So True

by Serena Bell

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “This is—amazing.” She took a step forward, to one side, then the other, like she didn’t know what to touch first. Finally, she set the French toast down on the front counter and went to the racks, touching the comics displayed there, then to the shelves. “Oh, my God, Jax, it’s so beautiful—it’s better than I even imagined.”

  Then she spotted the tables. “Oh. Oh, wow.” She hurried over, reached out and stroked the surface of the wood, and he felt it like a caress.

  The new tables were bigger than the old ones, and each one had cutouts in the surface to hold game pieces, and shelves underneath that would slide out to make extra room for individual player’s boards, cards, and other fiddly bits. He showed her how the shelf pulled out, and she put her hand to her mouth. Her eyes filled up with tears.

  “Jax. I—I love them.”

  It was the tears, or his name on her lips, or the soft gratitude all over her face that did him in, he thought later.

  She turned toward him. Her eyes were full of that thankfulness and amazement, and he could see that she’d forgotten that she was supposed to be careful around him. She was going to hug him, and he was going to let her.

  She came into his arms, and she was the same combination of strong and soft that had totally wrecked him ten years ago. She smelled exactly the same, too.

  Holding Chiara, he was overwhelmingly, almost painfully, aware of how alive she was. How her heart beat and her blood rushed and her body was filled with the energy that made her Chiara. Every time he’d ever held her like this, his body had instantly reacted to hers, like two voices finding a shared pitch. Right now was no exception. His heart thundered, his blood pulsed, and his body was about to make it abundantly clear how much he wanted her.

  She’d gotten very still in his arms.

  She felt their connection, too. He knew she did. He knew her stillness as well as he knew her liveness.

  Her head came up in slow motion, her face tipped toward his, her lips parted in welcome. All he needed to do was lower his head, and he’d catch her mouth in the sweetest, hottest kiss ever.

  His body craved that kiss so much, a fierce ache.

  It’s a terrible idea.

  I don’t give a shit.

  He could feel her breath on his lips when sudden awareness moved through her body. A subtle change. The temperature dropping. Her lips were gone, her face tilted away, and then she was stepping back, reaching up to smooth her hair into place.

  Putting everything back in order.

  He opened his mouth to say her name. Plead with her, maybe, but just then a shadow passed in front of the game shop door and the bells jangled and the moment was lost.

  25

  She was shaking all over, if she was honest with herself.

  Because he’d brought her vision almost perfectly to life. Everything she’d seen—the shelves, the racks, the paint colors, the new carpet—and things she hadn’t been able to imagine, like those beautiful tables.

  He must have been working every waking hour when they weren’t together. Laboring with her vision—with her—in his head.

  And then—

  His body against hers had been the best thing she’d felt in years. Hard and warm and supple, the flex of muscle against her clothing and her skin.

  She’d registered a longing so fierce it had knocked common sense straight out of her head. She’d only recovered a functional brain cell at the very last minute, just before they’d hit “oops” and “I’m really sorry” territory.

  Because that’s what it would have been. A mistake. Obviously the chemistry between them was alive and well, but that didn’t mean she had to fold like a cheap fan.

  Thank God she’d nipped that one in the bud. So, so many reasons that sucking face with Jax would be a bad idea. One, he was leaving town any minute now. Two, she was leaving town any minute now, assuming she got her dream job. And three, the last time she’d kissed Jax, she’d ended up with a broken heart.

  So. Catastrophe avoided. Doomed kiss averted. And here they were, eating French toast.

  They had helped their customers find a copy of Machi Koro, wrapped the board game for a birthday present, and sent them on their way, and then they’d sat at the new demo table with French toast, even though it made Chiara super nervous. But Jax said it would be fine; he’d deliberately varnished the tables to within an inch of their lives to withstand all manner of sticky kid touching. “Maple syrup will wipe right off.”

