by C. R. Ellis
Dean’s face immediately lit up. He scooped me up in his arms before I could register his movements. “You’re a fucking genius, babe,” he exclaimed, swinging me around.
I squealed and tightened my grip around his neck. “Think he’ll go for it?”
“It might take some convincing, but hopefully, once he sees Mom and Dad’s pool and the 4-wheelers, he’ll never want to leave. I’ll call him later and get it worked out. Now come on,” he said, putting me down and jerking his head toward the finished pancakes. “Let’s eat. Wouldn’t want you getting hangry.”
I smiled and shook my head. “No, you definitely don’t.”
“You’re seriously not going to even give me a clue?” I asked after we’d been in the car for a few minutes.
“You do understand the concept of a surprise, right?” he replied, amusement lacing his voice.
I crossed my arms and huffed loudly in response. He just let out a low chuckle. I wanted to continue pouting, but I made the mistake of glancing over and getting caught up in the profile view of Dean in his wayfarers. He was wearing a navy blue polo that clung to his chest and shoulders. He’d tamed his hair and styled it just the right amount. Not to the point of being preppy and pretentious, but it was clear he’d made an effort.
Hard to be annoyed with the man when he looks like he belongs in a cologne ad.
Dean and I had never really done anything in our hometown together; we’d trekked across half of New York City together years ago, but we had yet to truly experience Austin with each other. I was curious about what Dean enjoyed most about this city. Did he like hitting up food trucks before hiking the Greenbelt or kayaking on the lake? Or did he prefer the night life and all it had to offer?
I was so caught up in my thoughts I hardly realized we’d come to a stop outside a gun range.
I balked after registering Dean’s intention. “You cannot be serious.”
I’d never even held a gun before, against the advice of my dad, Victor, and even Dean. Apparently a girl living alone in a city wasn’t capable of defending herself without a gun of some sort. Tell that to the pepper spray and baseball bat under my bed.
Dean shifted the Camaro into park. “Still not a fan of guns, I see.”
I shook my head. My hands grew clammy just thinking about what awaited us beyond those doors. “I don’t see the need. I’m almost positive I could karate chop the shit out of a burglar before getting murdered.”
“What is it that scares you about them?” he asked, turning toward me.
I wanted to make some kind of joke to disguise the rising panic in my chest, but words refused to form, and my clammy hands were suddenly the least of my worries.
“I’m not sure. I mean, why are people afraid of heights? Spiders? Tight spaces? My fear of guns has no rhyme or reason, and yet, it totally terrifies me to imagine using one.”
Dean pulled my hand into his and traced circles on my palm, instantly calming me. “I have a theory, you see,” he started, capturing my rapt attention. “Fear has this power, this ownership over us. Everybody has something they’re afraid of in some way, shape, or form. I believe we all get one chance, one true shot at overcoming a fear. None of that bullshit about gradually overcoming a fear holds true to me. I think we’re all presented with one perfect moment in time to get the best of a particular fear; we can either succumb to the powerlessness fear instills within us, or we can shatter the chains that bind us to the fear and build our own brand of ownership over it.”
I looked up at his handsome face that was studying mine with such intensity it sent a shiver down my spine. “What happened with your last perfect moment?”
“You opened the door.”
My mouth gaped, and Dean’s mouth twitched into a small smile before he elaborated. “I’d begun to wonder if I’d ever get the chance to own that fear—the fear I’d ruined things between us forever, and that, despite all the progress we’d made, I’d still lost you.”
“There was a time I would’ve wholeheartedly believed that to be true, argued it even. But I think, no matter what I’ve tried to tell myself, a part of me has always thought we’d find our way back to each other some day. It just hurt too much to examine the reality of the situation too closely. I never realized it back then, but my biggest fear was that I’d lose the one person I’d come to count on most. That’s not something I could own. So I ran from it. I thought if I could prove to myself I didn’t actually need you, need what we had, that I’d eventually forget what it felt like to trust, to feel safe with someone.”
Dean flinched. I leaned in close to ease the unintentional blow with soft kisses to his right cheek and jawline. The rough stubble on his face tickled my lips, but I welcomed the sensation.
His hands tenderly cupped my face to keep me close. “I can’t change our history. But I can swear to you that I will never, ever repeat the mistakes from back then. I’ll never give you a reason to question whether to trust me, and I will do my best to make you feel safe, Jas. Always.”
I pressed my lips to his and conveyed all the passion and overwhelming emotion bubbling up inside me. We were making more progress than I ever could’ve dreamt of as far as communication, but our lips? Our lips knew how to communicate all the things our words couldn’t.
In one swift move after we broke apart, I threw open my door and jumped out of the car, startling Dean with my sudden movements. Thinking about shooting a gun still sent a shot of anxiety through my body, but having Dean as my instructor made me feel like I was capable of anything.
I leaned down and poked my head into the open passenger window. “So, are you going to teach me how to shoot stuff or should I ask one of these other caveman brutes to teach me?”
