Best of Intentions: A Best Friend's Brother Standalone Romance

by LK Farlow

  He shoots me an amused look and refills my glass. “I’d have offered you something harder, but I wanted to have a clear mind in case Duke—”

  I wave off his words. “You don’t need to explain it. You’re a good friend—a good man—you know that, right?”

  Nate’s eyes take on a sort of haunted look as he nods absently. Thankfully, his phone rings, cutting through the sudden tension.

  He answers the phone, skipping right over any kind of greeting. “Is everything okay?” Covering the mouthpiece, he whispers to me, “Go make yourself comfy, I’ll only be a minute.”

  I settle onto his ridiculously comfortable couch and set my glass down on a coaster on the coffee table. For real, what kind of single dude has coasters? I try not to listen as his voice filters in from the kitchen, but I can’t help but catch bits and pieces of his conversation.

  “Fuck. Is she okay? Are you okay?”

  “She did what? Where are y’all?”

  “All right, man, keep me posted.”

  Nate lingers in the kitchen for a moment or two before joining me on the couch. He doesn’t come empty-handed though, passing me a beer as he settles down onto the cushion next to me.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, inspecting the label wrapped around the bottle. I smile when I see it’s a locally brewed brand.

  He squeezes the back of his neck, massaging before dropping his hand to my thigh and his head to the back of the couch. “Same shit, a different day.”

  “Meaning…”

  “It’s a long, fucked-up story. Duke’s girl, Valorie, died last year.” Moisture brims my lashes as Nate continues. “She was in a car wreck—hit by a drunk driver. It’s been rough as hell on Duke; they were together since high school.”

  A lone tear falls. “That’s awful. I…I can’t even imagine.” Nate squeezes my thigh and scoots closer to me. I waste no time snuggling into his side.

  “Valorie’s mom kind of went off the deep end when it happened, and she’s been wading in the water ever since. She sort of clings to Duke, and he lets her, even though all it does is drag him back down into depths with her.”

  “What happened tonight?” I ask, though I’m not sure I truly want to know. It’s so easy to feel all woe is me, but compared to Duke, what pain have I ever really known? I couldn’t imagine losing the love of my life.

  “Nancy found a photo album full of pictures from their senior prom. Downed a bottle of wine and a handful of benzos. Her husband found her sitting on the floor in the garage, sobbing and rocking, completely incoherent. Duke’s the only person she’ll let near her when she gets like this.” Nate shakes his head, his face a mixture of sympathy and disgust. “You wanna know the most fucked-up part? Valorie has a twin, and Nancy hasn’t spoken to her since Valorie died. Ain’t that some shit?”

  “Jesus. I don’t even know what to say.” Nate holds me a little closer. “I’ve never been in love, but I just…I don’t…” Words fail me as I try to articulate how I’m feeling.

  “What’s that saying?” Nate asks. “You know the one…it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Can’t help but think it’s a load of horseshit.”

  I move out of his embrace so I can look at him. “You really mean that?”

  He nods vehemently. “Damn straight. Why would anyone ever willingly set themselves up for that kind of heartbreak?”

  “But what if it doesn’t end in heartbreak?” I press. “Think of how many people live out their lives together, happy and well. Look at your parents. Natalie and Alden.”

  “I guess to them the risk is worth the reward.” He tries to shrug nonchalantly, but I can see the tension weighing him down. He’s wearing his past hurt like a metal jacket, and I can’t help but to push a little more.

  “So, you’d rather go through life completely alone all because something bad might happen?”

  “I’d rather not give history a chance to repeat itself. I’m not made for monogamy—I’ve been down that road, kind of, and I know where it leads and it’s not somewhere I ever want to travel again.” He takes a deep breath and shoots me a very forced looking grin.

  “You really mean that? You’re content to spend your days alone?”

  He waggles his brows at me and runs his index finger up my thigh. “Who said anything about being alone?”

  As much as his touch turns me on, I scoot closer to the arm of the couch, placing a little distance between us. “Did someone hurt you?”

