“What do your sisters do? Parents?” Ba-da-boom. Change of topic, take two.
“We’re doing the family questionnaire now? Okay. Let’s see. My dad was a cop and was killed in the line of duty a month before I was born.”
Here I was whining about my successful and alive parents when he’d already lost one. I never needed to be told to appreciate what I had, and I did love my family. Which only ground in more sympathy for Jack at not being able to do likewise with his dad. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He patted my thigh, squinting at the screen as he mouthed the scores that mattered so much. “Thanks. Then, my mom, she’s a nurse at Planned Parenthood, still back in Little Rock. Lisa, my twin, is a women’s rights and gender studies professor at UCLA, and Ramona is a discrimination lawyer in New York.”
That was a lot of…
“Yes. I’m a feminist too.”
How could he not be? That sounded like a powerhouse of estrogen to grow up in.
“So when you preach to me that women aren’t playthings, trust me. I know.”
I raised my hand in surrender. Point taken.
“Rumors, Lexi. They are just rumors.”
Bev’s rumors, specifically. Still, it didn’t matter. Even if we were having just a moment to hang out here, I wasn’t shopping for a new relationship. Friends were always nice, but it wasn’t like he lived that close. The fact he felt the need to reemphasize that idea had me curious at what could be. Or what he gained from just a moment of chilling with me.
“See, even he’s yawning,” I blurted out at the coach on the screen.
“Because he’s probably exhausted. They’ve been playing all day. And into three extra innings now.”
“Close game then?”
“Oh yeah.” He leaned forward to ease his shoes off and sit hunched over like he needed to get nearer to the “action” of the sport.
All I could see were men standing in awfully tight pants. Contrasting colors of banners advertising insurance companies. The pitcher in blue staring at the batter in white. And more staring. And more. “They’re not even doing anything.”
Jack chuckled and scooted his butt toward the foot of the bed. “They’re waiting and deciding how to make their play.”
Waiting to make a play. Was that what Jack was doing with me? Lulling me into comfort before showing his true ways? God. Second-guessing others was a tedious headache. A yawn delayed my retort. “What play? He throws the ball and the other guy hits it.”
“Now that’s an oversimplification.” He turned the sound on and scooted back to my side. “Listen, it’s more complex than that.”
His shoulder pushed at my bicep and I squirmed, snuggling under his arm instead. The sports commentators argued with jargon I didn’t follow, but I tried to pay attention to this supposedly exciting sport. What was more thrilling was squeezing into the warm nook of Jack’s side, feeling his strong limb drape around me and pull me closer. His hand cupped around my shoulder and he squeezed once. His hold distracted me from understanding a blip of baseball complexities, but it held no power over the pull fatigue had on me. Because as I listened to the deep, low rumble of Jack’s voice as he lectured me, I sank deeper and deeper into a content peace that quickly gave way to deep sleep.
Eight
Jack
Loud pounding jolted me awake the next morning. Fists—a battering ram?—tested the durability of the lodge’s door. Fire alarms weren’t screeching anywhere, but there was no way to dismiss whoever the hell was punching the door. I squinted my closed eyes as I sat up, mentally stumbling for a moment at the warm body next to me. Darkness crept from the edge of the curtains. Was it even morning? Or was this a dream? At the sight of Lexi slumbering next to me, I ignored the knocking on the door and reconsidered if I was awake or not. I could count the times I’d had a woman in my bed on one hand. It wasn’t like I bunked history ever.
Lexi slept here with me? Seriously? I breathed a whoosh of a relief that we were still clothed. When she didn’t stir at the continued noise on my room’s door, I leaned closer and gently put my hand on her back. Yep. She was alive. How she could breathe with all that dark hair blanketing her face, hell if I knew.
“O’Connor!”
I scowled at the hissed yell at the door. What the hell was Bev doing here in the middle of the damn night?
After Lexi passed out on me, I’d eased off the bed just enough to take my shirt off, but I’d slept in my undershirt and the pants from rehearsal. I stood to check the time and figured I was decent enough to face Bev at—five fucking AM? I tossed my phone back to the mattress and stepped through the blackness to the door.
