The Best Friend Incident (Driven to Love)

by Melia Alexander

  He narrowed his gaze. “I never could understand why people consider it romantic. It’s a hunk of rock. Great for climbing, hiking, and biking, sure. But romantic?”

  “It’s the story behind it, silly.”

  He shook his head. “Some mythical Chinese dude treks over the Pacific Ocean, settles here, and falls in love with a local. Refuses to go back to China and tells his dad that he’d just as soon stay here as a rock than leave the woman behind. Then poof, he ends up a rock.” He snorted. “Who’s dumb enough to believe that a guy’d do that? Let alone the whole rock thing.”

  “Apparently, not you.” She sat up and pierced him with a hard stare.

  “You’re such a dreamer.”

  “I’m a romantic. I believe in two people finding happiness in each other.”

  “Is that why you focus so much energy on finding your prince charming? Why you read all those relationship blogs and watch YouTube videos?” He’d never thought about it before, but now he was curious. “Because that’s the only way for you to be happy?”

  “I never said it was the only way.” She bit her lower lip, a sure sign that the cogs were turning in her brain, and her face took on a dreamy look as she stared off in the distance. “But finding the right guy to spend my life with…it’s something I’ve always wanted for myself, something deep and meaningful that’d make life larger and brighter and fulfilling. You know, like what happens on the Hallmark Channel movies.”

  Holy fuck, she was serious. “That’s a lot of pressure to hang on one guy. Kind of stifling, really.”

  She blew out a breath and frowned. “What’s so wrong about finding someone you just click with?”

  “Not a damn thing.” He wanted to point out that the two of them clicked, that they had something deep and meaningful, but something stopped him. The last thing he wanted to do was lead her on. That’d make him the worst kind of jerk, not to mention ruin something he considered pretty damned amazing.

  He stared at her over the rim of his teacup, and by the time he set it down, he knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It’d probably cost him, but what the hell? “You have your act together better than a lot of women I know. You don’t need to find some guy to make you what you already are—perfect.”

  She blinked at him. “Um, wow. Thanks, Grant.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You two still fighting?” Mei-Ling set a couple of steaming plates in front of them. “You marry, I tell you.”

  Grant shook himself out of the soft way Stacey was looking at him and waved Me-Ling off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll marry her when fortune cookies grow on trees.”

  “You wanna tree? Dennis could make. He make all the fortune cookies here, too. He hang from tree.” She made a motion with both hands, showing a cookie hanging from a branch, by the looks of it.

  Stacey’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer, but then she smiled up at the woman. “His cookies are the best, Mei-Ling,” she said. “I can’t wait to read what words of wisdom he’s got for us today.”

  Her smile was radiant, reaching across the table and tugging at Grant’s chest.

  He gave himself a mental shake. Radiant? What the fuck was wrong with him?

  She inhaled deeply and glanced down at her plate. “This looks great, by the way. I’m glad I ordered it.”

  “Trust me,” the older woman said, reaching for the teapot and refilling their cups. “I know what you like.” She set the pot down. “You two, you like each other. You gonna marry.”

  Something about the whole exchange settled uneasily on Grant. It was dumb. There wasn’t any doubt that he loved Stacey, would do anything for her. But marriage to anyone? Definitely not until fortune cookies grew on trees.

  Chapter Five

  Stacey stared at Julian Howe’s crinkled face. The living room they were in, complete with baby grand piano, faded to black. All that registered was the old man’s smile, so incongruous with the bombshell he’d dropped. How could he possibly be so calm?

  “You’re dying?” she whispered. Pain stabbed through her chest, constricting her heart while her brain processed what he’d just told her. He was dying.

  It wasn’t possible. No way. No. Way.

  He was one of the liveliest people she’d ever met. He had a lot of energy for his age. Well, okay, so he’d slowed down the last couple of months, but it hadn’t appeared to be anything serious.

  She searched his face, sure she hadn’t heard him right. He always had a ready smile and a kind word. How could life be so cruel? Leaning forward, she swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Are you sure?”

  “Afraid so.” He shrugged. “It does happen to the best of us, you know.”

  She leaned back and scanned him from the top of his balding head to the plaid slippers on his feet. “You look fine to me. Maybe the doctors are wrong? Did you get a second opinion?”

  “Why, thank you. I feel pretty good right now.” The man’s smile broadened. “But, yes, my dear. I got a second opinion, and a third, even. The cancer’s spread so that I’ve only a few weeks left at most.”

  He reached out, then, his cold fingers registering when he patted her hand. “That’s why I need to make sure Martha and I share these dinners more frequently, see. I want to give her these last memories of how much I love her, how much I cherish her, how I’ll cherish her even after I’m gone. Can you understand that?”

  His gentle words, softly spoken, pierced through Stacey until she wasn’t sure she could handle the painful pressure. But she had to. If not for her, then most definitely for the man she’d come to recognize as a friend.

  “Understand?” she finally said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Of course I do.” How often had she wished for that kind of love from someone? A love so deep and everlasting it made her heart ache? “I’m going to make sure you have the best, most romantic dinners I’ve ever created. I’ll even get with Carly and put together a special menu, if you like.”

