What Happens Between Friends

by Beth Andrews

  “And for the record,” Char added, rage and indignation battling inside her, making her voice shake, “I can and will date whomever I choose. I choose James. You don’t have a say in it.” She slammed a twenty onto the bar between them, grabbed the beers. “Thanks for the drinks.”

  Her head high, she made her way to the man she wholly planned on making fall in love with her. No matter what Sadie thought about it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “WHAT DO YOU think you’re doing?”

  Shit.

  James stiffened, but didn’t even glance at Sadie. He’d come to this end of the bar specifically because it was the one the new owner was working, leaving Sadie to handle the other end.

  She slammed her hands onto the bar. “Damn it, James, don’t you dare ignore me.”

  Several patrons glanced their way.

  “Problem?” the new owner asked as he joined them.

  “No,” James said. “Two drafts.”

  “Yes,” Sadie said. She glanced at her boss. “I’m taking a break.”

  “Your break’s not for another hour.”

  “So fire me.” She jabbed a finger at James. “You. Don’t. Move.”

  He couldn’t help but watch her walk away, her strides long and angry, her hips swinging. She’d changed out of the skirt she’d had on earlier at the office and into a swinging T-shirt with a huge rose on it and a pair of tiny black shorts she’d paired with black stockings and super high-heeled, strappy black sandals.

  She was killing him.

  He stared at the bar, silently urged the owner to hurry up. How long could it take to pour a couple of beers? James had known Sadie was working here, but he hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight. If he had, he never would have agreed to have a drink with Charlotte.

  And he was nothing but a goddamned liar.

  He’d considered the possibility that Sadie would be here, but had talked himself into showing up anyway. He wasn’t going to let her dictate where he went or what he did. Wasn’t going to let his life or choices revolve around whether or not there would be a chance he’d run into Sadie Nixon.

  Especially since, thanks to his dad, James was going to see her every morning, five days a week.

  She’d gotten to him this morning. He’d let her get to him. He’d been pissed—was still pissed—that his father had blown him off that way. Hurt that he didn’t have more of a say in his father’s company.

  But it was good, he assured himself, that he found out now. Before he continued thinking he was somehow a bigger part, a more important part of Montesano Construction than he was. Before he wasted any more time there. He had some planning to do, some soul-searching. He’d take his time—no sense rushing something this big. And when he was sure, certain of his next steps, he’d take them.

  Even if it meant stepping away from his family.

  Until he made his decision, he’d keep doing what he always did. And if that meant dealing with Sadie until she took off, then fine.

  She’d offered to quit and he’d wanted, more than anything, to take her up on it, but his pride had kicked in. Better late than never. Bad enough everyone seemed to know what a fool he’d been over her, he’d had to go and prove it by tossing out demands like a spoiled two-year-old because she didn’t return his feelings.

  No more. What he’d told Sadie that morning was the truth. Whatever she did, whatever choices she made, didn’t matter to him. He wouldn’t let her matter to him.

  He paid for the beer and picked up the glasses only to turn and come face-to-face with Sadie. She grabbed the beers, spilling some onto his jeans and shoes, and set them on the counter. More people stopped talking to look at them.

  “Come on,” she said, taking hold of his wrist and pulling him down a dimly lit hallway.

  The only reason he didn’t stop her was because he didn’t want to make more of a scene. But by the time she pushed open a door marked Emergency Exit and dragged him into the alley, he’d had enough. He was tired and all he wanted was to go home and go to bed. He was taking Bree into Pittsburgh tomorrow to the Carnegie Science Center.

  But when he’d finished his beer and Charlotte had asked him if he had time for another one, he hadn’t been able to say no.

  Look where being nice got him. Dragged out into an alley by a blonde obviously ready to do him bodily harm.

  He stopped, just simply stopped letting Sadie drag him along like some spineless puppy, desperate for a scrap of attention from her. She jerked, stumbled on those heels of hers, her ankle twisting, forcing him to reach out and steady her.

  “You okay?” he asked reluctantly, the warmth of her skin burning his fingers.

  She yanked free. “No. I’m not okay. I am so mad at you I can’t even see straight. I knew you were upset with me. But I never, not once, thought you’d stoop this low.”

  He wanted to grab her again. Shake her. Pull her to him and hold her close. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you dating my sister to get back at me!”

  * * *

  SADIE HAD TO give him credit, James looked thoroughly confused, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. As if she was the one in the wrong.

  When had he gotten so sneaky? So cruel?

  “You’ve lost your mind,” he said before turning to head inside.

  She hurried to block him, a sharp pain shooting up from her ankle. “You’re out with my sister.”

  She glanced behind her. Knowing her rotten luck, Charlotte would come sauntering out here any moment. If she heard Sadie ripping into James, she’d never forgive her.

  “We’re having a couple of drinks,” he said, as if speaking to someone of lesser intelligence. “She asked me to look at a house she’s interested in buying.”

