by Laura Drewry
“Yeah,” he grunted. “I sorted through everyone I knew and came up with the biggest prick I could think of.”
“God, Nick, I’m freaking out enough already, I don’t need you making it worse.”
“Sorry.” He kicked a rock off the path and wished he could kick himself just as far. “He’s a good guy. It’ll be fine.”
“Who is he? Just tell me his name and I’ll ask Katie about him; she knows all your friends, doesn’t she?”
“No way, I don’t want you to have an opinion before you even get there. Besides, he’s not exactly a friend, more like someone I know. It’s not like we go out for beers or anything.”
“How do you know him?”
“Through work.”
“So he’s in construction?”
“Nice try,” he laughed. “No hints.”
“Damn it.” The bushes beside Jayne shook, making her jump, but Nick just laughed when a squirrel shot out and darted up a nearby maple.
Two steps later, a large raindrop landed on Nick’s cheek. Then another.
“Maybe we should head—” Thunder boomed across the sky.
“Back,” Jayne finished.
Nick whistled for Duke and they started for home, but they’d only gone about twenty feet when the skies opened.
“You wouldn’t like to waddle a little faster, would you, buddy?” Nick laughed as he tried without much success to hurry the old dog along. “Why don’t you run home,” he said to Jayne, “and we’ll meet you there. No point in both of us getting soaked.”
“Little rain never hurt anyone.” Jayne tipped her face up to the sky and blinked over the raindrops. “Unless, of course, you were too cool to bother with a jacket or a hat before you left the house.”
Nick gave her a shove, then laughed as he swiped the rain off his cheeks. Duke’s ears seemed to hang a little lower as he trudged along, his droopy eyes looking as pathetic as ever. Rain bounced off the parched trail and lightning streaked across the golf course, illuminating the sky in brilliant slashes. Thunder cracked, louder and longer each time, until it was almost in perfect time with the lightning.
At the edge of the cul-de-sac, Nick scooped Duke up and they ran the rest of the way home. By the time they got to the door, Nick was soaked to the skin, his knee was about three steps from giving out, and Duke was more than a little insulted at being bounced around like that.
“Throw me a towel,” Jayne called after Nick as he bee-lined it for his room. She wrapped it around Duke and rubbed him down as best she could, then led him over to the rug in front of the fireplace where he curled up with a long moan.
Nick jumped in the shower, leaving his soaked clothes draped over his hamper. He’d give anything to be able to call off dinner with Lisa tonight. All he wanted to do was flake out on the couch with his leg up. The hot water was helping, but not enough.
The second he stepped out of the shower, he heard Jayne in the final verse of what sounded like a Springsteen song.
He pulled on his jeans, jerked a T-shirt over his head, and headed to the kitchen where she was standing over a couple of pots on the stove and was well into her best Billy Idol.
“So let’s sink another drink …” She turned as his bare feet hit the kitchen floor, her mouth open, her eyes huge, but a few seconds later, she picked up the chorus, albeit much quieter than before. “And I’ll be dancin’ with myself.”
Nick walked straight toward her, grabbed her by the hand, and twirled her around the kitchen. She stumbled, he righted her, and he gripped her hand tight enough that she couldn’t pull away. Pull her in, let her out, twirl her under the arm, then pull her in again, all the while avoiding chairs, stools, the table, and the island.
Her face flushed as she tried to keep up, but she tripped on almost every turn and his toes were taking the brunt of it. His knee, however, was holding up great. As the song neared its end, Nick slowed, then whipped her around in a final twirl that brought her straight back against his chest.
“Sorry.” She laughed and ducked her head but she couldn’t hide her blushing from him. “Guess I need a little work on my dance moves.”
“Your dancing’s fine,” he grinned. “It’s your singing that could use some work.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he tugged her close again and took up where they left off, only slower, as Bono sang from the laptop.
