Friendship, Texas Series: Volume 1

by Magan Vernon

  Clay grimaced but forced a smile. He didn’t talk too much about his time in the Army. He’d recently been medically retired after the truck he was driving was hit and pinned his leg. He was one of the luckier ones to make it out alive. Though I was pretty sure it still haunted him. I don’t think anything like those images could ever leave a person.

  “Dad, why don’t you head to your spot at the table? I’m just about to get the turkey out for Tameem to carve,” Lydia said, putting her hands on Gramps’ shoulders and offering Clay a small smile.

  Gramps frowned. “Okay, okay, I know when the old man isn’t wanted.”

  I went to follow Gramps toward the table when I felt Eddie’s hand go on the small of my back and his lips press to my ear. “He’s right, you know. You are a knockout.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, continuing to walk.

  Before I could make it into the dining room, Eddie pulled me off to a small hallway that led to the bedrooms. I gasped as my back was pinned against the wall and Eddie splayed his hands on my waist, his face just inches from mine. My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I had to control my breathing. I’d dreamed about this scenario many times, and usually, it involved him pressing me up against the wall, kissing the hell out of me, and then taking all of me. But I didn’t want any of that to happen at his parents’ house when everyone was there for the family Thanksgiving.

  “What’s going on, Brooke? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me since Monday night. Is this because of the guy in Austin?” he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “I have not. I’ve just been busy.” It was a half-truth. I was working on a book, but I also didn’t want to deal with seeing him. I didn’t want to think about how hard I was falling back in love with this guy just to have him leave again.

  “Bullshit, Brooke Carrington. I could call your bullshit when we were kids, and I can call it now. You’re upset about something, and I know it. Is this about Nashville? Because say the word and I’ll call my agent to get another seat on the jet and have you go with me. Fuck what reporters and the rumor mill will say.”

  “There’s a rumor about us?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Eddie smiled, shaking his head. “The church ladies do like to talk, you know. Mrs. Rhonda cornered me as soon as I got out of choir and asked me if I was staying for good. Said a little bird told her that I was bedding Brooke Carrington, and I’m pretty sure I know what bird was causing a scene at church with her water bottle of wine.”

  I scoffed. “You have no proof that was me.”

  Eddie’s smile turned into an all-out grin as he wiped the crease between my brow. “Yep. You got that little wrinkle. You’re lying, and I know it. Noah told me all about you and your water bottle. Just like old times.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Fine, okay, I made a joke in front of the church ladies, and I was a little tipsy. Yes, I am upset you’re going to Nashville. It’s like just when things start to get good between us, you up and leave. What if you don’t come back?”

  Eddie reached down, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. “That’s why I asked you to come with me. Then you don’t have to worry. I mean your boyfriend might, though.”

  I sighed, looking at our connected hands. “I wish I could, but I can’t leave Mom. We have to go to the lawyer next week to finalize all of Dad’s stuff. She may look like she’s doing okay, but I know she’s a wreck. We all are.”

  Eddie nodded. “I understand.”

  “And I don’t have a boyfriend. At least, not according to Facebook. Drake is now listed as single, and I guess I am too,” I blurted.

  Eddie smiled slightly. Reaching his free hand into my pocket, he pulled out my phone, unlocking it and typing a few things on the screen before he put it back in my pocket.

  “What was that for?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “This time I’m not leaving without you having my number and me having yours. I just sent myself a text. Now, I’m not going to sleep at night until I get that good night text from you or waking up in the morning without a hello, you got it?” he asked.

  I smiled. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

  He leaned in and lightly kissed my cheek, leaving a tingling sensation where his mouth so briefly touched my skin. “And you like it.”

  ***

  How I got roped into hunting with the boys was still a mystery to me. I just knew there were some shots of thirty-year-old scotch, some weird looks from my mom and brother, and before I knew it, I was in a camo jacket, jeans, and an old t-shirt, sitting in a deer stand with Eddie.

  The aluminum and polyester structure, placed in one of the taller oaks, was about six feet tall and six feet wide, so we could easily both fit in it. But I wouldn’t say that it was the most comfortable thing in the world.

  “How much did you drink? I thought you could drink me under the table until I saw you go at it with Grandpa.” Eddie laughed, looking down at me where I sat on the floor while he was crouched, looking out the window.

  “If I puke and scare the deer away, I’m sorry. Scotch and pumpkin pie don’t mix,” I said, holding onto my twisting stomach.

  “Aw, when did Brookey get to be a lightweight? Maybe you should stick to wine.” He set his shotgun down and then slowly sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulder.

  I rested my head in the crook of his neck. “The only hard alcohol I’ve ever really drank was with you by the pond and a few stupid keggers in college. I’ve always been more of a wine or girly drinks girl. Drake tried to get me into bourbon tasting, but that stuff tasted like that fake blood from the Halloween store,” I said, whinier than I intended.

  Eddie laughed, the low timbre vibrating from his throat and onto my forehead. “How do you even know what that tastes like?”

  “I was part of the stage crew for Baylor’s production of Julius Caesar. That stuff is hard to clean off and gets EVERYWHERE.”