  “How did you do all this? I literally don’t think there are enough hours in the day.” She swept her arm out to indicate everything in the shop. New racks, new shelves, the counter he’d already built, which she understood now was the one thing too big to transport from Levi’s workshop to here. And the tables, which every time she looked at them made her chest hurt, for reasons she wasn’t sure she could even put into words.

  “I didn’t sleep much,” he admitted. “Which was partly to get it done in time and partly because it was so damn much fun. More fun than I’ve had in years. It felt like—”

  He clammed up, then.

  What had he been about to say?

  “It felt good. And doing something for Evan felt super satisfying.”

  Right. Right. For Evan. She was glad he’d said that, glad he’d reminded her of the fundamentals of the situation. If only he’d reminded her before she’d tilted her face up to his like a flower turning toward the sun—but you couldn’t have everything.

  “He’ll be out tomorrow,” Jax said. “I’ll bring him in here and show him.”

  “He’s going to love it,” Chiara said. “He’s going to be crazy about it.”

  And it would also mark the end of this—this weird, awkward, wonderful, crazy period of her and Jax collaborating. And then he really would leave. “Are you going to take off once he’s home from the hospital?”

  He shifted uneasily, one foot to the other. “Yeah. I’ll stick around a day or two to get him settled, make sure he’s okay, then head out. I have to get back and start things up down there, or I’ll be behind on my next project.”

  And she was supposed to be glad of that. She was supposed to be glad that he was going to take his attractive, denim-clad, tool-belt-garlanded ass out of her field of vision, so she could stop doing stupid things that would eventually land her in a world of hurt.

  “Did you get this done today, on purpose, so it would be finished for the ‘Gaming with Kids of All Ages’ workshop?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re amazing, Jax Walker.”

  He was looking at her in a way that made her throat hurt and her chest tight and, yes, she would admit it, her low belly achy. So, of course, she looked away.

  She finished her French toast and got up and tossed out the take-out box. And when she looked back at him, he was focused completely on his food.

  “I’m going to set up for the event,” she said.

  “Let me know if you want my help. If I won’t mess with your genius.”

  She smiled at that. “I’ll yell if I can use newbie assistance.”

  26

  The event was a bust.

  Not from the perspective of the people who attended. The four families who participated had a great time. One came with an eighty-year-old Grandma and two teenagers. One with four kids, ages three through fourteen. The other two had two kids each, but widely spaced in age. She’d definitely identified an important audience—people who couldn’t get all their family members together at one game table without a world war breaking out.

  And she found games for all of them—like, the family with the eighty-year-old Grandma and two teenagers played Taboo—and Grandma was, hands-down, the reigning champ. She sent every family home with games.

  It wasn’t enough, though. Evan needed more people in the store.

  She was going to figure this out. Somehow.

  First, though, she had a date with Auburn, Willa, and Vannah to go dress shopping. Willa had convinced her
friend Erin Mackey, who owned Bay Boutique, to keep her shop open for a couple of bonus hours so the four of them could look for dresses.

  As she walked into town, she found herself desperately wanting to tell Auburn what had happened—or, well, almost happened—with Jax.

  She had almost kissed him. She still couldn’t believe it.

  The longer it stayed true, the more she couldn’t stop thinking about it—his arms around her, his breath brushing across her face, the expression in his eyes. Lust, yes, but something else.

  If loving Jax had been the most rewarding thing she’d ever done, being loved by him—

  She couldn’t let herself think about it, because it wasn’t an option.

  Only Auburn understood both pieces—how much Jax had meant to her, and why she couldn’t let it happen again.

  Which also meant that as much as she wanted to tell Auburn the story, she was also scared of Auburn’s reaction. Her sister could be fierce when one of her siblings was in danger, whether emotional or physical, and almost kissing Jax was definitely danger territory.

  She was suddenly so glad that she’d roped Willa and Vannah into the evening, because with them there—and Erin, too—there was at least a passing chance that the subject of Jax would never come up.

