Meant to be More (Meant to Be Series Book 4)

by Amelia Foster

  He hopped off the rock, tugging off his shoes as he crossed the short distance to join her, leaving a trail of sneakers and socks in his wake. “Yeah, but way back then they were ridin’ horses and stuff too. Is the Ice Queen planning on giving up her Bentley for a Clydesdale?”

  Jillian held her skirt above the water and carefully moved a little deeper. “Never in a million years.” She sighed heavily and tipped her face toward the sun blazing above them. “And you need to be careful calling her that. If she ever overhears you she’ll never allow me to see you again.”

  Dean snorted. “Aw, don’t worry, Jillybean. The Ice Queen would never leave the glass castle to lower herself to the likes of ‘new money.’”

  She stopped moving and twisted her lips to the side. “You know I don’t think that…right?”

  He dropped his gaze and kicked at the murky water lapping his calves. “Think what?” The question was ridiculous. He knew exactly what she meant, but despite the close bond they’d forged, he sometimes wondered why she would leave her perfect, pristine home to play in the dirt with him.

  Her soft fingers landed on his forearm and drew his attention back to her face. “You’re my best friend. I don’t care that you, o-o-or anyone really, just came into money. I don’t really care if you have money or not, honestly.” She tilted her head and smiled softly. “All that I care about is that you don’t cheat at Scrabble and you let me practice riding on your bike.”

  Cheating at Scrabble wouldn’t do him any good. He was convinced that Jillian knew more words than Tanner and he was about to go to college in a little over a year. He puffed out his chest and slung his thumb through the belt loops of his shorts just like he’d seen Wyatt do. “Nope. I’d never cheat. I’m an honest man.”

  Jillian dipped her chin and blinked once very slowly. “Dean. You’re ten years old. You aren’t a man.”

  “If you’re gonna go to that…that…” he scrunched his face up as he tested the pronunciation in his head “…kuh-till-yun class and learn how to become a proper lady, I can be a man.”

  She opened her mouth, but before a single word could come out she let out a loud yelp. Within seconds tears formed at the corners of her eyes and she grabbed onto his shoulder.

  Dean wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from sliding into the water and getting the pale green dress dirty. Something that would certainly earn a scolding from her mother and possibly hail the end of their playtimes together. “What’s wrong?”

  Her grip on him tightened and she leaned into him. “Help me to Fredrock. I need to sit down.” She hiccupped as a single wet path made its way down her left cheek. “I think I cut my foot on…something.”

  Slowly they made their way to the large, flat stone that was their designated meeting spot and he helped her lower herself onto the surface. She bunched her skirt higher on her thighs, nearly to her hips, and propped her ankle on the opposite knee to examine the bottom of her foot. The barely escaping tears turned into sobs.

  “It looks so bad. I can’t walk on this. There’s no way I can get home.” Another shuddering hiccup shook her entire body. She looked up at him with helpless, fearful eyes. “If my mom knows I got hurt here, with you…she won’t let me come back.”

  A flurry of ideas swirled in Dean’s mind. He could help her back to his house and get his mom to disinfect and bandage her foot with no problem, but he knew his mother and she’d insist on telling one or both of Jillian’s parents. Stupid adult code.

  Tanner was out because he was just as impossibly responsible as their folks. An involuntary grin curled his lips. Wyatt. He was the perfect choice. Not only would his brother be willing to keep a secret, he would do a great job of fixing her up because he got cuts and scrapes all the time from getting thrown from his horses.

  “It’s okay, Jillybean. I know just what to do.” He turned away from her and barked orders over his shoulder. “Get on.”

  When seconds ticked by in silence and absolutely nothing happened he rotated back to face her. “What’s your problem? I said ‘get on.’”

  She leaned back slightly. “What do you mean ‘get on?’”

  He slapped a palm to his forehead. Was he really going to have to teach this girl everything fun in life? “Let me guess, you have no idea what a piggyback ride is.”

