He kicked the stand and planted both feet to hold the bike upright. She slid the tinted shield back in place and was amazed by the clear view, completely protected from the sun’s bright rays. He revved the engine to life and she tightened her hold with a small “eep.”
Somehow his deep voice spoke softly in her ears louder than the roaring machine. “Put your right hand up beside the visor, do you feel a small button there? Tap your index finger on my stomach twice if you find it.”
Jillian felt around the plastic until she located the smooth circle and thumped her finger on the soft cotton covering his surprisingly firm abdomen. When had Dean grown a six pack?
“Good.” The measured tone was gentle and managed to ensnare her already tangled stomach in a fresh knot, this one very different from the stress-induced ones she’d almost grown accustomed to. “If you press that you can talk to me through the Bluetooth mic in the facemask just like I’m talking to you now.”
With that instruction, he kicked the bike into gear and sped off down the road. Jillian immediately returned her arm to his waist and held on tight, pressing her body firmly against his back. When they made a left turn onto a main road, she lifted a shaky hand to the button he’d told her about. “This feels like a lot faster than thirty-five, Sparky.”
His answering laugh filled the helmet and the familiar sound managed to settle her nerves. “Trust me, Jillybean. I’d never let anything happen to you. Just relax and hold on tight.”
With the simple reminder that of anyone in the world, she could trust him, some of the tension drained from her spine. As their ride progressed she practically melted into him, falling in love with the fresh air circling around her body and the countryside seemingly flying past.
He was absolutely right. This was amazing.
Right up until soft drops of rain soaked through her shirt and quickly grew to hard pelting drops that bit into her skin.
Once more Dean’s voice came through the speaker and filled the space around her, first with a string of epithets. “I’m going to pull over up there a little bit. We can wait under the tree for this to pass.”
Even though the large oak was just a couple of hundred feet ahead, the sudden cloud burst dumped buckets of water on them both, thoroughly soaking her light top. By the time they parked, she was shivering behind him.
He helped her off the bike and pressed her against the trunk of the tree. “I’ve got something for you.”
Jillian’s teeth chattered as she stood with her back on the roughened bark, hugging herself tightly. Even if she caught pneumonia it would be totally worth it. That was the most fun she’d had in longer than she cared to admit.
Dean pulled her close to him and dropped a heavy jacket around her shoulders, tugging it together, and bringing near immediate warmth. He cupped her cheek and he tilted her head up to look at him. “Better?”
She swallowed a few times, her voice failing every time she tried to speak so she finally simply nodded in response.
His hand stayed pressed to her face, his thumb slowly stroking across her damp skin, his eyes never once leaving hers. “Jilly…I…”
His words died off as his lips connected with hers. Shock melted into a warmth far more consuming than the leather coat offered. Her arms fell from being wrapped around her own side to move hesitantly around his waist.
The deep groan in the back of his throat vibrated against her and he pushed her slightly until her back was once again pressed to the solid trunk of the massive tree. His mouth moved over hers with a mixture of reverence and passion she had never expected Dean Carlisle to be capable of.
Dean. This was Dean. Her best friend since childhood. The keeper of too many of her secrets and now the white knight she never knew she needed.
And she was kissing him.
He pulled back, breaking the magic that blanketed them in the moment.
Nearly.
His labored breathing matched hers. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t…Jilly, this wasn’t part of the plan.”
An unusual wave of disregard swept over her. “Plans can change, can’t they?” She snaked a hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his mouth toward hers once more. When a breath separated their lips she whispered, “Just for right now,” before losing herself in the kiss she didn’t know she wanted.
Chapter Fourteen
Dean
Twelve Years Earlier
“Hey, Mom, Jilly’s coming over later.”
Tracy Carlisle rolled her eyes at her son. “Hey, Mom, do you mind if Jillian comes over later?”
Dean frowned at his mother. “Same difference.” He shrugged and tossed the football he was carrying in the air. “You love it when she comes over more than I do.”
His mother stepped out from behind the kitchen island and grabbed the ball mid-air. “I do, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to ask.” She lifted her brows meaningfully at him and lowered her chin. “Understand?”
He grinned and stole the ball back from his mother with a wink. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to walk out the sliding glass door at the back of the house, but stopped and faced her again. “So…can she?”
She pressed her lips together in a thin line and nodded. “Of course she can.”
With a quick glance around to make sure Connor wasn’t hanging around to catch him in the rare moment of affection, he dropped a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek and dashed out the back door. In completely predictable Connor fashion, Dean found his older brother outside with an array of pencils that looked to him to be identical, but that Connor insisted were all very different, and a large sketchpad.
Connor glanced up long enough to see Dean descend the tall wooden steps that led from the expansive deck to the backyard before returning his focus to the paper laid out before him.
Dean stood in front of his brother, blocking his view of whatever the hell it was that he was drawing and volleyed the football back and forth between his hands. “Wanna play?”
With a small lift to one brow, Connor looked up and gave a curt shake of his head. “Not right now.”