  She stepped inside the shop to find all her girls already there. Her heart leapt to see them together.

  Willa had clearly taken care of introductions. She and Vannah were standing with Erin and Auburn at the front desk, sipping wine, chatting animatedly. The shop had a breezy, open vibe, even as the sun was setting outside, with white walls, light wood, and muted, gorgeous colors. Erin had pulled all her dresses onto one rack for them and wheeled it next to the fitting rooms, which were curtained, with pretty beaded tiebacks.

  The door of the shop was propped open, and as she entered, she could hear that Willa was asking questions of Auburn a mile a minute—when had she bought Beachcrest and what changes was she making and how was inn ownership? Willa said that she had sometimes wanted to own an inn herself, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to quit her job at the North Coast Gazette—it was true it paid shit, but she loved being at the center of things. Auburn was eating up the attention, Vannah was sipping her wine and munching brie on a cracker, and everyone was happy.

  Auburn glanced over, saw her, and called out her name. Everyone looked up, gave her warm smiles, and folded her into hugs and greetings.

  “Oh, Chiahhhhhhra … ” Vannah sang out. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”

  “No?” Chiara attempted. But she had a bad feeling she knew where this was going.

  “Jax Walker is back in town.”

  Auburn’s gaze flashed to hers—alarmed and sympathetic. “He’s not back in town,” Auburn told Vannah. “He’s just in town. For a very short visit.”

  Having her sister on her side made Chiara able to catch her breath again. She shot her sister a grateful look, and Auburn telegraphed back, Gotcha, babe.

  “And you didn’t think that was maybe a fact you should mention to Willa and me? As reunion planners? Or, say, your friends?” Vannah crossed her arms. She didn’t look hurt or mad. Just schoolteacher stern, and her voice was definitely amused.

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Willa and Erin were looking back and forth from Vannah to Chiara to Auburn, clearly starting to grasp that something was up.

  “That’s not what I hear,” Vannah said brightly. “I hear he spends all his time either up at Cape House or at his brother’s shop—where, as we know, you are currently working.”

  “He was building stuff for the shop.”

  “Yeah?” Vannah teased.

  “She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Auburn said fiercely, looping an arm around Chiara’s shoulders. The affection and support made tears burn behind her eyes.

  Auburn’s tone had gotten through to Vannah, who looked stricken. “Shit,” Vannah said. “I put my foot in my big mouth, didn’t I? I knew things didn’t end the greatest, but I didn’t realize—I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

  “I thought I was over it,” Chiara admitted. “But it’s apparently still a sore spot.”

  “Just ignore me. I can be so oblivious.”

  All four women were looking at her with soft eyes. And it wasn’t that Chiara had wanted to keep this a secret from her friends. It was more like she wanted to talk about it so badly that she knew she shouldn’t. Like, if she opened her mouth, it would all come pouring out.

  So of course, she opened her mouth.

  “His being here has nothing to do with me. He’s building for his brother. Who’s in the hospital. It’s his brother’s shop, you know? And he just wants to fix it up for him. With, like, new shelves and racks and tables and stuff. And paint and flooring. And I try to stay out of his way—”

  They were all listening sympathetically.

  “Not so easy, huh?” Willa asked gently.

  And that was it. She cracked. “God, no. It’s not. He’s right there in the shop, and he’s being unbelievably nice. And he’s hot, like all shirt-off and tool-belt and—gah! He’s built all this amazing stuff for the shop. You should see the tables. They’re gorgeous. And then Friday night my car broke down on the way back from Seattle—”

  Auburn’s eyes got huge. “You should have called me!”

  “I—”

  They were all watching her.

  “I didn’t want anyone to have to come get me. I was going to just stay over and wait for the car to get fixed. But I texted Jax because I needed him to watch the shop on Saturday.…”

  “He gave you a ride?” Auburn hazarded.

  Chiara nodded, biting her lip. She took a deep breath. She might as well get it all out there.

