“Just read it. Please.”
Jillian knew the exact moment he landed on the dollar amount by the widening of his eyes…followed shortly by a coughing fit when he read the clause.
His gaze bounced from the paper clutched taut between his hands and her before returning back to the page. “This is a joke, right? An archaic and sadistic joke, but definitely a joke.”
There were a lot of words to describe her grandfather. Most of them were glowing and loving. He might not have been the playful grandfather some of her friends at school had in their lives, but he was the one member of her family she knew without a doubt loved and supported her. Her socialite mother threw an apocalyptic fit when Jillian announced her intention to have a meaningful life where she truly made a difference in the world. Not one where charity was synonymous with pretentious galas where the bill for the event was almost bigger than the total sum raised.
However, her grandfather not only offered the emotional support for her choice, but routinely made large contributions to ensure every trip was possible. His passing five years ago heralded the greatest loss of her life. And one of the millions of times she’d needed Dean and he’d been right there.
“You know my grandfather. He was eccentric and old-fashioned.”
Dean’s stormy expression melted into something softer before confusion took up residence once again. “Then why would he do this?”
Jillian shrugged, helpless to answer the same question that had run circles around her mind since she’d discovered the clause. In a will she’d had no interest in until it meant saving…everything. “The only thing I could think of was that he had some crazy idea that he was ensuring I’d be taken care of for the rest of my life.” She offered a small laugh that barely made it past the nerves gripping her throat. “Maybe he didn’t believe I’d get married or settle down otherwise.”
Several minutes ticked by as Jillian stared at the fingers knitted together in her lap, unable to meet the stare she could feel boring into her from a few feet away. She knew he had questions, hell, she did too, but she only had a few answers and even less she was actually able to speak.
Wordlessly, Dean settled beside her, sliding the manila envelope into her fidgeting hands. The early evening sun dipped behind the trees in the distance. The beginning of pink and purple tones heralding the sunset stretched across the once bright blue spring sky.
Silence was never awkward or uncomfortable between them, except for in this moment when she was asking for a blind acceptance of something so big she was certain he’d decline until she bared every detail.
“There’s only one thing that doesn’t make sense, Jillybean.” His voice was so soft and centered she found it hard to believe it was attached to the rash, slightly conceited boy who’d been her best friend for nearly as long as she could remember.
Finally she forced her eyes to lift and meet his. “What’s that?”
“How is it that the only girl I’ve ever known to not give a damn about money other than how many vaccines or antibiotics it could supply to countries in need would suddenly want to get married and stay married for eighteen months to cash in on an obscene inheritance?” He tempered the question with a wink and cocky grin. “Although, like I said, I get why you asked me.”
Because that many zeros are what’s needed to save my family from themselves. She owed him the full explanation but she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words she hadn’t fully processed herself.
She turned slightly to face him, angling her knee on the smooth stone beneath them. Without a second thought she clasped his hand in hers and pulled it into her lap. “I’m asking you because you’re the only man in the world I trust. And…I need the money. I know I’m asking a hell of a lot to ask you to do something this drastic and just…have a little faith in me. Trust me that I have a really good reason. I need your help.”
He squeezed her hand and took a deep breath. A moment of panic surged inside her and she was certain he was about to turn her down.
“Please, Dean. I’m not asking for you to give up your life and I’m not asking you to love me.” She paused as heat crept up her neck. “I-I mean not love me as anything other than your friend. I’m sure you’ve got a girlfriend and you don’t have to give that up. This is going to be in name only. Just a legality as a means to an end.”
The thumb that had been stroking the back of her hand gently stilled and he blinked slowly three times. The heavy weight that settled between them and the dark clouds that formed in his eyes both disappeared several excruciating moments later.
His playful grin, the one she couldn’t resist, the one that found her breaking more rules than she cared to count over the past nineteen years, spread across his face. “Well, we’ve watched enough of those damn reality shows you love so much. If you aren’t gonna give me a rose, the least you could do is put a little romance into the proposal.”
She couldn’t help but giggle, partially from exhaustion, partially from an overload of stress that she was certain would break her, and partially from overwhelming relief that she was now certain of his answer. Trusting Dean to blindly agree to help her fix her problems was a no brainer. How could she have ever doubted that he’d be there when she needed him?
Jillian hopped from the rock and took a few steps away before turning around to face him, walking backwards. “If you require romance, Mr. Carlisle, I’ve got you covered.”
She crossed to the patch of grass that included yellow and purple wildflowers. She gathered a handful before returning to him and dropping to one knee on the soft ground in front of the stone.
“Dean Emerson Carlisle, would you do me the great honor of marrying me and being my completely legally, but emotionally fake husband for the next year and a half before divorcing me and eschewing this insane union?”
He grabbed the bedraggled flowers and clutched them to his chest with excessive dramatics that tested her ability to keep a straight face. “Who could say no to that?”
