May the Best Man Win (19 page)

“So is it a done thing—they're reconciling?” she asked, her voice quiet, like she wasn't sure if she should say the words aloud.

“They moved her things back in Sunday. I guess they were waiting to tell me, to make sure it was right first. Which feels a little strange, seeing as how I'm almost thirty. But here I am having a meltdown, so I guess I haven't outgrown all my childhood issues the way I thought.”

Emily rested her hand over the center of his chest. “It's okay to be freaked out about this. The way things were around your mother leaving, I don't know how anyone would be okay with her showing back up.”

Jase shook his head, not knowing what to say. What to feel. Except that somehow, being there with Emily, it was better.

He covered her hand with his own, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “Honestly, I don't know how I am, Em. I mean, it's not my marriage. I get that—but God, I stood there in the house that used to belong to the three of us, and I talked about her like she wasn't even there. I was so pissed and shocked that I basically demanded to know what my dad was thinking, letting the woman who ruined his damned life back into it. How he could even let her past the front door after everything she'd done—screwing around on him, abandoning him. Fucking wrecking him.”

“What did he say?” Emily asked gently.

Jase was embarrassed to even think about it. “He wasn't nuts about what I had to say. Told me to put a lid on it.”

Actually, his dad had gotten in his face, telling him in no uncertain terms that that was enough.

It had been a blow to the gut, when Jase was the one who'd stayed. The one who had loved Joe even after the months it had taken him to become a functioning parent again.

But then Jase had realized his old man was right.

He shouldn't have said those things about his mother while she was right there. Even if they were true.

Because what he had to say was
family business
, and she wasn't family. If he didn't agree with what his dad was doing, then he should have spoken to him privately about it.

“And your mom?”

He looked up then, not sure what Emily was asking.

“What did she say? Did she apologize or try to hug you or say she missed you or anything?”

Jase shook his head, trying to remember. “I think she said hello. But everything happened pretty quick. It was mostly my dad and me, going back and forth until he asked me to take off. Cool down. Said we'd talk tomorrow. He's coming down here.”

When Emily just stared at him, looking confused, Jase shrugged, figuring she didn't get the way it was with his mother. Who would?

“Em, my mom and I were never really close, so I guess it doesn't surprise me that she wasn't all over me at her first opportunity. I know that's not how it's supposed to work with moms, but even before she left, she hadn't really been one to me. Sometimes, though, she'd still been a wife to my dad. So when she left, it was bad. He loved her.”

Quietly, Emily asked, “But you didn't?”

The question took him so off guard that all Jase could do was stare at her. Then, finally, he just told her the truth.

“I don't know.”

* * *

They'd stayed on the couch a long while after they'd stopped talking. Emily had shifted so her head and hand were resting on his chest, her legs tucked up on the couch, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

And at some point they must have fallen asleep. Because now Emily was brushing a few loose strands of strawberry-blond from her sleepy brown eyes. It was a sight Jase could definitely get used to—all that soft, so very close. But he wouldn't have the chance.

The way he'd treated her in the past had consequences in the present. And he couldn't blame her for not being able to trust him.

“I didn't mean to stay so late,” he said, reluctantly letting her go.

He took her hand and pulled her up with him, caught her chin with the crook of his finger and met her eyes. “Thank you.”

A small furrow dug between her brows as she seemed to search his eyes.

“Em, you okay?”

She shook her head. “I don't want you to go.”

Time slowed and his heart thumped hard.

This wasn't what he thought it was. It couldn't be. “Why?”

Lifting one shoulder almost helplessly, she whispered, “Because we're friends, Jase. And I think maybe you could use one a little longer.”

* * *

“I don't get it.
Friends?
” Lena sneered, like it was some dirty four-letter word. Then, riding her treadmill to the end, she hopped off. “What is that? This is the guy with the proven track record of ruination. And you spent the night together, but
didn't
have sex? It's already seven twelve, and you're standing in my bedroom in some college-era throwback sweat suit and not a lick of makeup. Don't you have a meeting in, like, thirty minutes?”

“Postponed it.” Emily's hands were clutched in front of her, her breath coming in a rush like she'd been the one tearing up the miles on Lena's machine instead of just pacing back and forth in front of it while her friend worked out in her bedroom. “Yes. And it was good, Lena. Really,
really
good. He
held me
the whole night.”

