Welcome to Pembrooke: the complete Pembrooke series

by Prince, Jessica

  “Your knee isn’t bothering you walking around on it?”

  I glanced over to find her eyes focused on the brace on my leg, her eyebrows dipped in a cute little frown. “You worried about me, sweetheart?”

  Her head shot up, gaze meeting mine, and I gave her that grin that had worked in my favor for more years than I could count when it came to women. A grin I learned moments later Eliza was immune to.

  “Don’t you give me that look,” she demanded. “I’ve seen that look before. I saw it when you were trying to hook up with Peggy Cafferty… and Samantha Williams… and Sherry Line—”

  “Okay, okay,” I cut her off with a frown of my own. “I get it. No more of that look, all right?” She seemed happy enough with that and turned to face ahead. We came to a stop while the kids hit up another house. “And to answer your question, my knee feels fine.”

  I got her eyes back, which made me really fucking happy. Jesus, how had I never noticed she had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen?

  “Really?” She sounded skeptical, and I couldn’t help but tease.

  “You really are worried. Aw, sweetheart. I’m touched.”

  “Of course I’m worried.” The moment the words left her mouth I could tell by the startled look on her face that she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “What I mean is—”

  I didn’t want to give her a chance to backtrack, so I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her pressed against my side as we started to walk again, and said, “I appreciate that, Eliza. I really do.”

  We walked in silence for a while before she spoke again. “Well… I know how much football means to you. I can only imagine how you felt when it happened.”

  I let out a quick bark of laughter. “I’ll tell you. It was fucking excruciating. I was scared to look down, thinking the lower half of my leg was just dangling there. Christ, I’d broken bones growing up that hurt less.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said softly, looking at the sidewalk. I took it as a good sign that she still hadn’t pulled away.

  I gave her hair a tug to get her gaze back and asked quietly, “Then what’d you mean, honey?”

  “Just that… football’s your life. You had to have been scared when you got hurt. It means everything to you.”

  Her words caused me to come to an abrupt halt, pulling her to a stop with me. I scanned her face, seeing nothing but sincerity glistening in her hazel eyes. “Not everything,” I told her, meaning those two words from the very depth of me.

  Something passed between us right then, something I’d never experienced before, something so intense my chest tightened and my stomach lurched. I was so sure she was going to acknowledge what was happening between us just then that made the air feel like it was full of electricity, I hoped she would.

  But she cleared her throat, pulled from my arm, and started walking again. Only this time, her fingers stayed clasped in front of her so I couldn’t have taken her hand if I wanted to… which I did. Not that I could have since there really was no reason to hold her hand that wouldn’t have sent her running in the other direction.

  We didn’t speak again as my nephew and her sisters finally seemed to be winding down, indicating trick-or-treating was coming to an end. I wasn’t ready for it and was just about to turn to tell her so and ask her to go get a drink or something, when she beat me to the punch.

  “This was kind of nice,” she said, catching me off guard. “I mean us actually being in each other’s company and not fighting or yelling at each other.”

  I smiled again, this time making sure it didn’t hold a hint of the look. “It really was.” I opened my mouth to suggest we head over to The Moose when she continued looking toward our families.

  “Looks like we’re done for the night. You should head home and ice your knee or something. You know, to make sure it’s okay from all this walking.”

  Shit, it felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. My smile dropped a little “Uh, yeah. You’re probably right.”

  “Well, seeing as we have this truce between us now, I won’t dread seeing you next time.” She reached up and nudged my shoulder, and with her next words my smile completely died. “Unless you pull that brotherly shit again.”

  All I could manage was a low, emotionless, “Yeah,” as she began walking backwards.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Have a good night.” She started to turn, but called over her shoulder, “Oh! And rest that knee.”

  With that she waved and took off with the rest of her family, leaving me and mine behind.

  A wave.

  A fucking wave. Not even so much as a hug.

  Looked like I still have my work cut out for me after all.

  18

  Ethan

  Since my return to Pembrooke, my days had been filled with therapy, shitty daytime TV, and sitting on my ass at Sinful Sweets Café, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eliza. To say I was bored out of my mind would have been putting it mildly, so when Quinn called and asked if I wanted to grab a beer with him at The Moose and catch the football game on their big screens, there was no way in hell I was turning him down. It would give me some much needed adult interaction. Not to mention the fact that it was Tuesday evening and Eliza was more than likely already out on her date.

  Just thinking about that set my teeth on edge.

  The evening crowd was still going strong by the time I walked through the door. The place was a little more than half full as I scanned the faces. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Quinn’s hand come up to grab my attention. I gave him a chin lift and started toward the booth he’d snagged returning several greetings — some from people I knew, some from people I couldn’t remember ever seeing before — as I made my way over.

  “Hey man, glad you could make it,” he said once I’d shrugged out of my light weight jacket and slid into the bench across from him.

  “You and me both, dude. If I hadn’t gotten out of that house soon I was liable to lose my fucking mind.”