  “AndthenthismorninghealmostkissedmeandIalmostlethim.”

  “What?” Willa asked.

  But Auburn appeared to have heard perfectly well. “Oh, honey.”

  “I didn’t. I didn’t kiss him.”

  “That’s—good?” Willa said uncertainly.

  “Yes! It’s good that I didn’t!”

  They were all looking at her.

  “What happened after you didn’t kiss him?” Auburn asked.

  “I pretended nothing had happened. I’m going to keep pretending it never happened. Forever. And he seems perfectly happy to go along with that.”

  Auburn closed one eye. “Sooo much easier said than done.”

  “It’s just stupid lust!” Chiara discovered that her voice had risen in pitch, and she hastily tamped it back down. “It means absolutely nothing, and it will only cause trouble.”

  “How can you tell it’s just stupid lust?” Willa asked. She sounded genuinely curious.

  “I can tell the difference between stupid lust and real emotion.”

  “I’m glad someone can,” Willa muttered.

  Auburn swept a hand through her curls, which were—in a rare move—unbound and wild around her face. “I’ve never met someone who actually can. People claim they can. But they turn out to be wrong. Usually in the thinking-it’s-lust-but-really-it’s-more direction. Especially if there’s history,” she said pointedly. “Because sometimes I think stupid lust is your body’s way of telling you that there’s some real emotion in there. Sometimes I think your body knows first. Or, you know, your snake brain. That deep-down part of you that’s smarter than all the thinking you can do.”

  Chiara sighed. “Well, whatever part of me it is that wanted to climb Jax Walker like a tree, it wasn’t a smart part. It’s the stupidest idea I can imagine. I mean, let’s get real. Who’d be dumb enough to give someone a second chance after what he did to me?”

  Auburn nibbled her thumbnail. “Mmm. What happened to ‘past performance doesn’t indicate future results?’”

  “Romance is not finance,” Chiara said.

  Auburn smiled wryly. “No. No, it is not.”

  “Seriously. I’m turning over a new leaf. Starting now. Well, starting, technically, right
after I didn’t let him kiss me. No more letting him drive me around. No more admiring his—”

  “Forearms?” Willa suggested.

  “Shoulders?” Vannah proposed.

  “Racks?” Auburn said innocently.

  “Can we please talk about something else?”

  “Yes,” Erin said. “I’ve got some beautiful dresses for you ladies to try on.”

  It was a very effective subject change, mainly because Erin’s dresses were gorgeous. And there was something for everyone—an adorable cap-sleeved wrap dress for Auburn’s curves, a mermaid sheath for Willa, who was tall enough to pull it off, and a full-skirted dress with sweetheart neckline for Vannah, who looked adorable in everything.

  Chiara tried on six dresses before she found one she loved. It was a periwinkle blue empire-waist, delicately beaded.

  Willa gasped gratifyingly when she came out of the dressing room.

  “That’s the one I’d pictured for you!” Erin said.

  “It reminds me a little—” Auburn stopped. She surveyed the dress from top to bottom, and then her gaze landed on her sister’s face.

  “What?” Erin asked.

  “My prom dress,” Chiara said, waving it off. “It’s really nothing like it. Maybe the color. And the beading.”

  “And the fabric,” Auburn whispered.

  “I always tell my customers, we know what we love,” Erin said. “I have people who literally, every time I get a gray sweater in stock, buy it, then come in the next time and laugh at themselves and say, ‘I always buy gray sweaters!’ We buy what we love, over and over.”

  “I did love that dress,” Chiara said. “Whatever happened to that dress?”

  “I think Mom consigned it that fall,” Auburn said. “Along with all our homecoming and Sadie Hawkins dresses.”

  That would have been one of the last things she’d done before she died, then.

  “She loved that dress, too,” Auburn said.

  The three of them had gone shopping together, and when Chiara had tried it on, her mother’s eyes had gotten big and bright. “Oh, Kee,” she’d said. “It’s perfect.”