Nuclear Heat (Firework Girls #4) (7 page)

Don’t think I don’t know what I just did. I brought Emily into strict Firework Girls territory.

I’ve never once brought a girl I was dating into the Firework Girl Zone, wherever it was at the time. The girls would meet my current date at the bars, or the frat parties, or in the dorms, or on trips, or at the beach. But I never brought a girl I was dating into the inner circle, like I did tonight.

I’m not sure why I did it. I missed my friends
(Sam’s only a friend, only a friend, only a friend)
and I wanted to see them. That’s not so weird, right? But hell if I was going to go over there without Emily. She’s my life raft right now.

And isn’t this what people do when they’re advancing their relationships anyway? They introduce their girlfriends to friends and family. It’s totally normal.

But all the work I did in Spain to distance myself emotionally from Sam?

Shot to hell the second I laid eyes on her.

The girls
love
Emily. Fucking love her. After Jack and Emily left last night, Chloe could not stop talking about how
nice
she is and how
great
it is that Jack’s found a nice girl.

Well, whatever. I’m not giving it a second thought.

I didn’t sleep well last night for some reason, so I got up early and picked up several gallons of paint at Lowe’s and sent texts to people (yeah, Jack too) saying if they felt up for a painting party to come on over. If not, fine. I have so much pent up energy, I feel like I could paint this whole damn house myself and not get tired.

I probably just need a good, solid orgasm or something, but I’m really not in the mood to go trolling for guys and I’m sick to death of these ugly green walls.

Jack shows up first. Alone. Thank god. I don’t feel like dealing with
Emily.
I can’t put my finger on what it is I don’t like about her, but it bugs me that no one else can see it.

Anyway, Jack’s in his old torn jeans and a faded, loose tee I haven’t seen since college. The word
sexy
crosses my mind when I see him, but I push that kind-of-alarming thought away. I really, really need a normal day with my friend and it’s bad enough that he’s been weird lately. I’m not going to be stupid too.

“Is that your painting shirt?” I ask as he walks through the door, a couple six-packs in his hands. I’m up on the ladder, paint brush in hand, and already have paint on my shirt.

“Yeah,” he says, giving me a big Jack grin that I don’t mind admitting I’ve missed. “You move all this yourself, Shorty?” he says, taking in the furniture I’ve pushed to the center of the room. I threw several plastic drop cloths over everything. I didn’t bother protecting the pink shag carpeting, as its days are numbered anyway.

I nod. “What do you think of the color?” I say, gesturing to the wall. It’s a nice taupe, but the manufacturer unfortunately decided to call it ‘Beavertail.’ I almost eliminated it based on the stupid name of the color alone.

He frowns at the furniture. “Is your stomach okay? You should’ve waited for me to help you.”

“My stomach’s fine now and I didn’t know if you were coming.”

“Why wouldn’t I come?” But the second he says it, he looks at me like he knows better. Things just haven’t been the same with us lately, there’s no getting around it. I wish I knew why. I miss him.

In fact, it’s probably our recent time apart that’s making him look all sexy right now, right? Makes sense. But I’m not going to think about that. I wave the paintbrush in the air, showing him the new color on the bristles. “Well?”

“Nice,” he says nodding and heading for the kitchen. “That the beaver one?”

“Yeah,” I say, as he disappears. I return to the wall in front of me and drop a thick line of color.

“I wondered which one you’d picked,” he hollers. I take a deep breath, trying to get this weird unsettled feeling inside me to go away. “Want a beer?” he asks.

“Okay.”

He comes in and hands one up to me. “Look at that, Shorty. You’re actually taller than me.” He gives me a big grin.

I roll my eyes and try not to encourage him with a smile, but I can’t help it. “Shut up, Jack.”

It’s not long before things feel almost normal again. God, it’s so nice. We’re laughing and joking and being silly and it’s about damned time. I get Jack all to myself for two whole hours before other people start to show up to help. Isabella and Shane. A little later, Ashley and Erik. When we’re done with the living room and almost done with the dining room, Chloe and Grayson show up even though she made the drive up from Swan Pointe just yesterday. I hadn’t even included her in the texts this morning because I figured she wouldn’t want to make the trip again. Turns out Ashley texted her.

Chloe says the drive up here is nothing, compared to all the global travelling they do, and is being her usual, bubbly self. By the time we’re done for the day and waiting for pizza to arrive, she says she and Grayson have finally set a date to get married.

Everyone congratulates them and I’m proud of her for taking a step I know was scary. They’ve set the date for next spring, which Isabella declares gives them plenty of time to do all the crap people do for weddings. We’ve uncovered the furniture and pushed it back just enough to climb on, so we’re all kind of cramped together. All the guys except Jack use the close quarters as an excuse to hang in the kitchen, but I think they’re just trying to escape the wedding talk. The girls and Jack and I are sitting in a loose circle, with Jack opposite me in the chair.

Chloe’s talking wedding venues and glowing and I’m genuinely happy for her, but then she goes and throws out this zinger:

“So is Jack going to be the next one to get married?” she says, teasing him.

And Jack? Well, he doesn’t shudder or protest or anything.

Something inside me is suddenly cold.

He gets a really weird look, then laughs, shrugging it off, but it’s not a normal Jack laugh.

“I really like her,” Chloe says.

This again.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Jack says. Something in me twinges. “Really great.”