His eyebrows shot up just before a huge grin spread across his lips. He jumped out of the car and quickly caught up to me, swatting my ass playfully. “The only weapon going into your hands will be mine,” he whispered seductively, his stubble grazing my ear.
I sucked in a shaky breath. Something told me he wasn’t just talking about the gun range.
Chapter 24
Dean
Nothing tastes better than cake licked off of very specific parts of the body.
Dean Preston, planning ahead
“Are you bringing a plus one to my wedding?” Charlie asked, taking a swig from his beer.
Jasmine’s beautiful face instantly came to mind, and I checked my watch for the fiftieth time today to see how much longer it would be until she’d be back in my arms. She was working crazy hours lately, so we’d only managed to go on two actual dates in the last couple of weeks. But we spent most nights together at my place or hers, so I was happy.
“I’ll have to check with her to see if she can come, but I’m not sure. Speaking of…I’ve been meaning to tell you…” I trailed off, not sure how Charlie would take this news. He was the only person I’d ever talked to about what happened with Jasmine six years ago, but we hadn’t discussed it in years.
“Does the all-powerful chick magnet that is Dean Preston have a girlfriend?” he asked. “I can hear hearts breaking already.”
I shook my head dismissively. “I guess I’ve just been busy with work and you’ve been busy with work and wedding stuff, but I’ve been meaning to tell you that Jasmine and I are together.”
He sputtered beer all over the bar where we were seated and turned to look at me. “Wait a fucking minute. The Jasmine? As in…the girl who fucked you up from here to Tanzania and back after college? Dude. You’re right, we’ve both been busy with shit, but what the fuck?”
Charlie had the pretty boy looks going for him, so it wasn’t unusual for him to commandeer the attention of women. But this time the attention he garnered had little to do with his looks and everything to do with the fact that he’d just loudly dropped so many f-bombs that people from across the bar were turning their heads in our direction.
I did my best to smile apologetically at the questioning looks cast our way, but a few linge
red anyway. I dropped my voice in an effort to lose the interest of random strangers. “I know. It’s still pretty new, and we haven’t really put labels on it yet. But it’s the real thing, Charlie.”
I gave him a synopsis of what happened between Jasmine and me, and he listened intently. When I finished, he shook his head and clinked his beer against mine. “Damn. That was better than the soap operas Al makes me watch. I’m happy for you, man.”
I grinned. “Thanks, Chuck.”
“So, wait, does Natasha know you’re seeing someone?” he asked. “You know she’s going to be at my wedding.”
“I kind of alluded to it when we talked after Nate left for Texas, but I didn’t get into specifics other than making it clear I wasn’t interested in getting back together with her.”
“Well, I hope you’re prepared for her to bring some hotshot doctor or lawyer as her date to make you jealous,” he said, shaking his head and waving his hand to flag down the bartender for another beer.
“I don’t give a shit if she brings half the cast of Magic Mike. With Jasmine as my date, jealousy will be the last thing I feel.”
His lips twisted into a smirk. “Jesus. You’re really serious about this chick. So, how long until I get to be a groomsman at your wedding?”
“What the fuck, Chuck? Slow down. I just told you we haven’t even labeled what we’re doing.”
He just laughed. “Maybe not, but you are so whipped, Dean. Don’t deny it.”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-can’t-play-basketball-I-have-wedding-shit-to-do,” I countered.
He belted out a laugh, but didn’t deny it.
An hour later, I left Charlie at the bar to go home and get to bed early. I had a big, long day ahead of me. I needed a decent night’s sleep, followed by a hangover-free morning, and nights out with Charlie always ended with hangovers.
“When you said you’d accept payment in the form of manual labor, I didn’t think you meant actual manual labor. I take back every complaint I had about helping with the busted kitchen pipes now. This is more like torture than manual labor,” Nathan said, handing me another wooden board.
I laughed and set the board to be nailed into place. He wasn’t wrong—my plan to fix Jasmine’s tree house was great in theory, until I was reminded just how insanely hot Texas summers got, and how much work it’d be. I had come out a couple times by myself, but quickly realized I’d need help.
“We can take a break in a bit,” I told him, wiping the sweat off my face. I’d definitely underestimated how much work it would take to renovate the tree house the way it needed to be done. We’d need reinforcements if I wanted to get this finished before my hair turned gray.
A few minutes later Nate and I left the hammers behind and headed for the shade of a giant oak tree across the yard. I pulled out my phone and texted Emmett.
DEAN:How do you feel about tree house renovations? Dinner’s on me if you can come help.
EMMETT:I can’t guarantee the quality, but I’m willing to help. Give me an hour.
I considered asking my dad to come help too, but I didn’t want to deal with him asking questions about my motives. Jas and I hadn’t established the exact status of our relationship, and I was okay with that. I was determined not to fuck things up with her, and if that meant I had to wait patiently until she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, I would.
“D, you know I was just kidding about this being torture. I’m happy to help. Jasmine seems really great,” Nate said, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts.
