The nerves I’d been battling for the past several days came rushing back, and my cheeks caught fire as I watched Jase lift the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder, causing the thick ropes of muscle in his arm to strain and bulge. He moved to the trunk and pulled out a large suitcase before heading in my direction.
“Hey,” I greeted when he looked up, the sunglasses covering his eyes hitting me square on.
A big, breath-taking smile stretched across his face, and I had to cross my arms over my chest to hide how my nipples had hardened at the sight of it. “Hey yourself, Flower.”
“You look surprisingly happy for a man who just made a fifteen-hour drive across multiple states.”
A low, velvety laugh rumbled from deep within his chest, and if I hadn’t been standing propped against the doorframe, I probably would have fallen on my face at the sound of it. “Never was one to mind road trips, and I am happy. You have no idea how good it feels to be out of that goddamn state.”
My chin jerked back in surprise. “Really? I figured you’d be sad to move. Won’t you miss your friends, your place, stuff like that?”
“If you grow up in the circles I did, you don’t have friends, sweetheart. You have enemies who smile to your face, then wait until you’ve turned your back to plunge the knife in.”
My face pinched up. “Please tell me I won’t be forced to meet any of those people somewhere down the line.”
He let out another chuckle, but it wasn’t lost on me that he brushed over that as he stated, “As for my apartment, I still have it. It was already paid off, so I figured I’d just keep it for the times I have to travel back for work.”
“Ah. Makes sense.” I looked to the suitcase and tipped my chin back toward the car. “Need any help with the rest of your stuff?”
“No thanks. This is all there is.”
I pushed off the door jamb, my forehead pulling into a confused frown. “Wait. What do you mean that’s all there is? It’s only two bags.”
“I have all my clothes and a few other essentials. Didn’t need anything else.”
“But—but . . .”
His fingers came up and pressed beneath my chin, forcing my gaping mouth closed. “I never liked any of the shit at my old place, anyway. Didn’t have the time or inclination, so I hired someone to come in and decorate, and she made it feel like a goddamn museum.”
My nose scrunched up. “You paid someone else to decorate your house?” I couldn’t imagine not wanting to put my own stamp on the place where I lived. It wouldn’t feel like mine any other way.
“It cost a small fortune and wasn’t worth a cent. I like all of your stuff. I like this house just the way it is, so”—he gave the strap of his duffle bag a tug—“this is all I need.”
“Well, since you put it that way, welcome home, I guess.” A warmth at hearing that he liked my home spread through me. I offered him a friendly smile and stepped to the side so he could enter. “Your room is the second on the right,” I said as I led him up the stairs. “It’s closest to the bathroom, and the second biggest after the master at the end of the hall. But if you’d prefer, you can switch to any room you want.”
“I’m sure the one you picked is just fine.”
When we reached the open door, I looked in, suddenly second guessing my choice of bedding. I’d tried to stick with masculine colors, going with navy blue and a soft, subtle grey, but worried it was still a bit too feminine. “The sheets and everything are new, but I washed them twice to make sure they were nice and soft.”
He blew out a long, low whistle. “Damn, Flower. Think you got enough pillows?”
Why, why had I gotten so many damn pillows?
“Feel free to change anything you don’t like,” I said quickly. “If it’s not your style, that’s totally cool. I tried to get stuff I thought you might like, but, well”—my teeth sank into my lower lip as I shrugged—“standing in the middle of the store, I realized I didn’t have the first clue what you’d like. Then I realized that I know you, but I don’t actually know you. If that makes any sense.”
Dear God, stop rambling!
Jase hooked his arm around my shoulders and jerked me into his side and placed a kiss on the side of my head. The action was so unexpected that my words died and my mouth clamped shut. “It’s great, Pop, really. I love it all. And what man doesn’t love to sleep snuggled into a mound of pillows?”
I looked up at him through the veil of my lashes. “Well, uh . . . most of those are decorative. You’re not actually supposed to sleep on them.”
He stared down at me for several seconds, then his head fell back on a loud burst of laughter as his arm around me convulsed, and I was pretty certain that was the best sound I’d ever heard in all my life.
Chapter Seven
Jase
“So, are you hungry?” Poppy asked as I moved into the room and dropped the duffle on the bed. “I could make dinner if you’re in the mood.”
“How about we go out? Kind of like a date. My treat,” I offered, first, because I didn’t want her to have to cook for me after all she’d already done to make me feel at home. And second, because, if we were going to make this work, we needed to be seen in public together.
“Out? Kind of like a date?” she parroted. Her head cocked to the side in adorable surprise, all that long, auburn hair spilling down her shoulder like flames. I was suddenly hit with the image of that hair wrapped around my fist, using it to control her every movement as I sank deep inside—Jesus! Get your shit together, Jase! This isn’t real.
“Well, we are getting married, right? People need to see us together without you turning all red and shy any time I touch you. I figured what better way to get you over that than with practice?”
