Saanvi I don’t want Rich to come, and she would want to accommodate me. If I could find the courage to
tell her the truth about him, she probably wouldn’t have let my parents invite him in the first place. But when it comes to that secret, I’ve always been a coward.
I shake my head, trying to scatter the thoughts of my ex and his talents for getting whatever he wants. I take a seat at the bar and put my purse on the vacant stool beside me to save the space for Carter.
“What can I get you tonight?” Cindy asks, already pulling out a pint glass.
“I’ll have the pumpkin ale.”
Nodding, she pours my beer and slides it in front of me.
I scan the crowd, looking for Carter. It’s odd. I don’t know that I’ve ever had plans with only Carter. With many combinations of Jacksons and their girlfriends/fiancées/wives, sure, but Carter and I haven’t had a reason to hang out, just the two of us. And if I’m honest, I would’ve found a way around it even if we did have one. Carter is far too tempting, and I wouldn’t trust myself to resist him if we spent more time together.
My cheeks heat with the memory of how poorly I resisted temptation last night, and I bow my head and close my eyes, indulging in a moment and letting the memory wash over me.
“What I’d give to know what’s going through that mind of yours right now.”
I snap my head up to see Carter smiling at me. “Hey! You made it.” He’s in the same long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans he was wearing at my house this morning, but he looks a little disheveled, his thick, dark hair a mess, like maybe he just got up from a nap.
Or rolled out of someone’s bed.
Jealousy stabs my gut at the thought, but I ignore it. I move my purse from the stool I was saving for him and hang it from one of the hooks by my knees. “I saved you a seat.”
He nods but doesn’t take it. He leans against the bar and studies me. “Are you going to tell me, or aren’t you?”
My eyes go wide. “Tell you what I’m thinking? Hell no.”
“I’ll consider that a good sign.” He chuckles, and the sound skitters across my nerve endings like a sensual caress. That’s what I imagine it would be like for me to be Carter’s lover. Because it’s always been laughter and silliness for us. The flirting isn’t new. Only the touching. Only the very real possibility of crossing that line again.
Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to imagine more. Maybe that’s why, even with my rules, I want to look him in the eye and tell him I couldn’t get through the day without imagining what would have happened if I had gone home with him.
He studies my lips, hovering there for a beat before shifting downward. He scrapes that hot gaze over my breasts and hips with so much intensity that I can practically feel his hands on me.
“Carter, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make decisions we’ll both regret tomorrow.”
His lips quirk, then his amusement fades in a blink and he sighs. “I’ll try to behave.”
Please don’t. I shake my head, as if I can make my sex-starved inner troublemaker go away that easily. “I asked you here because I need a favor.” I take a deep breath, telling myself that my plan is a good one, that I’m not making a terrible mistake.
“Hey, Carter!” Myla Quincy calls from across the bar. She hangs her jacket on the coatrack by the door before sauntering over to him. Myla’s a teacher at the local high school. She’s also the cheer coach and has the peppy air you’d expect from someone in that position. Never mind that she’s gorgeous. Her long, silky hair falls past her breasts in smooth layers, and her jeans and cropped sweater show off her perfect body.
She’s doing nothing more than smiling at him, and I already feel resentful, petty, and jealous. I was never the cheerleader type. Is that what Carter likes?
She sidles up beside him and wraps an arm around his waist. I feel a little vindicated when he stiffens. Does it not occur to her that maybe he’s standing this close to me because we’re on a date?
I frown. It’s pretty sad that even with that article in the paper, she still believes I’m nothing more than a friend. An honorary Jackson. I could have been sitting in his lap, and Myla probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
She whispers something in his ear, and he smiles, but it seems forced, and his eyes dart to me.
“I’ll text you,” he tells her gently.
“You’d better,” she says. She winks at him before walking away, smacking her hand against his ass as she goes.
I snort out an awkward bubble of laughter. “Did she just spank you?”
Carter has the good sense to look mildly embarrassed—pink cheeks and all. He clears his throat. “Sorry. She’s . . . um, a friend.”
“Clearly more than that.” I hate the bite I hear in my tone. Am I jealous? Why? Because he has something with her that he’s also offered to me? It’s ridiculous. This is Carter. He’s not mine. He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter that he’s involved with Myla and was propositioning me for sex this morning. Maybe that’s the only sign I need that I can’t go there with him.
“What’s the favor?” he asks.