It could be my imagination, but it seems he’s back to not looking at me. All of a sudden I’m sick of whatever the hell’s going on with him. Why can’t he just be normal Jack? What’s with all the weird vibes I’ve been getting from him for weeks and his strange behavior? Like the Spain thing. Something about that doesn’t sit right with me.

Ashley’s giving me a weird look. Come to think of it, she kept looking at me like this last night when Chloe and Isabella couldn’t stop talking about the fabulous Emily.

Whatever. I don’t have room in my brain to think about Ashley because Jack keeps talking. “She’s got her stuff together, you know? She’s got a good job. She’s smart. She even has a five-year plan.”

“Are you part of the plan?” Chloe says with a wink.

Shut up, Chloe.

Jack shrugs but he’s not smiling. God, I can’t read his expression at all. I’m so sick of this. “Maybe,” he says. “I’d be lucky, right? She’s really great.”

“You said that already,” I say. “Are you falling in love with this girl or shopping for a new car?”

Well,
that
got him to look at me. I look right back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks. He’s trying to play it cool. He’s even giving me the benefit of the doubt and wearing a half grin, but I can see his irritation just under the surface. It only eggs me on.

“You’re being so fucking analytical about it.” His grin disappears in an instant. “It doesn’t sound like there’s any actual passion. Where’s the spark?”

“Uh...” Chloe says hesitantly. They’re all looking back and forth between Jack and I like they’re watching a fucking tennis match. I don’t care.

Jack’s eyes are hard like flint. “Oh, there’s a spark, don’t you worry.”

Grrrr.
I just want to pound him. Don’t ask me why. “Who the hell says I’m worried? You know, Jack, you
should
marry her. What the hell? With your spark and her five-year plan, you should just run right out and get her a ring.”

“Maybe I will.”

The others gape at him in shock, while my chest feels like it’s been caught in a vise.

Wait a minute. What did he just say?

“What?” he asks defensively, looking around at everyone’s stunned expressions. “No one thinks Jack’s marrying material, huh?”

“No one said that,” Chloe says, taken aback.

“Jack just said it himself,” I say, just to dig at him.

It worked.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, Sam.”

“Right back at you.”

“What the hell did I do?”

“Forget it,” I say, getting up and heading for the kitchen. The men are cautiously drifting in from the kitchen though, drawn by our raised voices and blocking my way.

“You know what?” Jack says, and I turn back enough to see him getting up too. I stop and fold my arms over my chest. “I’ll see you guys later.”

He stomps out the front door and slams it behind him. Three faces swing on me. Chloe and Isabella are gaping at me. Ashley’s still giving me that weird look. Why is she looking at me like that?

“What the hell was that?” Isabella says.

Ashley says, “Sam, Jack was just—”

“Jack can kiss my ass,” I say, heading down the hall toward my room. I hear Jack’s truck tearing away, but I don’t care. I don’t need him.

I don’t.

Everyone leaves me alone, and it’s just as well. After storming around my bedroom for a while, I slowly start to cool down. After that, it doesn’t take long for me to feel horrible. What the hell’s the matter with me? Jack didn’t deserve any of that.

I should go apologize to my poor guests, if they haven’t slunk off by now, but first thing’s first.

I send Jack a text:
I’m sorry. Really.

After a minute he texts back.
Okay.

I sigh.
This isn’t a texting sort of conversation. I want to apologize properly. If I call, will you answer?

Two minutes go by before my phone buzzes.
Okay.

I call immediately.

He answers with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey. Jack, I really am sorry. I don’t know why I was being such a pain in the ass, but it was over the line.”

He sighs.

I take a resolute breath and say what I know he needs to hear. “I think it’s great,” I say, pinching my eyes shut and concentrating really hard on making my voice sound sincere. “You and Emily. Really. It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t you. It was just...”

I’m rambling. I don’t know what it was. I’m just a pain in the ass. Like he said.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy. I just... I guess I just don’t know Emily yet. But I’m sure I’ll like her. I mean, you like her, right?”

I wonder if he’s going to say he loves her and hope he doesn’t.

“Yeah.”

I’m gripping the phone and my heart is running ahead of time. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m scared he’s going to stay mad at me. Not that I don’t deserve it.

“Are we still friends?” I ask. “Do you forgive me?”

There’s a bit of a pause. “I
suppose
,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

I unclench a bit. He forgives me.

“But try to keep your head out of your ass in the future.”

I press my lips together. This is the revenge part of him accepting my apology.

“Uh-huh,” I say, taking my lickings.

“And next time you’re on the rag, steer clear of me until you’re done, okay?”

Boy, he’s really going for the jugular. Jack knows perfectly well how much I
hate
it when asshole guys blame stuff on a woman’s period.

“Uh-huh.”

“And Sam?”

“Yeah?” I ask, waiting for the last bomb to drop.

This time the pause goes on so long, I’d think he hung up if I couldn’t hear the connection. “We’ll always be friends.”

This pains me more than it seems it should.

“I...” I begin. I really hurt. I don’t know why. “I guess it has kind of felt like... I’ve been losing my friend. I guess I was being selfish.”

He doesn’t answer. He’s so quiet.

“I really am sorry I was such an ass.”

“Well,” he says in his teasing voice, “who can blame you? Who’d want to lose a fantastic friend like me?”

“Okay,” I say rolling my eyes, but I’m smiling.

“I mean, how could you possibly go on without me?”

The smile slides off my face. My chest is aching again.

“Okay,” I say, but I think I’m done talking now. “Goodbye, Jack.”

“Goodbye, Sam.”