The Closer You Come Page 11

  His face expressed a mix of awe and sadness. "And your uncle?"

  She lost her smile in a hurry. "He was as far from awesome as humanly possible. He was a thief, a liar and a deadbeat. He only came around when he needed something or to convince Jessie Kay and me to help him hustle. People trust kids, he'd say. Then he took off with Mom's insurance money."

  "I'm sorry, honey." The tension in his voice confused her.

  She continued anyway. "You want to know what's silly about the whole thing? I was sad when he was gone. He was the only family we had left."

  Jase wiped away the beads of sweat that had popped up on his forehead. "Where is he now?"

  "Dead. About a year after he left us, he conned the wrong person." Desperate to learn more about Jase, she asked, "What about your parents?"

  He finished the meal without responding, drained his glass of water.

  Clearly, even though she'd shared some of her most painful memories, he'd just shut down yet another subject. But fine. Whatever. She was disappointed, but she could roll. "Did you know that Jessie Kay is an expert dancer? She took ballet classes for years. Really knows how to move."

  Which he'd probably learned while he'd had her in bed. Ugh.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. He stalked to the sink, ignoring praise of her sister a second time.

  "Did you know Jessie Kay was once crowned Miss Strawberry Valley? She was only eighteen." Some people--cough, Charlene Burns, cough--liked to say she'd won simply because she was an orphan and the judges had felt sorry for her.

  Some people were idiots.

  Again, nothing from Jase.

  Guilt, such an insidious creature, slithered through Brook Lynn. Because part of her liked his lack of reaction.

  I'm a terrible sister. Jessie Kay had dibs and that was that. Besides, Brook Lynn would never be able to overlook the fact that Jase wanted what she didn't: something temporary.

  Also, the guy she ended up with had to be reliable in every way. Like, say, being emotionally accessible, willing to share his past and his secrets. She had to be able to trust him with her heart, mind and body, and had to know he would be there for her every step of the way.

  With a sigh, she picked at her food. She really needed to do as planned and ask out Brad Lintz. He fit all of her criteria. And he wouldn't treat his former lovers this way--refusing to acknowledge their very existence.

  Stop thinking about having fun and actually have some. For once.

  "By the way," Jase said. "It was good."

  Her brow wrinkled with confusion. "What was?"

  "The casserole."

  Well, duh. "Obviously." He'd eaten half the pan. "You should taste my sandwiches."

  "If the sandwiches are better than your casseroles, I'm officially putting in an order for tomorrow's dinner."

  "Done. Hey," she said. "Would you mind if I take some of the casserole to Jessie Kay?"

  "Why would I mind?"

  "Because you paid for the food," she said then yawned. The trials of the day had finally caught up to her...and the itching in her ears had worsened with the movement of her jaw. She dropped her fork to gently scratch.

  "Take as much as you'd like. Always." Jase leaned over and pinched a lock of her hair, rubbing the ends between his fingers. "You've had a long day. You should go home."

  She really should...but for the first time in a very long time she didn't think she'd fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Her blood suddenly ran too hot, and her heartbeat came too strong. She wanted to be here, talking with Jase--being touched by him. For Jessie Kay. Of course.

  "Do you have a new list of chores for me?" she asked.

  One of his brows winged up. "You finished the other one?"

  "Just like Cinderella before the ball." Well, well. Something else to check off the list she'd made with Kenna. Be Cinderella for a day. Although, actually attending the ball and meeting Prince Charming would have been more fun than the chores part of her day.

  Another undeniable twitch at the corners of his mouth. "How?"

  He sounded shocked. Had he deliberately set out to make her fail? "I may or may not have enlisted the aid of the women who came over looking for Beck."

  He crossed his arms over his chest, saying, "Cinderella did not have help."

  "I beg to differ. She had mice."

  His dark eyes sparkled. Was he fighting a laugh? Go me!

  Beck stormed into the kitchen, his charming facade utterly gone. He waved a stack of papers and photos in Jase's face. "There were phone numbers and printed selfies taped to my bedroom walls."

  The laugh Jase had been holding back finally burst out, and Brook Lynn marveled. He wasn't as rugged-looking when he laughed, but he was just as appealing. Maybe even more so. His entire face lit up, his features softening, making him appear years younger. Almost...boyish.