  “Everywhere?” Eddie asked, his hand sliding down my arm.

  “Are you really trying to put a move on me in a deer stand?” I asked, looking up to meet his beautiful brown eyes. I’d been waiting for this moment since he first came home, and now, I was afraid of puking all over him.

  “If I was?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “I’d say for Country’s Sexiest Crooner, you’re doing a terrible job at seducing your drunk best friend.”

  Eddie laughed. “Yeah. I’ll admit, I’ve been home over a month and haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I guess I’ve just been too chicken shit to make a move.”

  He tapped his fingers on my waist. “So you’re single. I’m single. You’re drunk in my Gramps’ deer stand.”

  “And what does all of that equal?” I asked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

  “That I should do something I probably needed to do years ago,” he whispered as he turned toward me and cupped my face in his hands. His lips barely grazed mine then traveled down my neck. His fingers worked their way to the zipper on my coat, pulling it down and giving him access to my neck where he immediately left a trail of kisses. I bit my lip to keep from moaning as his tongue slid across my collarbone. I’d waited so long to have Eddie touch me, and now, I was afraid this was all a very drunken dream

  “I’ve been waiting to taste you forever,” he whispered before nibbling at the sensitive skin.

  “Then you should have done this sooner,” I murmured.

  He laughed against my skin. “Probably.”

  His hand moved lower, his fingers meeting the skin where my shirt didn’t hit the top of my jeans. Ever so slightly, he slid his hand up my shirt, tracing the lines of my stomach.

  Grabbing the back of his head, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him with everything I had. I might have been kind of tipsy and in a tree but if Eddie Justice was going to leave again, I wanted him to remember me this time. I couldn’t go without tasting him.

  I briefly broke our kiss only to whisper in his ear, “Still al
ways keep a condom in your wallet?”

  He raised his eyebrows, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Eddie, I may be a romance writer and know I should have a way with words, but right now I can’t think of anything else to say, but to ask you to please fuck me in this deer stand.”

  He grinned, shaking his head, and then leaned in to place a small kiss on my lips. “I’m not sure if this thing is sturdy enough for every way I would take you.”

  I shrugged off my coat and lifted my shirt over my head. At least when I changed out of my dress, I still kept on the lacy strapless bra.

  Eddie hovered over me before leaning closer and placed feather-light kisses on my collarbone, then down my chest to my stomach.

  I moaned, leaning back and arching my hips forward. I thought this would be a sexy move until I heard a snap.

  Everything went in slow motion as Eddie’s head flew up then his forehead smacked me in the face as the plastic wall of the deer blind fell over us, and I went back first to the ground covered in plastic pieces and a large camouflage tarp.

  “Holy hell, are you two all right?” Gramps’ voice boomed.

  Shit. I was still in just my bra and jeans, and Eddie was on top of me.

  “Yeah, just leaned too far over,” I said, trying not to panic.

  “Let’s get y’all out,” Tameem’s accent came through the plastic.

  Before either Eddie or I could protest, both men were tangling with the plastic covering, and we rolled out, arms and legs splayed while on our backs.

  I closed my eyes, hoping maybe this was a bad dream, even though I definitely knew it wasn’t.

  Some sort of fabric was thrown on me, and Gramps whistled. “Well, now I see why you wanted to hunt so bad, Brookey, but you should have saved that for the back of the truck like most people do.”

  “Gramps,” Tameem scolded.

  I put on the camo coat that Eddie threw at me and then took his hand to help me up from the ground. I kept my eyes down; I couldn’t look at anyone.

  “Um, I think I’m just going to head home.” It was all I could figure out to say.

  “I’ll take you on the four-wheeler,” Eddie said, putting his arm around me.

  “Don’t be fornicating on that, either. We wouldn’t want to have to save your asses out in the woods,” Gramps yelled, cackling as we walked away.

  Eddie and I rode in silence back to my house. It wasn’t until we reached the back patio and he turned off the engine that he finally spoke.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, watching me stand up.

  “It’s fine. My fault. I got a little too excited, I guess,” I said, trying to give him an out.

  “I’d rather have you that way, than not care at all. I swear I think Mary liked looking at her phone more than she liked to look at me.”

  It was the first time I’d heard Eddie talk about his now ex-fiancée. “Do you miss her?” I asked. Damn, maybe I was still too drunk to be asking those kinds of questions.

  He blew out a breath. “I think I miss the companionship, but we both knew it was over a long time ago. I just don’t think either of us wanted to admit it, though.”

  It was how I’d felt with Drake for a long time—like he was just my substitute, and now the guy I’d been dreaming about since I was a kid was staring me in the face. And possibly staring down my shirt, as well.

  “I should probably go change before my mom sees us and wonders what the hell I’m doing outside in my bra and your jacket.”

  Eddie smiled. “Probably the same thing my gramps thought.”

  I punched his shoulder. “Shut up.”

