Dean
Present Day
“Dammit!” He kept the epithet much softer than he wanted and drew his thumb to his mouth where he’d accidentally sliced through it with the knife he’d been using to cut a pepper. His punishment for staring at Jillian’s slumbering form on his couch rather than the food he’d decided to prepare for her.
Once again his gaze found her and tracked every movement of her chest as it expanded and contracted in soft, perfect rhythm.
The lead weight that had formed when she threw out the proposal so casually rolled around. This was either a terrible or an amazing opportunity. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, the same looming threat that had stopped him from declaring his feelings for her a dozen times already hung squarely in front of him.
As quietly as he possibly could, he walked down the hall to the bathroom and fished through the cabinet for a Band-Aid. He washed his hands in the sink and dried them off before securing the bandage in place.
He caught sight of his drawn face in the mirror and sighed. Losing her as a friend was a very real possibility when this was over. And that was a fact he wanted to ignore. He shook his head and returned to the kitchen, this time keeping his focus on cutting up the vegetables to add to the pan beside him on the stove with a coat of oil warming at its base.
That absolutely couldn’t happen. Which left him with only one option: he had to make his best friend fall in love with him over the next eighteen months that they would be fake married. He rolled his eyes as he threw the strips of pepper into the zucchini and onions already sautéing in the pan. Yeah, no big deal.
Just as Dean turned the burner down to a lower heat, Jillian stirred on the sofa and his heart clenched. He’d missed her more than he’d ever let on.
She sat up and gave a sleepy smile. “That smells delicious.” She wandered into the kitchen, fingers scratching her tousled red hair. “I can’t believe you cook. It’s almost like you’re a grown-up, Sparky.”
He drained the pasta in the colander in the sink and added it to the vegetables sautéing. “Did you miss the townhouse you’ve been sleeping in for the past two hours?” He waved an arm to encompass the small, but comfortable one bedroom living space. “No parents or older brothers in sight.”
Jillian rested her elbows on the end of the counter and leaned in. “Speaking of which…we’re going to have to tell them the truth. That this is all just a means to an end.”
A small voice in Dean’s head agreed with the concept, but had a very different end in mind than she did. “I don’t know about that, Jillybean. You know my folks.” He lifted one shoulder. “They’re pretty understanding and try to let us lead our own lives and make our own mistakes, but this might be too much even for them.”
One finger ran across her bottom lip and she let out a small sigh. “I don’t like the idea of lying to them, Dean.” When she used his real name and not the nickname she’d given him when they were kids, he straightened up and paid attention. Fine lines formed between her brows. “And my parents know the truth, obviously because they know Granddaddy’s will. I don’t want to keep this from your family. I don’t want them to think we’re actually in love.”
The last few words pricked his heart, but he slid his mask firmly in place.
It was a risk, and a little closer to his real feelings than he should probably get, but he took a deep breath, put the lid on the pan, and turned to face her with as playful a smile as he could muster. “C’mon, Jillybean, it isn’t a lie. You know you love me.” He added a wink, but internally screamed for her to agree.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly and the frown marring her creamy complexion evaporated. She closed the few steps separating them and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. “Of course I love you.”
Without hesitation he held her firmly against his body. His heart soared at the five simple words confirming she felt the same. Words lodged in his throat.
“You’re my best friend and the only person on this planet I could possibly trust with something like this.”
And just like that, the bright flame of hope fanned by excitement that she had come to the same recognition of truth he had was extinguished. Reality was a leaden weight in his gut. He couldn’t possibly blame her, it had taken him years to admit his feelings for her. It was unrealistic to think that a few minutes back in his presence would be all it took.
Although that would be a damn sight easier than the current hell of romance movie-worthy unrequited love to contend with.
Questions danced on the tip of his tongue, but if nearly twenty years of friendship had taught him anything about Jillian, it was that she’d share the details of her current problem when she was ready. Still, the girl who had never wanted the lavish lifestyle she’d been born into and only saw money as a means to save the world suddenly wanting to put her career and entire life on hold for a year and a half to land a trust fund that had been sitting dormant for five years didn’t add up.
He pushed the thoughts to the back of his brain for another time and instead basked in the pleasure of her in his arms. How many times had they stood exactly like this and it hadn’t meant a fraction of what it did now? How in the hell could he have been so blind for so long?
Although every cell of his body cried out against the action, he dropped his arms and pushed her away slightly. He turned to grab the dishes and give his hands something to do that didn’t involve pulling her back and kissing her senseless. That might be a bit premature.
He piled her plate with a heaping mound of the simple dish and held it out to her. “Eat up, Jillybean. It sounds like we’re going to have one hell of a day ahead of us and it’s already after five.”
She took the plate and held it up to her nose, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “Dean Carlisle, how is it possible you aren’t married?”
Because I’m in love with my best friend and don’t have the spine to admit it. Yet. He shook his head and grinned, nudging her toward the table. “Now that would be awfully inconvenient if I had a wife and had to marry you too.” He ran his hand along his stubble covered jaw. “Pretty sure that’s illegal in this state.”