  “You always plan the nicest evenings. It’s why Martha and I enjoy Dinners for Two so much.”

  The praise warred with her sinking heart. But, in the face of his illness, she wasn’t going to bring him down.

  She stared at the lively gray-blue eyes of her favorite client. He seemed fine, but she didn’t want him to overdo it, either. “Are you sure you’re okay to travel to the different locations you wanted? I mean, are you sure you aren’t in any pain or anything? We can rethink the venues, you know.”

  “Bah.” He dropped her hand and waved her off. “Don’t worry about me. Frankly, nothing would be more painful to me than not giving this to Martha.”

  This. This was what her heart longed for, to have someone love her enough to plan a special evening that she’d always remember. She stuffed down the pang in her chest and the lump in her throat that threatened to overwhelm her. Breathing in deeply, she tried for a smile instead. “That’s lovely.”

  He sat back in the wingback chair, a blanket over his legs, and stared into space, then turned his head just far enough to capture her gaze. “Did I ever tell you that the first moment I laid eyes on her was in a crowded restaurant? I didn’t know what hit me, but it was like a jolt of some sort, almost like God was talking to me. That’s when I knew.” He swallowed. “I knew in that moment that I was going to marry her.”

  He sighed. “You might not realize it now, as young as you are, but it goes too quickly, Stacey. Too quickly.”

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that? There wasn’t a damn thing that came to mind that didn’t sound like a platitude, yet she felt the intensity of the moment as if it were her own, felt the beauty that flowed from him as he spoke of his one true love.

  One day she’d share a deep love with someone so that sixty years together would pass too quickly for both of them. The longing in her chest deepened. She’d waited long enough for “one day.” Really, it needed to show up soon.

  “My only regret,” he continued softly, breaking into her thoughts, “is that
I didn’t make her half as happy as she’s made me.” He cleared his throat again, grabbed the arms of the chair, then pulled himself forward. “That’s why I want everything to be perfect. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  No pressure, right?

  She stared into Julian’s kind eyes and willed every ounce of strength to the surface. No matter how horrible the situation was, she had to keep it together. Besides, if Julian wasn’t falling apart, then who the hell was she to do so?

  Stacey bit her lower lip and fumbled in her purse for a pen. “Well, then, we’d better get started on the menu, huh?”

  …

  Crowds sucked. Unless it was at a football game or something. But some frou-frou event with free champagne and bite-size food that looked like it belonged in an entertainment magazine—not to mention the suit he was forced to wear? Grant hated the entire thing even if it did benefit the distillery.

  One event down, one to go… In the immediate future, anyway. When summer rolled around he’d been warned there’d be more publicity stuff to do.

  He huffed out a breath. The mayor’s brunch was an important event that funded various educational programs. The place was full of some of the top business owners and local investors who supported the majority of Milestone’s charities, and now he got to hang with them. Oh, yay.

  A jazz quartet blasted out a fast-paced tune in a corner of the room where some attendees danced. Not his taste in music, but to be fair, things could’ve been worse. There could’ve been no music at all. He stood at the edge of the rows that marked the silent auction tables. Beside them people were elbow to elbow, busy bidding on a variety of packages.

  With the money raised this afternoon, the local library hoped to stock more children’s books, and the local high school planned to extend the sports program to low-income youth in the areas surrounding Milestone. Both were worthy of support.

  Which was why he was happy to have pulled the trigger and put in the final bid for a couple of kayaks. Sure, he paid full price, but it was for a good cause.

  He raised the champagne flute to his lips, the letter feeling like a lead weight in his jacket pocket. In a twisted way it seemed fitting that he carry it on his first official role as company spokesperson. The letter kept things real, the reminder plain. Live the moment because tomorrow, his whole world could disappear.

  He schooled his face into what he hoped was an interested stare as he scanned the rest of the ballroom. He had to admit, it was a good turnout. If it were up to him, though, he’d have happily spent the day mountain biking with Stacey. Or maybe watching some action-adventure flick with a bowl of popcorn on her—

  Yeah, maybe they’d have to skip the whole Netflix thing for a while. God knew he couldn’t climb into her bed again without remembering the last time he was in it.

  He glanced over at his companion, and admired the sleeveless, form-hugging peach cocktail dress she wore. Paired with heels, the outfit made her smooth, bare legs seem longer, somehow. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. At least she was here today. He just hoped she didn’t feel weird being back at the place where she used to wait tables for the people she now mingled with.

  If anything, it made him proud of all she’d accomplished since quitting.

  “If I had a say in things, I’d have done a pairing instead,” she said from beside him. “You know, maybe a beer, wine, and spirits tasting so guests could see how each one complements the food. Or a mimosa bar paired with different brunch items.”

  “As long as it’s not fish bait–size, I could go for that.”

  “Maybe even a brunch built around tapas… You know, for an international twist.”

  He smiled. Her brain was at it, taking ideas from the event to use in her own business. That was the thing about Stacey—she could run a business and seemingly be working all the time, but for her it was fun, too.