“Where the hell is Lexi?” Bev gritted through her teeth.
I rubbed at my eyes and blinked to be sure of what I saw. “Why are you holding an umbrella?”
“Because my cousin is not in her room like she’s supposed to be. And since she’s gone AWOL, Claudia is not able to get her prepared for the salon suite. And if she doesn’t—”
“All right. All right.” Jesus. It’d be a godsend when I had my coworker/semi-friend back. This bridezilla shit was getting old. I held my hand up. “But why the fuck are you hiding under an umbrella?”
“Because we have to hunt down Lexi! It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. If I’m out here looking for Lexi, there’s a chance I could run into Paul.”
“Isn’t it bad luck to open an umbrella when you’re inside?” I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“I don’t know! I don’t believe in that superstitious shit!”
“Yet you have to hide from Paul because…”
Bev pursed her lips so tight her neck pulled like she was a frog steaming from rage. “Jack, if you don’t tell me where Lexi is, I’ll—”
“Why the fuck are you under an umbrella?”
Lexi spoke from my side and I opened the door a little wider. Disheveled as yesterday’s damp laundry, she slitted her eyes while she held her hand up to block the hallway’s lights.
“She’s trying to avoid bad luck,” I said.
“Huh?” Lexi creased her face into a full wince. “What damn time is it? Why are you here?” She blinked at Bev. “Are you calling off the wedding or something?”
“I’m here to drag your ass to the salon. We need to get ready.” Bev gripped Lexi’s wrist. For being in such a bedraggled sleepy state, Lexi countered impressively fast.
“Do. Not. Manhandle me.”
“Then come on! So sorry to bust up your little tryst with the stud muffin here. But in case you’ve forgotten, I’m getting married today. And we need to get ready.”
“The ceremony isn’t until two!”
“Tough shit. Claudia wants us to—”
Lexi tipped her head back and groaned. “Don’t even think of putting me in the same room with that dragon woman until I’ve had coffee.”
Bev stuck her hand to her hip, slanting the umbrella off kilter. “Late night, huh?” She rolled her eyes at me. “You sure work fast.”
“Wanna see how much faster you can piss me off? Maybe”—I scratched at the stubble on my chin—“so much that I’ll realize I have better things to do than stand in as a last-minute groomsm—”
“Oh! Shut up. You can have your newest toy back later.” This time when Bev clamped her hand around Lexi’s forearm, she didn’t let her yank it free. All that practice guiding disobedient drunks into the cruiser paid off for her. “For now, we need to haul ass and get beautiful.”
“Hey, Lexi’s already beautiful.”
Bev stomped her foot while my roomie slowly smiled.
“Thank—”
In a fussy jerk, Bev ruined the mood. “I can always have Claudia come fetch you,” she warned.
“Then prepare her for retaliation.” Yet Lexi must have accepted her fate because she turned her solemn, deadpanned expression toward me. Perhaps she was still waking up, but she said, “Wish me luck.”
I saluted her
and Bev groaned. “Oh. My. God. Didn’t you burn off the tension last night? Tone down the smoldering, huh? You can resume eye-fucking her after the wedding.” She didn’t give me a chance to correct her as she directed Lexi to run down the hall with her, the umbrella snapping left and right as the bride paused at each intersection of the corridor to check if anyone else was coming.
Alone again, I shut the door and fell right back into bed, hugging the pillow Lexi had used. Her perfume lingered on the fabric, not cloyingly suffocating, but distinct even to serve as an obvious reminder. A woman had been here, for longer than just a moment, and I couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened for another moment more. We’d already been halfway to cuddling proper, and with sleep relaxing us further, lowering at least my guards… Maybe her scent would be sticking to me and not the damn pillow, her making a mark on my skin with hers bared underneath me. As fierce as that vision took root in my mind, I almost let that train of thought settle in with a rush of blood to my cock. But I’d see her later, with more than enough chances to really cement a solid vision of her in my fantasies.