The fork she had laden with vegetables and pasta hung in the air halfway between her mouth and the mountain of food in front of her. “You…actually never answered me about that. Is this really okay for you? Are you dating anyone?”
My last relationship ended two years ago when you came home for three days and flew off again and I realized three hours later that my heart was somewhere over the Atlantic and I was a complete dumbass for not realizing it sooner. His very unhelpful mind filled in the answer with a truth he wasn’t ready to actually speak.
Outwardly he shook his head. “Nope. I’m free and clear and all yours to lock into wedded bliss.” He filled his own plate and sat down beside her. “So, which family do we share the happy news with first?”
***
Jillian
Present Day
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Jillian at the same time as Tracy Carlisle's arms encircled her. She’d been a second mother—in reality a first in terms of emotional support and maternal affection—since she met Dean. The deception shrouding their engagement was a heavy weight. Truth danced on the tip of her tongue as she squeezed the other woman tightly. But blood deep loyalty overrode every other desire and she swallowed down the words threatening to spill out, as well as the tears skating along the edge of her lower lid, ready to fall.
“I’ve missed you so much, sweetie.” The sincerity pouring from the few words mingled with the warmth in her touch. Tracy pulled back slightly and cupped Jillian’s face between her palms. “You aren’t allowed to leave until you have a good meal and tell me all about your last trip. I think Dean said…Sierra Leone this time?”
Meaningless in the grand scheme of things that Tracy Carlisle managed to remember where Jillian had most recently been sent during her time with Doctors Without Borders, but another nail in the coffin of guilt
suffocating Jillian for the deceptive path she and Dean were leading his family down. Me, she corrected herself silently, I’m the one doing this.
But the small acknowledgement that her mother never even bothered to give was further proof that the Carlisle family loved her like no other. And now she was going to hurt them to save the blood relatives who were little more than acquaintances most days.
“Yeah, Mom, Sierra Leone,” Dean confirmed from across the room, breaking his conversation with his father long enough to nod along with the comment before Jillian could respond. “Which means she spent something like twenty-six hours flying home, so try to lay off the interrogation for at least a day or two.”
Jillian tried to purse her lips past the smile tugging at the corners. “Dean Carlisle, be nice to your mother.”
Tracy chuckled and patted Jillian on the arm before leading her to the sofa in the center of the room. “Honey, after what his brothers have put us through lately, Dean’s mouth is the least of my concerns.”
Just before she left and the few times she’d been able to video chat with Dean while she’d been gone, he’d briefly mentioned one excursion or another to help out Tanner, Wyatt, and Connor, but he’d never gone into great detail. And Jillian knew her best friend well enough to know that he’d clue her in when he was ready. Pushing him too soon would cause a fight she had no intention of engaging in.
At least not until she’d had a decent night’s rest. Then nothing would give her more joy than a little verbal sparring with Dean. Keeping his head from getting too big was one of her favorite pastimes and that usually required some good natured arguments that never really got heated. Because that wasn’t who they were.
Two peas on opposite ends of a pod, his mother had called them since childhood. Only one time had they ever truly fought, but they were teenagers. Ridiculous, dramatic teenagers full of excessive emotions and uncontrolled hormones.
In some ways they couldn’t possibly be more different, but in other ways they couldn’t be more alike. And the deep friendship, the bond that could withstand anything, was at the center of it.
And the very reason she could ask to do something as insane as being party to a fake marriage. A small part of her still couldn’t believe he’d said yes.
The very man occupying her mind slid behind her on the couch. She turned to look at him quizzically, but he merely flashed the grin that always managed to talk her into doing stupid things when they were younger.
“Actually, Mom, we have to tell you something first.”
Her stomach clenched with every word he spoke, then magically seemed to settle when he lightly trailed his fingers down her forearm and linked them with hers where they rested on her knee. The small voice in the back of her brain that belonged to her teenage self that briefly thought she wanted more from her best friend when they were in high school, took over her conscious thought. She found herself wishing this could be real.
Within seconds reality took control and logical thought reined the childish ideations she thought she’d banished. This was Dean and she wouldn’t do anything to risk losing him. Entertaining stupid, unrealistic emotions absolutely did that.
A spark flared in Tracy’s eyes and Jillian cursed both it and the hope that created it. And the immature, careless behavior that lead to this moment.
“Jillian and I are getting married.”
Silence blanketed the small group of four for half of beat of Jillian’s rapidly pounding heart before the explosion of hugs and tears took precedence. Mike Carlisle clasped Dean’s hand behind her and she barely registered the muttered “about damn time” that followed as she was once again pulled into an even tighter embrace from her soon to be mother-in-law. A title she desperately wanted to cherish, but knew she had no right owning.
Tears streamed down Tracy’s cheeks when she pulled back and held both of Jillian’s hands firmly in hers. “I knew that you two were meant to be more than just friends.”
The simple string of words played on repeat more than an hour later as they made the short, but jolting drive from his parents’ house to hers. Only a few hundred feet separated the two homes, but leaving the warmth and love that radiated through the Carlisle home for the distance and sterility of the Monroe estate was jarring at the best of times.