Chapter Four
Dean
Nineteen Years Earlier
The hot summer wind stung his cheeks, but Dean kept pedaling faster, reveling in the bite rather than avoiding it, the thrill of the increasing speed as he descended the hill toward the lake propelling him on. He kicked his feet backward and turned the handle, skidding to a stop inches away from the enormous rock where the pretty little redhead sat perched again.
“Hey.” He lifted his chin at her the way he’d seen Wyatt do to girls a hundred times before and unbuckled the strap beneath the helmet.
She crossed her bare legs at the ankle and folded her hands in lap. “Hello, Dean.”
He dropped onto the smooth surface beside her and scratched at the hair his mother had been pestering him to stop fighting her about cutting. “Why do ya talk so funny?”
Jillian tilted her head and scrunched her freckled nose. “What do you mean? I speak very well, all my teachers think so.”
Dean hopped off the bike and let it fall to the ground, not bothering to prop it up with the kickstand. “You talk like some fancy schmancy adult. Who does that?”
She dropped her gaze to her lap and ran a hand over her one piece floral print romper, ironing out an invisible wrinkle from the pristine garment. “E-e-elo—” She knitted her brows together and thinned her lips into a straight line, determination etching into her creamy skin. “Elocution is very important at my school. And definitely to Mother.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing.” He raised his foot up until his leg was angled and draped an arm across the knee. “Where do ya go to school? I’ve never seen ya on the bus or in my class or even at recess.”
Jillian peered at him from beneath her long lashes. “I go to Ravenhurst Academy. It’s where all my parents’ friends’ send their kids.”
He’d heard the name before and was happier than a bumblebee buzzing around a freshly bloomed flower that he didn’t go there when he saw the uniforms they were required to wear. They looked hot and boring and mad
e everyone seem like a cookie cutter of the student beside them. “You mean your friends?”
She shrugged and looked to her left, in the opposite direction of where he sat. “No, I don’t have friends. Not really.”
Somehow before she even spoke he knew what the response would be and a fresh wave of something he couldn’t quite understand washed over him. He thought he had a rough time with three slightly overprotective and seriously annoying older brothers but he couldn’t imagine the life she led. How was it possible that a girl who lived in the enormous, imposing house he could see off in the distance didn’t have toys or friends?
“D’ya like ridin’ bikes?” No matter what she certainly had to have a bicycle and he was sure it was a beaut that outshone even the one that Tanner had.
“I’ve never ridden one, but it looks fun.” She leaned a little to look around him. “Although you were going really fast…is that safe?”
He slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead. Without a word he grabbed her hand and drug her off the rock and over to where his bike lay on its side. “All right, Jillybean, I’m gonna fix that. Right now.”
She planted her feet and tugged on the hand he was holding, halting him from moving forward. “What did you just call me?”
Dean rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “I like you. You talk funny and you’re kinda weird since you don’t have toys or friends, but I like you.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “But ‘Jillian’ sounds like the name of someone my mom would have over for tea. Plus you’ve got a freckle on the top of your nose that’s shaped like a jellybean.”
She clamped a hand over her nose. “I do not!” Her shrill exclamation must not have earned the reaction she hoped for when he doubled over laughing because she balled her hands into fists and propped them on her hips then stomped her foot in response. “I do not have jellybean shaped freckles!”
He crossed the few remaining feet to his discarded bike and pulled it upright. “Nope, you sure don’t. Just one.” He wheeled back to her and tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “And it’s right there. But I’ve got really good news for ya.”
Jillian rolled her eyes to the bright summer sky and sighed. “Please do tell.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ bout. Who talks like that? My brothers would have put me in a headlock until I told them.” He shook his head and twisted his lips to one side.
She dropped her head, auburn waves partially covering her face. “You’re making me grateful that Brad is off in boarding school.”
He wrinkled his nose and squinted at her. “Who’s that? And what the heck is boarding school?”
A small smile curled her lips, but it didn’t light up her face the way it had when he’d first arrived today. “Bradford Evans Monroe. The third. My brother. He’s a lot older than me, he’s sixteen. He goes to school a long way away, has ever since he was in seventh grade. It’s the same place my daddy went and his daddy went.” She lolled her head from side to side. “It’s kind of like college. They live there.”
The horror that washed over Dean at the idea of living far from home, and most especially from his mama’s chicken pot pie, long before he was eighteen was impossible to keep hidden. “That sounds mean.”
Jillian shrugged. “He likes it. He’s always anxious to get back when he comes home for breaks.”
Silence hung between them for several minutes and Dean struggled to come up with something to say. In that moment he wished he were Tanner because his oldest brother always knew the right thing to do. Or Wyatt who could manage to make nearly anyone laugh. Or even Connor and his ability to know when silence and a hug was the best option.
“What’s the good news?”
Her soft question cut through the noise in his brain and it took several seconds before he understood what she was asking.
