What Happens Between Friends (18 page)

He lifted his head, his gaze hooded. “You’re up.”

“Am I?” Her voice was a painful croak. She squinted against the rising sun, but the cool, fresh air felt good on her skin, in her lungs. “You sure I’m not dead?”

“Pretty sure.” He stood, guided her to a seat. “How about some toast?”

Though she would have sworn there was nothing left in her stomach, bile rose in her throat.

“Now you’re just torturing me,” she whispered, hoping he’d follow suit and stop all that yelling.

“It’ll help. Trust me.”

Before she could tell him she planned to never, ever, eat again, he went inside.

Zoe whined, watched Sadie with her head tipped to the side.

“Don’t judge me,” Sadie told the dog.

The breeze ruffled the edges of the paper, the sun felt warm on her face and she shut her eyes, slid down in the chair. She must have dozed off because it seemed like in the next breath, James was back. He set a plate of two slices of dry toast, neatly cut in halves, in front of her.

“I didn’t think you’d be up for coffee,” he said. “So I got you some ginger ale.”

She took the glass, sipped from it. The tiny bubbles exploding in her mouth were like rockets, but it did soothe her dry throat, calmed her stomach. “Thank you.”

Because he was watching, she forced herself to pick up one of the toast slices, nibbled on it until she’d finished it and its other half.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but only nodded. “Come on. I’ll take you to pick up your Jeep.”

That was it. No recriminations. No lecture.

It was a reprieve. One she was weak enough to take.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They drove to town in silence. Though she sat close enough to touch him, she’d never felt such distance between her and another person. She clutched her purse in her lap—hoped he couldn’t tell she’d stuffed his T-shirt in there after she’d changed into her own clothes.

He pulled into O’Riley’s and drove around back, where steps led to the second-floor apartment, and parked next to her Jeep. Kane’s motorcycle was there, a machine as sexy and dangerous looking as its owner.

“You all right to drive home?” James asked.

“I’ll be fine.” She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle, but couldn’t make herself open it.

And she really, really wanted to open it. To escape.

Instead, she sat back and cleared her throat. “James, about last night...”

What could she say?
Thanks for holding my hair while I repeatedly threw up? Thanks for washing my face with a cool cloth, for helping to steady a glass of water so I could rinse my mouth out? Thanks for undressing me so carefully, so gently and then tucking me into your bed?

As he stared out the windshield, his hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “How much do you remember?”

This was her out. She could claim she didn’t remember much, could make a joke out of it, laugh it off. He might let her. The old him certainly would. That James would never humiliate her by telling her what she’d done, what she’d said.

She had no idea what this new James would do.

But there seemed to be a new Sadie, too. One who didn’t want to take the coward’s way. Who wanted to give him the truth. As much as she could admit to.

“Unfortunately, I remember everything.”

She felt, more than saw, him glance at her. “Everything?”

She met his eyes. “Every last thing.” She twisted her fingers together. “Jamie, I... God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I showed up your house drunk and made a complete idiot of myself. For yelling at you and getting sick and kicking you out of your own bed.” Humiliation swept through her, heated her face. “I was jealous. I was so jealous you took another woman out I couldn’t even see straight and I know,” she continued when he opened his mouth, “I know I have no right to be, but I can’t help how I feel.”

His jaw was tight, his mouth a grim line. “Is that all?”

“No.” She licked her lips, turned in her seat to face him fully. “I am sorry about all of that, for how I acted, but I...I’m not sorry for what I said. I’m so angry with you. I am absolutely furious with you for changing the dynamics between us. I hate that we’re not friends anymore, that you made that choice for both of us.”

He remained silent. Unmoving. Unapproachable.

Her heart heavy, her eyes blurry, she fumbled for the door handle, managed to wrench it open and practically fell out of the truck. Leaning in, she reached for her shoes on the floor, straightened and moved to shut the door.

“Last night,” he said, stopping her, “after you passed out, I had plenty of time to think about what you said. About what happened between us, how we got here. For years, I kept my feelings from you, went out of my way to keep them hidden so nothing would change. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to make the decision to end our friendship, to change the dynamics between us.” He tipped his head against the seat. Shut his eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t go back.” Rolling his head to the side, he met her eyes, his voice quiet. “I don’t want to go back to how we used to be.”

