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

by Amelia Foster

  And he was also completely oblivious to Jillian’s very existence, save for the few times they were pushed together at social functions their mothers co-chaired. Because naturally a Monroe daughter would want to be with a Randolph son. It would be a match made in social status heaven.

  Tristan turned a brilliant smile on one of his friends and Jillian sighed, leaning against the metal door that latched shut at the pressure of her shoulder on it. He was the one thing she would easily acquiesce to her mother’s desires if he showed her the slightest interest at all.

  But she didn’t have perfect blonde curls or straight chocolate brown hair. She was the shortest girl in her class…again this year. And fiery hair combined with dark, emerald eyes wasn’t the standard of beauty that boys sought after.

  Not to mention the freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose.

  With her ever increasing crush pushed firmly back into the “never gonna happen” place it belonged, she turned on her heel and headed to one of her last classes of the day. Maybe her mother would let her visit Dean and—

  A hand on her shoulder halted her footsteps and her train of thought. She spun around, fully expecting Missy or Lila to be putting on their fake friendship act to get Jillian’s help with one of the classes they shared. Instead she was met with sparkling cornflower eyes and a million watt smile.

  Tristan freaking Randolph stood two feet from her, not because his mother and hers had forced them together at some event that they called a fundraiser, but was truly nothing more than a social gathering.

  No, there was no one standing behind Tristan shoving a lemonade in his hand and giving him talking points in hushed tones. He had sought her out all on his own. A fact that would be immediately going into her diary the second she got home.

  “Hey Jillian.” The lopsided grin mirrored that of the latest teen singing sensation who sent thousands of girls into screaming fits. But on Tristan it looked even better.

  Her brain sluggishly remembered that she needed to speak after several moments had ticked by. “Hey, Tristan.” Stellar conversation, she chastised silently.

  He looked down for the briefest of moments and then back up, his gaze locking on hers and a nearly irresistible smirk firmly in place on his lips. “I was wondering if I could come over to your house today and hang out for a little bit.” She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he held up a hand. “I’ve already cleared it with my parents.”

  For the first time since birth, she was grateful for the composure that her mother had drilled into her. The ability to hold a perfect smile no matter what was going on inside her brain and heart. It was the only thing keeping her from jumping up and down and making an absolute fool of herself…and probably having Tristan change his mind.

  “That would be lovely.” She affected her best congenial tone and laced it with a genuine smile, but not too big. Just right.

  Her hand mechanically took all the notes as her teachers droned on, but her mind was far from focused on the lessons, instead planning every detail of her time with Tristan. By the time Henry arrived to pick up both Jillian and Tristan, she had mentally scheduled out the entire evening to include a romantic comedy followed by a horror flick for maximum effect.

  She was certain she could fake fear well enough to incite Tristan’s naturally chivalrous tendencies, the ones she was sure he possessed even though she’d never actually seen them in action, to comfort and protect her. Which would undoubtedly lead to their first kiss.

  On the short drive to her home, she frowned as Tristan sat pressed against the door, seemingly as far from her as possible. He kept flicking his wrist to check the time on his watch and sighing.

  Their feet had barely crossed the threshold when he looked at her for the first time since they’d left school “Bathroom is that way, right? Last door on the left?”

  Jillian’s lower lip jutted out at the practically absurd question, but she nodded and watched in confusion as he darted off. Moments later he appeared again, his uniform long gone and ripped jeans, Converse, and a gray t-shirt taking its place.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, tapped on the screen a few times and slid it in the back pocket of his pants. “I told Mother,” he rolled his eyes and exaggerated the word, “to send the driver over about ten so I’ll be back about fifteen minutes before that to change and act like I’ve been here all night.”

  Uncertainty and shock swirled in her brain like a dense fog, stealing all the questions that stood on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked.

  Tristan leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks so much for being my cover, Jillian. I knew I could count on you.”

  With that he bolted out the front door and down the granite steps. Tears fell from her eyes at the same pace as his feet landed on the stone as he made his escape. Large, fat drops that condemned her stupidity for believing Tristan had any interest in her whatsoever.

  She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket, taking the stairs to her room two at a time, shedding the stiff uniform and pulling on the closest thing to casual clothes she had. She carefully tip-toed through the house, swallowing back the emotions in case anyone saw her. As soon as she was convinced everyone was occupied, she fled out the back door and straight toward her sanctuary.

  Fredrock and Dean.

  Chapter Nine

  Dean

  Present

  “Hot water, fast food, and this spot. Not in that order.” Jillian wrapped her arms around herself and ended the statement with a blissful sigh.

  Dean looked over at Jillian as he pulled items from the saddlebags. This was a trick Wyatt had used on Georgia, and based on her stomach swelling with their second child and the absolutely disgusting way they still acted like newlyweds more than two years later, it clearly held some merit. “That’s…an interesting list.”

  She laughed and tipped her face to the sun, the rays kissing the freckles that had doubled in number since he last saw her. “The things I missed while I was gone, doofus.”

  Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. “What, you didn’t miss me?” You are an incurable dumbass. His mouth was going to screw everything up and send her sprinting back to Ethiopia or Honduras before he could blink.