See the stone set in your eyes. See the thorn twist in your side …
He tucked Jayne’s head under his chin and closed his eyes. God, she smelled good. And she felt even better. Soft, curvy, she melded into him, moved with him, her hip pressed perfectly against his as he slid his hand over the small of her back, holding her a little tighter, a little closer. His heart thrashed against his ribs and a fire burned deep in his belly—what were they doing?
No—what was he doing?
This was Jayne, for Christ’s sake. Jayne, who was willing to give up whatever it took to make sure she didn’t get between him and Linda. Jayne, whom he’d set up on a date with Martin. A date he was also going on with Linda.
Lisa!
Nick gave himself a hard mental shake. Maybe he had been spending too much time with Jayne and too much time away from Lisa. Maybe he—
Did Jayne just sigh? Did she just squeeze his hand? Did she—
The neglected pasta sauce bubbled up and burst over the side of the pot, sizzling against the flame beneath, making them both jump. Jayne jerked out of Nick’s arms and dashed over to turn the heat down and stir the sauce.
She adjusted her ball cap and cleared her throat noisily. “There’s, um, lots here if you and Lisa want some. It’s just plain sauce, no meat.”
His arms were empty, his throat was dry, and his jeans were uncomfortably tight when his conscience reared back and kicked him hard. Really hard. And then it kicked again until he finally got moving again.
“Yeah. Um, okay, sure.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to keep his eyes, wide with panic, averted. “I’ll, uh, give her a call.”
After what seemed like a thousand years, Nick blinked hard and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He started chugging as he turned away, and was still chugging as he dialed Lisa’s number.
Oh, this was bad. This was very very bad.
At first Lisa balked at the idea, but Nick couldn’t work up the energy to get off the couch at that moment, never mind trying to make it through a restaurant meal, so he did something he never did: he pulled the sore knee card, muttered something he hoped was appreciation when she became sympathetic and caring, then hung up and let his head fall against the back of the couch.
Sure, he was going to save himself from having to leave the house, but at what cost? He had about ten minutes before Linda … Lisa … showed up and somehow between now and then he needed to find a way to get a grip.
He honestly hadn’t meant to do anything more than twirl Jayne around the kitchen once or twice, but then … shiiiiit. His fingers just wouldn’t let her go. And then she was pressed up against him, every breath matching his, making it seem so natural, so … right.
If she had any idea what he’d been thinking in there, she’d have been out of the house so fast she’d have left skid marks. And even though she’d only been there a couple weeks, the thought of her not being there anymore made him want to throw up.
Shit!
Nick set his beer on the table, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and blew out a long slow breath. He could fix this. All he had to do was act like nothing happened, as though it was perfectly natural to hold her that tight, with his stupid heart all but pounding out of his chest. He’d just pretend it meant nothing; they’d go on that stupid date tomorrow night, and maybe Martin would be just what she wanted.
The fire in his belly grew bigger, hotter, a burn that raged against Martin and the possibilities he offered, a burn that still raged when Lisa came through the front door.
“Hi, sweetie.” Her soft, feminine voice, usually a welcome sound, r
aked against Nick’s eardrums like nails down a chalkboard. “Hi, Jayne.”
“Hey, Lisa. Dinner’ll just be a couple minutes.”
Nick pushed off the couch and met Lisa in the kitchen doorway, purposely not looking at Jayne, who was chugging her water like crazy.
“How’s your knee?” Lisa wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled slowly. “Mmmm. You smell like strawberries.”
Glass shattered all over the kitchen floor.
* * *
Jayne picked up Nick’s sister and drove them both to Regan’s salon. To say Katie was very pregnant would’ve been a gross understatement. Her huge belly seemed to hang below her hips, and what should have been a walk was nothing more than a waddle with one hand pressed against her back.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Jayne asked, staring in complete shock. “Maybe you should stay home.”
“Not a chance,” Katie groused. “My baby will not come into this world being greeted by a mother with split ends and ragged fingernails. And if I have to be the size of a freakin’ Volkswagen, I’m at least going to be a freshly painted one.”