“I don’t turn all red and shy any time you touch me!” she shot back, a fire sparking in those ocean eyes that I liked a whole hell of a lot.
I lifted a skeptical brow, fighting back my smirk as I asked, “Really?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared, and Christ if I didn’t find that scrunched up expression cute as hell. “Yeah, really.”
I took a step closer, not only because I wanted to prove my point, but also because all it took was a few minutes in her company and that light of hers drew me in. “So you’re telling me I don’t make you nervous?” I asked, lowering my voice as the inches between us disappeared.
That pretty pink blush started spreading across her cheeks as she stuttered, “N-no. I-I’m not nervous.”
Oh hell, this is gonna be fun.
I leaned in, bringing my lips close to her ear. The scent of flowers and honey invaded my senses, making my dick stir to life. I should have moved back as soon as my body reacted like that, but I couldn’t make myself do it. “And if I were to kiss you?” I whispered, smiling at the sound of her broken gasp. “Would that make you nervous?”
“I-I don’t . . . that’s not—I mean, I wasn’t, um . . .”
I pulled back just enough to see that her eyes had gone glassy, and her face now looked like it had caught fire. A triumphant grin tugged at my lips. “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”
With the spell good and broken, she shot back and hit me with a killing look. “All right, jerk-face. You’ve made your point.”
I didn’t want to make her feel bad for how she reacted to me, so I gentled my voice and reached up to tug on a strand of the hair I was quickly becoming obsessed with. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, sweetheart, just trying to prove a point. Believe me, I like your little blush. I think it’s sweet as hell. But we have to get you used to me touching you if we want people to buy into this, yeah?”
She blew out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So where do you want to go?”
The one place that would be the most crowded at this time of the day. “How’s Bad Alibi sound?”
“Works for me,” she answered, spinning on her heel and starting for the stairs. “But like you said, it’s your treat, and I�
��m getting my drinks poured from the top shelf.”
I’d seen her feisty side plenty of times with other people, but it had never been directed at me.
And it had to be said, I fucking loved it.
* * *
As I’d hoped, the crowd was already swelling by the time Poppy and I walked into the bar half an hour later.
Back in Connecticut, bars like Bad Alibi were few and far between, and no one I associated with would be caught dead in any of them. But there was something about this place I really liked. Maybe it was because I knew all those stuffy assholes would turn their noses up at a place like this.
Farah had been waitressing here for months, so I’d been in for a drink or to shoot pool plenty of times during my frequent visits. The food was good, the people were great, and the old-timey saloon style made it feel like you were stepping into the middle of an old school western movie. It was cool as hell.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Hey, Darla,” Poppy called in return.
“Welcome back, Jase,” she then said to me.
I looked toward the back where Darla, the woman who owned and ran Bad Alibi with her husband, Buck, was standing behind the bar and raised my hand in greeting just before she turned to help a customer.
Pressing my palm against the small of Poppy’s back, I leaned in so she could hear me over the music streaming from the juke box and asked, “Table or booth?”
I felt her body stiffen at my touch, but to her credit, she did her best not to let it show. “Um, booth.”
I led her to one of the only empty ones near the pool tables, and as soon as she sat, I slid in beside her, forcing her to scoot until there was room on the bench for both of us.
“You’re sitting on this side?” she asked, looking over at me in bewilderment.
Bracing one arm on the table, I shifted sideways and dropped the other along the back, blocking her in completely. “Yeah. That a problem?”
“Well, uh, no. Not exactly. It’s just . . . don’t most people prefer to sit across from each other?”
“I don’t,” I answered. Then I gave it to her straight. “If this were real, I’m the kind of man who wouldn’t like any amount of space between us, even if it was only the span of a table. It’s just how I am, and considering we expect these people to believe this is real, I’m sitting beside you, not across. You okay with that?”
“I—uh, y-yeah. I’m okay with that.”
I grinned and reached up to tug on a strand of her hair when a familiar voice spoke up from the end of the table. “Well don’t you two look absolutely adorable?”
I turned to see Shane standing there, grinning down at us like she had a juicy secret. Shifting my attention back to Poppy, I muttered, “So I take it Shane’s one of the people you trusted with this.”
“Of course she trusted me,” Shane exclaimed. “I’m one of the most trustworthy people you’ll ever meet. I ooze trustworthiness.”
“It’s a decision I quickly came to regret,” Poppy deadpanned.
I burst out laughing while Shane glared and grumbled, “Now is that any way to speak to your maid of honor?”
“Who said anything about you being my maid of honor?”
“You didn’t have to say it,” Shane argued. “I could read it in your eyes. Besides, who else would you ask? I am your oldest, dearest, and most loyal friend.”
“Who’s quickly being replaced by Farah, who doesn’t go out of her way to annoy the hell out of me for her own amusement,” Poppy fired back.
“Pfft. Maybe not to your face.”
Watching these two go at each other made me understand why it was so easy for Farah to grow close to them. Even while arguing, they were doing it from a place of love. Having known more than my share of backstabbing, vindictive, deceitful people, it was plain as day these women cared about each other.