  She turned back to him and blinked a few times, the corner of her mouth curling into a half smile. “You’re a given, Sparky. You know you and Fredrock are a package deal.” Her eyes widened as he shook out the blanket and spread it across the stone slab. “What is that?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been out in the field for so long you’ve forgotten what a picnic is.” He looked up at her and grinned as he smoothed the thick material on the smooth stone surface. He’d leave out the tidbit that it was the same one Tanner had used on Izzy and Wyatt had used on Georgia, and that he hoped it carried some weird Carlisle family magic.

  And he’d made sure to wash it twice after he snagged it from Connor because he didn’t even want to imagine what kinds of things this poor piece of cloth had seen.

  Not that he’d ever be sentimental enough to believe in that kind of garbage like a lucky love talisman. That was Connor’s thing. He was “the sensitive one.”

  Dean carefully pulled each container of food from the saddlebags as Jillian took a seat on the blanket and her eyes grew wide at the seemingly endless supply.

  Score one for Izzy. His sister-in-law had done little more than give him a half second long knowing look before agreeing to pack up dinner for two.

  The small dimple Dean had found himself thinking about in the middle of the night appeared on her left cheek. That alone was worth the endless hours of harassing “I-told-you-so’s” his brothers would undoubtedly pour on him.

  And, damn it, they were right.

  Since Dean and Jillian first met his brothers would bump his shoulder with their larger ones and say her name in a sing-songy voice that irritated the hell out of him. They’d make kissy sounds and hum Here Comes the Bride when they sa
w her coming toward the house.

  If it weren’t for the fact that he loved the woman sitting next to him so much he wasn’t sure he could take his next breath without confessing it, he’d hate the fact he was proving all their taunts were right. Well, right as long as Jillian agreed to make the fake engagement something a little less than fake. Something that was kinda like forever.

  Her smile vanished as she popped the lid off of one of the containers and her mouth turned down at the corners. “Dean, I don’t eat chicken.” She lifted her eyes from the breaded planks to meet his. “Remember? Vegetarian?”

  It was a fact he knew well and so did Izzy. And just in case she’d forgotten he’d reminded her. Twice.

  He picked up one of the pieces and held it close to her lips. “I remembered. This is fake chicken. And I gotta admit it doesn’t taste half bad.”

  She opened her mouth and took the proffered food, closing her eyes with a small moan that sent Dean’s mind straight to the gutter. “Damn, Sparky, this is good.”

  His incredibly proper and refined fiancée managed to devour more food in the next ten minutes than he could even attempt. The brown leather belt was digging into his stomach and he held up his hands calling “uncle” while she plowed through two more helpings.

  “Where in the hell do you put it all, Jillybean?” He wasn’t sure if he was more in awe or jealous of her appetite, although the way she licked the strawberry juice from her fingers was enough to wipe both thoughts from his mind and set him on a very different track.

  She lifted her shoulder and popped one more grape in her mouth before snapping the lid closed on the nearly empty container. “Working out in the sun and walking all over creation has a way of making a girl grow her appetite.” She sighed and tilted her head to one side. “I’m not saying this wasn’t delicious and I definitely don’t want to sound rude, but tell me what this is all about.”

  Show time.

  He grinned and pulled the bouquet of daisies, asters, and chrysanthemums all in vivid purple tones from behind the rock where he’d stashed it earlier. Her mouth fell open slightly but he held up one hand. “This is an eco-friendly bouquet from a fair trade farm. No plants were harmed in the making of these flowers.”

  A warm smile curled her lips and she pulled the fragrant blooms close to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Dean, they’re gorgeous.” She drew her brows together and frowned at him over the petals. “Seriously, what are you up to?”

  He slid off the rock and knelt beside Jillian, pulling the ring from his front pocket in a move he hoped looked far smoother than he felt. He lifted the lid and did a small inner cheer at her sharp intake of breath. Without the slightest input from his foggy brain, he tucked a thick auburn wave behind her ear that had escaped her ponytail.

  “Jillybean, just because this is all happening as a means to an end…” The words nearly lodged in his throat. He wanted more than a fake engagement, but now wasn’t even close to being the right time for that particular announcement. “Well, you’re still my best friend. And you’re still that girl who cried over those stupid reality show engagements even though you knew they’d be broken up within a month.”

  He plucked the ring from the blue velvet and slid it on her ring finger. “And my best friend deserves a real engagement ring.” He slid his knuckle under her chin and lifted it so she’d look him in the eyes. “Conflict free and ethically sourced with all the proper certification to prove it.”

  She sat motionless, eyes glued to the ring, mouth still hanging open in shock. After countless moments that had Dean believing he had royally screwed it all up, she lifted her gaze to meet his, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. “Someone is going to be really lucky to get you for real one day, Sparky.”

  Dean smiled up at her despite the ache in his heart at the suggestion there could be anyone other than her. “For the next two years this is real. I know what you said, but I already told you I don’t have a girlfriend and I’m not going to look for one.” He gripped the hand he still held firmly in his.

