by Stacey Lynn
“No,” I say, and it comes out so glumly he laughs.
“Come here. I’ve already told you I can wait. But at least sit next to me and relax a bit.”
He does make well-reasoned, valid points.
“Fine,” I grumble, because for some reason my stubbornness isn’t easily kicked to the curb. Plus, it wouldn’t be Jason and me being normal if we weren’t giving each other a hard time. “But I’m only doing it for the wine.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
His smile is so blinding I have to squint as I shuffle on the couch. True to his word, he stays still until I’m at his side, my shoulder falling into the curve of his with his arm still draped across the back of the couch. I spread out my legs, straightening them and it takes effort not to groan. Perhaps I have been a tightly knotted ball on his couch.
As soon as I’m settled, close to him and against him but not curling into him, he hands me my wine. I take a sip and relax further.
“This doesn’t suck,” I admit. I’m suddenly five degrees warmer by being close to him and when he shifts his legs, the coarse hair on his scrape the soft skin of my thighs. Strange how that small brush of him against me can be so delicious.
What exactly am I protesting? It’s difficult to remember with his pheromones wafting over me, encasing me in an invisible cloud of his cologne and sexiness.
“Thanks,” he huffs a laugh and grabs the remote. “I think my company is slightly better than this doesn’t suck but I’ll take it, little miss stubborn.”
I scrunch my face up and stare at the television.
“So what movie is this anyway?”
My ringing phone wakes me up and I groggily reach for it. There are so few people who could be calling me early on a Sunday morning. I slap the phone a few times before I’m awake enough to grab it and yank out the charging cord.
“Hello?” My throat sounds like it’s been scrubbed with sandpaper. Too much wine. Too little water.
“You’re going to be my sister for real!” A screeching sound I vaguely recognize blasts through the phone and I frown.
“What?”
“I’m engaged!”
“Debbie?” I pull the phone away from my ear and finally, her words make sense.
“Tessa—”
“Oh my gosh!” I scramble on the bed, shoving pillows this way and that until I’m against the headboard. “Are you serious? You’re not joking, are you? Because if you are, this is the cruelest joke in mankind.”
“‘I’m not joking! Your brother woke me up this morning and asked! I told him I had to call you before he did.”
My head is spinning with happiness. “This is wonderful, Debbie! Congratulations! Tell me everything. Well, not everything everything, if you know what I mean, but all the PG-rated good parts I want to hear. How’d he ask? What’d he say? Was he romantic?”
She snorts through the phone. “Please. And I have a better idea. Meet me for lunch? We have a wedding to plan and I need your help immediately!”
A quick glance at the clock says it’s only eight in the morning. She’s usually bent over the toilet bowl puking her guts out right now. “Are you… do you think you’ll feel okay enough for lunch? We can do later.”
“No, I’m good. Talked to my doctor the other day and they have some medicine I can take to help and I’ve felt better. Also, I’ve already thrown up today so I should be good. So? Lunch. I’ll swing by and grab you and we’ll go somewhere special. You can have a mimosa for me.”
“Or six.”
She laughs. “Whatever you need, Tessa. Are you in?”
My brother’s engaged. He’s having a baby. I might currently be a blubbering, simpering idiot. “Yes!” I shout. “I’m so in!”
“Great. I’ll see you at noon. Be ready to plan. Oh my gosh, I’m getting married!”
I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “See you then, Debbie.”
“Sister.”
I sniff back more tears. “Okay. Sister.”
She ends the call and I hug my phone to my chest. Swiping happy tears from my cheeks, it takes me a full five minutes to stop smiling so hard, remember where I am, and how I got here, because the last thing I remember is sitting watching the movie, going slowly insane and getting drunk. Fall-down, pass-out drunk mission accomplished apparently.
Last night, we watched movie after movie. We didn’t say anything. But what I realized is Jason being so close to me is not good for my liver.
Which means, every time he shifted, I felt him. To stop myself from throwing myself at him, I took a drink. His touches became my own personal drinking game. A brush of his hand at my shoulder? Take a drink. A stroke of my hair with his thumb? Take a drink. A shift of his leg that touches mine? Drink, drink, drink…
Which means, he refilled my glass more than absolutely necessary and eventually, between the movie and the warmth of his body, and the stupid manly action movies he insisted on us watching, the last thing I remember is reaching across him to set down my wineglass, settled my head on his chest, and fell asleep with his hand sliding through my hair.
What I don’t remember is how I got into my bed. He must have carried me, and I let that realization settle in while I shuffle out of bed and to the bathroom, unsure of how I feel about the fact that I was carried in Jason’s strong, bulging arms, and I don’t remember how good it probably felt. And I don’t remember how gentle he must have been with me to settle me in a bed that feels like sleeping on air and tucked me in without remembering this either. Did he kiss my cheek? Somewhere else? Did he brush hair off my cheeks with his thumb and smile down at me?
Is it possible I’ve considered this scenario a hundred times or more? Yeah. I jump, startled as I take in my own reflection in the bathroom mirror. My blonde hair is a tangled nest flying every which way. My mascara has smudged beneath my eyes and there are a few pink wrinkles on my cheeks from the pillow. I’m still wearing the clothes I fell asleep in, so I strip them off, step into the shower and scream as a blast of ice cold water hits my naked skin.