The bottom line became clearer in the immediate present of a too early hour on my day off. Paul didn’t require my presence to get dolled up for hours, and I fell right back asleep before I was awakened even more by the surprise of wanting Lexi to remain with me for longer than her perfume could on the linen.
The next time I got out of bed, I was rested, hungry, and impatient to see Lexi. Separation anxiety hadn’t struck me—I’d never let anyone really enter my world for me to get attached to in the first place. Misinformation fueled me to see her ASAP. Last night at the piano, we’d agreed to disregard rumors about each other. I’d proposed that out of hoping she might want to get to know me and not the man Bev portrayed me to be. The ladies’ man who would screw his way through the bridesmaids or something, as she’d hinted at this morning.
I was awake enough to be relieved that I knew Lexi enough that she’d believe me. She’d listen to me and know I wasn’t a man-whore. But, I wasn’t there to remind her of that fact. And she was in Bev’s clutches all day, probably either getting teased about “shacking up” with me or the breakup post that condemned her.
Having a chat with Lexi didn’t seem possible, and my chance to clear the air with her would have to wait. Even though my invitation to be a groomsman was very tardy, I could act the part. And with the crappy way Paul was holding in his nerves, I had enough to preoccupy myself with until I saw Lexi again.
“She’s just…so goddamn gorgeous,” Paul said as he paced in his room.
I’d spent a few minutes chatting with Bev’s brother and he now sat at the desk, tapping away on his laptop. The others were napping in chairs, one groomsman was preening at the mirror and studying a zit on his chin, another guy making out with his girlfriend on the balcony. The consolation job was up to me, if Paul could even hear me over the constant loud pops of him cracking the knuckles in his fingers. Jesus, was it annoying.
“Yeah,” I admitted as I grabbed another water bottle from the mini fridge. “Bev’s pretty.” Too harsh and over-bearing sometimes, and weirdly addicted to glittery eyeshadow to the point of making her eyelids emit holographs of disco balls. But hey, whatever helped her find her inner shine.
“She’ll get sick of me and cheat.”
I twisted the cap off and chugged half the bottle before replying. Cheat? Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t. Who the hell could ever tell if a woman believed in fidelity? All I knew on the matter was I’d fallen in love with one who hadn’t, and the burns from her betrayal scarred my heart to the nth degree. I delayed my answer by sitting on the sofa.
“Right?”
Fuck. He actually wanted me to play psychic for him? My faith in women had been sour since my first year of college. I wasn’t the most optimistic man to ask.
“I’d hope not.” There. Not too shabby of a truth-lie.
Crack. Paul whimpered and sat next to me. Goddamn, man. If it’s that fucking painful to bend your fingers backward, maybe try out a new nervous tick. As I glanced at his hands, he’d only moved to be poised for cracking the next knuckle. I couldn’t watch. Fingers weren’t supposed to be that bendy. Another crack anyway. Maybe his whining was for mental wedding jitters, not modifying his digits. His body sagged back to the couch. “You’re probably thinking I’m a moron.”
“How come?”
“What smart man gets married, huh? What was wrong with dating? Why the hell did I want to change it all? It was perfect the way it was.”
“Maybe because…you love her?”
“Hell, yes, I love her. It’s just…” He gripped the black curls on his head that he’d already raked through a hundred times as he paced. “Nerves. Commitment can be terrifying.”
“I get it.” Or he’d just been hiding the fact he was OCD on abusing his fingers.
He reared back in surprise. “How? You’re living it up, staying single.”
Living it up. “You mean, staying lonely?”
“Never seems like you’ve had to wait for company when we used to go out.”
I won’t deny women approached me. And the people-pleaser I was, I couldn’t be a gruff asshole and tell them if they were too intrusive and pushy. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be lonely.”
“You’re saying you wanna settle down?”
What else would a one-woman kind of guy do? “I’ve always wanted to.”
Paul scoffed, “Then what the hell have you been waiting for?”
“Maybe…a woman?”