He’d known it was a long shot. Connor was, by far, the least interested in any sport, unless you counted running as a sport, but with Tanner at college and Wyatt out who the hell knew where doing who the hell knew what, Connor was it by default. The close bond they shared may have meant they were each other’s confidant and closest friends, but it didn’t feed Dean’s moderately competitive nature.
“Come on.” He knew he was whining and he knew it was obnoxious, but he honestly didn’t care. “Just fifteen minutes. Or ten. The trees or the grass or whatever it is you’re drawing to get all the ooh’s and ahh’s from Mom and Aunt Sharon and the rest of your fan club will still be there.”
If it wouldn’t ruin the dynamic of good natured bickering, Dean would admit out loud his silent admiration for the inherent talent his brother possessed.
At Connor’s responding silence, Dean kicked at his foot a little. “Seriously, Jillybean is going to be coming over soon and she’ll want to watch that stupid reality show and I’ll be stuck inside for hours. Please, just a few minutes.”
Connor set his art supplies on the Adirondack chair next to the one where he sat and sighed. “I’ll compromise with you. I haven’t gone for a run yet. Go with me and I’ll knock my normal five miles down to just a mile and a half to compensate for your lazy ass.”
Dean glanced up at the still closed glass patio door. “Awfully ballsy to use that kind of language where Mom could hear, but it’s a deal as long as I get a raincheck for football soon.”
“You’re a fine one to talk, you’ve contaminated poor Jillian with your potty mouth.” Connor stood and stretched to his full six foot height, a fact that slightly annoyed Dean, who was still a good five inches shorter. “Let me run and change my shoes and I’ll meet you out front.”
The two ran at a moderate pace that still allowed them to talk and trade barbs, but were fast enough they managed to get back to
the Carlisle home just as Jillian walked up to the front door.
She lifted a perfectly manicured brow as the brothers approached. “Don’t you two look…athletic.”
Dean sucked in deep lungfuls of air. “Is that your hoity-toity way of saying we’re sweaty, disgusting pigs?”
Jillian scrunched up her chin and jutted out her lower lip slightly. “It’s called being polite, Sparky. You could try it once in a while.”
Pushing past her with an exaggerated bump of his hip into hers, he opened the front door and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll go…freshen up so I don’t offend you. Go ahead and cue up all the drama while you wait. Feel free to make me a sandwich while you’re at it.”
He added the last bit as he jogged up the steps and was fairly certain that, as long as his mother was still in the kitchen, Jillian was flipping him off behind his back. And just the mental image brought an immediate grin to his face.
***
Jillian
Twelve Years Earlier
“You forgot the popcorn, loser.”
Dean sighed and dropped down onto the couch beside her, passing a bottle of root beer. “We literally just had dinner twenty minutes ago. You can’t possibly be hungry.”
She turned to him, dipped her chin, and gave a hard stare. “Do you even know me?”
Grumbling just loud enough she could hear, but too low to make out the words, he stood and stomped off into the kitchen as she queued up the first of the three episodes remaining for their binge session. She snuggled deeper into the soft cushion, wishing her mother could value comfort over appearance with their furniture. None of it was even remotely plush enough to handle the hours she and Dean would sit watching their reality TV guilty pleasure.
Well, actually her guilty pleasure. Luckily, Dean was amused by the head-over-heels after one meeting insta-love the show was notorious for displaying. And he really enjoyed making fun of the guys she’d swoon over as they shyly offered a rose to the lucky winner.
Within a few minutes Dean returned with a heaping bowl of popcorn and a much smaller one of chocolate candy because he knew she loved to munch on the sweet and salty combination.
“You know you could’ve started without me.” He plopped down beside her and grinned. “It takes a few minutes for one of the girls to start crying or the dude to be a royal asshole.”
Jillian smacked the back of her hand against his chest. “Your mother might hear you.” She popped a few kernels in her mouth along with some of the chocolate, the blending of the two almost pure bliss. “Besides you need to be quiet so I can pay attention to who gets the one-on-one date. Ugh. I really hope it isn’t Rebecca. She is such an annoying know-it-all.”
“Nah, she and Dad went out grocery shopping. Me and my potty mouth are safe.” Dean rolled his eyes but stayed silent through the first two episodes.
Mostly.
“He’s a bad kisser.”
The comment laced with a note of grumpiness brought her attention from the screen to the boy sitting beside her. “Oh like you’re some expert?” Laughter bubbled up inside her. “You’ve been on, what, a grand total of five whole dates but you’re gonna compete with a thirty-year-old man?”
Dean chuckled and took a long draw from the glass bottle of soda. “Jillybean, dates aren’t the only times you can kiss a girl.”
Fire burned beneath her breastbone and crawled north up her neck, igniting her cheeks. She kept her eyes firmly focused on the screen even though she couldn’t recite what happened even if she were offered fifty million dollars. “So you think you know how to kiss better?”
He lifted one shoulder and set his drink on the stand beside the sofa. “I know a few things. Like he doesn’t tilt his head enough. And he should touch her. Her hand or her arm or her waist.” He gave her a smirk and winked. “That’s something Wyatt taught me.”
She lifted her leg onto the couch and angled it beneath her as she turned to face him. “So teach me.”
