by Stacey Lynn
Which means while Tessa might have friends in Toronto, she doesn’t have a lot of family.
She’d have so much more if she considered this.
“You and Debbie have any plans tonight?” I try for casual but I’m not sure it comes out right based on the look he gives me.
“On a Tuesday? Not real wild plans, no.”
“Want company? Figure I can bring dinner from that Indian place you both like so much.” Bonus, Tessa loves their butter chicken.
I mostly enjoy the way she eats her food with naan, slurping it off her fingers. It’s given me a few boners over the years.
Sawyer’s brows pull together and he grunts, lifting the weight bar over his face before settling it into the rack. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Right.” He sits and presses a towel to his face. “You haven’t offered to deliver food to Debbie and me since… wait…” He snaps his fingers and smirks. “You’ve never offered to bring us food. This about Tessa?”
It’s possible she has something to do with it. After I left the movie room yesterday, I spent most of the day feeling like a total jerk. She’s going through enough right now without having someone pressure her. Which is why I stepped back and left when all I wanted to do was lean in and stay. Forever. At least long enough to slide my mouth against hers and kiss her like I really want to.
But pushing her while she’s reeling from all of Will’s bullshit won’t help anything right now. Especially not with this new plan. I need to slow down and be steady. Give her little hints of what I want. What she means to me.
“Can’t a guy do something nice for his friends?” He gives me a look that says plenty. “Fine. I have something I want to talk to her about. Figured it’d be better if everyone was there.”
Sawyer huffs and lays back down. “I don’t know why in the hell you two can’t get along. Two of my most favorite people and you’re always at each other’s throats.” He grumbles it more to himself and since I can’t argue, I stay silent.
It’s my typical M.O. when it comes to his questioning of Tessa and me.
“But yeah.” He grunts and lifts the weight bar again. “You want to bring me food, I won’t turn you down. Want to tell me what it is you’re thinking of for Tessa?”
“I think it’ll be more fun as a surprise.”
“Great.” He chuckles. “She loves those.”
She hates them. I can’t blame her. I don’t like them either, mostly because they’re like presents from your grandmother. Someone blows something up, makes it seem like it’s so awesome and the best thing ever and then you’re left forcing a smile because it’s absolutely nothing close to anything you wanted.
“Yeah. Not sure she’ll like this one either, but you and Debbie will.”
He pauses mid-lift. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ll see. You’re the only one I know who likes surprises.”
“And Debbie.”
Debbie hates them. She humors them for Sawyer’s sake because he’s like a little kid who barely got away with stealing his grandma’s chocolate stash.
“All right. And Debbie.”
“What? She does.”
“I agreed with you.”
“You don’t sound like you mean it.” He shoves the weight bar back into position and sits again. “Does she not like them?”
His face pales, which is weird considering he’s sweating buckets.
“Why? What are you planning?”
“Nothing.” He wipes off his face and then groans. “Fuck. I have… I have this whole thing planned… and if she’ll hate it…”
“What are you talking 'bout?”
“Proposing,” he says and the word is almost choked out.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Yeah I am.” He’s paling more now and for a moment I want to give my friend shit but he looks utterly terrified. “Yeah. I want to ask her to marry me.”
“Well, shit, Sawyer. That’s fucking awesome!”
“She hasn’t said yes yet.”
I slap his shoulder as he stands and we switch positions. “She will. She wouldn’t have put up with your lazy ass for this long if she wasn’t in it for the long haul.”
Something else flashes across his face. More fear than humor and as I settle onto the bench, I punch him lightly in the gut. “You okay? You’re not really worried, are you?”
As far as I know, there’s no way Debbie will say no. They’ve been together for years already. Hell, she’s probably wondering why it hasn’t happened yet.
“No. Nah, man. I’m not worried. I’ve got this.”
“Damn straight.”
Chapter Eight
Tessa
* * *
There are few things I love in life more than my family and running on a brisk fall morning where the air chills your lungs and the scent of dry leaves is heavy in the air.
One of them being Indian food.
Which is why it’s currently, almost impossible for me to have any scathing or sarcastic comment at the ready when my brother says we’re not cooking dinner tonight because Jason is bringing dinner from Tandor’s Kitchen.
Only the best, and my most favorite place, to grab butter chicken when I’m in Charlotte. A fact Jason knows so while I’m on guard when he enters my brother’s front door, the smell of my dinner keeps me from asking what this new game is.
Unfortunately, as soon as the aroma hits Debbie, she slams her hand to her mouth and takes off running up the stairs, shouting out a “be back in a sec!” to the rest of us.
“What’s going on with her?” Jason asks, hands still holding plastic takeout bags, having kicked off his sandals.
Sawyer took off after Debbie, which means I have to answer.
“Don’t know.” I shrug and head toward my dinner. “Is this a typical thing, you bringing my brother and his girlfriend dinner?”
“As Sawyer reminded me earlier, it’s something I’ve never done before.”
Hmmm. He definitely has something up his sleeves. Sleeves, by the way, that are currently bulging around his biceps in his short sleeve simple gray shirt. I reach for one of the bags but he swings them out of my way, lifting those veined and muscled arms over my head and heads toward the kitchen.