They managed to get Katie into one of the chairs at Regan’s, and after a short discussion about what she and Jayne did and didn’t want, Regan went to work on Jayne’s hair while the other girl started on Katie’s nails.
“How are things going at the store, anyway?” Katie sucked in a short breath, shifted in her chair, then released it.
“Good, I guess. I can’t imagine we’ll get it all done on time, but Nick doesn’t seem worried.”
Katie shifted again, but at least this time it seemed to relieve some of her discomfort. “And what about Lisa? Has anyone asked her what she thinks?”
Jayne caught Katie’s skeptical gaze in the mirrors and nodded over a long sigh. “I talked to Lisa myself and she’s fine with it.”
“Yeah.” Katie snorted and rolled her eyes impatiently. “I know how happy I’d be if Ben started spending every free minute with you.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Right.” Another eye roll, followed by finger quotes. “Because you’re just friends.”
A slow simmer started to heat Jayne’s blood, due mostly to the fact she was still racked with guilt over whatever that was in Nick’s kitchen last night. Dancing with him to Billy Idol was one thing, but when Nick pulled her close, held her so tight, so gentle … Jayne sighed. She’d been about two seconds shy of burying her face into the side of his neck and refusing to let him go when the sauce boiled over and saved her from humiliating herself.
And then Lisa had shown up and Jayne hadn’t been able to look her in the eye all night.
Despite what Nick’s mother thought, Jayne had never intentionally done anything to ruin one of Nick’s relationships and she wouldn’t start now. She wouldn’t be that woman. The girl doing Katie’s nails stood up and smiled at both of them.
“Can I get you ladies some tea or coffee? Water?”
“Coffee would be great, thanks,” Jayne said. “Little of both.”
“Tea, please. Plain.” Katie shifted in her seat again so she looked straight at Jayne. “I’m just saying—”
“There.” Regan pushed her cart out of the way and helped Jayne down from the chair. “I’m going to move you over there while that sets, and then we’ll give it a trim.”
There was a grin tugging at her mouth as she winked at Jayne, but she kept whatever she was thinking to herself.
“Katie, would you like a rolled-up towel to put behind your back?”
Katie groaned and nodded vigorously. “Thanks. At this point, I’d try just about anything.”
After a few more shifts and groans, the towel seemed to settle her enough that Regan could start on her hair. Jayne kept her face averted and pretended to be engrossed in a magazine article about celebrity pets. The last thing she needed was Katie picking up on the lingering angst Jayne carried from the night before.
When Katie shifted again, Jayne pulled out her phone and fired off a text to Nick, who had taken his list and the one Hague left to the hardware store.
Katie v. uncomfort. Maybe someone shud come get her.
A few seconds later, her phone buzzed back his response.
OK.
Jayne was still flipping blindly through the magazine when Debra arrived fifteen minutes later. By that time, Regan had finished Katie’s cut and was sweeping up.
“Katie.” Debra frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Katie muttered. “You didn’t have to come down.”
“She’s not fine.” Jayne tossed the magazine on the little table and glared back at Katie through the mirror. “Her back’s killing her.”
Debra helped Katie down from the chair and walked her over to the desk to pay. Every other step brought a new grimace to Katie’s face, and a deeper frown to Debra’s.
“I’m sorry, Jayne,” Katie groused. “I shouldn’t have been such a cow. I swear every day I get closer to my due date, the worse I get.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You’ll call me in the morning, right? I want details!”
Without so much as a backward glance, Debra ushered Katie out, and Jayne sat back to enjoy the silence that followed. She didn’t envy the discomfort Katie must be in, but that didn’t mean Jayne had to put up with her crap.
An hour later, Regan turned Jayne’s chair to give her a look at the final product, but it took a moment for Jayne to believe what she was seeing. For the first time since she could remember, her hair wasn’t a total disaster. In fact, she actually liked it—and she rarely liked getting her hair cut.
