“To Giff.” Jake’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel. “You really think this marriage is fair to him?”
“How dare you! I will do everything I can to be an excellent wife.”
“Would you characterize yourself as an excellent fiancée?” Jake challenged. “Even though you have feelings for someone else?”
Panic flared within her. Was he threatening to tell Giff what had happened? Nothing happened! You did the right thing and walked away, and now you’re paying for his damaged ego. “You’re making an awful big assumption about my ‘feelings.’ Trust me, any fleeting confusion I experienced is becoming less of an issue by the moment. I’m not one of those bad-boy magnets who gets hot and bothered over guys who act like jerks.” Her experiences in her twenties had cured her of that.
“You think I’m a jerk just because I have the cojones to tell you the truth?” Jake snapped. “You don’t want a husband, you want a human security blanket.”
Her hand flew to her abdomen as if she were trying to block a blow. “Excuse me?” She’d known Jake was ticked off; she hadn’t realized he had such a repugnant opinion of her.
“Last night, you couldn’t even tell me you loved Giff.” He never took his eyes off the road as he changed lanes, but she felt as if he was staring at her and could see into all the exposed corners where she was vulnerable.
“That’s because I don’t owe you any explanations!”
“You talk about your parents and sister like you’re the de facto sane limb on the family tree, but you’re not just sensible, you’re scared. Afraid you’ll end up like them, maybe even afraid of repeating past mistakes of your own.”
“Learning from a person’s mistakes doesn’t make them a coward, it means they have common sense!”
“What about giving up on a dream at the first hint of a setback? Honestly, Brooke, did you ever consciously think to yourself that you wanted a career writing about the taffeta and chiffon choices of Sugar Land brides, or was it just the least threatening option?”
“Well, we can’t all charge headfirst into blazing buildings,” she retorted, “but it’s a living.”
“Really? That’s really your idea of a life, following the paths of least resistance and never caring enough about anything to risk—”
“Oh, I’m the coward?” she asked, goaded beyond all resistance. “Remind me, when was the last time you had your dad over for a cookout?”
The blood drained from his face. For a split second, he was so pale that she worried if she’d upset him too badly for him to drive safely. But then he regained his composure.
“Well, I guess I’m not the only one with cojones, after all,” he said, his tone still mad but now respectful, too.
“Sorry.” Just because Jake was getting too personal didn’t mean she should have abandoned her self-control.
“Don’t be. That’s the kind of raw honesty found in real relationships. You and Giff don’t argue, you each support anything the other says because he’s too afraid of being alone and not having a family and you’re too afraid to allow yourself to feel anything messy.”
“If you’re quite finished, Dr. Phil, you missed my street.”
He flipped on his blinker and did a U-turn.
She was literally trembling with fury. Did Jake McBride honestly think he had all the answers? By his own admission, he wasn’t dating anyone and had never been in a truly serious relationship. That “raw honesty” philosophy he spouted could become warped into a justification for saying hurtful things, for slamming doors and otherwise acting out like an uncivilized toddler rather than “repressing” emotions. Her parents’ marriage had been plenty raw, and she had no intention of inflicting similar circumstances on her own children. Or herself.
“You’re right,” Jake said suddenly, his soft tone a sharp contrast to their previously raised voices.
I am? Brooke blinked. “About?”
“Me, my family. I’m scared to hope that he’s better because I’ve been disappointed before, scared to hope that we can be more than we are. But being around you… You make me hope fiercely for things I didn’t even know I wanted.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. This was so much worse than when he’d been provoking an argument with her; this was impossible to combat. “We went through this last night.”
“Not really. You left before we’d finished the conversation,” he reminded her. He pulled up in front of her apartment building and turned off the ignition.
“I can get the suitcase,” she chirped, bolting from the car. “No need for you to get out of…”
But she was fighting a losing battle and didn’t bother to say anything else as Jake saw her to her door. He even towed it inside to the foyer. She wondered if a bright smile and a “have a nice life!” would prompt him to leave, but she doubted it.