  "Blame Brook Lynn," he said, hiking his thumb in her direction.

  She offered Beck a sugar-sweet smile as he focused all of his anger on her.

  "There's a line," he growled. "A line you just don't cross."

  "Got it," she said with a nod. "But, uh, I'm not actually the one who put the photos there."

  "You let someone else in my room?"

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. "It's not like you haven't had a parade of women march through it already."

  "By choice--while I was there. Who did you allow into my room? I want a name."

  "I could give you a name, but I'd have to give you six to be accurate, and to be honest, I--"

  "Six," he echoed hollowly.

  "Yes." She'd barred those same women from stepping one foot inside Jase's room, choosing to take care of his space on her own. "The girls were clearly interested in being with you again," she said with a blush. "I figured you'd enjoy another go. Who wouldn't? They were hot little totties."

  Beck opened his mouth to blast her, she was sure, but Jase moved in front of her.

  "Enough," he said. "She's sincerely sorry and won't do it again. Isn't that right, Brook Lynn?"

  "Right," she said with a jaunty salute as she peeked around Jase. "Consider me the room's new chastity belt."

  Beck drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, his animosity draining. "Let's not get carried away. I'm allergic to chastity belts." Just like that, Beck the Sweet and Charming was back. He noticed the array of desserts and shook his head. "As many strawberries as you country girls eat, you'd think someone would taste just like the fruit. So far no luck."

  "You're taste-testing your way through the residents?"

  "And loving every moment of it." Beck helped her close her mouth before he sauntered off.

  "What about you?" Brook Lynn asked, unable to stop the words from escaping.

  Jase turned and met her gaze. He sobered instantly, the intensity of him suddenly crackling, her awareness of him suddenly smoldering. She found herself pushing to a stand, facing off with him. A battle. But what was the prize?

  "What about me?" he asked softly.

  "Who do you want to taste-test?"

  His pupils expanded, the black spilling over the emerald. "Are you offering?"

  Yes. "No." She shook her head, determined to mean it. "Never."

  He ground his teeth and took a step back, breaking the spell. "Good."

  "Yeah. Good," she repeated softly. She scratched at her ears, cleared her throat. "Well," she said and cleared her throat again. "Like you said, I should go."

  His nod was clipped. "I'll walk you out."

  She offered no protest, knowing it would do no good. "Thanks."

  Outside, the air was a perfect blend of warm and cool. The moon hid behind clouds, a few stars glinting from their perch of black velvet. The only swath of light came from the single-bulb lamp on the porch.

  Jase opened her car door, and as she moved around him, misjudging the distance, she accidentally brushed her shoulder against his arm. Both of them hissed, as if they'd just been burned.

  Tremors rooted her in place. Sh
e stood in the open space between door and car, peering up at him. In the darkness, with thin ribbons of golden light seeping from the car's interior and falling over him, the wind caressing strands of his hair over his brow, he could have stepped straight from her fantasies.

  The scent of him enveloped her...honey and oats, like the soap he used...and it was both pleasant and comforting; she only wanted to get closer to him. Her blood heated, and her skin tingled. She forgot the discomfort in her ears. Forgot all the reasons she'd told herself to avoid this man.

  Like he'd done in the kitchen, he reached out and pinched a lock of her hair between his fingers. A compulsion? She hoped so. A lance of pleasure sped through her, and breath snagged in her throat. What would he do next? What did she want him to do?

  His head lowered...lowered a little more...coming closer and closer to hers. Anticipation consumed her, the heat and tingles growing worse.

  His fingers moved to her jaw and tipped up her face. Preparing her for his kiss. She knew she should close her eyes, but she didn't want to miss a moment of this.

  For a long while, his mouth hovered over hers.

  She breathed him in. He breathed her in. She tensed, eager for contact. Ready for it. Her belly quivered. She'd been kissed before--of course she had--but this would be her first kiss with a man so intense, so closed off, yet seething with such quiet savagery. And it would be wrong for her, wrong of her, but almost...necessary.

  "Jase." Do it. Please.