Jasmine hadn’t been able to make dinner the night I picked Nate up from the airport, but she’d come over after. She and Nate instantly hit it off. I’d never seen Jasmine around kids or teenagers, but she just had a way of connecting with Nathan in a way I never could’ve imagined. Maybe it had something to do with the fact they’d both lost parents as kids. Or maybe it just had to do with the fact they bonded over making jokes at my expense. Either way, I was happy they got along so well.
“I’m glad you think so, Nate. I really love her.” I’d always been honest with Nate about pretty much everything, so it only made sense for him to be the only person to know the truth about the depth of my feelings for Jasmine.
His lips spread to mirror the grin on my face. “I was wondering when you’d finally admit the truth.”
I rolled my eyes. Teenagers. Always thinking they know everything.
“But seriously, Dean, I could tell there was something different about Jasmine the minute I saw you two together. And look, I need to apologize for halfway trying to get you and Natasha back together. I never would’ve tried if I’d known about Jasmine.”
I shook my head. “Nate, don’t worry about it. I know your intentions were good.”
He met my fist with his in a we’re-all-good fist-bump. “So when are you going to bring her out here to see this place?”
“I’m not sure. Depends on how much we get done today. I was hoping she could come meet us out here after the wedding she’s working today.”
He pushed off the trunk of the tree to stand. “Then we should get back to work.”
With Emmett’s help, the three of us managed to finish all the much-needed repairs to the floors and walls of the tree house by late afternoon. Now I didn’t have to worry about Jasmine falling through the floor of the tree house every time she came out here. For three amateurs, the tree house actually looked damn good. There was still some cosmetic work to be done on the inside, but at least its foundation was intact and had wood and nails from this millennium.
“Hey, Jas just texted. She said both weddings she and Jade had today went off without a hitch, and they’re both wrapping things up. How about we all meet at that new pizza place for dinner?”
Emmett nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
I looked at Nate.
He gave me a do-you-really-have-to-ask look. “You had me at pizza,” he confirmed with a huge smile that I knew from experience was more directed at the promise of pizza than me.
Chapter 25
Dean
I don’t know who this “Louboutin” guy is, but I’d like to send him a fruit basket.
Dean Preston, appreciating the sight of Jasmine in nothing but Christian Louboutin stilettos
The pizzeria was in a renovated barn just outside the city. Nathan and I arrived first, followed shortly by Emmett. Only a handful of tables remained open, so we quickly claimed one while we waited for the girls. Nate was asking Emmett question after question about Boston when a voice called out from a few tables over.
“Charlie! Hey, man,” Nate called, standing up and heading over to my friend.
I’d introduced Charlie and Nate when all the shit went down with Lilly. I’d known I’d need help when it came to keeping Nate on the right path, and Charlie fit the bill. His parents had friends in high places, and I wasn’t above using all the resources at my disposal when it came to Nathan and getting the best possible placement after he went into foster care.
“Nate! I heard you gave a pretty damn great speech at graduation,” Charlie said, standing to greet Nathan with a hug. “Sorry I couldn’t make it. How’s Austin treating you? Is Dean showing you all that Austin has to offer?”
“Austin’s great, but I don’t know about Dean showing me all the city has to offer. So far I’ve helped him rebuild a tree house and gotten in some quality time at his apartment pool,” Nate said, cocking an eyebrow in my direction.
“Hey, give me a break, you just got here a couple days ago. Not my fault my boss is a slave driver,” I said.
Charlie laughed, taking my joke in stride. “Yeah, I hear that guy’s a real asshole. But seriously though, take Monday off. Take Nate to experience the city.”
I eyed him skeptically. “Whoa. Who are you and what have you done with my work-a-holic boss? I don’t know if it’s your impending marriage making you soft or what, but I’m a fan.”
“You’re one to talk,” Charlie chided, mirroring my own skeptical look. “I
hear your DVR is being taken over by reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and Gilmore Girls.”
I angled my head toward Nate. He diverted his eyes and pretended to be looking at his cell phone. “Uh huh. Did this source also tell you that he has actually been watching these shows while I’m not home?”
Nate’s eyes lifted from his phone to glare at me. “That was one time! I told you, I couldn’t find the remote.”
Charlie and I exchanged looks of disbelief and started laughing.
“Dean! Hey ya, stranger!”
I whipped around and came face-to-face with Charlie’s smiling fiancé. I gave her a side hug, but she quickly removed herself from my grip when she realized Nathan was next to me. With a brief, high-pitched squeal, she pulled Nate in for a much bigger hug than she’d given me.
“Hey, Al!”
“Charlie didn’t tell me you were coming to town. Please tell me you’re staying long enough to come to the wedding?” she asked.
Nate nodded. “I am. I’ll be here all summer, actually.”
Cue another high-pitched squeal.
I gave Charlie a questioning look and he mouthed she’s basically bridezilla to me. I turned my head to hide my grin from his bride-to-be. How Jasmine and my sister dealt with brides all day, every day, was a mystery to me. I knew Al wasn’t a true bridezilla; Jas and Jade had shared a few horror stories about serious bridezillas. But the fact that one event on one day could reduce perfectly normal women to obsessive lunatics was something I’d never understood.