So instead she crossed her arms across her chest. “He’s your best friend. How can you do this to him?” she demanded.
“He deserves to find someone who loves him, really loves him. That’s the one percent of me that’s being noble. The other ninety-nine wants to kiss you so bad I can’t even think.”
Her heart pounded in her ears, and her palms went clammy. I want him, too. It was selfish of her and went against all her careful planning, yet she found herself leaning, swaying almost imperceptibly toward him.
Since he’d been watching her with the hungry intensity of a predator about to pounce, he caught her movement. It was all the permission he needed before folding his arms around her and lowering his mouth to hers. The shock of their lips meeting sizzled through her, but she didn’t have time to process it. It wasn’t a quick peck, it was an unending onslaught of sensation. Clinging to him, she kissed him back for all she was worth, swept up in desire—the way he felt against her, the way he tasted—that verged on bewildering. How had she forgotten that kissing could make her feel like this? Had kissing ever made her feel like this?
Need ran sharply through her, so keen it was almost physically painful. It wasn’t until her knees threatened to buckle that she was able to reassert her sense of self-preservation. What in the hell am I doing?
She twisted away from him, trying to ignore the swollen feel of her lips and the tingling in her breasts.
“Brooke, I—I didn’t intend for that to be so aggressive.”
“The problem’s not with the kind of kiss! It’s that I kissed you in the first place.” She flashed her left hand between them, drawing both of their gazes to the engagement ring.
“You’re planning to go through with it, then?”
How could she?
How could she not?
“I don’t know.” She strode past him and yanked open the door. “But whether I do or not, I don’t ever want to be alone with you again. Goodbye, Jake.”
Chapter Fourteen
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Brooke stood against the closed door, wringing her hands like a bad actress in a melodrama. She wasn’t this person. She was paralyzed by the nauseating indecision over what to do next—confess all to Giff immediately or spend the next seventy years hoping he never found out. I can’t face him.
Which might make for an awkward ceremony.
If this is what cheating felt like, why did anyone ever do it? Her mind flickered briefly to Jake’s devastating kisses. All right, she wasn’t completely naive as to why people might stray. But how on earth did they live with themselves afterward?
Damn you, McBride. This was exactly the sort of upheaval she’d always wanted to steer clear of—and she couldn’t stand the idea that her bad decision would bring upheaval to Giff’s life.
Tears pricked her eyes. Suddenly Brooke had a thought she hadn’t consciously entertained since she’d broken her arm roller-skating at age nine—she wanted her mother. The benefit of Didi’s less-than-orthodox life was that not much shocked her and she had plenty of experience to draw from. Perhaps she could help Brooke sort through the fallout of what she’d done.
It wa
s enough of a plan to motivate her to move from the foyer to the phone in her living room. She dropped onto the couch and dialed her parents’ number. Would they be home on a Saturday night?
After three rings, the answering machine picked up, but the outgoing message wasn’t the familiar “You’ve reached Didi and Everett.” Instead, there was a giggle, followed by Didi’s voice. “Hola! You have not reached the Nichols…because we’re out of town for a few days. Oh, but don’t bother casing the joint because we have nothing worth stealing. Leave a message after the beep and we’ll try to call you back next week! Adios, amigos.”
Brooke disconnected the call, momentarily baffled. Judging by her mother’s announcement—who tells random callers that the house is sitting vacant, for crying out loud?—Didi and Everett had gone to Mexico. She shouldn’t be surprised. How many spur-of-the-moment adventures had peppered her childhood? But just last weekend, she’d been seriously worried that her parents’ marriage might be in jeopardy.
When, in fact, it was her own love life that had plummeted in a flaming, downward spiral.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, she punched in the number for her mom’s cell phone. “Buenas noches! Brooke, is that you, dear?” Without waiting to confirm that she was talking to her daughter, Didi enthused, “You’ll never believe where we are.