  “If I had a say, we’d be doing this outdoors instead, something that’d focus on the natural beauty of the area.” He frowned. “We’d probably all be freezing our asses off, though.”

  “That’s why portable heaters exist, my friend.” She tapped him on the arm, and warmth traveled from the point of contact to the rest of his body. “What’s wrong with the resort?” she asked while his brain was still trying to process the whole warmth thing.

  “Other than it’s stuffy?”

  She rolled her eyes and looked around at the walls. He wondered what she found so fascinating with gold trim and heavy curtains.

  “It’s been here since Milestone was founded,” she said. “Sure, it’s been remodeled since, but it’s got history to it. If these walls could talk, imagine how many proposals were said or first dates were had or anniversaries celebrated.”

  “What a romantic.”

  “I’ve never pretended to be anything else.” She sighed and smiled up at him in a way that made him itch to hold her, itch to have her in his arms again. The battle warred inside him, and a crackling sensation whipped through his body, urging him to give in, to pull her toward him, consequences be damned.

  Her brown eyes captured his, and the room disappeared. “Grant?”

  His name was a question and a promise, and it was all he could do to hang onto some shred of self-control. He held out his half-filled glass of champagne. “I’m done with this. Let’s get something else.”

  And just like that, the world invaded again. Laughter registered from a nearby table. A saxophone blared a solo.

  “Let me see that.” She raised an eyebrow and handed the glass of champagne back. “It’s warm. You’ve been nursing this the whole time?”

  “Not a fan.” He turned. “I’d rather have some bourbon.”

  “There’s a surprise.”

  She looped her arm through his as they walked. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever done such a thing before, but damn, it felt good to at least touch her.

  “Three o’clock, man your stations,” she said.

  Code for heads-up, someone or something of interest was in the area, and play along if necessary. Grant casually glanced in the direction she indicated. He lasered in on the guy and immediately recognized one of the newest members of the elite eligible bachelors’ pool. It helped to ride the coattails of a wealthy family.

  Not that Grant had had any experience in that department.

  “Todd just moved to Milestone,” Stacey said, untangling her arm from his. “I’m going to introduce myself.” Her hips swayed slightly as she walked, lengthening the distance between them, but he stood rooted while his brain clicked backward to another time, another place, another Todd.

  The last time he’d seen his younger brother, the little guy was four. And he knew their mother had taken Todd far from Milestone with no plans to return.

  Grant placed a hand on his jacket, over his heart where the letter was safely tucked. The familiar pang arced through him, gripped his chest in a vise that seemed to tighten further. The stab of pain was expected, the tumbling memories were not. He tried to stop them, tried to stuff them back where they belonged, but they persisted.

  The miniature racecar he’d left in his seat when his mother had unlocked the rear passenger door to let him out at the park that day. Todd crying when their mother drove away. The confusion Grant felt as he chased after them until someone had grabbed him by the collar. It was the social worker he later discovered his mother had been in contact with. The one she’d planned to leave him with.

  Though the foster care system gave him the basics, he knew that eventually nothing was permanent. Not his room, his toys, and definitely not the families he’d thought would never leave.

  He sucked in another deep breath to ease the pain. It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.

  Time to control his thoughts, to divert them to Edward and Miriam Wilson, the foster parents who had kept him, then to Aidan, and finally to Stacey.

  His gaze followed his companion, who was now talking with the guy.

/>   Stacey. Her sweetness. Her kindness. Both conveyed in her smile.

  Stacey. The way she took the world with both hands, the way she made her life her own and didn’t apologize to anyone for it.

  Stacey. His rock in an otherwise dizzyingly crazy world.

  The memories slowed, then stopped. Fina-fucking-ly.

  By the time he reached her she was engrossed in deep conversation with the guy, and turned just as he approached. “Hey, you know Todd Schoonover, don’t you?”

  “Hey, man.” The younger man raised his chin. “Heard a lot about you. We should get together sometime.”

  “Welcome to Milestone.” Grant clasped the extended hand, then took Stacey’s champagne glass from her. “I’ll take care of this for you.”

  “Sure. We’ll be right here.”

  He nodded but knew he wouldn’t be back for her anytime soon. She was either working a deal or chatting the guy up to see if he was a potential Mr. Right. No way was he interrupting.

  So how come leaving her there literally felt like he’d lost his best friend?

  He heaved in a deep breath. It was her job to network, to make connections that could launch her business to the next level. It was his job to do the same thing for the distillery. It was in both their interests to remember that. So there wasn’t a problem, right?

  He had no claim on her, and some of the guys she’d dated over the years were even ones he’d given the thumbs-up to. No denying that something was different, though…

  They’d kissed.

  So what?

  And she’d rubbed up against him.

  She didn’t know it was him.

  And he’d liked it.

  Goddamn it. There was no good comeback to that one. But it didn’t change the fact that it was an honest-to-goodness mistake. One that now had him reduced to arguing with himself like a teenage girl, for God’s sake.

  Snap out of it, dude.

  When it came down to it, being her best friend was his only place in her life. Which was why he was focused on her now.

  He ditched the champagne glasses on an empty table and turned.