by Fox, Cathryn
“You didn’t have to rush over here. I’m fine.”
“You just got dumped the night before your wedding. Of course, I had to rush over here. You need me.” I wiggle my hips, but the damn wet jeans won’t budge. “They’re stuck to me.” I shoot him a pleading glance. “Can you help?” He scrubs his chin and I wiggle some more.
“Here,” he says and goes to his knees before me. I grip his shoulder to hang on as he tugs. I move my hips and try to help. “Stay still,” he grumbles. “This is hard enough as it is.”
He’s not normally grumpy with me, but I can understand his irritability. He must be devastated by the turn of events. He finally gets my pants to my ankles, and I lift one foot then the other.
“Much better,” I say, as he gathers my clothes and takes them to the dryer.
“I’ll get you a towel.” He disappears down the hall and comes back with a big fluffy towel. “Here.”
He tosses it to me, and doesn’t bother to avert his gaze as I dry my body. I rub my hair before bending forward, sticking my ass in the air as I twirl the cotton around the wet strands. My eyes go back to his, take in the way he’s looking at my near nudity. Seeing each other naked is nothing new. When I first moved to Seattle, I shared this place with Luke and he walked in on me a time or two when I was changing. When he had emergency appendectomy at Arizona State, I flew out to take care of him. I even helped him wash, and changed his clothes. It was impossible not to see him naked. But none of that matters because we don’t look at each other with interest, or inappropriate thoughts. No, we’re friends, best friends, and we don’t think about each other as anything other than that.
Not that he would look at me like I was a woman, anyway. I’m sure he still sees me as that chubby girl from the playground. I might have lost the weight, but I’ll never be as lithe or paper-thin as Arianna, or any of the other girls he’s been with over the years. I’m far from his type, but that’s okay, though. I’m happy with who I am, and it would be weird if Luke stopped treating me like one of the guys. I actually like being one of the guys, and always preferred climbing trees to playing with dolls.
“I’ll get you a shirt,” he says.
“Just give me yours.” I love wearing his clothes, love the way they smell after they’ve been on his body.
He tugs it off, and I pull it on, breathing in his scent. I plant my hands on my hips and glance around his suite. Okay, what can I do to cheer up my best friend? “Want to get drunk, and have a Die Hard marathon?” I ask.
He laughs. “No.”
I pick up the e-tickets, look them over again and check out the destination. Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italy. “I get that you were kidding, but maybe we shouldn’t let these tickets go to waste.”
He angles his head, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. Dammit, he doesn’t need to fake a smile with me, doesn’t need to hide the pain of his breakup.
“You want to go on my honeymoon with me, Katee?”
“To be honest, I’d rather go to Bali.” I shake my head. “Who the hell would choose skiing on the slopes over a bikini on the beach?”
“Not me.”
I toss the ticket back to the table, like they’re diseased. “Then why did you agree to this?”
He opens his mouth, but closes it again and instead of answering, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I could use another drink,” he says. He seems to be hedging a lot tonight, but I’ll give him that. The break-up might just be too fresh to talk about.
“I’ll get it.” I walk to his kitchen, and grab two beers. I twist off the lids and hand one to him. As he takes a big swallow and downs half the liquid, I look at him, really look at him. Jesus, his shoulders are so tight they’re practically touching his ears, and if he clenches any harder he’s going to crack his teeth.
“Sit,” I say and point to his sofa. “Your muscles are so tight, you’re about to snap.”
He walks to the sofa and a little sigh catches in my throat. Yeah, I know. We don’t look at each other with interest, but how can I not admire a work of art when I see it? I take a big sip from my bottle, set it down and place my hands on his shoulders. The second I touch him, he tenses even more.
“You’re in bad shape, Luke.”
“Yeah,” he grumbles, his voice dropping an octave. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I work my fingers into the knots, and they soften beneath me. As a massage therapist—specializing in sports therapy—and Luke’s own personal masseuse, I intimately know every inch of his body. Well, not intimately in the way lovers know each other. I almost laugh at the thought of us being lovers. Ludicrous, right?
“That feels so good,” he mumbles and lets his head fall back. His mouth parts, exposing perfect white teeth. I let my gaze move over his face as his lids droop over deep blue eyes. How could Arianna be having second thoughts? Not only is Luke the nicest looking guy I’ve ever seen he has a good heart and would move mountains for those he cares about. I, of all people, know that. I was a chubby girl with a learning disability when I was young, but he saw past that, saw me for who I really was, and he liked that girl. When I was diagnosed with dyslexia, he learned everything he could about my disability, and I swear to God, I only made it through high school because of him. He pushed me, studied with me, and never gave up on me. When I didn’t have a date for the prom, he went with me, even though his friends teased him about it. But Luke never cared what other people said about him. If they said anything bad about me, however, they usually ended up with a black eye, and that was saying something, since Luke doesn’t much care for violence. But when push comes to shove, he’ll shove.
“This position isn’t working.” I run my fingers down his arms, and he moans his approval.
“Oh, it’s working.”
I laugh at that. “I can’t reach your back. Let’s move this into the bedroom.”
“My bedroom?”