Cancún! Your father booked us into a great resort. We’ve eloped.”
“Again?”
“Well, last time we eloped and got married. This time we eloped to our honeymoon.”
“A long, overdue honeymoon,” declared Everett from somewhere in the background. Then he added something else that was muffled, prompting a delighted chuckle from Didi and what might have been a kiss.
“Mom?” Given the night she’d had, Brooke didn’t think she could handle listening to her parents make out over the phone.
“Right here! Anyway, as I was explaining, your father and I were talking about your wedding, all the details we skimped on.”
Brooke nodded, then felt silly as she realized no one could actually see her. “I remember you being upset about that at the engagement party.”
“Well, your father felt awful that he might not have shown me how important our marriage is to him, so he said that there was at least one neglected detail we could take care of now. And here we are in Cancún! Isn’t he the most romantic man in the world?”
“I’m glad the two of you are having fun. But, Mom, telling everyone on your machine that you’re away—”
“You worry too much. Didn’t you hear the part where I told would-be thieves there was nothing good in the house anyway? The only thing our family ever had of substantial value was each other.”
“Wow.” Brooke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s really beautiful, Mom.”
“I meant it! I have to go, but I’ll call you when we get back. Give Giff our love, okay?”
It was then that Brooke realized she hadn’t even broached the topic of why she was calling.
Judging by the dial tone buzzing in her ear, however, it was too late. And she was still drowning in the need to talk to someone. Kresley? Nah, it was getting a bit late in the evening to call the mommy-to-be. At least, that was what Brooke rationalized when she balked at the thought of admitting her wrongdoings to her stable, married, pregnant friend—the woman who had everything Brooke had thought she wanted.
She slid the engagement ring off of her finger, staring intently at the diamond as if she could see the future in it. For all that she’d derided some of her parents’ choices, Didi had sounded so ecstatic on the phone, so full of pure, unadulterated joy. Brooke didn’t have that with Giff. She had…contentment. She’d convinced herself that not only was it enough, it was preferable.
What if Giff thought differently? What if he, as Jake said, deserved someone who felt more for him and one day resented Brooke’s emotional lack?
She dialed Meg’s cell phone, mainly to keep herself from doing something rash and calling Giff before she’d worked out what to say to him. She knew her sister was waitressing tonight and simply left a message asking her to call if she had a break. Retaining at least a modicum of emotional self-discipline, Brooke avoided the phrase end of the world in her recording, even though it felt accurate.
She brushed her teeth and had just changed into a baggy burnt-orange Texas Longhorns sweat suit when Meg called back.
“Hey, little sister. Can you hear me? I’m in the employee break room, which is really a glorified supply closet, but it’s a lot quieter than out on the floor. Plus I get to sit down back here. My feet are killing me! I don’t know what I’m going to do next, but my days as a waitress are numbered, mark my words. So…you rang? I assume you’re trying to find out about Mom and Dad.”
“Actually, I talked to her earlier tonight and that situation seems pretty self-explanatory. They’ve made up and decided to make sudden use of their passports. She sounded happy,” Brooke admitted, pulling back her comforter and wondering if anyone would notice if she hid out in bed for a week.
Not that she was a coward, she told herself, annoyed at the memory of Jake’s mocking tone. She was just suddenly more tired than she could ever remember feeling.
“Doesn’t she?” Meg was agreeing. “You gotta admit, Mom and Dad’s dysfunctional cycle seems to work for them. I know you and Giff are probably too civilized for this, but a lot of couples grow closer after fighting. They air their differences in a cleansing, blow-out argument, then get to make up. Some people even think of it as forepl—”
“Don’t say it,” Brooke begged. Meg would think she was being squeamish about the idea of their parents in a sexual relationship, but Brooke was struggling not to dwell on her own appalling behavior. One minute, she and Jake had been hollering at each other in his car; the next, they’d been making out in her doorway.