“I know. And that hurts.” More than that, it scared her.

Because lately she wondered if going back was the best thing for them. If it might be better if they went forward. Except she wasn’t sure what that meant, what she wanted it to mean. It was too complicated. Too frightening.

She picked at the material of the truck seat. “I know what it looked like...last night...with me and Kane. But I...I wasn’t going to sleep with him. I just...I wanted you to know that,” she finished lamely.

She’d needed him to know it. To believe it.

James went so still she began to wonder if he was even still breathing. “No?”

“No. I mean, even if he was interested—which I highly doubt, especially now—I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t,” she repeated. “I’m not interested in him. Not that way.”

James sat up, put the truck in Reverse. “None of my business.”

“And I think,” she continued stubbornly, “the reason I’m not—interested in him, that is—is because I...” She stopped. Swallowed. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to stop it.”

His hands opened and closed on the steering wheel. Opened and closed. Opened and closed. His chest rose and fell rapidly. But he didn’t look at her. So she did the only thing she could. She shut the door and walked away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I
T
WASN
’
T
STALKING
, Charlotte assured herself. Just because James had happened to mention during their date how he picked up coffee for himself, his brother, sister and father for a weekly Saturday-morning business meeting, and just because Char happened to be at the same coffee shop at the same time didn’t mean she was lying in wait for him. For goodness’ sake, it wasn’t as if she was some crazed, obsessed person. Sometimes a woman had to make it clear to a man that she was interested, that was all.

James didn’t seem to be getting her hints.

It had been over a week since they’d had dinner and drinks. She’d waited patiently for him to make the next move, to call her. She’d wanted him to, had hoped he would.

Not that he needed to chase her, but it would be nice if he put in a little effort.

Their almost date might not have been perfect, but it had gone well. Smoothly. Char appreciated smooth. No, he hadn’t tried to kiss her good-night, but he had hugged her.

After she’d initiated said hug.

He just needed a push, she told herself as she slouched down in her seat when she spied his truck pulling into the coffee shop’s parking lot. A gentle nudge in the right direction.

She was an excellent nudger.

He walked past her car, tall and handsome even in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair disheveled. She waited until he’d gone inside, then sat up and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and finger-fluffed her hair before getting out. As soon as she stepped into the coffee shop, she glanced around, spotted him in line at the order counter. She slipped to the side behind a display of ceramic coffee cups, pretended to check them out while sneaking glances at him.

This wasn’t weird or creepy, she assured herself as she held up a mug to hide her face. It was cute. After they got engaged she’d tell him how she’d planned this. Later, they’d tell their kids and then their grandkids how she’d had to chase after him because he was too honorable, too decent to take advantage of her, what with her being so much younger and his good friend’s little sister.

But in the end, he’d say to those adorable kids, he couldn’t resist her.

He paid for his coffee, picked up one of those carriers that held four large cups. The cashier handed him his change, then a bulky, white paper bag filled, Charlotte guessed, with some of the treats the shop was known for: muffins or doughnuts or Danishes. He didn’t return the clerk’s smile, just took his items and stuffed a few bills in the barista’s tip jar as he headed toward the door.

Pretending to study the types of bagged coffee, Char stepped directly in front of him.

“Oh,” she said, looking up with feigned surprise, “I’m sor— James!” She laughed brightly and, she hoped, with sparkling eyes. “Hi. How are you?”

“Charlotte.” He stepped back, looking grim and...unhappy. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t acting fine. He was acting brusque and semirude, which was so unlike him.

She’d simply have to cheer him up.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been so busy—” So busy she hadn’t been sitting around waiting for him to get in contact with her. Mostly because she’d taken extra shifts to keep her mind off of him and the lack of progress they were making in their relationship. “I wanted to let you know it’s official. I got the house.”

“That’s great.” He nodded at a couple when they waved. “Congratulations.”

And he headed toward the door.

Her mouth dropped. She snapped it shut, plastered a smile on her face and hurried after him.

“Thanks,” she said, hoping she sounded breathless and not irritated. “I was hoping you’d be able to look at it again, maybe give me an estimate for adding a mudroom?”

Mudroom, bedrooms for their future children. Whatever.

“An estimate?”