I swallow, taking a beat to get my mind back on track, to push aside my other thoughts and focus on why I asked him here. “My sister’s getting married on Saturday. The wedding is here, in Jackson Harbor. A long weekend of parties and brewery tours and family stuff.” I feel ridiculous. “Any chance I could convince you to be my plus one?”
“Can’t talk any of your girls into keeping you company?” he asks, laughing.
“I mean . . .” I toy with a cardboard coaster, tapping it on the bar before looking at him again. “I’d like you to be there as my boyfriend.”
He blinks at me, and though his body doesn’t move, I can feel him pulling away. “Teagan—”
“Like last night,” I blurt. Then, softer: “Pretend, Carter. I’m not asking you to go steady. Just to continue last night’s ruse until the wedding is over.”
He swallows, his shoulders dropping a bit. “Good.”
I try not to wince and fail. Maybe it makes me a hypocrite, but his relief stings. Sixty seconds ago, he was trying to seduce me all over again, then I said the word boyfriend and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a big rig. “I’m trying not to be insulted.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. Shit. I . . .”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine.” Even though that’s a bit of a lie, my conflicted feelings about Carter don’t really matter right now. What matters is making it through this week.
“You want a date for the wedding. A fake boyfriend.” He nods. “Sure. I’ll have to switch shifts with someone, but I should be able to get Saturday off.”
“It’s a little more involved than that.” I bite my bottom lip. “My mom rented out the Hayhurst mansion for the event.”
Carter frowns. “I thought the reception was at the Jackson Brews Banquet Center?”
“The reception is, but Mom wants everyone to stay in the mansion together for the event—Wednesday through Sunday, I mean. And since she thinks you’re my boyfriend, she wants you to stay too.”
Across the bar, Myla is sitting with two other equally peppy girls. She ignores them as she messes with her phone. When Carter’s phone buzzes, she lifts her gaze to watch him, but he doesn’t even pull it from his pocket. He keeps his attention on me, and his lips curve into a smile. “You’re asking me to stay in some swanky mansion-turned-bed-and-breakfast for four nights while pretending to be your boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
He arches a brow and gives me such a lascivious grin that my insides do the cha-cha. “Where do I sign up?”
My attention returns to Myla. She scowls and types something else on her phone. Carter’s phone buzzes again. Have they been dating and I missed it? I didn’t even realize they were more than acquaintances, but Carter has gotten a bit of a reputation lately, and sleeping with the hot cheer coach falls right in line with the things I’ve heard.
He continues to ignore his phone.
I shake my head. “We won’t be sharing a room or anything. My parents a
re way too conservative for that. But they want to get to know you, so if you’re supposed to be my boyfriend, they expect you to join us at the mansion. They’ll probably put you in a room with Saanvi’s fiancé or my cousin Trevor or something.”
“Oh.” He rubs a hand over his scruffy beard. “That’s definitely less appealing than four nights with you. Do you know if Trevor likes to cuddle?”
I smack him in the stomach with the back of my hand—and feel the rock-hard evidence of his workouts beneath his shirt. Damn. “We’d have to make it believable.”
He grins. “I think last night proved we’re pretty good at that. I’m not a great liar, but I didn’t find it that hard to pretend you’re my girl.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sizzles through me, leaving need in its wake and making me pull away before I can lean into him. “Do you think you can handle it?”
I swallow. “I can. But I think we should set some clear boundaries between us if we’re going to do this. No sex. We only need to be affectionate in front of other people, and we can behave normally in private.”
“Normal as in . . .”
“Platonic. You might be good at the friends-with-benefits thing, but I’m not sure I have it in me.”
“So you did make a decision.”
Only just now. “I guess so.” I wait a beat, trying to decide how much to say, how much to explain. “Do you remember when that guy from your station wanted you to give me his number?”
He nods. “Hank. Yeah, he still asks about you.”
“And you remember what I told you then?”
“That you don’t date firefighters?” When I nod, his forehead wrinkles with his frown. “I thought that was an excuse to spare Hank’s feelings. That was for real?”
“It was for real.” I take a deep breath. I don’t like talking about my past, but after last night, Carter deserves more than my typical evasions. “I moved home after college and fell in love. Heath was a police officer. We weren’t engaged yet, but at one point I thought we’d get married. Spend our lives together. He died in the line of duty and . . . it sucked, Carter.”