“You don’t have to sound so repelled by the idea,” Meg chided lightly. “To each her own. Like I said, I doubt you and Giff will ever fight. Y’all don’t have that kind of—”
“Raw honesty?”
“I might have said raw chemistry, but close enough.”
“Meg, if I tell you something…”
“Ooh, this sounds intriguing! You’re not about to rock my world with some dark secret about you and Giff, are you?”
Brooke stared at the ceiling. “You’re half-right. You remember his friend Jake McBride, the best man? He kissed m— We kissed,” she amended, wanting to own up to her share of the blame for what had taken place. “What? When?”
Brooke gave her sister the thumbnail rundown of the past two days. In retrospect, the kiss seemed almost inevitable. The events leading up to it were so clear that Brooke was angrier at herself for letting it all fall into motion. Why hadn’t she kept better distance at the aquarium, said no to the mellowing wine at dinner and the flirty banter that followed? Why had she stayed in the car so long last night once the conversation lapsed into the inappropriate?
Perhaps most upsetting of all—why had she hesitated so blatantly when Jake had asked if she loved Giff?
“I don’t,” she heard herself say aloud. “I don’t truly love Giff, not passionately.”
“Well, I could have told you that! Wait,” Meg said. “I did tell you that. I’m so glad you finally decided to listen. This means you’ll call off the wedding, right?”
“Megan, could you try to sound a little less gleeful about all of this?”
“Sorry. But you are going to break the engagement?”
The idea of undoing all of their careful plans left a cold knot of fear in Brooke’s chest. “What will we tell his mother? She’ll hate me.” That prospect hurt as much as the idea of Giff hating her. Definite red flag. A bride should not be more emotionally invested in the groom’s family than the man himself.
Still, even now that she had no choice but to admit that the wedding was a mistake, it seemed too overwhelming to halt. “The invitations have been mailed! And you and I finally found a dre
ss we agreed on.”
Since it was supposed to have been a small wedding and the other bridesmaid would be in a maternity dress, Brooke had decided simply to help her sister pick out a department store formal. Needless to say, she and Meg had possessed different ideas about what would be a good look for the ceremony.
“I get where you’re coming from,” Meg sympathized. “You’ve put a lot of work into this. But I’m pretty sure that his mom, my dress and some postmarked envelopes are not a reason to pledge the rest of your life to someone.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“Who’d have thunk it?” Meg asked cheerfully. “Me, giving words of wisdom. And I guess this means you’re no longer the predictable sister. Want to borrow back that leather top?”
“Borrow?” Somehow, in spite of the way she was feeling, Brooke managed to laugh. “You mean the one that belongs to me? Thanks, but no. I think I’m going to be in more of a curl-up-in-sweat-socks kind of mood for a while.”
“For a guy like Jake, I personally would make a little more effort, but if you—”
“Effort?” Brooke sat bolt upright. “Megan, I’m not going to see him again.” That might be the one positive thing that came from breaking off the engagement with Giff, freeing herself from Jake’s challenging presence and disturbingly sexy kisses.
“But—”
“No! He’s everything I don’t want in a man.”
Meg scoffed. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same guy.”
“Thanks for listening, Meg, but I should let you get back to work so you don’t get in trouble.”
“Pfft. Most people are done with dinner now, we’re just making rounds to refill drinks. Which I will go do, but don’t think I can’t recognize that you’re blowing me off because you don’t want to talk about Jake. Can I just say, for the record, that I think you’re making a mistake?”
“You can. But you’re wrong,” Brooke said firmly.
“Don’t be so quick to decide. After all, I was right about Giff being a mistake, wasn’t I?”
Once they got off the phone, Brooke turned off her bedside lamp and lay in the dark, unable to sleep. Giff shouldn’t have been a mistake. He should have been perfect for her. Where had she gone so disastrously wrong? She was blowing her chance to build exactly the life she’d always wanted with a great guy any woman would be lucky to have.
The Best Man in Texas Page 13