  Jillian lifted one shoulder, but he was slightly relieved to see that her tears had dried up.

  Dean bent his knees slightly. “You’re gonna put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. I’m gonna put my arms under your legs to hold you up and you’re gonna hold onto me tight.” He glared at her over his shoulder. “But don’t choke me.”

  She stared at him suspiciously for a few seconds before doing exactly as he said. She let out a small “eep” when he lifted her, but otherwise was silent as he took careful steps toward the small barn that housed Wyatt’s two horses and would certainly contain his brother. Even though they were the same age, Dean had a good four inches on Jillian. Not to mention the fact he was certain she was tinier than any of the girls in his class.

  Just as the building came into view he slowed his steps. Even though she was little, the weight of carrying her up the small incline was harder than he’d expected. A small detail he would never let on to her.

  He set her down on one of the barrels and promised he’d bring his brother back to help. The task took slightly more effort than he thought, but he eventually managed to talk Wyatt into cleaning up Jillian’s cut and not letting the cat out of the bag to any adult…Tanner being included in that group despite the fact he was only seventeen.

  After he was done, Wyatt eyed them both so closely that Dean squirmed on the bench beside Jillian where Wyatt had moved her to work on her foot. “If you two are gonna to rope me into this scheme that may land my ass in trouble with Mom and Dad, you at least should let me know why.”

  Despite the demand, Wyatt carefully cleaned the wound as Jillian and Dean sat in silence. Dean shrugged slightly as she looked up at him with silent, pleading eyes.

  She rolled her eyes at his lack of help and turned back to Wyatt. “Because my mother is the Ice Queen who lives in the glass castle and hates new money. If she knew I got hurt while I was with Dean…she’d use that as a reason to forbid me from playing with him.”

  A grin spread across Dean’s lips as she quoted his nicknames for her mother even as a pang of hurt pricked something inside his chest. Not seeing Jillian just wasn’t an option. Instead of thinking too long on that he turned the smile to his brother. “Bonus for you, Wy. I won’t tell Mom and Dad you were cussin’.”

  ***

  Jillian

  Fifteen Years Earlier

  “That was really nice of Wyatt to help me.” She drew her brows together and concentrated on walking as normally as possible despite the spike of pain that shot through her with every step.

  The silence from the usually chatty Dean churned the peanut butter crackers and apple juice Wyatt had stolen from the house when his mother wasn’t looking and brought out to her in the barn after his stint as nurse on call for her injury.

  In the distance she saw the sleek, black town car that her mother used glide down the driveway and out of sight. A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaped her mouth and her shoulders dropped slightly.

  She was so much more fortunate than many children, but a small stone of dread settled in her tummy the closer they drew to her house.

  Many of the galas, luncheons, and auctions her mother either hosted or chaired raised money for children of some sort. Impoverished ones, sick ones, at risk ones. The pictures displayed, tastefully and discreetly as her mother always insisted, were certainly reminders that she had a much more privileged life than many. Something she knew deep down, even at her tender age, that she should be grateful for.

  But the time she spent with the Carlisle family took the small, pestering questions that formed when she watched TV shows or movies featuring families and turned it into a dee
p cavern of want. Mike and Tracy were strict parents in some ways, all the boys knew to respect their parents and always addressed them as sir and ma’am, but their devotion to their children was undeniable.

  And something she was growing to wish she had in her own, otherwise lavish world.

  “You think you got this?”

  Dean’s abrupt question brought Jillian back to the present and she realized they were standing just on the edge of her property line. The same place Dean stopped every time he walked her home. Helena Monroe’s impeccable manners had been fully in place the singular time Jillian had dared bring the boy into her home, but her true feelings were painfully obvious even to children.

  The scrape on her foot ached, but not nearly to the level that she portrayed when she scrunched up her face. “Could you just walk with me to the door? I’m afraid it might hurt too much to make it all the way on my own.”