“Easy, killer. You’ll get your food if you act like a good little girl.”
Being patronized shouldn’t send a shiver of excitement down my spine. It’s probably the chicken. I fantasize about food from Tandor’s almost as frequently as I fantasize about the tight ass in black shorts walking away from me.
Ugh. I want to kick Sawyer in the shin for taking off after Debbie. Damn him and his concern for his pregnant girlfriend. Please. Women have been doing this since the beginning of time. She’s fine. It’s me who currently needs the help. Help not shoving my hands to Jason’s stomach and running my fingers all over the muscled blocks that make up his abs.
Help in not restarting the conversation he brought up yesterday. Sawyer doesn’t need that bomb ticking down in his house over dinner. I imagine Indian foods are messy when they explode.
I follow after Jason, because darn it… I’m hungry. A late afternoon run in the heat wore me out but sometimes running is the best way for me to process my emotions and settle my stress. Debbie’s offer to stay awhile longer, an extended vacation, actually sounds delightful. I’ve never gotten to see my brother’s training camps and pre-season games before. He usually only flies me down in the winter, when they’re focused on making the playoffs, and for a break for me to get away from Toronto’s winters.
Ever since I showered off after my run, I’ve debated emailing my boss and discussing the possibility with him. I even brought my laptop so I can work remotely for a few weeks if he’d prefer. I don’t need to sit around all day doing nothing. Especially with Debbie not feeling well. It’s not like we can do all the things we usually do: shop, eat, drink, an occasional day trip to Asheville to tour the Bilt
more.
Which is a bummer because they currently have an exhibit from the show Downton Abbey I’m dying to walk through.
By the time I shake off my thoughts and reach the kitchen, Jason has the takeout containers he brought set all over the kitchen island and the sacks are thrown in the trash. He’s helped himself to a bottle of water and has a few more set out as well.
“What’s the occasion for dinner if you don’t usually do it?” I twist off the top of a bottled water and take a healthy drink. I should probably go grab my personal water bottle I left in the guest room but the stairs right now would be a killer on my thighs. A five-mile run in ninety-degree heat was probably stupid.
Necessary, but stupid.
“Can’t I do something nice without having to have a motive?”
Unfortunately, he probably can because he’s that nice, but in this instance? I don’t buy it. “From my favorite restaurant?”
“Oh? You like Tandor’s?”
His smirk and gleam in his eyes belies the innocence in his tone. Whatever. If I wasn’t already so confused and replaying every single thing that happened yesterday, I’d probably be willing to play this game with him.
As it is, I really am starving. Thankfully, the meals are enclosed in plastic bowls with clear tops so I grab a plate, a few pieces of naan and the container holding my meal and take it to the dining table. I will Debbie to get over her quick bout of nausea so I’m not stuck alone with Jason much longer. I’ve had days to process their news, but I still can’t believe it. Sawyer’s going to be a dad and I’m going to be the awesomest aunt in existence.
“What’s the happy thought for?”
“What?”
“You’re smiling. I don’t usually see that when you’re around me.”
“That’s because you’re not funny.” I stick out my tongue like I’m twelve before shoving a chunk of chicken into my mouth. “Nothing. Just happy to spend time with Sawyer, I guess.”
But when his baby is born, I won’t be here. Which sucks. A lot. Unless I can be here. Which… is possible. Maybe? My mind has to stop this constant merry-go-round. Go home or stay? It’s giving me vertigo.
“Right.” His lips press down and I know he doesn’t believe me, but Jason seems pretty clueless about Debbie’s runoff earlier which tells me the team still doesn’t know.
Like he knows the direction of my thoughts, he tilts his head and points his own fork toward the stairway. “She okay? Sawyer didn’t say she was sick.”
“Dunno.” I scoop more chicken onto a folded chunk of naan and moan as I savor the taste. There are some decent restaurants where I live, all within walking distance, which is a bonus, but none are as good as Tandor’s. I can’t even piece together what makes it so delicious but it’s mouth-watering amazing.
“Jesus, Tessa. Can you not sound like you’re having an orgasm when you eat?”
I choke on my chicken and wash it down with my water. “Don’t like it, you can leave.”
“But then I won’t be able to share with you why I’m here.”
The chicken I’ve devoured rolls in my stomach. Obviously it’s not because he’s a nice guy. I lean back in my chair. “What is it?”
He huffs a laugh and I hate he looks so damn good, smirking at me, shaking his head like I’m some amusing little thing.
“You’re cute, Tessa. I ever tell you that?”
“I think the day you took me to get stitches in my head, yeah. You bopped me on the nose with a finger and said ‘cute and tough, nice’ before ignoring me the rest of the weekend.”
I’m mortified with myself. He’s not supposed to know these things, know how much I remember every.single.encounter with him ever.