“Yeah, my massage table is in the car, and I’m not running back out there. I have no interest in getting wet again.”
A strange groan sounds in his throat. “I’m okay. You don’t need to give me a massage.”
“Yes, I do. Now get up.” I shove his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.
“Why are you so bossy?”
I laugh at that. “Would you want me any other way?”
“No, you’re perfect just the way you are.”
I whack him. “Yeah right,” I say. He’s always saying things like that to me. But we both know my flaws. “Get up.”
He climbs from the sofa and my eyes go to his chest. My God, the man really does have a beautiful body. I sigh, and follow him into his room. He flicks the lamp beside the bed on, flops down onto the mattress and buries his face in his pillow. Since it’s too difficult to work all angles from a standing position, I pull the towel off my head, and climb on top of him. Another little groan rumbles in the depths of his throat as my knees tighten around his sides.
“I know. I know. I’m not a lightweight. You don’t have to drive the point home by groaning.”
“I told you. You’re perfect just the way you are. Why don’t you believe me?” I wiggle until I’m settled on his firm backside.
His muscles ripple as I place my hands on him, working them over his body until he’s a little looser beneath me. “Luke.”
“Mmm…”
“I really am sorry about tonight,” I say quietly. I don’t want to press if he doesn’t want to talk about this, but this is my best friend and I’m here to listen if he needs me. “Do you have any idea why Arianna needs time to think?”
He goes quiet. Too quiet, and once again I get the strange sense there is something he’s not telling me.
“I think a week to think is going to do us both good,” he finally says.
“I’m sure she’ll come to her senses,” I say. When Luke moved away to Arizona State, I was lost without him. Sure, I was busy getting my massage therapy certification, but my nights and weekends were lonel
y. I’d spent so much time at the rink watching him practice or play, I’d found myself wandering over, just to feel close to him. “After one week away, I’m positive Arianna will realize her mistake.”
“I hope so,” he says, and once again my heart breaks for him.
“Maybe you should go on your honeymoon. It’s all booked, and I can’t see the sense in letting it go to waste.”
He turns his head, and I work on his other shoulder. “I don’t even like skiing.”
“I don’t even know how, and will probably break my neck if I tried. But I’ll go with you. If you want. We can take lessons, or find other things to keep ourselves occupied.”
He shifts beneath me, and I go up on my knees as he rolls until I’m straddling him from above. “Oh yeah?”
“Lots of things. We always have fun together, no matter what we do. Besides, if Ari’s stupid enough to postpone the wedding, then she doesn’t deserve to go on any honeymoon with you—skiing or beach,” I blurt out without thinking. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m angry, dammit. I might not like Arianna, but Luke is in love with her and that’s all that matters.
I fall forward, and lay my head on his chest, revel in his strong heartbeat beneath my cheek. This is one of my favorite positions with Luke. Many times, over the years, we’ve laid like this, and his heartbeat always makes me feel so safe and secure. His hand goes to my hair and he strokes the damp strands down my back, his calluses scraping against my flesh. I shiver from his touch, and he grabs the blankets and pulls them over me. I close my eyes for a brief second and as sleep pulls at me, I stifle a yawn.
“We booked the honeymoon package,” he whispers, his voice groggy. “Lots of events with other newlyweds.”
“So.”
“I’m not interested in explaining to anyone why I’m on my honeymoon with my best friend, not my new wife.”
“No one has to know. Besides it’s Italy, no one is going to recognize you there.”
Luke’s hand slides lower on my back and his breath is hot on my face when I lift my head to see him. “We could have some fun and pretend we’re the newlyweds,” I say, wanting to lighten his mood. God, I hate seeing him like this.
He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. “You want to pretend to be my wife?” he asks, with a quirk of his brow. It’s that sexy look right there that has women throwing their panties onto the ice.
“Sure, why not.” I shrug. “It could be fun, actually.”
“I thought you were anti-marriage,” he says.
I frown. Luke knows all about my father leaving my mother for another woman. It devastated Mom and me, but fortunately Luke was there to help put me back together. He was there again after high school when he was home for Christmas and the guy I was dating at the local technical college fooled around with another one of our classmates. Are there no faithful guys out there? I only know of one, and he’s off limits. Not that I think of him as more, anyway.
“You know I don’t trust guys,” I mumble.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
I yawn, unable to hold it back any longer. “Of course. But you’re not a real guy.”
“Ah, I’m kind of a real guy, Katee.” He lifts his hips, and I feel the Stick Handler’s…stick. Wait, is he semi-hard? Curious, I move a bit, and he groans, shifting me until my weight is half on his leg, half on the bed. With that, I push all thoughts of Luke’s stick out of my mind. The last thing I should be doing is thinking about what’s between my best friend’s legs.
“You know what I mean,” I say.
“Actually, I don’t.”
I sigh. How do I explain this? “You’re the best guy I know, Luke. And the only guy I trust, but—”
“Then maybe you should marry me,” he teases as his hands go to my hips, and his big fingers biting into my skin.
I burst out laughing at that. “…but, I don’t think of you as a real guy,” I say putting emphasis on the word real.
“I could prove to you that I am a real guy.”