  Nate immediately tenses up. Suddenly the small gap between us feels like an ocean. “No.” One word, that’s all he gives me. I can practically see his walls coming up, his mask slamming into place.

  “Then why?”

  “Variety is the spice of life. Why settle for one flavor for eternity when there are so many to be sampled?”

  His words pierce me like an arrow. Deep down, I know he’s talking out of his ass—he’s saying what he needs to hear to keep up his carefully crafted playboy persona. He forgets that I’ve seen behind the veil, even if only in glimpses. I’ve seen exactly the kind of man he is at his core—he’s good and kind and one hundred percent selling himself short. But, like they say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. I can’t force Nate to want to be with only me, just like I can’t will my feelings for him to stay buried and keep things between us only physical.

  “Right,” I say hoarsely. “Here’s the thing, Nate. I like you—a hell of a lot. But I also like myself, and I’m not willing to compromise with my heart to only be an appetizer in your buffet of women. I need monogamy and exclusivity. I need to know that I have your all.”

  He tries to interrupt me, but I power on.

  “I’m not trying to force you into something more—I respect that you don’t want to be in a relationship or to be tied down; that’s your prerogative, and I’m simply telling you mine.”

  He rubs both of his hands over his face. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Friends?” I ask, shrugging.

  He mulls over my offer for a minute. “Yeah, GG. Friends.”

  chapter seventeen

  Nate

  To say that tonight has taken a few unexpected turns is an understatement. I’m downright baffled as to how we went from Jenny sucking my dick to us being friends. I guess that’s life, right?

  “I’m gonna be real with you, GG. I’ve never really been just friends with a girl. There have always been benefits involved.”

  She laughs and the sound makes my gut clench. “Awe, poor you. I’m Nate Reynolds, and I’m so irresistible that women simply throw themselves at me, but I’m also too much of a hardass to ever settle down.”

  “You think you’re funny?” I ask her, bringing my beer to my lips.

  “Oh, I know I’m hilarious.”

  I swallow down the last sip and set the bottle down onto the table. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

  She polishes off the rest of her drink. “You want another?”

  “I could do one more.” She rises from the couch and heads toward the kitchen like she’s done it a million times before. I’d like to say that I don’t watch her hips sway as she goes—since we’re friends and all—but that’d be a lie.

  She returns with two opened bottles and reclaims her spot next to me. Just like the night of the wedding, our conversation flows effortlessly. Over the next few hours, I down two more beers, while Jenny moves to water. Time wastes away as we talk about the most mundane and insignificant things, and yet somehow, I’m having the most fun I’ve had in a while.

  I check the time when Jenny lets out a long yawn. “Damn, it’s after ten. I’d offer to drive you back to your car, but…” I gesture toward the collection of empties on the coffee table. I’m nowhere near drunk—not even buzzed, really—but I would never get behind the wheel after more than a drink or two. I’m unwilling to endanger my life or someone else’s. It’s just not worth the risk.

  “S’all good,” she says
sleepily. “I don’t mind crashing on the couch.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she can sleep in my bed, but I refrain. Even though we’ve agreed to be friends, there’s only so much temptation a man can take. “Want me to grab you something to sleep in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  In my room, I grab her a pair of gray sweats and a navy blue Bay Ridge PD shirt. I also grab a pillow from my bed along with a blanket from the hall closet.

  Unceremoniously, I toss her the clothes and drop the bedding onto the couch. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as she sets off down the hall, I hightail it to my room, not wanting to stick around to see how damn good she looks in my clothes.

  Sunrise comes far too soon after a long, mostly sleepless night. I tossed and turned, dozing off, only to startle awake again and again. Dreams of the future I could have with Jenny, if I’d only take a chance, warred with nightmares of the past I can’t seem to escape.

  The shit that went down with Sonia all those years ago haunts me like the Ghost of Christmas Past haunted Ebenezer, only instead of being a one-time thing, the ghost of my mistakes is recurring—primed and ready to smother me in guilt every time I even begin to think of moving on.