And God, waking up this morning to that one barely there kiss as Jase leaned over her to say good-bye before he left.
Chills
.

“What does that even mean? I get that at first you were just hooking up. You weren't friends. The well of caring between you was maybe a little shallow. But then you two seemed to find a deeper connection,
while
you were still getting the
goods and services
,” Lena added with a meaningful nod, as if Emily had any question about what goods and services were being implied. “And now?”

“Now it means I trust him.” Emily hadn't thought she could, but then he'd shown up at her door, hurting like she never wanted to see him hurt. And the biggest, strongest man she knew had trusted her with this piece of himself. A piece that was broken and fragile, and somehow powerful enough to knock down those last walls she'd built against him.

“And whatever happens in the goods-and-services department from here forward, there's going to be friendship at the heart of it.”

Lena pulled the elastic from her ponytail and shook out her dark hair. “Okay, that sounds pretty good.”

Emily checked her phone and saw a message from Jase.

Belfast tonight for darts?

She smiled, that flutter in her belly going full tilt as she texted back:
See you there
.

April

Belfast was Emily's new favorite bar.

And not just because she'd gone there that first night with the high of Jase's friendship still fresh on her lips. Or because being on a welcome-hug basis with both Brody and Molly meant she couldn't get within a swallow of the last sip of her drink before some attentive server would swoop in with the offer of another. Or even because her favorite local band, Westher, had been playing when she'd walked in the door and seen Jase grinning at her from over the crowd.

But because Belfast had totally lived up to the hype.

For years, it had been the one watering hole in Chicagoland that she'd avoided like the plague, no matter how many friends raved about it. That's because it was Brody O'Donnel's bar. And everyone knew that Brody and Jase were BFFs of the highest order. If she pretty much wanted to guarantee that she would run into Jase, Belfast was where she would have gone. And until this last week, interacting with Jase hadn't made her to-do list.

But everything was different now.

After darts on Wednesday, she'd found her way back Saturday night with a couple of girlfriends who'd been pushing her to go for months. She'd known Jase had other plans that night—he was seeing a play written by one of his friends—which meant she hadn't felt quite so conspicuous showing up there. She didn't have to worry about seeming like maybe she was hoping for the chance to take things a little further than they'd gone Wednesday night—which hadn't been anywhere. Jase had been deep in the friend zone, barely working a baby toe out to sling his arm around the back of her chair for a minute and a half while she waited for her turn to throw.

Fine by her. It was still the best time she'd had in as long as she could remember.

Tonight was her third straight Wednesday joining the guys for darts and a most momentous occasion, because she and Molly had just soundly beaten Jase and Sean. After that, Sean went to grab another round, and then Molly left on a quest to find out what—or rather who—the holdup might be.

Elbows propped on the tabletop, Jase took a swallow of the Newcastle he was nursing. Then holding the bottle by the neck, he swirled the foamy beer around the bottom.

“Sorry about bailing on our run Sunday,” he offered, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder before going on. “Dad called and wanted to grab lunch.”

Brows arched, Emily angled herself to face him. Jase and his father hadn't resolved much since the night Jase found his parents together, and she knew the estrangement was eating at him. “How'd it go? Are they still together?”

He took a deep breath and set the bottle down. “Didn't go as well as I'd hoped it would. I mean, I thought by now he'd have seen reason. But she's still there and he says she's staying.”

“He loves her?” Emily asked, though the answer was obvious.

“He never stopped.” The blue eyes that met hers were filled with frustration. “I just don't get how it's possible. The stuff she did to him before she left was brutal. She slept around on him, took off for days at a time. It wasn't even like she was discreet. Everyone knew. Everyone talked. Everyone pitied him. And that was just the stuff from before she left. After…
Hell.
The mind games, Em. My dad never got over it. He barely got through it. If it hadn't been for—”

Jase cut off, but Emily knew what he'd been about to say.

“Bob Gainer,” she supplied, because Eddie had told her the part his father had played in helping the Fosters through that time. How Bob had all but moved Jase into their house while he and the guys had taken shifts getting Joe Foster to pull himself together. Whatever her past with Eddie, nothing could diminish what his family had done for Jase's. She wouldn't want it to.