“Stop it,” I say, and whack him.
We both go quiet for a long time, then Luke breaks he silence. “You really want to go on my honeymoon?”
I put my chin on his chest and stare up at him. “Yeah, sure. I don’t think I’ll like skiing, but Italy…”
“If you’re pretending be my wife, does that mean I get all the benefits that come with it?” He wags his brows in a suggestive manner, and I’m happy to see him back to his old playful self. “You did say we could find other ways to pass the time.”
“Of course,” I tease in return. “You get all the benefits.”
“Really?” His eyes go wide, like he actually believes I might want sex with him. Jeez, I get that he was kidding. He doesn’t need to be terrified of the idea.
“God no,” I say. “Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow we have to pack and get ready for our fake honeymoon.” His breathing changes, becomes deeper, but before sleep overcomes him, I whisper, “Luke?”
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice groggy.
“You okay?”
His arms hold me a bit tighter. “Yeah, thanks for coming tonight.”
“I’ll always be here for you. You know that.”
“I know that.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“You think that’s why I love you?” he says, and I smile at his familiar response as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
3
Luke
“My God, I’m freezing my balls off,” Katee says. I drag her closer to me as I fish the key to our chalet from my pocket. She wraps her arms around my waist and we use our body heat to stay warm. We’re both from Texas, now living in Seattle. Neither one of us are acclimated to this kind of cold.
“You don’t have balls, remember?” I say.
“Well if I did have balls, they’d be frozen.”
“Yeah, mine are halfway there,” I say, and she chuckles. Feigning offense, I ask, “You think that’s funny?”
“No, not funny at all.” She unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “Hurry so we can get inside and warm them up.”
“We?”
“Well not we, but you.”
Too bad because I can think of a few ways we can warm them up, and all the ways I can warm her up in return. The truth is my balls ache, are tight against my body, but it’s not from the below freezing temperatures here in the mountains. No, it’s because they ache to be touched by her soft hands, kissed by her warm mouth.
Okay, cool it, dude, this is your best friend, and she doesn’t want you like that.
“Hurry up, Luke,” she says, her teeth chattering so hard, I’m worried they’re going to crack. Stepping back, she hops from one leg to the other, and rubs her hands together. “I’m going to Bali on my honeymoon.”
My breath turns to fog in front of my face when I say, “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”
“I’m not, but still…Bali.”
I open the door and grab our suitcases. Katee rushes inside and I drop the bags and step up to her. Her nose is red, her lips an odd shade of blue. “I need to warm you up,” I say, and pull her to me, running my hands over her body to create heat with friction. She snuggles closer, until I can feel every inch of her. Fire races through my veins, and the familiar tightness in my pants induces a yearning in me I know better than to act on. Dammit, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Being here with her like this, sharing a chalet and pretending we’re married is like a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later something is going to blow. And by something, I mean my cock, or our friendship. Since I refuse to let anything come between us—especially my feelings toward her—I plan to spend a great amount of time abusing myself in the shower.
“You probably should have worn more than yoga pants. They won’t keep you warm in this kind of cold.”
“Sooo…cold…” she chatters. The walk from the main lodge to our chalet wasn’t far, but it’s late in the d
ay, the sun having gone down ages ago, and we’re simply not used to these below zero temperatures.
“Let me get a fire going.”
She stays cuddles in to me. “Don’t let go.”
I hold her a moment longer, rub my hands on her arm, think about how good we fit together. She lifts her chin, and her lips part slightly and it’s all I can do not to claim her mouth, lose myself in her sweet taste. My entire body stiffens. Dammit, I need to stop thinking about her in my bed.
“There’s a fully stocked bar. Why don’t you pour us a drink, something to warm us up.” Hopefully that will numb the things I’m feeling and help me get my head on right.
She reluctantly pulls away, and I step up to the fire. “It’s propane.” I flick a switch, and it lights up. “That was easy.”
Katee grabs a bottle of brandy and pours two glasses. “Here.” I take one from her, and we clink glasses. “What are we toasting too?” she asks.
“To best friends,” I say. “Who are always there for each other.” I leave out the part about one of them wanting to ravish the other. No need to send her to the hills screaming.
She nods in agreement, and with a flick of her wrist, drains the amber liquid with one easy swallow.
“Ohmigod,” she yelps. “I…my throat.”
I finish my drink, set our glasses on the mantel and reach for her. “Come here.” I move her in front of the flames and she holds her hands out to warm them. We stay like that for a few minutes until her lips are no longer blue. “Better?” I ask.
She nods and I back up to shrug out of my jacket. She spins around, her gaze cataloguing the chalet. “My God, this is a lot nicer than I ever expected.”
I follow her gaze, to take in the fully stocked kitchen, the bathroom, and patio, and the big bed in front of the fire. “I couldn’t get the honeymoon suite,” I say. “They were booked up.”
“I don’t need the honeymoon suite. All I need is this fire, and you, for a perfect getaway.”
If only she needed me the way I needed her.
“Oh, and food, and maybe a bottle of wine or some beer,” she adds. “Not high maintenance at all,” she adds with a laugh. “That’s why you love me.”