  He glanced from the house to Jillian and back again, squinting one eye. “The Ice Queen probably wouldn’t be real keen on that.”

  “She’s gone.” Jillian piped up quickly, taking hold of his forearm. “I saw Ronald pulling out with the black town car only Mother uses.”

  With that bit of information, Dean shrugged and plodded forward. It didn’t escape Jillian’s notice that he made certain he didn’t walk faster than her, letting her take hold of him when she needed a little help.

  Although needed was a slight exaggeration.

  Dean hung back at the door, but only required a small amount of urging to come inside. Jillian scoped out the empty landscape and tugged on his hand to pull him toward the staircase that led to her room.

  Once she’d quietly shut the door, she inspected her outfit in the mirror before popping up onto the frilly bedding and bouncing slightly.

  Dean raised a brow at her and twisted his lips to the side. “That’s a rather mir…uh…miraculous recovery.”

  Her cheeks heated and she turned her head away. Even though she’d much rather be with Dean and his family, there was something comforting about having him as part of her world for a change and she couldn’t quite figure out why. So instead she kept her mouth firmly closed and tracked him as he wandered about her room.

  He scratched his scalp of unruly brown hair. “This is a real nice room, for a girl I mean, but where’s your stuff?”

  She turned her head and drew her brows together, staring at him in silence for a moment. “All of this is my stuff.”

  Dean flung his arms out wide and turned in a circle. “Where are the toys and the games and the…ya know, stuff?”

  Jillian pressed her lips together and pulled them both in between her teeth. “Mother feels that toys are a waste of time and that it’s better to read.” The slight ache in her heart turned into a few rapid thumps. “But…I do have some things I’ve saved. In secret that she doesn’t know about.”

  A very excited, but very dangerous, grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “You know how much I love secrets.”

  She crossed the room, opened the door to the large walk-in closet, and rooted around under the shoe rack for the rectangular box she kept hidden. She brought it back to the bed and crossed her legs on the mattress, patting the spot beside her before opening the lid. Pictures, articles, and pamphlets practically erupted from the small space she confined them to.

  Dean closely examined several sheets of paper before he looked up with a questioning gaze. “What the heck is all this?”

  The irritation that flared inside her at every pointless dinner party thrown under the guise of raising money caught fire again. “I am so sick of my parents and all their friends pretending like they are so wonderful because they hold auctions and galas and stupid garden parties.” She snorted a frustrated huff out of her nose. “They spend more on the event than they actually send to the people who need it.”

  He squinted at her and scratched the back of his neck. “That sounds about right from what you’ve told me about your folks, but…that still doesn’t explain this.” He waved a hand across the mess spread out before him.

  “Because I’m going to go there. And there. And there. And maybe there too.” She pointed at half a dozen pictures and passion blossomed in her gut. “I’m not going to send money and brag about it to my stuffy, snooty friends, I’m going to go there and help them and dig wells for water and give the kids vaccines and…I don’t know what else, but I am going to do it.”

  Silence fell between them long enough that Jillian’s stomach churned, expecting her best friend in the whole world to laugh at the private dream she held. She squeezed her eyes closed tight and then dared to look at him again.

  A much more genuine smile lit up his face. “If anyone can do it, Jillybean, it’s you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dean

  Present Day

  Frazzled auburn hair and a blatantly pained expression should not have ignited the silent smoldering embers of desire in Dean’s gut just from thinking of Jillian, but when it was combined with a practically see through shirt and nonexistent sleep shorts, it did. It definitely did.

  She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and propped her elbow on the side of the refrigerator. “When the hell did you start playing a one man band in your kitchen at too damn early o’clock? The Dean I knew loved to sleep in.”

  The deep sense of rightness that cemented itself at the sight of Jillian in his bed last night after she passed out from one too many drinks warred with frustration inside him. “Eight a.m. isn’t all that early considering the fact that it’s a workday, and that wasn’t a marching band, it’s called making breakfast.” He nodded toward the small round table a few feet away. “Go sit down.”