Jase nodded. “Bob and Ray, Mick and Bear. They were the kind of constant my mom should have been. They got us through.”

She leaned a shoulder into Jase's. Supportive. Friendly.

“How did you leave things with your dad?”

A humorless laugh. “Awkward. I mean, he told me I was welcome in the house any time. Which was fucking weird to have him say. And weirder still was the tagged-on caveat that I have to treat Clara with respect.”

Emily straightened. “Will you go?”

“I don't know.”

“It's okay to need some time, Jase. It's a lot to get used to. Just don't let it keep you from your dad.”

“No way. And he wouldn't let that happen. He's going to come out to my place every other Sunday.” Jase pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes so those long, dark lashes fanned across his heavy cheekbones. “Like shared custody or something.”

She couldn't imagine how difficult it was for him, considering how close he was to his father. She and Jase talked some more, lightening the mood by joking about which sporting events constituted holidays he should fight for with his dad. Super Bowls and Stanley Cup Playoffs were the obvious picks, but Emily thought Jase ought to also get a couple weeks every other year for the Olympics.

In the end they were both laughing so hard that they were wiping tears from their eyes. Slowly their laughter ebbed until they were smiling at each other as they found their breath.

“I needed that,” Jase confessed, running his hand over the scarred tabletop before giving it a single knock. “Kinda feelin' like an ass here after all my years of dodging the friends thing, Em. Turns out you make a pretty good one.”

Their eyes met and her heart started getting that over-full feeling exclusive to Jase.

“Told you,” she said quietly.

He wasn't breaking away. Just giving her that deep-blue, searching look that had the butterflies stirring within her. “I guess you did.”

His voice was so deep.

He was sitting so close.

If he leaned in—

Jase leaned back, stretching his arms out to the sides as he scanned the bar. His grin going wider, he jutted his chin toward the bar. “About time, Wyse. What, did you have to go pick the hops yourself?”

Emily turned around in time to catch Sean with his fisted hand giving the air in front of his fly a few crude tugs.
Sean?
Mr. Clean-Cut, all manners, boring…Sean?

Or maybe not.

Sean's eyes cut to hers and she'd swear he blanched, but then the polished facade was back in place—his hand going quickly to the back of his neck.

“Emily, how are your parents?” he asked, going all polite and flashing that politician's smile.

Too late. She'd seen the
Van Wilder
gleam in his eyes.

This guy was no gentleman at all. Which was
awesome
.

“Not a chance, Sean,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest Officer Brandt–style, as Molly, who'd been right behind him, crowed “Busted” for the table to hear.

It was almost enough to distract Emily from the sinking feeling in her belly and the question that had come to her the moment before. Had Jase actually thought she'd meant
friends
friends? Or worse…was that what
he'd
meant?

“I don't know what you guys are talking about,” Sean stated, confidence coming off him in waves.

“Give it up, man.” Jase shook his head. “I swear I don't know why you even try—”

“Because I'm the guy in line to take over Wyse hotels…” Sean leaned in to Jase, his voice low, but not low enough for Emily to miss the grumbled “douche biscuit” before he straightened to finish, “and appearances matter.”

Molly was giving him crap about the air jerk and going blind if he kept that up, and Sean was mumbling something about Belfast being his “safe place” while Jase seemed to be watching Emily.

Their eyes met again, and she ached a little at the thought that friendship and sex might be mutually exclusive in Jase's mind. His eyes narrowed, and she looked away, because suddenly the truth she hadn't been ready to accept was impossible to ignore.

She didn't want just sex.

She wasn't imagining being buddies with benefits.

She wanted the whole, real, messy, emotional, cuddly, sexy, affectionate, snuggle-with-me-while-we-watch-a-movie
relationship
.

And Jase was looking at her with the same fond, friendly, platonic smile he had for Sean, who was suggesting that Jase kiss his “beanbag.”

Molly threw an arm around Emily's shoulders and gave her a rattling shake. “Emily, meet Sean. Hope you like dick jokes.”

As it happened, Emily did like dick jokes, almost as much as she liked the significantly loosened-up version of Sean. She liked laughing with Molly and teasing Jase and not feeling like she needed to guard her words quite so carefully around Sean.

