The One That Got Away (Kingston Ale House)

by A. J. Pine

  The crowd around them gasped, the band kept playing, and Jamie lay flat on his back, the woman he loved on top of him, and the wind, quite literally, knocked out of his lungs.

  Brynn’s eyes were wide.

  “Are you okay?” She lifted her body weight from his chest, and he gasped in a breath. When his lungs were filled enough for him to utter a sound, he laughed, then pulled her to him and kissed her with everything he had. They were both laughing—kissing and laughing and lying soaked on the ground while the band played on and the crowd applauded for the couple who’d been too crazy about each other to get things right for ten long years.

  “Loving you is going to kill me, isn’t it?” he asked, and she tilted her head up and smiled.

  “But you do still love me, right?”

  It wasn’t really a question. Her voice held an air of triumph.

  “Even in that shirt,” he said, “which we are tossing as soon as we get back to the hotel.”

  She peeled herself from him and stood, pulling him up with her. Then he saw the Cubs shirt, wet with beer and plastered to her curves.

  “Okay, you can keep it,” he said. “If you promise only to wear it wet.”

  She raised a brow.

  “You’re impossible,” she said.

  “Impossible not to be madly in love with me?”

  She laughed.

  “I want you to catch me, Jamie. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

  “And I want you to catch me right back,” he said, taking off his Sox cap and placing it on her head. “Much better. Wait. How’d you get that band to let you take over their set?”

  She shrugged. “They’re a hair-band cover band. They love a good love story as much as the next person, and I begged them to let me fight for my happy ending.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers, as if touching her could reassure him that this was all real.

  “Because I’m your happy ending?”

  She smoothed her hands over the scruff on his jaw and smiled, the look sweet and soft.

  “You are,” she said, and pressed her lips to his again.

  …

  Jeremy waggled his brows at them as they strolled up to the tent.

  “Hey, Jer,” Brynn said.

  “Nicely played, Chandler. And by the way, my sister is expecting a call from you,” he told her, and she laughed. “And no offense, but you two look disgusting.”

  “Can’t argue with you there,” she said. “And I can’t believe you two didn’t tell me you actually had a tent here. I thought this trip was like a vacation or something.” She looked at Jamie, and he grinned sheepishly.

  He stepped behind the makeshift bar of the Kingston Ale House tent, and when Brynn tried to follow him, he held up his hand to stop her.

  “You’re not serious, are you?” she asked, but Jamie’s expression was impassive. What was he doing?

  “We need to run back to the hotel and shower, but first, Miss Chandler, I’m going to need your glasses,” he said.

  Brynn crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look, but she couldn’t help that the corners of her mouth turned up. Whatever was going on, whatever else he’d kept from her, it felt more like a surprise than any kind of lie, so she played along.

  She leaned over the bar.

  “Why don’t you take them, then?” she said.

  He did, but not before stealing another kiss, and Jeremy groaned.

  “Okay, like I’m all happy you two finally got your heads out of your asses, but if I have to watch this all day…”

  Jamie laughed. “Dude, I’m paying you to be here.”

  “You’re paying me to sell your new brew.”

  “New brew?” Brynn asked. With her glasses in Jamie’s hands she was reliant on just her senses now, and her sense of smell was begging for anything other than what was emanating from her clothing at the moment.

  “You ready for a taste test?” Jamie asked as the band went back to its set list, covering “Talk Dirty to Me” in the background. She could think of someone she wanted to talk dirty to her. That was for sure.

  Focus, Brynn, she told herself. Not in front of your best girlfriend’s little brother.

  “Hell yeah!” she said. It was nearing noon, and she was ready to get her brew on.

  Despite her better judgment, she took in a deep breath through her nose.

  “You just cut an orange,” she said, the scent of citrus permeating the air around her and drowning out the less satisfactory odor of her shirt and jeans.

  “Ooh, she’s good,” Jeremy said. “But is she good enough?”

  Brynn huffed out a breath. “What kind of conspiracy are you two planning?”

  Jamie grabbed her hands, kissed each palm, then placed them around a cold plastic cup.

  “Think you can name it in one sip?” he asked.

  Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she smiled.

  “You have taught the young Padawan well,” Jeremy said. “It is time to see if she is a Jedi.”

  Brynn snorted.

  “That’s my girl,” Jamie said.

  She regained composure and brought the cup to her lips, recalling the last time she did this and how Jamie must have felt watching her. So she decided on an encore performance and closed her eyes, dipping her tongue into the creamy foam at the top of the cup.

  “For fuck’s sake.” This came from Jeremy. “I can handle the flirting, but come on, guys.”

  “You really are going to be the end of me, aren’t you, Brynn Chandler?”

  She could hear Jamie’s smile.

  “I sure hope so,” she said, and then she sipped.

  She couldn’t see him clearly, but her eyes widened just the same.

  “It’s a Belgian white,” she said, but her voice cracked as she started to make sense of this so-called conspiracy. “Jamie, I need my glasses.”