  The sound of her voice caused him to stiffen. He dropped his arm to his side, severing contact.

  "See you tomorrow, Brook Lynn."

  Just like that, he walked away. Leaving her confused, angry. Determined.

  The only problem was, she didn't know what she was so determined to overcome. Her attraction to him...or his resistance to her?

  CHAPTER NINE

  SLEEPING PROVED IMPOSSIBLE for Brook Lynn. She tossed and turned in bed, thinking of nothing but her almost-kiss with Jase.

  Why had he stopped?

  Did it really matter?

  Sometime between falling onto her mattress and rising to take a shower, she'd made a decision: she would overcome her attraction to him, and that would be that.

  There were too many problems stacked against them, anyway. Jessie Kay. Brook Lynn's employment. His attitude. Oh, his attitude! Smoldering one moment, ice-cold the next. Always annoying.

  Besides, she still wasn't interested in a fling. Give me long-term or give me nothing.

  Right?

  "Jessie Kay," she called, banging on the girl's bedroom door. "What do you want for breakfast?"

  Silence greeted her.

  She peeked inside--no one was in the bed draped with sheets covered with silly pandas or anywhere else. Peachy. Had her sister even come home last night? Brook Lynn tromped to the kitchen...where she found a note. And a glass jar with a giant spider trapped inside.

  Dude! Do you see what was waiting in the kitchen for me? The devil! I managed to catch it--you're welcome. Now you get to kill it. All I ask is that you check for a pulse afterward to make sure he's really, really, really dead. Love, JK

  PS: I would have killed it myself, because I'm tough like that, but I was in a hurry to go out and make us some dough. You're welcome x 2.

  "You are deathly afraid of spiders, and you know it," Brook Lynn muttered to her absent sister. And Jessie Kay, out making money? I'll believe it when I see it.

  After freeing the spider outside, Brook Lynn decided to forgo breakfast and made her way to the Rhinestone Cowgirl. Strawberry Valley was just beginning to rouse. Shop owners were outside, dusting off sidewalks while Closed signs flipped over behind them.

  She waved to Mr. Rodriguez. Virgil hadn't yet arrived to begin their next checkers game. There was Wanda Potts, taking pictures of her storefront to post on Twitter and Facebook. She sold "designer" clothing--meaning, she'd designed them. Next door, Donut a la Mode was being unlocked. It was nice, seeing the same people, the same sights, every morning. Comforting.

  When Brook Lynn stepped inside the RC, she was ten minutes early and more fatigued than usual. Her eyes burned, and her feet dragged. And her ears! The itching had only gotten worse. If this kept up, she'd have to call her doctor and pay for a checkup she couldn't afford.

  Maybe she could get an advance from Jase...

  No! No way. She wasn't going to treat him like a piggy bank. He was her boss, and he was a person. A distant person, sure. Gruff, but a natural-born protector. Look how quickly he'd stepped in front of his friend simply to stop the guy from yelling at her.

  And she was still insanely curious about his past. How bad would it be to look him up online?

  Oh, who cared? She plugged his name in a search engine. Jase Hollister.

  Not much popped up. He had no Facebook page that she could find, no Twitter account. But she was asked if she'd meant Jessie Hollister, Jake Hollister, Jason Hollister or Jane Hollister.

  Jason seemed the most obvious choice, so she clicked on it...and oh, wow, there seemed to be thousands of them. She narrowed the search to Jason Hollister in Oklahoma. The first thing to pull up was Hollister Co. at Penn Square Mall, followed by a few links to people on Facebook and LinkedIn. But none of the pictures matched the Jase she knew. There was an article about some kind of fight to the death between teenagers, but again, the picture next to it looked nothing like her Jase. The boy was far too scrawny.

  The bell above the door tinkled, signaling the arrival of the first customer of the day, and she glanced up to see a young man she'd never before met standing in the doorway.

  "Can I help you?" she asked. Tourist? Just passing through?

  He had sandy-colored hair and wore a wrinkled white button-down and black slacks. He scratched his arms as he glanced behind him nervously before retreating outside, the door closing.

  O-kay.

  Brook Lynn closed the search window just as the bell tinkled again.