Soon, the water heats and I get to showering. Once I’m done, dried off, I take an exceptionally long time blow drying and straightening my hair until it’s a glossy sheen down my back and with the towel wrapped around me, I head to the room and then the closet where I grab one of the maxi dresses I brought with me.
Perhaps if Debbie’s feeling good enough, after lunch she’ll spend the day shopping with me. I can use some more clothes if I’m going to stay longer and especially if I ever hear back about the job for the Ice Kings.
It’s still not a job I’m certain I want, but at this rate, I’m not sure the harm either.
Dressed and ready to go celebrate with Debbie, I grab my heeled, white strappy sandals, compiling a mental checklist of all the things I need to get working on tonight or tomorrow.
Call the insurance company regarding my claim.
Call the police department to see if anything of mine has been found—or Will.
Start searching the job market to see if there’s anything else I might want. At least Charlotte is a heavy banking industry. Perhaps I can find a job at a bank designing more marketing brochures like I did in Toronto. Never mind. Not gonna happen.
I cross that idea off the list and toss my shoes toward the entryway. If I’m going to start over, it’s going to at least be doing a job I can enjoy. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts and my ever-growing to-do list I haven’t checked my surroundings properly.
Bad idea.
Because the sight in front of me makes me trip on the front hem of my maxi dress and my arms flail, pinwheel style while I correct myself. I do, at the last second, right before I trip onto the wood floor.
“Woah,” I gasp, and shove my hair back over my head before I stand.
In front of me is the sight that made me lose my footing, dressed solely in a pair of skintight black boxers and nothing else besides the coffee mug he has in front of his mouth, hiding his smile.
“Everything okay?”
“You should really warn a girl you’re prancing around almost naked in your own apartment. It’s a hazard.”
He laughs and shakes his head. I’m glad one of us is amused by this. I almost broke my nose sprawling face-first onto his floor!
“It’s nice to know you like looking at my body.”
Please. As if. “I didn’t say that.”
“But it distracted you enough to trip?”
“Well, geez… it’s just a lot of… skin… I wasn’t prepared to see.”
I ignore him and stare straight ahead while I head to the coffee pot. The handsome naked jerk watches my every step. I’m not an idiot, not completely, anyway. I see him watching me out of the corner of my eye and I most definitely keep an eye on him because one, he’s freaking hotter than the sun, and two, because if he makes any moves toward me I want to be prepared.
He stays in the same spot, though, not making an effort to touch me like he’s been doing and a part of me is more than slightly disappointed.
Hrmph. I push the pebble of disappointment in my stomach deep down and fill my mug of coffee.
“You look beautiful,” he says. “Big plans today?”
In all of his beauty that’s scrambled my brain, I’ve totally forgotten. I spin around and clap my hands together. “Yes! Sawyer proposed to Debbie! They’re engaged!”
Before I can stop myself, I fling myself at Jason. I need someone to hug! And this is Sawyer’s best friend! “They’re getting married, Jason! Isn’t that the best!?” I pull back, grinning up at him.
He’s smiling down at me. And I’ve totally forgotten I’m even in his arms.
“He did?”
“Yes. She wants me to help start planning the wedding today.”
“Already?”
“Well, a woman gets excited when the guy she’s lived with for years finally pops the question.”
“That’s awesome. I’ll call him soon and congratulate him. Did she say how he did it?”
“No, only that he asked this morning.”
“Good. Then he took my advice.”
“Advice?” Jason’s giving proposal advice?
“He said he had some secret planned for her. I tried to remind him Debbie doesn’t like surprises.”
“Who does?”
“Sawyer—” we both say at the same time. It’s then his grin widens and his hands that have been wrapped around me tighten. “Maybe we should celebrate with a kiss?”
He’s teasing me. I like it. I want more. And yes, yes, yes, I want the kiss.
“Jason…” I don’t know what to say other than his ahem.
“Too late,” he says right before he brushes his lips against mine. I inhale a startled breath and freeze and then he’s gone, gently shoving me back, and flashes me a wink.
“That wasn’t too painful now, was it?”
“Oh. Well, no. Of course not.” My fingertips press to my lips. Sealing the kiss in forever? Erasing it so I don’t jump into his arms again and slam my mouth to his? I’m not sure what to do!
“Better get your coffee. Sounds like you have a big day ahead of you.”
And a mountain of problems to figure out with my life, but somehow, Jason standing in front of me with only his boxers and a smile has me starting to realize that he might not be one of them anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa
* * *
“Christmas?”
“Christmas Eve to be exact.”
I drain my mimosa. It’s the perfect drink after last night and it’s my second one today. I need to stop drinking so much. My first excuse is that I have absolutely nothing better to do with my time and my second excuse is the news Debbie just dropped in my lap.
“You want to get married in less than four months?”
“Your brother wanted to elope to Vegas next weekend. Be happy I pushed it out that long.”