  He chuckled and lifted his beer bottle to his lips as a waitress stopped to take my drink order. A few minutes later, I leaned back, relaxed with a bottle of bud in my hand. “So, how’d you manage a night out with your little girl at home?”

  He gave me a funny look. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just very speculative. “See you didn’t jump to the conclusion she’d be home with her mom, so I’m taking that as you already know that particular story?”

  I gave it to him straight. “I know she’s passed. Don’t know how and don’t plan on asking. That’s your story to share if or when you’re in the mood. I didn’t come here tonight to get in your business. I just came for good beer, good company, and hopefully some good wings. I’m starving.”

  His appreciation showed as his mouth twitched before he took another pull of his beer. “Good to know. That conversations for another, much later time when I don’t have a shift at the station the next day and have the opportunity to get drunk out of my goddamn mind. And to answer your earlier question, my girl’s with my folks. They like to keep her for sleepovers one night a week and every other weekend. She gets time with her Meemaw and Papaw, they get to spoil their grand baby, and I get a breather which means I get my bed to myself without having to worry about being kicked in the ribs or punched in the junk because my baby has a habit of climbing in with me in the middle of the night and flails in her sleep. Works for everyone.”

  “Sounds like it.” I laughed because he didn’t sound put out in the slightest with his nightly beatings. “What’s her name?”

  “Sophia,” he answered with a smile, telling me his little girl meant everything to him. It sucked that he’d lost his wife in whatever way he lost her. I hated that for him. It had been a long while since we’d hung out, but he was a good guy back then, and proof showed he was still a good guy now. So, in spite of the hurt he suffered with losing his wife, I was glad he had good in the form of a little girl that lit his face up with just the mere m
ention of her.

  We shot the shit for a while, ordering a couple baskets of wings and another round. He asked about my knee, but didn’t push the subject, digging into it like the media had right after it happened.

  “So… Eliza, huh?” he asked after we’d finished our second round and had begun our third.

  “What are you talking about?”

  A shit-eating grin took over his face. “Man, I saw you when you thought I was putting the moves on her. Thought you were two seconds away from kicking my ass right there in the middle of the restaurant. I remember you guys being tight, but that wasn’t what that look spelled out.”

  “Things with that are… complicated,” I understated vaguely.

  “How so?”

  It was a simple question that got my back up, not because I felt like it wasn’t any of his business, but because the answer shed even more light on the glaringly obvious fact that my current situation with Eliza was all my goddamned fault.

  “In the sense that I bailed six years ago, basically telling her she was just an immature kid I was done wasting my time with, and never looked back… not until now, at least.”

  He whistled low. “Wow. Yeah, brother. I’d say that’s seriously complicated. You planning on apologizing?”

  I shot him a look. “You really think I haven’t done that already?”

  His smile told me he was getting more than just a little enjoyment out of my predicament in the way all men who weren’t having to suffer through woman problems did. “Well, I wouldn’t think you were enough of a prick to treat her like that in the first place, seeing as everyone in town knew you two were tight. You’ll have to excuse me for thinking you might still be that same shit-for-brains.”

  I let out a surprised laugh at his bluntness. “Yeah, man. I’ve apologized. At least ten times by my last count.”

  Quinn rested back against the booth, throwing his free hand along the top of it. “Well, if I know Eliza — and most people here do since she’s lived here almost her entire life — I think it’s safe to say that woman doesn’t have it in her to hold a grudge for very long. If you’re really sorry, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

  I let out a breath and ran a hand over my face. “She’s already starting to,” I admitted, not feeling the least bit better with the knowledge that at least she didn’t still hate me. “It took a while, but she’s getting there.”

  “Then why do you look like someone’s just pissed in your corn flakes?”

  “Because she’s on a fucking date,” I growled in answer, the hand holding my beer bottle squeezing tight around the cool glass.

  “Ah,” Quinn said with a knowing tone to his voice. “And it’s been six years since you’ve seen her. I’m guessing it’s not lost on you that Eliza Anderson’s all grown up, and done it in a real good way. That friendship you used to feel for her has turned into something else all together.”

  I glared at the humor lacing through his words. “Glad my suffering can amuse you, asshole.” Then something else about his comment registered. “And I knew you were checking her out that day at the restaurant, you fucker.”

  He laughed long and hard. “Relax, would you? I’m not interested in her like that, she’s a friend, but I’m not dead or blind either. Any man with a pulse can see the woman’s hot as shit.”

  He was right about that. I couldn’t blame him for noticing… as long as he didn’t touch. “I’m in a seriously screwed up way right now, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself. And to make matters worse, the only reason she agreed to the fucking date with this other guy was to push my buttons because she thought I was acting like an overbearing brotherly figure.”

  “Shit,” Quinn chuckled. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m so glad I’m not you right now.”

  I couldn’t fault him. Hell, if I had a friend in the same shoes as me, I’d be laughing at his expense too. “Thanks, dickhead.”