Almost as soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to suck them back in. This was a bad idea. A friendship ending level bad idea.
Or maybe not. It was just Dean, after all. Surely a small kiss couldn’t have the power to change their weird little bond that had been solid for seven years.
Dean’s sapphire eyes widened. “Y-you mean you want to kiss me?”
An immediate “yes” danced on the tip of her tongue and nearly made it free. “No, of course not, but if you’re so experienced and you can spot all the things he’s doing wrong, maybe you could teach me how to do it right before my next date.”
A dark cloud passed over his face and he quirked a single brow. “And exactly when is that and with who?”
Jillian heaved a sigh. “It’s hypothetical, Sparky. I just want to be prepared.” She frowned and lifted one shoulder. “Hey, if you aren’t as great as you say, you can feel free to back out now.”
Dean scooted forward until his knee bumped hers. “Is that a challenge, Jillybean?”
She smirked. “You’re the one bragging about your talents.”
His eyes darted from her face to the TV to the archway that led from the hall into the room and back to her again. “You’re not gonna…get all girly on me after this, are you?”
Jillian drew her brow together. “‘Get all girly?’”
“Yeah.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, start acting like you wanna be my girlfriend or something like that.”
She snorted and moved slightly closer to him, her leg wedging beneath his. “Listen, Sparky, you’re cool and you’re fun and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, but that is definitely not going to happen.”
“Okay.”
With that single word he leaned forward and moved a hand to grip the back of her neck. A swarm of butterflies beat their wings against her stomach as he inched nearer. When his mouth was a breath away from hers, he paused and she would have been certain her heart stopped beating as well if it weren’t for the loud thumping in her ears.
His lips brushed softly on hers once, then twice before his mouth clung to hers with soft, gentle motions that would have tickled if she hadn’t been lost in a moment and in a…feeling?
She moved to hold onto his shoulders and he adjusted the angle of his head, deepening the kiss slightly and tracing her lower lip with his tongue. When she looked back on that slice of their relationship, she could never pinpoint exactly how long it lasted, but the loud opening and closing of the kitchen door heralding his parents’ return ended it earlier than it would have on its own.
Despite the churning in her gut, the blood raging inside her like whitewater rapids, and the lack of oxygen in her lungs, she affected a nonchalant smile and silently hoped her best friend couldn’t see through it. Or at least wouldn’t call her out on it.
“Not too bad, Sparky. Maybe you have a future as a consultant for the next round of eligible men seeking true love among thirty women in nine weeks.”
He snorted and grinned. “I’m gonna go see if Mom and Dad need help carrying stuff in.”
Just as he rounded the back of the couch she turned on her knees and leaned over it. “Oh, see if they have ice cream!”
Chapter Fifteen
Dean
Present Day
For the fifth time Dean flipped over on the couch, trying desperately to find a position comfortable enough to finally fall asleep while knowing his insomnia had nothing to do with the sofa and everything to do with the memory of Jillian's lips on his. The reality of kissing an all-grown-up Jillian had nothing on their past teenage experiments or the fantasies he’d concocted in his own head.
Just as the first fingers of light began to stretch across the sky, Dean’s eyes finally closed and stayed that way until the strong aroma of fresh coffee teased his nose and pried his lids apart. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow to look over the back of the couch and into the kitchen where Jillian was moving around.
She turned from th
e refrigerator to the island and jumped slightly when her gaze landed on him. “You’re awake.”
Dean groaned, fell back onto the pillow, and threw an arm over his eyes. “That’s the rumor.” After a few moments he summoned the energy to sit up and plant his feet on the floor. “I’ve never needed coffee more in my life.”
He padded into the kitchen, attempting to step around Jillian as she assembled two breakfast sandwiches and heaped fried potatoes onto plates. Just as he filled his cup and moved to grab creamer from the fridge, she turned and they bumped into each other.
Simultaneous “I’m sorry’s” jumbled together and ended with Jillian heaving a hefty sigh. Her emerald green eyes locked onto his and his stomach churned.
She set the dishes on the table and leaned her hip against the surface. “Time to talk, Sparky.” She pulled her chair out, sat down, and gestured to his normal place at the table.
Dean fixed his coffee and took a seat diagonal to the one Jillian occupied. “Whatcha need to talk about?” As if he didn’t know. As if he hadn’t spent his entire night reliving every caress of her lips on his. As if he didn’t want to take this chance to tell her how he really felt for her.
“We’ve both been weird around each other since last night and that’s the last thing I want to happen to our friendship, much less to have that hanging over us for this…” she gestured between the two of them “…thing.”
His lips twitched with a repressed grin. “You mean marriage. The word is marriage. Wedded bliss. Happily ever after. Riding off into the sunset—”
She held up one hand. “All right, Sparky, let’s not get carried away. You know what I mean.” She dropped the fork she’d been holding and laid her hand on top of his, squeezing slightly. “There is nothing in this world worth ruining our friendship. You’ve been the only constant in my life since I was seven years old. I…don’t want to lose that.”
Meant to be More (Meant to Be Series Book 4) Page 11