His mouth opens a bit and he stares at me. Yeah. That dose of word vomit probably surprises the hell out of him too. But hell, in for a penny. He says he doesn’t give a shit about what Sawyer thinks? He should know what I think.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the day I started having a crush on you.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he chews on what I think is chicken tikki masala. Slowly, he swallows and sets his own fork down. Leaning forward, elbows on the table, I’m tempted to drop my gaze to his mouth and watch his full lips move so sexily as he opens his mouth and asks, “Want to know when it started for me? When I started facing the reality that it was my best friend’s little sister that made my dick hard in my dreams at night and when I was on the road?”
No. No. I absolutely do not want to know this. No one should want to know this. This whole game he’s playing is ridiculously stupid and a waste of time.
“Jason—”
“Christmas time your junior year. You were headed out with some boyfriend and you were wearing a skintight white sweater that showed off your chest and a black leather skirt so short your dad made you go change it. And it wasn’t the skirt that made me hard, it was that you did it, rolling your eyes knowing you wouldn’t be able to go out with something so short, but it was the jeans you had on when you came back down. They cupped your ass so damn perfectly I actually jerked off to you that night and you were only sleeping a few feet away from me. I spent so much time that night, pissed off you were able to go out with some other guy, hating that I was too old for you, that Sawyer would kick my ass if I ever did make a move, and I wanted to pummel the guy who got to put his hands on you.”
My breath lodges in my throat sometime during his story. My fingers are shaking, and that tremble at the tops of my thighs has absolutely nothing to do with my run from earlier.
“What?” is all I can manage to ask. Jason stares me down like I’m someone suspected of a crime and he’s the detective doesn’t believe my alibi.
“Want to know something else about that night?”
“Not really.” But oh yes, I absolutely want to know everything. Tell me more. Tell me more!
He tilts his head and his thick, brown hair flops over one of his ears, curling in a ridiculously cute way. “I saw you when you were getting dressed. And I was the one who told your dad so he’d make you change.”
“What?” It takes me a moment to even remember that night. But now I do. Vividly. Because I’d borrowed that tight miniskirt from my friend, knowing Jason would be there and hoping he’d see me in it. That was a decade ago. And he’s saying that was when he started noticing me? I can’t believe this. Not even because I don’t want to… my brain is literally incapable of comprehending this.
I say his name on a breath before asking, “Why are you doing this?”
My hands are shaking so bad I shove them between my knees and press them close together. Heat tumbles through me, sparking emotions and why do I feel like crying right now? This should make me happy.
Him being so brutally honest should make me want to jump onto the table, throw our food to the floor and slam my mouth to his, dig my fingers into his hair and kiss the hell out of him. Tandor’s be damned! This is what I’ve always wanted!
Instead, all I want to do is run out the door and all the way back to Toronto.
“I told you. I’m tired of waiting.”
Chapter Nine
Jason
* * *
It’s possible I should have finessed this a bit more. Tessa gives me absolutely no reaction except calmly pushing back from the table and looking at whatever is suddenly so fascinating behind me.
“I’m going to go check on Debbie and Sawyer.”
She turns, heads to the stairs and disappears up them without a backward glance.
“What the hell?” I mutter once she’s gone.
I mean, I expected a reaction. That’s what Tessa does. I push buttons. She shoves back. It’s not even the first time I’ve hinted at how much I still want her. New Year’s Eve comes to mind but that’s mostly because I was celebrating the return of my brother to town even if he still couldn’t play. I drank too much whiskey and before I was thinking, I for one, swung Katie through the air, giving him shit about her really wanting me and the
n I caught a glimpse of Tessa, her blonde hair, her sparkling eyes as she laughed easily with Debbie and Regan and a few other wives.
I’d waited for her. Almost took what wasn’t mine to have… but now it could be, and at the first possible chance, I’ve stunned Tessa so much she doesn’t have a single comeback for me.
It’s never happened. We trade barbs. We sling insults. Perhaps it’s possible that while we’ve been at each other’s throats over the years, we’ve never once spilled truths.
She’s not gone long though because as her feet are still pounding up the wood stairs, others echo as well and together, both she and Sawyer come back down the stairs. Sawyer, looking a little green in the face and Tessa looking like she’s being walked to her public execution.
“What’s going on?” It’s Sawyer’s face that has me pushing back my chair with such force it falls to the floor. “Debbie okay?”
“Yeah, man, she’ll be fine.” He scrubs a hand down his face and his head falls forward. “I only have a couple more weeks of watching her go through this shit all damn day. I’m over it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s pregnant, dumbass,” Tessa says, grinning at me. Aaah. The name-calling. Apparently she was able to realign our fighting positions on her short run from me.
Silly girl. If I can chase a puck flying a hundred miles across the ice she has to know I can chase—and catch—her too.
“Debbie’s pregnant?” Slowly, her words click in my brain. Followed by Sawyer’s announcement earlier. “Is this why you want to propose?”
“Well, yeah. And no. I mean, no shit, I don’t want to propose because she’s pregnant, but yeah, I want to marry her.”
He shakes his head like he needs to clear it and heads toward the island. “She’s been sick. Morning. Afternoons. Smells set her off. Sometimes something sounds good and I go pick it up for her and then she throws up as soon as she sees it. This pregnancy shit sucks so far.”