  She grumbled and groaned, but shuffled over to the wooden chair and slumped into it. “I don’t think I could possibly eat anything.”

  Dean plated the omelet and grabbed the glass sitting beside the stove. He set the dish in front of her as gently as possible to avoid a loud clatter that would undoubtedly cause her already throbbing head to riot more. “You need to at least try. This is my famous hangover special, after all. It’s solved more morning after regrets than I can count…and not just mine.”

  She sipped on the Bloody Mary and peeped up at him with one bloodshot eye as he took the seat next to her. “I thought your regrets usually came in D cups with bleached blonde hair.”

  The regretfully accurate barb pricked his conscious. As always he pushed aside the real emotions and relied on a dramatic chest clutch. “Why, Jillybean, you wound me.”

  She twisted her lips to the side for a moment before shoving a small forkful of the veggie laden omelet in her mouth. “No woman has ever hurt the untouchable Dean Carlisle.”

  He swallowed back the involuntary laugh that bubbled up in his throat. The woman was damn near killing him right now with this whole fake engagement bullshit and she had the nerve to say that? With more sincerity than brain cells, he shook his head. “You aren’t just any woman. You’re my best friend.” He pulled himself together enough to toss her a cockier-than-he-felt grin. “And my soon-to-be wife.”

  “Temporarily. Only eighteen months.” She waved her fork in his direction before spearing more food. “Give or take.”

  A fleeting glimmer of hope fluttered behind his breastbone like a delicate butterfly. “Give or take?”

  Jillian looked from her plate to the wall to the sliding glass door on the opposite side of the townhouse that led to the small back deck. Everywhere but directly at him. Normally a bad sign, but one that couldn’t help but feed the lovesick beast inside him that he practically loathed at times.

  He curled a finger under her chin and pulled gently to bring her to face him. “Don’t you think your fiancé deserves a little more explanation there, Jillybean?”

  Her green eyes disappeared behind her lids for several seconds before she brought her gaze to meet his. “We have to stay married for eighteen months for me to access the trust fund, but then there is a process of actual
ly getting the money as well as the divorce proceedings so…” Her voice trailed off on a sigh. “There’s a chance this fake marriage could last a couple of years.”

  A completely inappropriate smile begged to break free across his face and Dean coughed a few times to try and hide his glee. “Two years?” Hell, in that length of time making Jillian fall for him was damn near a given.

  “Listen.” She laid a hand on his forearm and turned to face him. “I don’t expect you to give up…anything for me. Asking you to stop dating, stop having fun, stop…well, being Dean Carlisle for me isn’t fair. You’re still free to do whatever you want. This is a name only thing.”

  Bullshit and hell no raced through his mind, but he kept the words as far from his tongue as possible. He was thankfully saved from saying more by a loud alert from the phone in his pocket that had Jillian moaning and clutching her skull so tightly her knuckles whitened under the pressure.

  As quickly as possible he slid the device out, swiped across the screen a few times, and clicked the button on the side to silence it. “Sorry, that was Mat letting me know he was out front.”

  Jillian squeezed her eyelids into slits open enough to barely show a small strip of her irises. “Mat? As in your cousin Mat? What the hell is he doing here and why the hell is he picking you up?” She groaned again and completely closed her eyes. “And since when did you make an air horn your text tone?”

  Dean chuckled and rubbed her back. “He works at the ranch with me. I’m having him pick me up so you can rest. Bring the truck out when the parade in your head ends.” When she finally looked at him again, he gave her a wink and grin. “Then we can bring my bike home. You’ll love it.”

  She gently massaged her temples. “I am in far too much pain to actually ask the questions I am certain I should be asking.” She took a slightly larger sip of the Bloody Mary and downed the two tablets he’d laid out beside the glass. “I’m going to attempt to finish at least half of this and go back to bed. Am I on a timeline here, Sparky?”