“And anyway, it doesn’t matter. We aren’t having a bridal party.”
“What do you mean, you aren’t having a bridal party?” Shane squeaked. “That’s not fair! How else am I supposed to hook up with a hot groomsman to get over this current dry spell?”
Poppy smiled at her friend and shook her head. “Looks like you’ll just have to wait until Farah’s wedding.”
“You’re selfish, Poppy Weston. Plain old selfish.” With that, she spun around and stomped off.
“Wait,” Poppy called out to her friend’s retreating back. “You didn’t take our order.” But Shane didn’t turn around.
“You don’t want to have a wedding party?” I asked as soon as she looked back at me.
Her chin tilted up, my question taking her off guard. “It’s not that I don’t want one, necessarily. I didn’t see a point if all we were going to do was pop by the Justice of the Peace. Why? Do you want one?”
“I’m good without, Flower.” It was like I’d hit the jackpot with this woman. All that I already knew she was, wrapped up in that sexy little package, and low maintenance? I’d seriously lucked out that some man hadn’t already put a ring on her finger and pissed a circle around her by now.
I’d have gladly shelled out the cash for a wedding if that was what she wanted, but it was a relief to know we didn’t have to go that route.
Before either of us could say another word, Shane suddenly reappeared, plunking two bourbons down in front of us, mine neat and Poppy’s on the rocks.
Poppy looked up at her in shock. “How did you know?”
“Because I’m a genius and I know everything, duh,” Shane snarked. “Just one of the millions of reasons why you should want me as your maid of honor. But I’ll get over this slight. Eventually.” She pulled a small spiral bound tablet out of her apron and held a pen to the page while giving us an impatient look. “Now are you guys ordering food or what?”
We put in our order—a burger for me and the boneless wings for Poppy—and lapsed into easy conversation once Shane took off.
“So, any news on the repairs from the busted water line” I asked, savoring the heat of the bourbon as it slid down my throat.
At my question, Poppy’s whole face lit up with excitement. “Yes, Roger and his guys got the line repaired pretty quickly, and Clay said he could start work on the rooms first thing Monday.”
I loved how animated she was as she talked about the inn, so I asked, “Clay . . . that’s the guy who redid Farah’s place, right?”
“Yep,” she answered, smiling huge. “Didn’t he do great on her house?”
“He did. Never expected it to turn out the way it did.”
“He’s brilliant,” she said enthusiastically. “There are other construction companies in and around town, but I don’t trust any of them the way I do Clay. I’m just so glad he had the time. I seriously lucked out. He’s the best.”
As she waxed on about Clay’s brilliance, I felt an uncomfortable tightening in the pit of my stomach. The look on her face made my skin prick in an unpleasant way while my lips flattened into a straight line.
Fuck me, am I really jealous right now?
“That’s nice,” I said, trying to sound casual, but even to my own ears, the words came out flat. “So have you guys ever had a thing?”
“Me and Clay?” She giggled into her glass before taking a sip. “No, nothing like that. We’re just friends. I’ve known him forever.”
I felt some of that tension ease from my shoulders and did my best shake off the dark mood that had started to creep in. “That’s nice.”
Translation: I’d be sticking around Monday morning to have a good look at this guy.
“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Poppy said, her voice going soft and shy as she stared down at her glass, slowly twirling it between her hands.
“You can ask me anything, Flower. Hit me with it.”
“Why did the board give you an ultimatum?”
Well shit, looks like things just got serious.
Chapter Eight
Poppy
Jase’s face suddenly
turned a few shades paler, and he began to fidget in the booth like he was uncomfortable.
He was quiet for so long that I actually started to think he wasn’t going to answer. Then he let out a breath and began talking. “After what went down with my father, they’re convinced the only way for me to gain the trust of the clients and shareholders is to prove I’m a reliable family man, that I’m not like him.”
“But I don’t understand. Your dad was married and he still did what he did, so why does it matter whether you have a wife or not?”
For some reason, that question made him wince. “I kind of earned myself a bit of a reputation . . . in the media.”
My head tilted to the side. “But you work for a steel manufacturing company. Why would the media care what you do?”
“It’s the money, Poppy,” he hissed acerbically. “When you have as much money as my family and I do, they care. And it didn’t help much that I dated women who were in the public eye.”
My stomach sank to my feet as realization dawned. “You dated celebrities?”
“Mainly it was other women who came from money. But there were a few B and C list actresses, no one really famous. And a model or two. No one you’d probably know, but it was enough for me to gain a bit of attention.”
Oh God. He’d dated models and actresses. And now he was going to be marrying a small-town inn keeper. An overwhelming feeling of inferiority began to slither beneath my skin, but he continued, oblivious to the sudden deterioration of my mood.
“Reporters caught on to the fact that none of my relationships ever lasted very long, and when a few of the women I’d slept with decided to give interviews in exchange for money, it got worse.”
Crazy Beautiful: a Redemption novel Page 6
