Once she placed the basket of cheese curds and two small plates in the middle of their table, she started to lower the now-empty tray and asked, “Anything else I can get you guys?”
She’d barely finished her question when one of the drunks next to her side-stumbled, pushing her right onto Tony. He’d seen it in time and twisted his body, catching her to prevent her from falling completely over. She smelled amazing, something floral and exotic and oddly familiar, but he didn’t have time to analyze it or enjoy how her soft hips felt in his hands before she pushed off of him with an unnecessary apology.
The guy who’d caused the incident, however, was bitching about the beer he’d sloshed onto himself and demanded she get him a free replacement. Tony’s temper flared like a match struck to life. If there was anything he couldn’t abide, it was misogynistic assholes without a chivalrous bone in their bodies.
He scraped back his chair, unfolded to his full six-foot-three-inches, and stepped well into the jerk’s personal space. Like all good friends, Jason did the same from the other side, arms crossed and ready to back him up if need be. Wanting to keep the situation contained for Erin’s sake, Tony kept his voice low, but made sure it conveyed every bit of his irritation.
“Apologize to her.”
“For what?” the man demanded with indignance.
“For not watching where you were going, for being an asshole, or because if you don’t, I’m going to take you out back and make you wish you had.” He shrugged. “Your pick.”
Anger at being dressed down in front of his friends sparked in the man’s eyes, but Tony had at least five inches and fifty pounds on the guy, so he wasn’t about to act on it. At least he wasn’t a stupid asshole.
“It’s fine,” she said at his side. “Accidents happen. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, okay?”
The sound of her voice revved Tony’s engine something fierce, but he pushed it aside until he handled this. “No, it’s not okay,” he said. “When a man fucks up, he apologizes. Now, are you a man, or aren’t you?”
Glancing over, the ass finally caved with a stiff nod in her direction. “It was my fault. I’m sorry.” His eyes swung back to Tony for approval. Tony gave him a chin lift and a look that suggested he make himself scarce. The man turned and trailed after his friend through the bar and out the door. Tony hadn’t meant for him to leave, but fine by him.
“I appreciate your sense of honor—even if it is a tad extreme—but you didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m not the distressed damsel type, and drunk assholes come with the job. They don’t bother me.”
That voice. Why did it make him so— Finally, Tony turned to get his first real look at the new girl and froze. His brain short-circuited, his limbs atrophied, and the thoughts whipping around in his head refused to make their way out of his damn face hole.
Trish Howell.
“Holy shit, Tony?” Her eyes opened wide in mutual shock, but apparently he was the only one who’d gone catatonic. Awesome. She’d be impressed by that for sure.
Trish fucking Howell. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Olive skin, perfectly arched eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes the color of dark chocolate, and full pink lips that stretched into a brilliant smile that made him feel like the only man in a room.
He'd had it bad for her since the third grade when he’d taken her softball glove away from her and she kicked him in the shin for the offense. By the end of recess, they’d become friends, but that shin-kick had started a decade-long crush on one of his closest school friends.
Not that she knew that, of course. Not for sure, anyway. Plenty of people teased them over the years—especially Trish’s oldest sister, Rhianna, who enjoyed threatening to break his fingers if he ever made a move on her. But the threats had been moot. Trish had kept him firmly in the friend zone, and he’d been too much of a wuss to tell her how he felt, so in the friend zone he’d stayed.
At last, Tony mentally slapped himself out of his shock. Go, him. Giving her a warm smile, he said, “Little Trish Howell, how the hell are ya? What’s it been, what, five years since you’ve been back home?”
“I’m just peachy, thanks. And you can’t call me little if I’m four months older than you.”
He didn’t miss the fact she’d avoided his second question, but he left it alone. “Not referring to your age, short-stack.”
Trish narrowed her eyes. “I seem to remember we were still the same height at graduation, then I came back for Christmas a couple years later and you’re suddenly freakishly tall.”
He chuckled. “Told you, my family has a history of being late bloomers.”
She snorted, and it was kind of adorable. “Late bloomers, my ass. It’s no wonder I didn’t recognize you. Obviously you paid another visit to whatever mad scientist keeps altering your appearance.”
Tony feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You're huge."
Jason interjected with, “Ah, the two little words every man wants to hear. Though she’s clearly exaggerating in your case, T.”
Without taking his eyes from the now-laughing woman in front of him, Tony raised his arm and flipped his friend off.
"Not like that. I mean, no offense, Tony; I don’t know if you are or not.” Both men opened their mouths—though probably not to say the same thing—but she quickly held her hands up to stop them. “Nor do I need to know, boys. I was talking about your body. Your body got huge. Okay, now it just sounds weird every time I say the word ‘huge.’ You know what I mean, though, right? Last time I saw you, you weren’t so…"
Jason, ever so helpful, decided to chime in between curds. “Muscular? Ripped? Godlike? Sexy? Dreamy?”
“Dude, can it. I don’t need you to talk me up.”
“I wasn’t. I was talking about me.” Jason stood with a smile and flashed her a wink. “You going to introduce me to the lady, or should I do it myself over drinks after her shift?”