“We kept most of the length,” Regan said as she fingered the ends near Jayne’s shoulders. “But I cut in some layers and used the big roller brush to give it some volume. You can get the same look with curlers if you prefer, and when you don’t want to fuss with it, it’s still long enough to pull back out of the way.”
She moved to the side of Jayne’s chair as she continued. “I wasn’t sure about the bangs, but with your face shape, I think the swishy side-bangs work really well, and even though it’s parted on the side right now, I cut it with a center part so you can go either way if you like.”
“That’s great,” Jayne finally managed to spit out.
“What do you think of the color? Nothing drastic, just a little brighter.”
Still amazed that this was her own head of hair she was looking at, Jayne just nodded. “It’s … thank you!”
“Sure.” She pulled the plastic cape from around Jayne’s neck and took a second to brush away bits of hair before letting her step down. “Big plans tonight?”
“Scary plans,” Jayne scoffed. “Blind date.”
“Yikes. Well, if nothing else, your hair looks fabulous, so good luck—and you can give us all the gory details Tuesday night!”
Jayne laughed, left a hefty tip, and hurried out to her car. She’d gone home to shower before the appointment, which turned out to be a good thing because she didn’t have much time to get dressed. Her hands shook as she fought to get her mascara on and after three attempts and a small mountain of cotton swabs, she gave up completely on the eyeliner.
The front door opened and Nick’s voice boomed through the house.
“Jayne?”
“Just getting dressed.” God, was that her voice? It was more like a cackle. She stood stock-still in the middle of her room, wrapped in her robe, until she heard Nick’s door close. How unfair was it that she’d spent hours getting ready for this stupid date when he could roll in ten minutes before they were supposed to be there and still have time to shower and get dressed?
And he’d look great, too. So unfair.
Chapter Nine
This is a really volcanic ensemble you’re wearing, it’s really marvelous!
Duckie Dale, Pretty in Pink
Jayne pulled the dress out of the closet and laid it on the end of the bed while she went to fetch her nail sci
ssors. She clipped the tag from the arm and the one on the collar and took them all back to the trash can in the bathroom. As the price tag slipped from her hand, something on the tag caught her eye.
No. No. No!
She yanked the tag back and stared at it wild-eyed. It was the smaller-sized dress—the one she specifically told Ellie to put back. Why the hell would she have switched them—and more to the point—why the hell hadn’t Jayne checked the damned tags before now? She’d had the dress for days!
She let out a long groan and sank onto her bed. Now what?
“You almost ready?” Nick called.
“Um, no, small wardrobe crisis.”
“Let’s have a look.” His voice was closer now, right behind her closed door.
“I … crap. Hang on.” Jayne slipped the dress on and tried to wrench her arms around to get the zipper all the way up, but could only push it up between her shoulder blades where it stuck. She pushed her feet into the shoes and exhaled as she pressed her forehead against her side of the door. “I’m going to need your help with the zipper, and I need you to be perfectly honest with me, Nick, and tell me if it looks awful.”
“Jayne.”
“I told her I wanted the other one, but this is the one she put in the bag, and I didn’t even look at it—”
“Open the door, Jayne.”
“And now we have to be there in … two minutes ago … and I don’t have anything else except that green dress I wore to the movie, and—”
“Jayne.”
The fluttering in her stomach moved up her throat and sent tears burning the backs of her eyes. She just wanted to look nice for Nick. No, not Nick. Nick’s friend. And now she was going to look like a big fat penguin. Did she have time to fight her way into her Spanx?
With a sigh, she twisted the knob, then turned so Nick could zip her up. She must have stood there for a good ten or fifteen seconds before she felt his fingers on her back. He fumbled for a second before he managed to get the zipper unstuck and two things suddenly occurred to Jayne at the same time. The dress wasn’t as tight as her critical brain remembered, and more curious than that was how the warmth from Nick’s fingers spread over her skin like a blanket. When he finally lifted them away, Jayne had to force herself not to protest.