  And in a perfect instant replay, he gave her one soft, slow kiss. Then he gave her back her sight.

  He handed her the empty display bottle, one Jeremy must have had hidden when they arrived. She read the label and choked back a laugh. Or maybe it was a sob. Either way it was a giddy, ridiculous kind of happy.

  Chandler’s Witbier read the label, and the logo was a starry sky with a full moon.

  Her breath hitched. She looked at him, then the bottle. Then him again. “You lassoed the moon for me,” she said.

  “Hey.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb swiping at a tear she didn’t realize was there. “It took a while to get it right, and I didn’t want to tell you until I did.” He laughed then. “In Amarillo, Dora said… I thought she knew.”

  “It’s my name…on the bottle. Jamie, I don’t even know what to say.”

  “How about…lucky freaking bouquet?”

  She ignored his earlier direction and joined him behind the bar just as Jeremy decided to go and check on something, though he couldn’t say what that something was. She fisted her hands in Jamie’s wet shirt and tugged him to her.

  “I almost let you get away,” she said, realizing that they almost didn’t make it here together.

  “Nah,” he said, pulling the bill of his hat over her eyes. “I would have chased you down eventually. Maybe in another ten years.”

  She stepped back in a flurry of movement, her hands splayed against his chest, and Jamie winced.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, opening one eye to peek at her, then the other. “Just bracing myself for a stabbing or some other random act of violence.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but he was right, just one step ahead of her this time.

  “You really would have waited that long?” she asked.

  “I guess we’ll never know,” he said. “Doesn’t matter now, because I’m not letting you go.”

  That satisfied her enough to let him pull her into a kiss, and it felt like another first. In high school their kiss was a revelation, awakening feelings she never admitted were there. In
Amarillo, it was a confirmation that what they’d both kept at bay for so long had been real. But this—this kiss was a promise, one that told her she wouldn’t have to travel across the country to find happiness again. It was always there, right next to her, waiting to be discovered.

  Jamie held her tight, pulling her closer with each sweep of his tongue, each brush of his lips against hers. And when she closed her eyes, she finally saw what she’d been blind to for years.

  “Fireworks,” she told him as she kissed him back.

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “I know what you mean.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Brynn’s breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip as she watched him.

  Jamie was so intent on getting out of his now stiffening shirt and jeans, he wasn’t prepared for his dick to stand at attention at the sight of her reaction to him. Scratch that. Apparently his dick worked independently of his brain because he was ready to salute, and she wasn’t even undressed yet.

  Her teeth still tugged on that lip, and she pulled her shirt over her head. It was Jamie’s turn to gasp as his eyes fell on her breasts, nipples taut and hard behind the fabric of her bra. He reached for the clasp, and she shook her head.

  “We need to talk first,” she said.

  He didn’t disagree. Even though they’d had their reconnection at the fest, they really hadn’t spoken about last night or Amarillo or the past ten years. But he was hard as a rock, and those breasts needed his hands on them. He could see she was fighting instinct, trying to stay restrained, and it only made him want her more.

  This woman had been put on this earth to torture him. He couldn’t think of another explanation.

  In a flash, her jeans pooled at her ankles, and all that was left was a black lace thong. Brynn wore a thong? Well, after the little shimmy she did to get out of it, he would have to say no. At least, she wasn’t wearing one now.

  Holy shit, she was going to drive him insane.

  “Get in,” she said, poking a finger into his chest. Jamie’s eyes widened, but he obeyed, stepping into the shower, the water already running. The plan was to head to the hotel in between the two legs of the fest, shower, and return to the beer tent before round two began. They had two hours, and apparently Brynn had an agenda.

  He backed against the tiled wall, and she followed him in, beads of water collecting on her nose, her shoulders, her breasts. Her hair clung to the sides of her face, her neck, and yep. This was what insanity felt like—complete and total madness. The water made the cut on her forehead more visible, and her glasses, still on, were starting to fog, but it didn’t matter. Before him was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, one he’d loved since he understood the meaning of the word, and the one, until a couple of hours ago, he thought he’d lost. He ached to touch her, agonized as he stood there staring. But this was not his move to make. He understood that much. So he’d wait her out, even if it killed him.

  She started by washing her hair. She stood there, naked in front of him, and washed her hair. Jamie swallowed hard as he watched her, admiring the sight in front of him. When she was done, she pressed the shampoo bottle into his chest but said nothing. So he did the same, washing away the remnants of their time at the fest as well as the pain of waking this morning and thinking Brynn was out of his life for good. As he closed his eyes to rinse, he imagined it was her hands on him rather than his own, but she was winning this war of restraint, one that had him aching for her touch.

  “You were never with Spencer?” he asked, needing to break the silence. If he couldn’t touch her yet, he’d at least get her talking. He started by stating what was now the obvious. Other than You’re naked and in my shower and I might explode if I don’t kiss you, this was all that came to mind.

  She pushed his shoulders with more force than he expected, and he slid into the shower wall, bracing himself with both arms so he didn’t fall.