  "Got your dating-911 text," Kenna said as she glided to the counter, her red hair bouncing over her shoulders. "What's up?"

  Oh, yeah. In her delirium last night, Brook Lynn had contacted her friend. But in the bright light of the morning, discussing Jase seemed like the worst idea ever.

  "Dating-911?" she asked, playing coy. "That doesn't sound like me, does it?"

  "Gonna play the dumb-blonde card, are you?"

  "Why not?" she said with a shrug. She scratched her ears. "I've got a full deck."

  Kenna chuckled. "You typed, and I quote, do you know what's worse than zombies eating your brains? Liking a man who's slept with your sister."

  "Someone needs to invent an app to stop people from making foolish admissions in texts," she grumbled.

  "I bet West could do it. But even if he manages it, it's too late for you. So...are we talking about Jase or Beck?"

  Why not admit it, just put it out there? "Jase."

  "Oh," Kenna said, and she sounded disappointed.

  "What? You don't like him?"

  "I like him just fine, but of the two guys he just seems less attainable."

  She gaped at her friend. "Less attainable, when Beck is a certified man-whore?"

  "Well, yeah," Kenna said. "Jase is like a wall of ice. Dirty, dirty ice," she added with an appreciative, dreamy sigh. "But ice all the same."

  "Ice can be melted, you know." And with Jase, it had. At least for a little while. Once he'd even laughed with her.

  I want to see him laugh again.

  Kenna patted her arm, saying, "It can also refreeze."

  "True." Hadn't it already?

  Did she want him to melt for good?

  No, no. No fixer-uppers, remember? She'd decided to go after Brad. The safer choice. The smarter choice. Being with him wouldn't get her canned or hurt her sister. Which was the reason she'd also texted him last night, asking him to stop by the shop whenever he was free.

  "I won't go after Jase," she said on a sigh.

  "Oh, Brook Lynn," Kenna said. "I
'm so sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. I've never seen you look so dejected."

  She scratched her ears yet again. "I'm not dejected." I'm disappointed.

  "I never should have discouraged you. If anyone can melt Jase once and for all, it's you. Besides, the past might have created who he is, but we shouldn't let it define who he can become."

  "What do you know of his past?"

  "Not much. Dane mentioned something about foster care."

  The child of a broken home. Stomach twisting, she changed the subject before she raced out of here to hunt the guy down and throw herself in his arms to offer all the hugs he probably never received growing up. "How are wedding plans coming?"

  Immediately snared by the topic, Kenna regaled her with stories of white lace dresses, snobby caterers and shy ice sculptors, all revolving around her crazy soon-to-be in-laws.

  One day, I'll have such awesome problems, Brook Lynn thought.

  The bell chimed, and Norrie, Kenna's six-year-old daughter, came racing inside. Dane Michaelson entered soon after, his gaze heating when it landed on his fiancee, practically steaming the air.

  That. I want that.

  "Hi, Aunt Brook Lynn," Norrie said, skipping over to embrace her. "Guess what? Dane told Uncle West he's got to get Momma alone soon or he's gonna die of blue baseballs. I didn't know baseballs could be blue, did you?"

  Kenna almost swallowed her tongue.

  Brook Lynn laughed out loud, but quieted as the itching in her ears grew worse.

  Dane closed his eyes for a moment. "That was supposed to be our secret, squirt."

  Norrie had a major problem with verbal diarrhea. Every word to enter her ears exited her mouth.

  "We better make sure they get some time alone, huh?" Brook Lynn said. "That way his baseballs can return to their original color. So how about you come over this evening and spend the night with me?" When Kenna and Norrie had moved out, Brook Lynn had left their rooms alone, part of her hoping they'd come back.

  Maybe I'm more like Beck than I realized.

  "Yes!" Norrie squealed with happiness. "Can I, Momma? Please! Please!"

  Kenna cast Brook Lynn a grateful smile. "I think that would be wonderful."

  "Sweet!" the girl said, jumping up and down.

  The bell chimed a third time, and in stepped Charlene Burns.

  She set her sunglasses on top of her head, saying, "I could use a moment alone with Brook Lynn, y'all."

  Kenna waited for Brook Lynn's nod of approval. Which she gave. Reluctantly.