He stood and resumed the pacing. “You’re crazy. Are you trying to tell me you’ve never found one?” His hair bounced on his head as he shook it. His thumb slid over to crack the next victim.
“I did. Once.”
“She got away?”
Sucking in my lips, I nodded but held in the answer.
“She cheated?”
I stood to level myself with him. Here I was supposed to be reassuring him, not stoking the fear. “Just because she did doesn’t mean they all do.” I think.
Groaning, Paul pivoted to return to me. The brother on the laptop glanced up with a frown and secured his headphones snugger to his ears.
“Well, what happened? You weren’t married.”
“No.” Not for the lack of wanting to be. I’d been moments from proposing to my high school sweetheart when she’d blown up my future with her confession of cheating on me. “She…just…wasn’t interested in me anymore. We were young. Had a lot of life to experience.” Maybe we were too young. Perhaps our relationship never would have stood the trials of adulthood. It’d taken me nearly a decade to get over it. My ex. Not adulthood. That seemed nonrefundable so far. “We didn’t have what you and Bev do.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?” Paul winced as though he prayed for some divine reply from me.
What did Paul and Bev have in common… A fondness for arguing? Compatible vanity? Loyalty to the Raiders, as pathetic as their team could be? I cleared my throat. “Love?”
Paul nodded. “I do love her.”
“See. And I know she’s nuts about you.” Well, let’s just get some wine aflowing and tissues in case we start getting blubbery and teary. Have a real emotion-fest. “It’ll be fine, man.”
He heaved a deep sigh and nodded. Struck me as a funeral kind of condolence. Not the best omen. “I know. I know. Thanks.”
I was grateful let’s-dissect-our-feelings hour was over for the day, but as soon as I sat back down on the couch, Paul paused mid-pace. “You were serious? About being lonely?”
A grunt got stuck in my throat. Just had to open my big mouth… “Nah. I’m fine.”
“But you want to settle down someday?” he pushed.
“Or I could get a pet.”
When he gave me a dubious smirk, I exhaled harshly. “Yeah, yeah. I do. Someday.”
Truth was, I had time. Plenty of years of searching for a woman who might tempt me into more. I’d gotten really good at
keeping myself private and not letting anyone get close. I could smile and flirt with the overenthusiastic bar-hopping crowd. I was skilled at charming a blind date and deflecting their advances for one-night stands. For as long as I’d been locking out others—at this rate, as easy as breathing—it’d take a hell of a force to snap me into giving someone a chance.
Yet, last night, I hadn’t even hesitated to invite Lexi to my room.
For just a minute. She’d stayed the whole night. A lot fucking more than sixty seconds. She was unconscious for most of the time, apparently easily tired out from the excitement of the game. But I’d asked her, I’d initiated a little more from our connection.
If that wasn’t a sign of opening up, I was probably too stupid to realize when I was.
Could Lexi be the kind of woman I should let into my life? Or would pursuing her just make me vulnerable? Pushing me right back into the hell of doubts and worries, wondering if she would just burn me the same as another had before—
“Oh. Fuck.”
I whipped my head around at the different pitch of concern in Paul’s voice.
“You’ll be fine, man.” I wasn’t going to make promises, but I could do a damned good pep talk.
“This isn’t.” He held up his left hand, his ring finger at an unnaturally bizarre angle with a ball of a lump where his first knuckle should have been.
Oh, fuck was right. I’d seen my share of car accident victims, but Goddamn did that look painful. And he’d had to push his luck on that finger?
“Shit.” I held up my hands like I needed to calm him down like a rabid animal and was flashed with the time on my watch. Ooo. Not a good time for a medical emergency either. “Uh. Sit tight. I’ll go find some help.” Lexi’s dad was an ER doctor, right? He had to be in a room somewhere around here.
“Bev’s gonna freak!” Paul said with saucered eyes as he gripped his forearm like he’d never seen his own hand before.
I couldn’t argue that and since I’d never been a fan of lies, I didn’t even go there as I left to seek help.
Nine
Across From You Page 8