  “Jesus, Brynn. A little shower safety maybe?”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry! Ugh. I suck at authoritative seductress.”

  He pulled her hand away, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and tugged her to him.

  He breathed her in, still able to distinguish her scent from the rising steam surrounding them, grateful it was no longer masked by the spilled beer.

  “Are you seducing me?” he asked, finally cracking a smile. “Because I thought I was in some sort of trouble.”

  She gave in and wrapped her arms around him, her breasts firm against his chest. His erection pressed against her stomach, and they both exchanged something between a sigh and a moan.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But I was supposed to yell at you first.”

  “I deserve it, I guess. But I’m not sure I get it,” he said, his voiced laced with equal amounts pain and desire. “I heard him say you were staying with him. You looked like you were with him, and that dress…” He didn’t want to think about how she looked in that dress, the one he thought she’d worn for another man.

  She released her grip on him, not backing away completely but enough so their eyes could meet. She rested her arms on his chest.

  Brynn groaned. “You know you infuriate me, right?”

  “Part of my charm?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. No being cute until you’re done listening. Got it?”

  He nodded. She had the authoritative thing down.

  “You put me on a bus, Jamie.”

  She might as well have punched him in the gut. Because that’s how the sentence sounded, full of hurt.

  “I know. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was doing what you needed.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “And you didn’t call me.”

  He hadn’t, but she needed to know he tried.

  “I did. I called you right before I left Holbrook, but it went right to your voicemail. I didn’t want to tell you everything in a message—that I’d messed up, that I loved you and didn’t want to push you away anymore. I had no right to ask you to prove how you felt. I was just—”

  “Scared.” Brynn finished his sentence. She was always good at that.

  He laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. I’m terrified, Brynn. For ten years I’ve been so scared of losing you. But I realize now that if I keep running from how I feel, then I’ve already lost. That’s why I didn’t stop on the road to call again. I needed to get here. I needed to find you and tell you that I was wrong—about so many things. I needed to run to you this time, even if I didn’t find what I wanted when I got there. But I fucked up again when I saw you with him.”

  She threw up those wild hands, and he grabbed her wrists, dodging another injury yet again. He was getting good at this. Maybe she wouldn’t kill him after all.

  Then Brynn turned off the water. The lingering steam, along with the closeness of their bodies, kept him warm, but the room was silent now except for their breathing.

  “I need you to hear me, Jamie. To really hear me. Do you honestly think I could have been with you like that in Amarillo if there was a chance I felt anything for someone else? I meant what I said on that stage today, and now that I know how you felt ten years ago, I get it—what it must have been like to watch me crush on someone else for the whole year. I was seventeen, Jamie. I didn’t know, not until that kiss. And then that was it. Everything finally made sense—I already loved you. I was just too much of an idiot to see it.”

  He lifted a plastered curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. He pressed his lips to the wound on her skin, because damn it if he wasn’t going to find a way to kiss her now.

  “I finally had you and pushed you away.”

  “You were going through a lot,” she said. “I understood. But to hear you say, in front of all those strangers in Amarillo, that you’d been in love with me since then? To find out you lied about Liz?” His jaw clenched, and she noticed immediately, kissing the spot just in front of his ear where all the tension lay. “I understand, Jamie. I
didn’t give you much room for honesty, not with how I behaved at the reunion. I think my real anger came from realizing we’d missed out, that ten years ago I could have been there for you as your friend and also something more.” She pushed him again, lighter this time, and he knew any residual anger she might have felt was waning. “And then in Amarillo when I realized this could have been our trip from the start? It was a repeat of senior year—me falling for you and you putting that distance between us.”

  He kissed her, soft and light, keeping his need at bay.

  “I know.” His voice was hoarse. “Shit, I know.”

  She kissed his chest and then tilted her gaze to meet his. “It’s my fault, too. I let you push me when I should have fought. And that’s what I did when I got here.” She groaned. “I didn’t dress that way for him, Jamie. I bought that stupid dress in the hotel gift shop, hoping your reaction to seeing me in it would shut you up long enough to listen. I only met with Spencer to tell him about us, that I wasn’t going to make it to the launch, that I was here with you.”

  He cupped her cheeks in his hands, hanging on to the last of his restraint. “You wore that for me?”

  She nodded. “That was the plan—to find you, I mean. But then you found me.”

  “And behaved like an asshole,” he said.

  “And behaved like an asshole.”

  He slid his hands down her neck, her shoulders, her arms. When he had both of her hands in his, he brought them to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.

  “Can we stop being assholes, now?” he asked.

  “Hey, I—”

  He didn’t let her finish her protest, covering her mouth with his. So long, restraint. There was nothing sweet or gentle in his need, and Brynn answered him back with delicious force, tongues tangling and teeth grazing lips. He felt the skin on her arms pebbling with goose bumps and pulled her close.

  “We can finish in here,” he said, voice ragged. “Or I can lay you out on that really nice bed out there and do really nice things to you.”