She grins at me, sweet as sweet can be, happy smile shimmering in the sun almost as much as her gorgeous green eyes. If I didn’t love her so much I’d claim she’s unbearably happy. As it is, I’m thrilled for both of them.
“Wow. Okay then.” I blow out a huge breath and reach for one of the bridal magazines she brought with her. “We should get started then, right? I mean, there’s so much to do… I should know.”
I laugh awkwardly. I haven’t looked at one of these magazines in months. When Will proposed almost exactly a year ago, I was convinced him wanting to spend forever with me also meant he was getting his life back on track. All I had to do was hang in there and I’d see. Everything would change.
Joke’s on me though, right? Things certainly changed, just not in any way I could have seen coming.
“Tessa—”
“It’s okay, really.” I flip my hand in the air and drain my drink. “I’m okay and I’m so happy for you, truly. It hit me when I saw the magazine I was supposed to be planning my own. On the positive side, at least I never started putting deposits down. It’d suck to be out that money, too.” Another drink. Another chug. Debbie’s shimmering green eyes are no longer shiny but worried. “Although, had I spent the money, it’d be less he could have stolen.”
I’m spiraling. This needs to stop. I slap my hand on the magazine and push it to the side.
“We can do this tomorrow or another day.”
“No. Nooo. I want this, honestly.”
“Are you going to need to be drunk to help me?”
“No.” I finish my glass as our server walks up. We’re sitting on an outdoor patio, cooled by a ceiling fan on the porch’s ceiling and dining on crepes and cute little cucumber sandwiches. It’s the strangest mixture of French and English tea time. I love being at La Maison Bistro. Plus, the service is impeccable. All I have to do for a refill is tip my empty champagne glass back and forth and the server scurries off for another one for me.
Across from me, Debbie looks pensive and worried. “Are you sure about the drunk part?”
“Just a lot on my mind. And no, none of it is more important than this. So, let’s start planning, okay?”
I grab another magazine and open it straight to an outdoor photo shoot of a couple standing beneath a mahogany stained pergola. Bright, green leaves wrap around all of it with gorgeous white flowers that look too large to be roses falling gently down. It creates the feel of serenity, happiness, and it’s breathtaking.
“This is pretty.” I turn the magazine around so Debbie can get the full effect, which means I get the benefit of watching her worry for me vanish into a soft, wistful smile.
“I don’t know if we could have that in the winter.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“The baby,” she says, and her hand goes to her still unchanged stomach. “I want to be married to Sawyer before the baby gets here and I’d like to have it happen so I’m not huge in the wedding photos. Besides, we’ve been together so long I’m not sure a huge extravaganza is necessary. We’ll have your parents, you, and some guys from the team but I don’t need anything huge.”
“You won’t invite your parents?”
“I’ll invite them. The odds of them coming are pretty small, though.” She’s an only child and doesn’t have a great relationship with her parents. Debbie was born in the south and grew up in one of those cookie-cutter neighborhoods with a strict HOA and perfectly manicured lawns. She’s said more than once that everything might look beautiful on the outside, but if you lift the roofs, the insides of the homes would show a vastly different, dark and sad story. She came to school in North Carolina, got a job working for a tech company, and never left.
“Okay. So it’s small. And I’m guessing it’ll have to be inside. Have any locations in mind?”
“Well, that’s where I could use your help. Since you’re not working, I thought you could help me find some and tour them?”
“I’d love to. So, let’s make a list.” I grab the notebook she brought and scribble down ideas. Over the rest of our lunch,
we brainstorm all types of locations where we could possibly find a venue, on Christmas Eve, with only a few months short notice.
My optimism isn’t at its highest levels given the parameters, but Debbie is trusting me with this. And it’s my brother. Plus, she’s absolutely right. What else do I have to do with my time?
By the time we’re done, I’m bubbling with almost as much excitement as Debbie is. We have over two dozen places on the list for me to call and if they’re available, we’ll scope them out or I will if Debbie is working. We’ve talked about color schemes, bookmarked magazine pages for potential dresses which will be one of her first stops due to the timing and need of alterations.
I’ve almost forgotten all about my own problems, excited to finally be thinking of and helping someone else for a change when Debbie leans forward and grabs her iced lemon water.
“So how is it living with Jason?”
I choke down my own water, having switched after the third glass so I could have a clear head to focus on our conversation. Now I’m wishing the water was spiked with vodka.
“It’s fine.”
She grins knowingly. “Please, Tessa. I’m not stupid. How do you really feel being there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I definitely don’t think you’re stupid.”
Her lips press together. “So you haven’t had a crush on him forever?”
My senses tingle, tiny little needle pricks run up my arms. “If you thought that, and were worried about me living with him, why in the world did you practically force it on me?”
“In business, you know, we learn that if someone answers a question with their own question, it usually means they don’t have a good answer in the first place.”
“Debbie—”
“And I encouraged, not forced you because I thought it’d be good for you. So spill.”
If I could reach her across the table, and if she wasn’t carrying my precious niece or nephew, I’d throttle her. Wrap my long fingers around her tiny throat and squeeze painfully until she chokes. “It’s fine.”