  As much as it tears me apart—to think about her, to remember—it’s for the best. Her memory is the exact reminder I need to leave Jenny the fuck alone…romantically.

  At least my exhausting night ended on a high note, with a dream of Jenny beneath me, willing and ready, panting and moaning. It was so realistic that I woke thrusting against my mattress, seconds away from coming all over my sheets like a teenaged boy.

  Which begs of another issue—I need to find a way to stifle my insane physical attraction to her, because that girl can get me hard just by breathing in my direction. Friends definitely don’t spring wood over one another, that’s for damn sure.

  After a quick shower, where I take care of my—err—situation, I dress in a pair of low-hanging navy sweats and a white T-shirt. Quietly, I creep down the hall, not wanting to wake Jenny in case she’s still asleep.

  Imagine my surprise when I find her not only awake but in my kitchen cooking breakfast. “Morning,” she greets me, sounding like she got a full night’s sleep—makes fucking one of us.

  “G’morning,” I mumble as I make my way over to the coffee pot. I try my hardest to ignore the fact that she’s still wearing my sweats and tee. But, have mercy, she looks so hot in them she may as well be in lingerie. Add in the fact that I’m currently sipping on piping hot coffee she brewed before frying up some bacon, and yeah, this shit is almost erotic.

  “Your eggs weren’t any good, and you don’t have any fruit. So, bacon and toast it is.” She spins toward the toaster—that I’ve literally never used—right as the perfectly golden bread pops up. “You also don’t have any jelly. When was the last time you grocery shopped?”

  I take a seat at the island and accept the plate she pushes my way. My mouth waters at the scent of the buttery bread and perfectly cooked bacon. Around a massive bite, I say, “Last month sometime?” I wash it down with a gulp of coffee. “This works for me though. Thanks, GG.”

  She rolls her eyes and plates herself up some food, covering it with a paper towel.

  “Are you not going to eat?” I ask.

  “Oh, I um, I just need to take my insulin first.”

  “So, take it.” My voice holds a hint of challenge. Not because I’m trying to be an asshole, but because she always acts ashamed of being diabetic—like it’s something she chose for herself and regrets now. Which is truly bullshit. It’s a fucking autoimmune disease and, if anything, she should be proud of how strong she is.

  She nibbles on her lower lip, looking torn between fleeing and giving into me. “Jenny, it’s fine. If you’re more comfortable doing it in private, I get it. But just know you don’t need to. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  A soft smile graces her lips as she spins, giving me her back. I watch, my food momentarily forgotten as she bunches her—my—shirt around her waist and retrieves her pump from the pocket of my sweats. I can’t see what she’s doing, but I remember it well enough from our night together in the hotel. A few beeps later, she slips the device back into her pocket, drops the hem of her shirt, and spins to face me.

  She uncovers her plate, pops a piece of bacon into her mouth, and refills both of our coffees. “Thank you, Nate.”

  I grin. “Ain’t no thing. Thank you for this feast.”

  At that, she laughs. “Feast? This is sad, Nate. Tasty, but sad. You need groceries.”

  Shrugging, I stand and bring my plate to the sink. “I usually eat out or order in. Unless I have leftovers from Mom or Natalie.”

  “You never cook?”

  “Trust me, it’s better for everyone this way.”

  She brings her plate over and rinses it. “Nope. No way. There are so many easy things that even you could handle. I remember you telling me, cocky as shit, that you worked hard for your body. Well, guess what, filling it with fast food and garbage isn’t doing you any favors.”

  I pat my six pack. “Seems to be working well for me.”

  Jenny scoffs. “Muscles don’t always equate strength.”

  “Quit playing. You know just how strong I am. Stamina for days.”

  “Yeah, for now. But, let’s be real, you’re knocking on thirty’s door. It’s only going to get harder to keep up with. Do yourself a favor and listen to me.”

  I pretend to ponder her words, but I know she’s right. “Yeah, maybe. You gonna teach me?”