Tony cut him a warning look—the dudes’ equivalent of back off, bitch, he’s mine—even though he knew Jason wasn’t serious. “J, this is one of my oldest friends Trish. Trish, this is one of my newer—and as of yet, still in a trial period—friends, Jason. He moved to town a few years ago as the new gym teacher at the middle school.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jason.” She held her hand out for a shake, but Jason turned it and kissed the top of her hand in what Tony assumed was the cheesiest greeting ever to happen in a Midwestern Irish pub.
“Pleasure’s mine, Trish. But I’d be happy to make it yours.”
Bastard. “Did I mention the trial period, asshole?” Tony asked wryly.
Jason chuckled just as Erin swooped in and looped her arm through his. “Trish, you’re due for your break, and I’m not letting you skip it again. Jason used to work here so he’ll help me up at the bar, won’t you, stud?”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart,” Jason said before kissing her on the cheek. “Besides, if I stick around, poor Tony won’t stand a chance with your lovely new bartender. Lead the way.”
Once Jason was gone, Tony took his first deep breath since turning to see Trish standing in front of him. He’d have to remember to thank Erin later. And backhand Jason in his nuts. On second thought, he and Erin should be square now. She owed him for not telling him who the “new girl” was when she knew damn well it’d trip him up.
Apparently matchmaker and troublemaker were interchangeable.
“Sorry if Jason embarrassed you or anything,” he said. “He’s a tool sometimes, but totally harmless.”
She let out a light laugh. “Yeah, I gathered that pretty quickly. Don’t worry, I won’t hold your friendship against you.”
"Thanks.” They both stared at each other, smiling. It’d felt great joking around and laughing with her like the old days, but the reality of her being in Fort—instead of in her fancy life in New York—had finally sunk in, and he
didn’t feel much like laughing anymore. “Damn, it's good to see you, gorgeous."
"You know, I used to get hugs with your hellos.” She canted her head, her long brown hair falling to one side, and the corners of her lips twitched. “Will the other kids on the playground make fun of you for hugging a girl?”
“Nah.” He pulled her in and folded her into his arms. The feel of her cheek pressed against his chest sent his heart into overdrive. He hoped she didn’t notice. “I’m king of the playground now. Anyone makes fun of me and they get kicked off the monkey bars.”
“Impressive. I’m glad I hold favor with the king, then. The monkey bars were always my favorite.”
“Mine too. Especially when the girls wore dresses.”
Predictably, she laughed and tried to pull away, but he wasn’t letting her go that easily. Laughing, he made the expected feigned apologies and held her tight for as long as she’d let him. Resting his chin on top of her head, he inhaled the sweet jasmine scent—the one he couldn’t place earlier—of her favorite lotion. It brought back so many memories. Ones he hadn’t thought about in years.
As close friends, he'd held her on multiple occasions, and hugging hello and goodbye was second nature for them. He’d always wanted more than those platonic affections, but back in their school days Tony never allowed himself to think it’d ever be possible.
But the last time she’d come home to visit—five whole years ago—he’d started to think “what if.” He’d grown well into his body by then, and while he wasn’t as muscular as he was now, he’d still been toned and fit. That alone gave him confidence with women he hadn’t had before.
The last night they spent time together before she headed back to New York, she'd been tucked into his arms, her cheek resting against his chest as they watched a movie. And that’s when the “what ifs” crept in. What if he tipped her chin up, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her until they couldn't breathe? What if he pulled her onto his lap, cupped her ass with his large hands, and caused her nipples to pebble against his chest…
But by then, Trish was four years into a relationship with some Nick asshole who could never bother himself to fly home with her. Trish had chosen to be with another man, and he couldn’t do anything more than suck it up and keep his what ifs to his damn self. Tony almost snorted. She hadn’t chosen anyone over him; he’d never had the balls to make himself an option for her. So as much as he’d wanted her that night on his couch, Tony wouldn’t betray her trust by pushing the boundaries of their friendship.
Fuck, he'd gone to sleep later still fantasizing about sinking himself between her thighs and feeling her insides squeeze his cock so tight it was painful. When he woke up the next morning, he realized the pain was real. He’d been so hard all damn night that his dick felt like it would explode from the sheet dragging over it. It took three times of jerking off in the shower before he could leave the house without being arrested for public indecency.
Trish broke through his trip down Fucked Up Lane when she pulled away and took a seat in Jason’s empty chair. He sat, too, suddenly holding a grudge against the table separating them. Jesus fucking Christ, he needed to get a grip.
“So, you finally left the Big Apple to sit on your rightful throne as queen of our quaint little town?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I mean, I did leave New York, but I’m only staying here for a couple of months or so.”
Tony was careful not to let his disappointment show. Mainly because it pissed him off. It shouldn’t bother him that she planned to leave again. At least not to the degree that it did. “What happens in a couple of months?” And what happened to whats-his-nuts?
“A good friend of mine is opening up a dress shop in Chicago and asked if I wanted to go in as partners.” Trish shrugged. “I haven’t decided if that’s what I want to do yet, but as soon as I get some things figured out, I’m out of here.”
“Still not a huge fan of small town life, I see.”
She offered him a wan smile. “Afraid not.”