And this was certainly not the best of times.
A new thought occurred to Jillian just as Dean smoothly parked the functional truck in front of the looming mansion and she groaned, smacking her palm to her forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Dean’s thick brows drew together and his head tilted slightly as he pulled the key from the ignition. The nickname that never fell away as they grew up was a soft reminder of the strength of their relationship.
“I just realized that we forgot to bring my bags. You’re gonna be forced to come back to the Glass Castle tomorrow.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m making a mess of your life and I haven’t even been home for twenty-four hours.”
He pulled her hands gently free. “Hey, you aren’t making a mess of my life. I’m all in for this with you and it sure as hell isn’t the first stunt we’ve pulled together.” The corner of his mouth kicked up into the charming grin she couldn’t believe hadn’t landed him a wife yet. “Besides, do you think there is any way I’m letting my fiancée spend her first night back in the States under a different roof than me?”
“I’m not your fiancée.” Despite her words, she gripped his hand tightly in hers. “Not really, anyway.”
Dean shook his head. “You asked, I accepted, and now the Ice Queen gets to plan a wedding that we will both hate. Can’t get much more real than that.”
Jillian laughed at Dean’s childhood nickname for her mother, one she hadn’t heard in far too long. “All right, Sparky, let’s get this over with.” She released his hand long enough to climb out of the vehicle and ascend the stone steps at the front of her childhood home. At the threshold he linked his fingers through hers again and just gave a wink when she looked up at him seconds before the door opened in front of them.
As expected, her mother barely covered her irritation as she led them into the formal parlor. “Jillian, I realize this was a decision that had to be made in haste, but are you truly telling me that you couldn’t find a more…suitable choice?”
A familiar ember of frustration fanned into a flame of anger. Helena Monroe knew exactly why this was happening and was one of the primary reasons Jillian was home and lying to some of the people she loved most in this world. All the things she was doing that she hated, she was doing for the mother who never showed an ounce of the care that Tracy Carlisle did. For the father who made mistake upon mistake and left it for everyone else to clean up. For the cold structure that never felt like a home, but that Jillian was certain her mother treasured more than either of her children.
Even though Helena knew the truth, Jillian took that moment to pull Dean close to her side. Something not unusual for them, but with just a little more intimacy than the friendly embraces that were their norm. She fitted her body close to his and ran her thumb along his side before she snaked her index finger through the belt loop of his jeans.
“Dean isn’t simply a suitable choice, Mother, he’s the perfect choice for me.” She beamed up into his confused face. “In fact, we only came here to let you know that if you want to plan the wedding for June as you hoped, that was fine, but I plan on staying with Dean until then.”
Crimson mottled Helena’s creamy, surgically stretched cheekbones. “Jillian, that is absurd. This is a temporary marriage of convenience simply to appease your grandfather’s antiquated stipulation and…” Her words died off before she revealed the secret Jillian was certain she’d rather take to her grave than allow anyone—especially Dean—in on the greatest shame the Monroes had ever experienced. “And no one will actually believe that you, the child of one of the oldest, most well-established families of Asheville, is marrying…new money.”
Jillian composed her
face into the most compassionate expression she could muster and tried not to laugh along with the faint repressed rumble coming from Dean’s form pressed tightly to her side. “Oh, Mother, you underestimate people. They know I’m nothing like you. But do feel free to get started on the wedding.”
With that final comment, and just enough suspicion left at the validity of the engagement that was most definitely a ruse, Jillian all but dragged Dean out the door. Both of them collapsed against the side of the truck, letting the deep laughter they’d barely restrained free.
Dean sucked in a lungful of air and righted himself, a few giggles still remaining in Jillian as she swiped away a tear.
“All right, Jillybean, this night definitely requires we end it with copious amounts of alcohol.”
“I like the way you think, but I don’t feel like going anywhere that requires being too far from a horizontal place I can crash.” She ran a hand across her belly, aching from the full body chuckles she hadn’t experienced in far too long.
“Well, now, darlin‘…” Dean affected a deep, embellished southern drawl nearly identical to his older brother. “Ya see, Wyatt needs a place he can drink with cowboys and get as loud as he wants and Georgia runs a mighty tight ship.”
Jillian smacked Dean in the abdomen. “So what you’re saying is your big brother has turned your place into a cowboy frat house.”
Dean lifted his shoulders and turned down his lips. “Basically.”
She pulled open the door of the cab and climbed in. “All right then, partner, let’s see who’s better at beer pong.”
Chapter Six
Dean
Fifteen Years Earlier
“What in the blue blazes is a co-tee-lee-on class?” Dean scratched his scalp and watched the little redheaded girl softly step into the shallow water at the edge of the pond.
Her light laughter carried over to him on a warm spring breeze. “Cotillion, Dean. Kuh-till-yun.” She slowly enunciated the confusing word. “And every young lady in the Chesterfield and Monroe families has always attended cotillion classes for more than a hundred years.”
Meant to be More (Meant to Be Series Book 4) Page 4