  Jillian tugged free from his hold to wrap her arms around his neck. “I can’t possibly thank you enough for doing this. I’m asking so much of you and you just…jumped in to fix the disaster that’s my life without asking questions.” She pulled back and sniffed, wiping her forearm across her eyes. “And you haven’t even pushed to know why.”

  He rose from his spot on the ground to the smooth stone slab, not letting her out of his arms as he moved. “You’ll tell me eventually. You always tell me everything.” He placed his palm on the side of her head and gently coaxed her to lay against his shoulder. “And if you don’t, I have ways of making you talk.”

  “This is probably exactly why none of your ex-girlfriends actually believed we were just friends. Or your brothers.” She lightly pinched his side. “And you aren’t that good of an interrogator.”

  The immediate grin that took up residence on his face at her joking challenge was completely involuntary. He walked his fingers from where they rested near her hip bone up to her ribcage and around her back before dancing lightly across the thin material barely covering her skin. “I’m pretty sure I won every tickle fight we ever had.”

  She squealed and leapt from the rock and spun on her heels to face him, index finger pointing at him accusingly despite the grin plastered on her face. “Gotta catch me first.” She turned and raced away, Dean giving chase. She disappeared into the woods a few yards away that stood as a barrier between the house she grew up in and Dean’s childhood home.

  Despite his much longer legs, she managed to stay a fair distance away. He lowered his head and kicked his burning limbs into overdrive as he closed the gap between them. He barely grazed her back and gasped out, “Uncle.”

  Jillian turned and jogged backward a few extra feet as Dean hunched over and gripped his knees. “What’s the matter, Sparky, can’t handle a little game of tag anymore?”

  He held up one hand and swallowed in between pants, desperately pulling air into his lungs. “I touched you, you’re it.” He looked up at the sky turning brilliant shades of pink, purple, and crimson as the sun began its descent. “But it’s going to get dark soon and we need to get back.”

  She walked back toward him with a sympathetic “tsk” and patted his back as she passed. “It’s okay, I won’t tell your brothers a girl outran you.”

  ***

  Jillian

  Present Day

  For the ninth time in just the last hour, Jillian held up her left hand in the small amount of light that seeped into the bedroom from the light outside the window. Even in the dark, the emerald at the center of the rose gold band shimmered and the diamond accents twining around on either side sparkled in return. It was a breathtaking ring, but it meant more given the circumstances.

  She turned onto her side on the bed, completely incapable of finding a comfortable position despite the downy soft bedding and body hugging mattress. She assumed sleep was eluding her because of the zillions of time zones she’d hopped in the past seventy-two hours, but if she were honest, that was only one component.

  Dean had been her best friend for nearly two decades and she knew without a doubt when her mother first contacted her, completely panicked, that Dean would be there for her even if this was a crazy idea.

  And he had been.

  She spun the ring on her finger again, a small corner of her heart aching at the fact she’d have to give it back when their charade was up. It was perfect. Exactly what she would have wanted from a fiancé if she were really engaged.

  But that was Dean. Even though he’d been dragged, albeit rather without too much struggle, into a situation he didn’t ask for and didn’t even fully understand, he’d managed to do something for her. To make her feel better and to make her happy.

  She flipped over to her back again just as a new thought managed to penetrate the Helena Monroe induced fog that had been clouding her brain for weeks. Jillian slapped the heel of her hand to her forehe
ad and groaned. She was being an ass. Not only was she asking a hell of a lot from Dean, she hadn’t even bothered to talk to him about…him.

  Their communication over the past several years had been unsatisfactory at best. She had only been stateside for brief periods of time, and texting and Skype calls didn’t exactly allow for meaningful discussions.

  She knew Dean was working with Wyatt, but she had no idea exactly what he did for his brother. All of the Carlisle boys were happy to be outside and Dean embodied this with his love of being dirty, digging for worms, and fishing in the pond. But he wasn’t passionate about horses and rodeos like Wyatt so she couldn’t imagine how he fit in on the ranch.

  Especially with a degree in…

  She pulled the pillow over her head and growled against the material. Some best friend she was, she couldn’t even remember what his major was. In her defense, he’d changed his mind six times in the course of his studies, extending his college term by a solid two years, and it was hard to keep up.

  Tossing the pillow to the ground, she leaned over and grabbed her phone from the charging station and set the alarm. This was completely unacceptable. Dean deserved a much better friend and she was determined to be one. She returned the device to its holder and snuggled down under the covers, pulling them up tight around her neck.

  She held the ring-adorned hand close to her heart, where she unrealistically wished she could keep it.

  Staying up to stare at pretty, sparkly things was a decision she regretted when the blaring alarm sounded out only a handful of hours later, but she switched it off and spun, planting her feet on the hardwood floor beside the bed. Her eyes barely open, she padded into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and let the hot spray work its magic to revitalize her as much as possible.

  She toweled off and dressed, then tip-toed into the kitchen. Dean’s light snores from the couch sent another wave of guilt crashing into her. His feet dangled over the armrest at the end of the sofa while she was completely dwarfed in his bed. Another thing he’d given her without question, his comfort for hers.