  “Yes, she asked you to look at a house and now, what...five hours later...you’re here with her.”

  “She suggested we get something to eat.”

  Sadie crossed her arms. “Uh-huh. And it didn’t cross your mind to refuse?”

  “No.”

  “And who paid for the meal?”

  He flushed, but Sadie couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. “I couldn’t very well let her pay, could I?”

  No, he would never let Charlotte pay for dinner, Sadie thought snidely. Not a good guy like James. That probably went against his very strict moral code.

  “Well, that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing having drinks with her, looking all cozy at that little table.”

  “Since I paid for dinner,” he said, his voice calm and patient, making her seem more out of control and crazy, “which was supposed to be her way of thanking me for looking at the house, she suggested buying me a beer. I figured it was cheaper than a meal and wouldn’t make her feel as if she owed me anything.”

  “She made you cookies.”

  He frowned. Looked at her as if she’d lost her ever-loving mind. Who knew? Maybe she had.

  “What?”

  “Cookies,” Sadie snapped. “Cookies! Remember? A few days ago when she dropped by Bradford House for a tour?”

  “So she brought cookies. They weren’t just for me. They were for the whole crew. You brought cupcakes.”

  “This isn’t about me.” But she had a feeling, a terrible, sinking feeling, that it was. That the real reason she was so upset, so horrified by the idea of Charlotte and James being out together, was because she didn’t want him with anyone else. But that wasn’t right. She wasn’t what he needed, couldn’t give him what he wanted. She had no right to hold him back.

  “What is it about then?”

  A siren sounded as a police car drove by. Sadie waited until the sound had faded. “It’s about...about...” She held up her hand, mortification threatening to overw
helm her. “You and Charlotte—”

  “There is no me and Charlotte. I told you. She asked me to look at the house—”

  “And she asked you to dinner?”

  “As a way to thank me.”

  It was all becoming clear. “And after dinner,” Sadie said, “Charlotte was the one who suggested you come here for a drink? She did, not you?”

  “I already told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you told me. One more question. Did you invite Charlotte to look at Bradford House? Tell her to stop by and see you at work?”

  “She said she was interested in seeing the progress and that Mom told her she could drop by anytime for a tour. Which is true. As long as Neil doesn’t have a problem with people stopping by—”

  “God, you don’t even see it, do you?” How he could be so blind was beyond her. Unless he was deliberately fooling himself. “Charlotte has a...a thing for you.”

  He laughed, but as if the truth was sinking in, it died in his throat. “That’s crazy.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it is. Let’s look at the facts. She approached you about looking at a house she wanted to buy, then about dinner and now drinks. She stopped by with cookies.” Sadie tossed her hands up. “Cookies, for God’s sake.”

  “She was just being nice,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  “She is nice. She’s also beautiful and fun and smart.” Smarter than Sadie. More accomplished already. Closer to the type of woman James really wanted. Someone happy to stay in Shady Grove, to live the kind of life he’d always envisioned for himself. “She’s also twenty-four.”

  “She’s an adult and capable of making her own decisions. As am I. We’re two friends who had dinner and drinks. Drop it.”

  But she couldn’t. “It’s obvious Char’s doing everything in her power to try to get you interested. She has her eye on you and when she wants something, she goes after it like a woman possessed. The question is, do you want her, too?”

  Sadie held her breath, waiting for him to deny it. To laugh it off. To assure her that he didn’t think of her sister as anything other than an extension of his friendship with her.

  A friendship that no longer was.

  “That,” he said softly, looking hard and untouchable, “is none of your business.”

  It was like being kicked in the stomach, the loss of breath. The shocking pain. “If you’re doing this to hurt me,” she whispered hoarsely, “it’s working.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw, but his eyes remained cool. “This has nothing to do with you. You don’t figure into my thoughts, my decisions or my actions. Not anymore.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle, holding herself together. “Just...be careful with Charlotte, with her feelings. Don’t break her heart because you want to get back at me.”

  His eyes flashed, his mouth stayed a grim line. “You know me better than that.”

  She’d thought she had. A week ago she never would have even considered the possibility that James would be capable of being so cold. So unfeeling. Never would have thought he’d kick her out of his life because she refused to fall in line with his plans.

  “I thought I did. I thought I knew you better than anyone.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know you at all.”

  * * *

  SADIE HAD BEEN working for Montesano’s for a week now and so far, James had to admit, it hadn’t been bad. Sure, seeing her every morning after she’d ripped his heart out and drop-kicked it through the window wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to start his day, but he’d kept to himself at the shop, getting in and out with minimal fuss. If he did have to talk to her—something he’d had to do only twice now—he kept the topic of conversation strictly professional.

  She had, too. Which wasn’t that surprising given their last conversation.

  I thought I knew you better than anyone. But I don’t know you at all.

