What Happens Between Friends. Beth Andrews
sure do know how to sweet-talk a girl. I’m shocked, shocked I say, that you’re still single.”
“And I’m shocked, shocked I say,” he said in a seriously decent imitation of her, “that you manage to get through each day without causing yourself—or others—bodily harm.”
She lifted her hand to the side of her head. “Who says I didn’t cause any bodily harm?”
He brushed her hand aside and lightly probed the area above her ears, his touch incredibly gentle. The tips of his fingers trailed across the sensitive goose egg. She bit her lip to keep from hissing out a sharp breath.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I had a little accident—”
“How bad?”
“Not bad,” she told him quickly, knowing how he worried about...well...everything. “I was on Case Boulevard and skidded off the road and hit the pillar holding the Welcome to Shady Grove sign.”
The front door opened, and a couple she didn’t recognize descended the porch steps, lifted their hands in farewell to James before getting into their car.
James walked to the driver’s side of the Jeep. He crouched to study where the pillar and vehicle had, briefly, become one.
“You,” he said, straightening, “are a menace. And a threat to brick pillars everywhere.”
She grinned. How could she not when it was such a James thing to say, his words spoken with so much resignation and fondness? “None stand a chance while I’m behind the wheel.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I bumped my head. It’s nothing.” And no way would she tell him she’d momentarily blacked out. He’d insist she go to the E.R. when all she wanted was a hot shower, something to eat and a few hours in his company.
Being with James was always so easy. So relaxed. No matter how long they’d been apart, when they got together again it was as if they’d seen each other the day before. He didn’t lay guilt trips on her if she didn’t call or text him for months on end. He may not understand the choices she made, and he often teased her about her mistakes, but he never judged her. Better yet, he was always the first one to congratulate her on her triumphs.
He believed in her and accepted her for who she was, no questions asked. He loved her without reservations or expectations.
Some days she thought he was the only person who did.
Tears stung the back of her eyes. To hide them from James’s intense gaze, she stretched onto her toes and hugged him again. He stiffened, his fingers digging painfully into her hips as if to push her away.
As if to set her aside.
A crazy thought. James would never do that to her. He’d never be done with her. The mere idea of it was absurd. Irrational.
Inconceivable.
Still, panic tightened her chest, made it impossible to breathe. She squeezed him harder. He sighed heavily, his breath ruffling the damp hair at her temple, the exhalation seeming to shudder through him. He slowly shifted closer, slid his hands around to settle at the small of her back, his warmth seeping through her wet clothes.
A pebble of unnamed emotion lodged itself in her throat and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck and simply held on. She inhaled deeply, and his spicy cologne and the underlying scent of sawdust only made the urge to bawl stronger.
God, she must have hit her head harder than she’d thought. Sure, her life was in the crapper right now, but it was temporary. A rough spot, one she’d eventually get over. “This, too, shall pass” and all of that. Good times and bad times, successes and failures...they all came and went.
And eventually she’d get back to looking at the bright side—but right now the glare was giving her one hell of a headache.
“Hey,” James said, his soft, gruff voice causing goose bumps to rise on her arms. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and prayed she didn’t sound as needy and unsteady as she felt. “I’m just...I’m really happy to see you.”
She leaned back and studied him. His handsome face was as familiar to her as her own: soulful eyes the color of rich chocolate, heavy eyebrows and shaggy dark hair that had the tendency to curl at the ears and nape. His Roman nose bent slightly right, thanks to his taking an elbow to the face when he went up for a rebound during a basketball game their sophomore year.
Yes, he was the same. Same mouth with the full bottom lip. Same square jaw. But there was one difference....
“What’s this?” she asked, tapping his chin. She had the strangest, strongest urge to leave her fingertips there, to trail them across his dark whiskers, to rub the thick, triangular patch just below his lower lip.
She dropped her hand back to his shoulder.
He stroked his thumb and forefinger across his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. “Chicks dig it.”
“No doubt.”
Then again, females of all ages dug the Montesano men. James may not have Leo’s panty-melting looks or Eddie’s sexy intensity, but he was handsome, kind and when you were with him, he listened—really listened—instead of patting your head or giving you unwanted advice. A woman could trust him—with her thoughts, her secrets and her heart. He was sweet. Safe.
A good catch, her mother had deemed him way back when he’d been fifteen.
She’d been right. Irene Ellison was always right. It was her third most-annoying trait.
“You’ve never had facial hair before,” Sadie said, musing aloud. “I mean, other than that scraggly thing you tried to pass off as a mustache when you turned eighteen.”
He smiled, one of his easy, warm grins. The whiskers may be new, somehow making him seem harder, edgier than he truly was, but inside, where it mattered, he hadn’t changed.
And thank God for that.
“It might have been a little...patchy.”
“Patchy? It looked like you’d taped a molting caterpillar to your upper lip.”
He shrugged, the movement causing his chest to rise and fall against her inner arms. Tingles of heat pricked her chilled skin.
She stepped back. “I sure missed you, pal o’ mine.”
“I missed you, too. Though I’d miss you more if you didn’t bring mayhem with you every time you came back to town.”
“You know what they say. One person’s mayhem is another’s good time.”
“No one says that.”
“They should. Think I could get it trademarked? I’d make a killing with needlepoint samplers.”
“I thought you were going to make a killing selling organic beauty products.”
Heat crawled up her neck. Thank goodness it was too dark for him to see her blush. “Surprisingly, there wasn’t as big a market for them as I’d hoped.”
And, if she was honest with herself—something she tried very hard to avoid—her products weren’t good enough to be competitive in an already very competitive market. It’d been a whim, one of many she’d followed through on.
“That is surprising,” James said mildly. Bless him, he never bad-mouthed her ideas or told her they wouldn’t work. “So, what brings you to town?”
“I didn’t want to miss your birthday.”
“You’ve missed plenty in the past fifteen years.”
“But I couldn’t miss this year. Such a special milestone.”
“Yes.