He forced a smile in spite of all the questions in his mind. Maybe life in the massive house in the distance wasn’t the fairy tale he’d imagined the first time he’d spied it. “Jellybeans are my favorite candy.” He threw a leg over the seat and pointed to the front of the bike. “Now, you sit right there and hold onto the bar between the handles.”
She stared questioningly at the thin strip of metal covering the front wheel. “Are you sure that’s safe?”
Something Dean hadn’t felt before thrummed through his veins and he spoke with more determination than he ever had before in his seven years on the planet. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
***
Jillian
Nineteen Years Earlier
Fear and excitement caused Jillian’s hands to shake as she gripped the bar exactly where Dean instructed. His confident assurance had given her the strength to take the makeshift seat to begin with. She had no idea why, but she trusted the boy she’d only just met. The one who came from “new money” that her mother would never approve of her befriending.
But he was already more of a friend than any of the children who went to her school or sat in uncomfortable silence with her at the various luncheons and dinner parties their parents attended.
He started off at a crawl compared to the excessive speed he had arrived at. Even still the gentle breeze kissed her skin and sent shivers of excitement rippling along her skin, causing goosebumps to form.
She tightened her hold on the metal and a firm voice washed over her from behind. “I promise you’ll be safe.”
Never before had she believed the truth in anyone’s words.
They meandered at a slightly faster rate through the soft grass between the house and the construction zone Dean told her was going to be a barn and paddock for his older brother Wyatt’s horse.
“Go faster.” She couldn’t believe the words came from her mouth, but she meant every syllable. She knew he would be safe, but she also knew she wanted to feel the wind tangle her soft curls into knots that would positively drive Frieda insane.
He silently obliged and moved from a snail’s pace to a turtle’s and she sighed at him over her shoulder. “When I said faster I meant faster.”
A mischievous grin curled his lips and his dark blue eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, Jillybean.”
The nickname had sounded weird and slightly insulting to her ears when he’d first spoken it, but in just the space of an hour it quickly turned to something very different. As the increasing wind slashed across her fair skin, she made a promise to herself that Dean Carlisle would be her best friend forever. No matter what.
Long before she was ready, Dean slowed to a far gentler stop than the skidding, dust cloud creating halt he’d skidded to when he’d arrived at the rock.
“I’m hungry.” His simple proclamation caught her off guard.
And was quickly accompanied by the realization that she had been gone from home far longer than she’d told Frieda and Henry she would be gone. At least her mother and father were busy with another staid business dinner where her father could show off his doting wife and proclaim the virtues of their two children. The ones they barely knew anything about.
“I need to go back. My nanny will be looking for me.” A thread of worry wove its way through her, churning her long empty stomach which chose that moment to protest the lengthy hours since her lunch with a loud growl.
Dean quirked a brow and his gaze hopped from her to his house and back to her. “You wanna call and let them know you’re okay? You can just stay for dinner. My mom won’t care, she cooks way too much food all the time anyway.”
Jillian shook her head rapidly. “No, no, that would be rude to show up at the last minute. My mother would be so mad at me.”
“You sure?” He squinted at her. “She’s making my favorite dinner and it’s the best chicken pot pie you’ve ever had.”
She hesitated just long enough for Dean to abandon his bike once again on the ground and pull at her hands, backing toward the house. As he tugged her closer to the giant porch, the faint scent of savory chicken lacing the air around them tem
pted her inside. With a sigh she stopped fighting him and let the boy lead her into the house that still smelled of fresh wood and paint.
Within seconds he pressed a cordless phone into her hand and she dutifully dialed her home number. Once she’d reassured Henry she was safe and only at the neighbor’s house, a fact his astonished voice clearly found hard to believe, she disconnected.
The dinner was a whirlwind experience with excessive chatter that was in stark contrast to the painfully silent meals she was more accustomed to. The noise level rivaled many of her parents’ parties, but with a fraction of the attendees.
Occasionally the playful banter between brothers must have reached a place that even the laidback Carlisle parents found unacceptable and either one or both would pin the offensive child with a serious stare that brought about immediate obedience.
The most glaring difference, the one that did funny things to her heart, was that when Mr. or Mrs. Carlisle—they’d encouraged her to call them Mike and Tracy, but she could never—asked the boys what they’d done that day, they asked her too. In fact, they asked her lots of questions. If she was looking forward to going back to school. If she liked Ravenhurst Academy and what kinds of things she did there.
His brothers took a brief lapse in the conversation to ask her why she wanted to be friends with Dean and Jillian was certain she’d never laughed that much in her entire seven years on the planet.
Only slightly more than when Dean proclaimed he was going to get a motorcycle when he was sixteen, a point which his mother immediately shot down to which he countered with eighteen and the older woman rolled her eyes.
That night after Dean and his father drove her home and she snuggled deep under the covers with Frieda’s soft tones reading the next chapter of their book, her mind strayed from the story to the family she just met, but already loved.
Chapter Five
Meant to be More (Meant to Be Series Book 4) Page 3