They talked for another ten minutes or so about inane shit. Anything considered polite conversation and nothing overly personal, like what happened between her and the guy she’d been in love with. He was simultaneously pissed and relieved that she didn’t talk to him about it. How was that for indecisive?
Catching her gaze on the beer he’d finished during their talk, she said, “I’d better get back to work. It’s been great talking to you, Tony. I’ll have Jason bring you back another beer.”
She grabbed the empty bottle just as he did the same thing. Trish pointedly glanced at his hand now wrapped around hers, then back up at him with a look in her eyes he couldn’t read.
Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, and she quickly pushed up to her feet to head back to the bar. Say something, dumbass, don’t let this be it. Say something! “Trish, wait.”
She turned back. “Yes?”
Tony stood and gave her a confident smile he didn’t fully feel. “I’d love to take you out sometime and catch up some more. It’s been too long.”
A hint of anxiety flickered across her face as she dropped her gaze to the bottle in her hands. Probably worried he’d dig into why she was back. “Hey,” he said and waited for her to meet his eyes. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. We can just enjoy each other and have a good time.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Tony winced. “Sorry. That sounded a lot different in my head. I swear it’s not a sleazy proposition.” Trying to lighten the mood, he added, “Unless you want it to be, in which case I totally meant it to sound like that.”
She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his chest. He dutifully rubbed the area as though she’d hurt him. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that. Not the sleazy proposition,” she said with a healthy dose of stink eye thrown his way, “but going out would be a nice change from holing up at Rhi’s house all the time.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.” Tony barely stopped himself from an embarrassing victory fist pump. Unfortunately, he had no control over the goofy grin making his cheeks hurt. “And make sure you’re hungry.”
CHAPTER TWO
TONY KNOCKED ON TRISH'S sister's door the next morning and waited with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. He wasn't nervous, but he wasn't as confident as he normally was either. Trish was the only girl who had ever made him feel like this, and he hated it.
The door opened and Rhianna stood on the other side, staring at him through the screen door. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Tony DiAngelo. How ya doin'? Been to the pool recently?"
Tony grinned at the woman who threatened him on a regular basis as kids. She was six years older than Trish and had worked as a lifeguard at the aquatic center. Since Tony was one of the “pool rats”—the name the lifeguards gave to the kids with season passes who spent every day in the water—it was easy for Rhianna to tease him mercilessly about his relationship with her baby sister. If she felt particularly feisty, she’d toss in a threat or two of bodily harm. It was all in good fun, though. At least, he'd hoped it was.
"Hi, Rhianna. Can't say that I've been since I stopped lifeguarding myself. You?"
"Not since the kids were little. Now they're old enough to go on their own, thank God."
Tony laughed. "So now your kids are the pool rats, huh? Strange how life comes full circle."
Rhianna smiled and pushed the screen door open, stepping aside to let him in. "Incredibly strange. So¸ you putting the moves on my sister while she's in town?"
Tony crossed the threshold and stood his ground just inside. "No need to break out your torture implements. We’re just going to breakfast."
Cocking her head, she studied him. Then proceeded to shock the hell out of him. "That's too bad. I'd actually encourage it this time. Either way, getting out of the house will be good for her."
He heard someone descending the stairs and looked up to see Trish dressed in black tights, a black lightwe
ight sweater that ended at mid-thigh, and a wide red belt that made it look like a dress. Or maybe it was a dress that looked like a belted sweater? Her makeup was done, earrings dangled long and played peekaboo from under her dark curls. She was dressed to go out to a club or fancy restaurant.
"I think that's the pot calling the kettle black, Rhi," Trish said as she reached the bottom. "I'm pretty sure you qualify for hermit status. You're practically agoraphobic."
"Why would I want to leave the comfort of my own home when I have everything I need here?"
Trish slipped on a pair of black ankle boots. "Yeah, okay, well let's remember to mind our own business, hmm?"
In a mock patronizing tone, Rhi patted Trish on the head and said, "Oh, sweetie, but you are my business. Now go have fun before I lock you out of the house and force you to stay with mom."
Trish narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't."
“Try me,” Rhi answered with an evil grin.
Tony used that as his cue and placed a hand on Trish's lower back to usher her out. "Come on, Trish. I’ve found a fast retreat is best when she starts slinging threats."
Trish snorted and let him guide her onto the porch, but called over her shoulder so her sister would hear her loud and clear. "Don’t worry, the lion with the loudest roar is always the biggest pussy.”
They heard Rhi laugh as she closed the door behind them and Trish smiled at Tony, making his chest a little tighter. When they reached his car, she stopped. "Um, Tony?"
He followed her gaze to his door. "Shit. I forgot about that." The door was dented in the middle making the seam next to the front quarter panel stick out so far he could see the hinges. "Mrs. Danvers t-boned me last night going through The Intersection.”
The Intersection was what the townies called the only road crossing with an actual stoplight on Main Street. Trish’s eyes widened. “You mean our old English teacher, Mrs. Danvers? How is that woman even still alive? I swear she was in her eighties when she taught us in seventh grade. No way she should be driving.”
Ask Me Again Page 2