  We hung out a while longer and had just finished paying our tab when something over my shoulder caught Quinn’s attention. “Well, it was good hanging out man. I gotta get home and get some shut eye, but you might want to stick around for a little while longer.”

  “Why’s that?”

  The smile on his face was so damn big it nearly split his face in two. “Because your girl’s walking in with her date.”

  Jerking around in the booth, my eyes trailed in on the direction his had been pointed, and sure enough, that Where’s Waldo son of a bitch was holding the door open for Eliza to pass through. The smile on his face was huge, like he was sixteen years old and had just nailed the prom queen. But as she turned to thank him, I saw it, and I knew in my gut that hers was forced. I didn’t need to keep track of her these past six years to know that wasn’t one of her real smiles. I’d seen the real thing a million times. I’d earned a thousand of them myself, I’d know her real smile from a mile away with one eye closed. And that was not what she was giving him.

  “Take it you’re staying?”

  “Oh yeah,” I answered, not taking my eyes off the two of them as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to a vacant table on the other side of the bar. At the sight of his hand on her, my own clenched again, so tight I was surprised the bottle in my hand didn’t shatter. Lifting it to my lips, I downed the rest of its contents in one gulp. She took off her jacket and my head just about exploded. “And I think I’ll be needing more of these.” She looked good. Too good. At least for the dick head she was with. The navy sweater dress she was wearing hugged her curves like it had been made for her, her ass… Jesus. Her feet were encased in tan high-heeled boots that went up to her knees and made her legs look fucking phenomenal. I wanted to be the one touching her while she wore that killer dress. Or any time, really. And I wanted to stomp across the bar and plant my fist in that assholes face before taking what — had I not fucked everything up — should have been mine.

  “Well, whatever you do, don’t make an ass out of yourself,” Quinn warned giving me a pat on the back. “Her Sheriff dad might not be all that forgiving when you finally decide to make your play for his little girl.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” I returned his chin lift as he headed for the door and disappeared out it a few seconds later.

  Deciding I needed a better vantage point, I moved from the booth to the bar, taking up one of the stools so I could keep their table in my line of sight as I ordered another beer — only this time I got a shot of tequila to chase it down with. Then I settled in and waited, hoping to God it wasn’t going to be a long night.

  19

  Eliza

  I made a mistake.

  I never should have agreed to a date with Kevin. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a nice guy. He really was great. My heart just wasn’t in it like it, so what should have been a fun, enjoyable evening was more akin to a checkup at the dentist’s office — relatively painless, but still something I’d rather not have to deal with.

  Dinner had been nice, but that was the extent of it. Just… nice. I engaged in conversation when required, and did my best to appear to be paying attention when he spoke, but throughout the entire evening my mind kept wandering to a place it shouldn’t, or more correctly to a person. And no matter how hard I tried not to think about Ethan, my stupid brain just kept conjuring him up.

  All night long.

  When Kevin picked me up and told me I looked beautiful, I wondered what it would have felt like if it had been Ethan picking me up for our first date, saying those words to me.

  When he rested his palm on my back to lead me into the restaurant, I wondered what it would feel like for Ethan to touch me like that. Would I have felt a bolt of electricity like I had when he touched me on Halloween?

  When Kevin ordered his meal, I wondered if that was something Ethan would have liked to eat, and when he suggested drinks at The Moose because he wasn’t ready for the evening to end, I’d stupidly thought about whether or not Ethan would have gone in for a kiss after the
end of a first date.

  It was pathetic. It was idiotic. It made me angry because Kevin certainly deserved better.

  “Eliza? You okay?” At the sound of Kevin’s voice, my attention snapped back to our table at The Moose.

  God, could I have sucked any worse?

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologized with a guilty smile. “My mind must have wandered. What were you saying?”

  He looked at me with a kind, yet concerned expression. “You okay? You’ve seemed a little distracted tonight.”

  “What? Of course!” I lied, my voice rising a little too high. “I’m totally fine. So what were you saying?”

  His expression changed but the smile remained. “Eliza, it’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m not an idiot. I know you haven’t been into tonight. I’d hoped coming here would’ve loosened you up a bit, but I can see now I was wrong. And that’s all right.” And the fact that he sounded so genuine, so understanding, hurt. I. Was. Awful.

  And yes, it was obvious I could suck worse, because not only was Kevin a great guy, but I couldn’t even fake it well enough for him to believe I’d been interested all night.

  “God,” I rested my elbows on the table and dropped my head into my hands. “I’m so sorry. I suck. I’m the worst person ever.”

  I heard his soft laughter at the same time I felt his fingers wrap gently around my wrists, pulling them away from my face. “You’re not the worst person ever.”

  “I am!” I cried.

  His chuckled grew a touch louder. “You’re not. You’re just into someone else. I suspected as much when I asked you out at the football dame, but I took the chance anyway, knowing it might not have gone in my favor.”