  He laughed then leaned in, placing a light kiss on my cheek. “I’ll text you when I get in and when I leave for Nashville, and do the same with that good night and good morning message, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, not able to hold in the giant smile on my face. I’d finally kissed Eddie Jahid after almost thirty years of waiting, and now he was leaving me again. Hopefully, this time it wouldn’t be for long. Otherwise, he’d just be leaving me with the memory of our kiss.

  Chapter 8

  As soon as I woke up on Friday, I sent a good morning text to Eddie. I did the same thing on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. I had no idea when he was going to be back and hoped he really was coming back.

  Renovations closed the Forever Sweet Bakery for now, so instead of driving into Rockwall or Wylie, I camped out on the dining room table with my laptop and a whole bunch of notes.

  Sales were absolutely down the shitter. I’d tried listening to podcasts, paying for ads, and doing giveaways, but nothing was working.

  I was in a few groups on Facebook composed of different authors. I’d never met any of them in person, but we all had a common bond in writing and this crazy publishing world.

  I sucked in a deep breath and got to typing.

  Okay, honesty time. My sales suck. Like seriously in the toilet. I don’t have another job or another place to live than my old bedroom at my mom’s ... or grovel and go live with my ex. What the hell do I do to boost my sales?

  There it was. Out there in the open for all of my author friends to judge me.

  Seconds later, I had a private message from my author friend, Sydney Valdez. We private messaged on a regular basis, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to message me something random like, “My girls use Herbal Essence shampoo (the original kind), and it smells so good. It takes me back to the 90s and the old orgasm commercials.” There were also other discussions about books, writing, and she was the only person besides my family who knew of my unrequited love for Eddie.

  Yo. I’m making pasta salad, but I can take some time out to talk to you.

  I smiled and typed my reply.

  Is this to give me advice that I need to just write the next book and stop worrying?

  I watched the three little dots flash on the screen to let me know that she was typing back, but they were taking forever. Finally, her response came through, and I had to scroll down a few times to read all of it.

  Tough love, Brooke. I love you and your books, but we both know that you don’t love them. You’re kind of just writing whatever you feel like might sell at the moment, finding the cheapest editor and cover designer you can, and then throwing it up on Amazon. Why don’t you actually work on that book you’ve been working on for the past year about the girl and the best friend who finally find each other and fall in love? That’s the only one of your books I’ve actually wanted to keep beta reading #sorrynotsorry.

  I frowned and typed back.

  My books aren’t that bad, are they?

  They’re okay, but you know they lack heart. You’re embarrassed to even promote them. And now that you have your real-life muse around, why not use him?

  I sighed. Sydney was probably right. She usually was.

  I closed out of my Word doc for “Cupcake Confessions” and opened the Word doc I hadn’t opened in months. The one titled “Rumor Has It.”

  Justin Edwards was my first love and the last guy I ever made love to.

  Holy hell, I wrote those words a long time ago, when I never actually thought I’d see him again. I was just daydreaming one night, after a few glasses of Rose and a Disney movie marathon, when the idea came to me. Now, I had to actually work on it.

  I sucked in a deep breath and then pulled up my playlist for the book. The first song that came up was “When I’m with You,” the song that Eddie had told me he wrote for me.

  Without thinking of anything but his crooning voice and smile, my fingers started flying across the keys. This was the first time in a long time that I was enjoying and loving every word I typed.

  Morning turned to afternoon, and I wouldn’t have even noticed the time, had I not heard a loud bang and then look up to see Clay with his hand on the table. “That must be some book. I’ve been yelling your name for like five minutes.”

  I took out my earbuds and saved my Word doc befo
re exiting out of it. “Hey. Yeah, I finally got inspired. What’s up?”

  “So Christy said something today, and it got me thinking,” Clay said, taking the seat across from me and folding his hands on the table.

  “Christy? The ranch owner’s daughter who you’re always complaining is a royal bitch,” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “And why do you suddenly care what she says?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Can I just talk to you without being interrogated?”

  “Fine.” I held my hands up then closed my laptop. “You have my undivided attention.”

  “I want to buy a house.”

  “Come again?” I asked.

  “A house. You know, I figure I’ll stay around here a while. I don’t know; maybe even go to school or something. But they have really good loan rates for veterans, and it would be a good investment to get a house in this really good North Texas housing market right now.”

  I sucked in a breath. I’d never done more than sign my name on a lease, and that was in college. I never actually signed my name on the apartment in Austin because that was too much commitment. I just paid Drake a check every month. Now, my little brother was actually going to put down roots.

  “That’s awesome, Clay. If you have the money and want to stay here, that’s great. Mom will love that.”

  Clay ran his hand over his now red-tipped blond Mohawk. “Yeah and I think she would love it if you agreed to move into my house.”

  “What?” I couldn’t have heard him right. Was my brother asking me to stay with him and in Friendship?

  “I mean I’m not asking for you to help me buy the place. You can just pay me rent every month or help with the utilities and groceries or whatever. It’s the only way I can probably afford the place, and there is no one else I’d rather share a place with.”

  “That’s a lot to think about, Clay. I mean you just got out of the Army a few months ago, I’m just getting used to things, Dad’s gone.”