She liked everything until the night wrapped up and they all pulled on their coats and said good-bye like friends do. But without the full-body embrace that was just long enough for the heat from one person to find its way into another. Without the threading of fingers and lingering last contact.

Without the tongue.

Back at her apartment, she'd closed the door, thinking about that night at the hotel with Jase. The feel of his big, bare chest against her back. His arms warm around her. His low rumbling laughter teasing at her ear.

The floor in front of her blurred, and she blinked. Brought her fingers to the corners of her eyes and found them wet.

Tears?

She shouldn't be—

Her phone rang and she straightened, clearing her throat.

It could be a client.

Pulling the phone from her pocket, she stalled at seeing the name on the screen.

Jase Foster.

“Jase, what's up? Did I forget something at the bar?” She sounded normal. Totally.

“No, nothing like that. I've got this wedding on Saturday for a buddy's little brother I got into our IT department at the bank. Think I can convince you to go with me?”

Her heart tripped, clumsy and uncertain, because he'd taken Molly to lots of weddings. It could be the same sort of friendly gesture.

“Sure, that's what friends are for, right?” she replied, fishing just a little as she cut through her apartment toward her closet.

Either way, she needed a dress. One that would challenge the most platonic of intentions.

Jase's laugh was low.

“Yeah, but I'm not asking you to go as my friend.” His voice deepened, taking on a persuasive rumble. “There'll be dancing.”

She stopped, turning away from her closet and crossing her room to her lingerie drawer instead. The smile on her face spread like the warmth through her chest. “Only if you promise not to drop me on my ass if I accidentally step on your foot.”

“Your
sweet
ass, Emily. I promise,” he said with another low laugh she could almost feel. “It's a
date
then. Pick you up at three.”

A date. Heat swirled through her belly as she closed the drawer.

A date required something new and drop-dead spectacular.

She needed to go shopping.

* * *

“So this is a date with Jase Foster.” Emily sighed, leaning against the door to her place, her heart seeming to skip every other beat as she glanced down at the bouquet of oriental lilies, spray roses, and snapdragons. “Definitely different.”

Jase chuckled, looking down at himself and then around him. “I just walked in.”

Yeah, he had, and looking painfully good too. He'd dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a sapphire tie to match his eyes, his neatly mussed hair so perfect it would give Henry Cavill envy. One look at him and it was as if a giant digital clock had appeared above his head, counting down to when she could get him back here. To when she'd be able to get her fingers into those thick, dark waves and make them not so neatly mussed.

“But you're picking me up, instead of meeting me at the church. You brought me
flowers
.”

“Wow, if only I'd known how low the bar was set.”

Not at all. Not even close.

But after all the waiting, the wondering, and—God help her—the hoping, she was experiencing every little detail on the grandest scale. Like the compliment he'd paid her when she opened the door. The one that had turned her knees to mush, not so much because of the words themselves but the way he'd said them. Rubbing that big hand of his across his mouth as he slowly looked her over from head to toe, and then murmured that it wasn't good manners to show up the bride on her wedding day.
Without
backing her up against the wall with his hand beneath her skirt.

Okay, that she wasn't entirely sure was a good thing. But it was sweet. And different. And she had to believe that if she played her cards right, there'd be some quality wall time in her near future.

“That dress is something else, Em.” He looked like he might be about to run his hands over the flowy skirt she'd fallen in love with on sight but resisted. Leaning in, Jase dropped a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

She turned into him, her mouth less than an inch from his, her breath thin as she met his eyes.

He could have had her then. That very second if he wanted her. Backed her into the living room and had her on the couch, or just taken her right there against the coat closet door. Messed up the hair and makeup she'd taken nearly an hour to get right. And the only thing she'd have to say about it would be
yes
.

Instead, Jase cupped her cheek and, with a pained look in his eyes, brushed it once with his thumb before stepping back.

“I'm trying to be good here, Em. I swore I'd give you at least one real date before carrying you back to that bed and doing all the things I want to do to you.”

“Why?” she asked, alarmed at his sudden bout of crazy. “That's nice, but unnecessary.
Really
.” Then stepping into the space Jase had just stepped out of, she walked her fingers up his chest. “Ooh, loophole. We could forget the bed altogether, and you could do all those things right here.”