  She does this cute little bounce and shimmies her shoulders. Like a good friend, I ignore the way her tits sway beneath the department logo. “I totally will. We can grocery shop, and I can come over one day and show you some simple recipes. I even know some you can make ahead of time and toss into the freezer until you’re ready to eat them!”

  “All right, grocery Yoda, you twisted my arm. Teach me your ways.”

  “When are you free? I’m off today, thank God, because I have to run up to Bennet’s and fill out some paperwork. I’m not sure what my schedule will be like there, so really, today is the only day I can guarantee. Or Sunday.”

  “Shit, GG! I saw your Instagram whatever thing and meant to ask you about it. You’re gonna be working there?”

  She beams, proud as pie. “I am!”

  “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other then.”

  “Stop trying to change the subject. When are you free?”

  I shake my head at her persistence. “I’m off today, but have plans with some of the guys. Sunday’s good for me.”

  “Perfect. Give me your number, and we can figure everything out later today.”

  We exchange numbers, and I drop her off back at her car, with her still dressed in my clothes, mind you. As I head to the gym to meet Duke and Xavier, I can’t help but think that maybe this friend thing won’t be so bad after all.

  chapter eighteen

  Jenny

  The rest of the week passes in a blur of working at the café, an appointment with my endocrinologist where they did some lab work, a few hours of onboarding at the bar, and a bit of spring cleaning.

  My A1C—a measurement of the amount of glucose in my blood over a span of twelve weeks or so—was on target. My hours at Bennet’s are a dream; I’ll be working every night Wednesday through Friday, plus every third Saturday. And, my house is spotless, so really, it’s been a pretty stellar week. If only I could calm my nerves about my plans with Nate today.

  Sure, we’ve texted back and forth a few times throughout the week, but I’m still mildly anxious. I don’t even know why, and it’s bugging the hell out of me if I’m being honest. I mean, Jesus, we’re hitting up the Piggly Wiggly, not going out on a date.

  In an effort to prove to myself how un-big of a deal this whole day is, I forgo makeup, toss my hair up in a ratty bun, and dress in a pair of capri len
gth leggings paired with a plain V-neck shirt and flip-flops.

  Me: Are we still good for noon?

  Nate: Shit, GG. Don’t kill me…

  Me: Nate Reynolds! Are you bailing on our plans?

  Nate: No! Just the grocery shopping part. Bring the groceries to my place around 1 and I’ll reimburse you? Please… *puppy eyes*

  Me: Ugh. Fine.

  I take my time meandering up and down the aisles of The Pig, filling my buggy with staples that every kitchen should have along with items specific to the recipes I printed out for Nate. It’s probably a little pathetic how excited I am about teaching him to cook, but when you live alone, cooking for one isn’t all that exciting. Especially when you stumble across a new recipe on Pinterest.

  I’m a little shocked that neither his mother nor Natalie, has managed to give him a few lessons—though something tells me it’s not from lack of trying. The fact that he agreed to let me makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy, in a strictly platonic way of course.

  The clock on my dash reads 1:02 when I pull into Nate’s driveway. Instead of getting out and going inside, I toot my horn like my mom always did when she returned home from the grocery store. I’m pretty sure a post-grocery-horn-honk is universal code for come help unload all of this crap!

  Sure enough, not even five seconds later, Nate comes out and together we haul in the plethora of bags.

  “My God, did you buy the entire store?” Nate asks on our last trip in from my car.

  “Wouldn’t have needed so much if you had the freaking basics.”

  “Yeah, yeah, smartass.” He sets the four bags in his grip down onto the kitchen floor and surveys the amount of stuff we have to put away. “Seriously though, this is insane. I’m not even sure I have anywhere to put this shit!”

  “So dramatic. Here’s how this is gonna go: nonperishables and dry goods go in the pantry. Dairy, drinks, and most produce can go in the fridge. I’ll take care of the meat. Questions?”

  “What? You’re gonna take care of my meat? How friendly of you.” He winks, and I roll my eyes. “For real though, I think I can handle it.”