What was up with the strangled voice? The dark expression? “Yes. I’d love to possibly even schedule the work for before winter. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

He glanced at the door a few feet away. If she didn’t know him better, she’d say that look was almost...longing. As if he didn’t want to be standing there. Didn’t want to be talking with her. “We’re booked solid for the next eight months.”

Her eyes wanted to squint. Her mouth wanted to tighten. Wide-eyed, she kept right on smiling. “Then I guess I’d better get on the schedule as soon as possible. If we’re talking next summer, I might as well redo the master bathroom, too. You saw how outdated it is. It’d be great if you could stop by sometime after work. Say...Thursday?”

Her night off.

She held her breath, kept grinning, an innocent, friendly grin meant to put him at ease. But really, waiting for the man to show some interest was getting on her last nerve.

“Thursday?” He frowned. “I’m not sure if that’ll work for me. Maybe Eddie or Dad can drop by.”

Eddie? His dad?

It hit her. Why he was acting so strangely, why he couldn’t wait to get away from her and his horrible mood—that honestly, she didn’t care for in the least.

Sadie must have warned him off.

Charlotte was going to kill her.

“You’re busy,” she said, her voice coming out tight and embarrassed to match the blush staining her cheeks. “And here I am, taking advantage of our friendship, asking you to give up one of your evenings to help me out after everything you’ve already done, looking at the house for me, taking me to dinner. I’m sorry. It was incredibly selfish of me to ask you, to put you on the spot like this.”

“That’s not it. And I’m not on the spot.”

“You’re sweet, but I’ve obviously made you uncomfortable. Made you feel as if you can’t say no. I...God, I’m so embarrassed.” She laid both of her hands on her cheeks, just about burned her palms. “I’m just going to go.”

She made it out onto the sidewalk and halfway to her car before he caught up with her.

“Charlotte,” he called, exasperated. “Wait.”

She stopped, kept her back to him, her arms crossed.

“I can come over,” he said, his tone reluctant, his expression closed. “Work up an estimate for you.”

She lifted her chin. “It’s really not nec—”

“Thursday, right? I’ll stop by around seven-thirty.”

He walked away, leaving her gawking at his back.

Char shook her head. What just happened? She must have stepped into an alternate universe where up was down, black was white and James Montesano was an ass.

He’d had a bad morning, that was all. She headed into the coffee shop. Everyone had them, was entitled to them once in a while.

She hoped he didn’t plan on making a habit of it, though.

She ordered a caramel macchiato, adding whipped cream and a chocolate-chunk biscotti to her order on a whim. It may not have been pretty, but she had scored another victory today.

And the hard-earned ones deserved celebrating the most.

* * *

I
CAN
’
T
STOP
THINKING
about you.

James’s fingers tensed, dented the takeout cup of coffee he held. He shifted on his chair, straightened his legs as Maddie explained to their dad and Eddie the ideas they’d come up with for renovating Bradford House’s attic. But his family’s voices faded, became murmurs of sound. Only one voice was clear in his head. Crystal clear.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

What the hell did Sadie think would happen when she said that? That he’d forgive her? What for? Their friendship was over. Or maybe she was throwing him a bone, like that kiss last night.

Isn’t this what you wanted?
she’d asked, offering herself to him like some goddamn sacrifice.

He had wanted her. How could he not when she’d had on that skirt, that clinging top?

He’d wanted, but he’d resisted. Had proved he could. And he’d go right on resisting.

“James?”

James jerked his head up, frowned at his father. “What?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed, reminding James of the few times he’d been disciplined as a teen for being mouthy. “I asked how far behind we’ll be with the attic renovation.”

He shrugged irritably. “A month. At the least.”

“So we shuffle a few things,” Maddie said with a wave of her hand. “Jobs can be pushed back. Schedules can be reworked.”

James glared. Slouched in his seat. “You only say that because you’re not the one reworking them.”

Yeah, he sounded grumpy. Hell, he was grumpy. He’d had a crappy morning. First Sadie and her declaration, and then Charlotte. All he’d wanted was to put some distance between him and Sadie’s sister.

Instead he’d treated her badly. It’d been like kicking a cute little kitten. And in his guilt, he’d agreed to spend another evening with her, albeit in a professional capacity.