  He wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand as he walked across the ramp from Bradford House’s kitchen door onto the back of the flatbed truck. He bent at the knees, lifted another box of floor tiles, the sun warming his neck, his forearms.

  Sadie thought he would lead Charlotte on, do something to hurt her feelings.

  Then again, that was the impression he’d given her, he thought, twisting his mouth. The impression he’d wanted her to have.

  So much for not letting thoughts of Sadie color his actions.

  He set down the tiles, turned for the return trip. He’d simply stay away from Charlotte. She was so young, Christ, he hadn’t realized how young until he’d spent the entire evening with her. It hadn’t been painful, exactly. She was charming and funny, but they didn’t have much in common, and he’d had to work to think of conversation topics that wouldn’t die a slow and painful death.

  After he’d returned to Charlotte that night, two fresh beers in hand, he’d kept Sadie’s words in mind. Hard not to think about what she’d said. He’d spent the rest of the night trying to interpret every word Charlotte said, every look or casual touch, and he’d come up with one conclusion.

  Sadie was right.

  He’d been an idiot not to see it earlier.

  He’d finished his beer as quickly as possible, had gently and politely explained that he had an early morning the next day and had gotten the hell out of there. No harm done to anyone.

  Now that he knew what was going on with Charlotte, he’d avoid her, wait until this...crush, or whatever it was she had for him, disappeared.

  That should make Sadie happy. Or, at the least, help her realize he wasn’t quite the dick he’d pretended to be.

  That she obviously now thought he was.

  Still, Sadie was working out okay as an office manager. She, with the help of his mom, had gotten the payroll done on time Friday, and she seemed to have no problem with their new computer program. She’d fielded calls from several customers, had charmed every one of them, even hard-to-please Meg Simpson.

  She was good at the job, he had to admit.

  He just wasn’t about to admit it to anyone but himself. Because she wouldn’t stay.

  For the first time, he couldn’t wait until she left.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her walking toward him over the uneven backyard, the sun glinting off her hair, her eyes hidden behind a pair of huge black sunglasses, her mouth unsmiling.

  He missed her smiles. Missed talking with her. Hearing her stories about life in some faraway city. He even missed her damned humming.

  “Hi,” she said, not sounding happy to run in to him. The breeze blew her long skirt around her legs, molded it to the curves of her hips and thighs. She held up a folder. “Your dad said I should bring these contracts over here for him to sign.”

  James lifted another box of tiles, grunting with the effort. “He’s not here.”

  Sadie’s mouth pulled down. She looked put out and irritated. “He specifically told me to meet him here at five-thirty.” She waved the papers. “It’s five-thirty.”

  “That it is,” James said, walking toward the kitchen, though why his father would say that when he’d left over an hour ago was beyond him. He put the tiles down, turned only to find her standing in the kitchen. “But he’s already gone.”

  She slapped the folder against her thigh. He brushed past her. When he returned with more tiles, she was still doing the slapping thing. Slap. Slap. Slap.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  Slap. Slap. Slap.

  He grabbed the folder, tossed it onto a sawhorse. “Workday ends at four-thirty.”

  She crossed her arms. “Then why are you still here?”

  He wanted to take those glasses off her face, see her eyes. But trouble lay that way. Anything concerning touching her in any way, shape or f
orm, of letting things get back to how they used to be between them, led directly to trouble.

  “Working,” he said simply. And he got back to it.

  “Is Maddie here?” Sadie asked when he returned.

  He shoved the box in place, straightened. “Plumber’s finished two of the bathrooms. She’s taking a video of them to send to Neil.”

  Sadie shifted, finally pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Since you’re still here, do you mind if I check out the progress that was done this week?”

  She sounded sullen, as if daring him to say no. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He walked away. By the time he’d unloaded the truck, Maddie had her laptop on the makeshift table they’d formed out of plywood and sawhorses in the dining room.

  “What’d he think?” James asked, twisting the lid off his water.

  Maddie clicked a button. “I’m sending the videos now. I thought it’d be easier for him to see them on his laptop than just through his phone. It’ll be a while, though, since he has a late practice today and is three hours behind our time.”

  James tipped his water up, drank deeply as Sadie entered the room. Kept his gaze somewhere over her head as she approached.

  “Something we can do for you?” Maddie asked.

  “Not a thing,” Sadie said, her tone as bright and cheerful as Maddie’s was cool. Purposely, James had no doubt. “The bathrooms are wonderful. The whole house is. It’s just...”

  James finished his water, crumpled the bottle in his hand. “Spit it out, Sadie.”

  “Where are the living quarters?”

  “It’s a B and B,” Maddie said. “No living. Just visiting.”

  Sadie’s smile was snide. “The guests visit. Oftentimes, the innkeeper or proprietor lives on-site.”

  Maddie cocked a hip. “Is that so? And you know this how?”

  “She worked for a bed-and-breakfast inn outside of Savannah a few years back,” James said, watching Sadie carefully. “For what...a year?”