But as much as his morning had sucked, it was nothing compared to last night. After getting Sadie cleaned up and tucked into bed—into
his
bed—he’d lain wide-awake on the couch, wanting nothing more than to slip into his room, to sleep with her. To just...hold her.

He really was a complete patsy over her.

“I could rework the schedule,” Maddie insisted. “But there’s no way I could come even close to your anal tendencies. Stick with your strengths, I always say. And I think we’d all rather do the reno while we’re there instead of coming back. I know Neil would prefer to have it done before it opens to guests.”

“We’ll make it work,” Frank said, snapping shut his briefcase. “Eddie, let me know what the distributor says about those damaged doors. Maddie, do up the estimate for the added work at Bradford House. James,” he continued as he headed toward the door, his voice going frigid, “84 Lumber is dropping off a delivery today at eleven. Please wait here for them.”

“Jeez,” Maddie said after Frank left. “What did you do to Dad?”

James looked around, realized she was talking to him. Thought about denying it, but that was pretty useless as the tension between them was obvious.

“He’s pissed because I told him he needed to consider making me—making all three of us—full partners.”

His brother and sister both gaped at him, but Maddie recovered first. “You
what?
”

“Relax. I told him he needed to consider it. I didn’t forcibly conscript you into service.”

“What’d he say?” Eddie asked, taking the seat behind the desk.

“What do you think he said? He said no. That when he retired, if the three of us wanted to take over Montesano Construction together, that was fine by him, but until then, he’s not giving up the reins.”

“Bitter much?” Maddie sat on the edge of the desk, her leg swinging. “Dad’s worried if we’re all equal, it’ll break up the family.”

“How did you know that?”

“He told me when we were finishing the basement at the Todds’ a few years ago. Mr. Todd brought both his sons in as partners in the grocery store. A year later, things were so bad he had to buy back their shares. The brothers haven’t spoken since. It really tore the parents up. Tore their whole family apart.”

“I remember that,” Eddie said. “The younger one...what was his name? Brandon?”

“Brayden,” James corrected, having been a few years behind him in school.

“Right. He was a real hothead.”

“Didn’t he ‘borrow’—” Maddie added air quotes to the word “—money from the store’s account to pay his gambling debts?” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Talk about a cautionary tale about mixing business and family.”

“An extreme case,” James said dismissively. “You ask me, Dad just doesn’t want to give up control.”

“Would you?” Eddie asked.

“Would I bring my children in? You bet your ass.”

“Eddie has a point,” Maddie said. More often than not, those two thought alike. Maddie was just more vocal about those thoughts. “Think about it. Dad’s been his own boss close to thirty-five years. He’s made all the decisions—good or bad. Mistakes or successes, they’ve all been on him. Now you expect him to give that up and do things by committee? It’d be a big change for anyone. A scary one.”

That was just it. James didn’t want to be afraid of change. Not anymore.

“What if the four of us were partners,” she continued, her heel thumping lightly against the desk. “What if two of us want to purchase a new company truck and the other two don’t. How do we decide—what’s the tie breaker? Or if one of us wants to fire an employee, but the other three want to keep him on. There’d be hurt feelings. Ticked-off feelings. It could be a recipe for disaster.”

“Could be,” James agreed, turning his empty cup in his hand. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. There are plenty of family businesses out there that make it work. Why couldn’t we be one of them?”

“Well, what if one of us doesn’t want to be a partner?”

He froze. Narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t want to be a part of Montesano Construction?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing. What if Neil stays in Seattle or gets traded to a team in Florida or the Predators in Nashville? What if Bree and I want to move to be closer to him?”

“Things that serious between you two?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him again, wouldn’t have done that to Bree if things weren’t serious. It’s not like we’re engaged yet, but we have discussed getting married. And if...when...we make that commitment, call me crazy, but I want to live in the same state as my husband. Preferably the same city.”

James hadn’t considered that. Had assumed that Maddie would always work for Montesano Construction, that she and Bree would always live in that tiny house across from their parents. That they’d always be here. Would always be close, part of his daily life.

Nothing stayed the same, he reminded himself. Not even the things you wanted to.

“I don’t think it’s something you’ll have to worry about,” James told her. “Dad’s set against bringing us in as partners. Because he is, I’ve been thinking over my options.”

Maddie’s leg stilled. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

He stood, tossed the cup into the garbage can. “I’m considering going out on my own.”