Rob’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. He swiped it on and pressed it to his ear. After a minute, he whooped and then turned, announcing that Trent was coming. The other men seemed to know who that was because they shouted as well.
Their enthusiasm caused Jonathan to smile, even though he had no idea who Trent was. Then, Rob’s gaze fell onto Jonathan and his expression grew serious. He tipped the phone back to his lips.
“You know Tiffany and Beatrice are here,” Rob said.
Confused, Jonathan studied him. And then realization dawned on him. He remembered Tiffany saying something about a regret named Trent, but he wasn’t sure if it was the same guy.
Rob focused his gaze on the ground and then nodded a few times. “Right. Well, Tiffany has a date here too. I’m sure you two will be fine.”
Worry crept up into Jonathan’s stomach as he leaned forward to listen to what Rob was saying. Even though he was trying to act as if it didn’t matter, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel that Tiffany was about to have a major surprise.
Rob said goodbye and then hung up the phone. He glanced over at Jonathan and gave him a smile.
Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Who’s Trent?”
Rob shrugged. “An old friend,” he said. Just as he passed by Jonathan, he turned. “He’s actually Tiffany’s ex from a few years back. Something happened between him and Beatrice.” He shook his head. “A whole lot of drama you don’t want get into. But she’s dating you now, so everything should be good.” He gave Jonathan a wide smile as he joined the other guys.
From what Jonathan could pick out of their conversation, they were talking about which bar to go to for the bachelor party, but Jonathan really wasn’t listening. Instead, he was standing on the stupid pedestal, wishing his phone wasn’t in his pants that were hanging from the chair.
He needed to warn Tiffany before it was too late.
Chapter Eight
Tiffany sat on the cream-colored couch, sipping some champagne as Stacy twirled in front of her. She was wearing her wedding dress and fluffing her veil around her face.
Georgina, Beatrice, and Heather were standing next to her, exclaiming how beautiful she looked. She did look beautiful, but Tiffany really wasn’t in the mood to dote on her. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened with Jonathan outside the elevator after running into Beatrice on the way down for lunch.
He’d wrapped his arm around her and brought her next to him like she was his. Not like she was his friend. But his.
Shivers rushed across her skin as she pushed that thought from her mind. Had she gone mental? Jonathan was not a romantic interest for her. He was her friend. That was all.
Her. Friend.
“So tell us about Jonathan,” Heather said, turning to wink at Tiffany.
Tiffany had been mid-sip and inhaled a bit of champagne. Her eyes watered as she stifled the cough in her throat. “He’s, um…” She coughed a few times as she tried to figure out how to label him. “He’s the best guy a girl could ask for.”
“Then why is he with you?” Beatrice whispered as she passed by Tiffany.
Tiffany glared at her. The history between them was never going to die. It’d been a mistake, one that Tiffany wished she could take back. But she couldn’t, and Beatrice seemed set on hating Tiffany forever.
Deciding to ignore her, Tiffany glanced over at Heather, who was smiling—oblivious to the interchange between Tiffany and Beatrice. “He is a hottie, girl. Man, does he have brothers?”
Tiffany chuckled as she nodded. “Four actually.” She could hear Mrs. Braxton lamenting the single status of her sons. Tiffany was sure a wedding like this was exactly what Mrs. Braxton would use to change that.
Heather fanned her face. “Are they coming?” she asked with a giggle.
Tiffany furrowed her brow as she shook her head. “No. One’s dating my best friend, and the other two aren’t in South Carolina.“
Heather stuck out her bottom lip as she collapsed on the couch. “I’ve got the worst luck,” she said, folding her arms. “You’ve got a hot NFL player on your arm, and I’ve got Teddy, my dad’s accountant.”
Tiffany laughed. “Really? Your dad’s accountant?”
Heather picked up a pillow and chucked it at Tiffany. “Hey, he’s not that old.”
Tiffany caught the pillow and threw it back. “But is he young?”
Heather paused and then a giggle erupted. “You’re right. You’ve got me. But it’s better than coming to this shindig single.” Raising one hand next to her cheek to hide her gesture, she pointed toward Beatrice with her finger.
Tiffany flicked her gaze over to Beatrice and then back to Heather. She felt bad for her cousin. This was not a topic she liked discussing. Especially when she had a hand in what had happened.
Regret and sadness washed over her as she mustered a smile for Heather and then stood, making her way over to Stacy.
“You look beautiful,” she said, wrapping her arms around her cousin and giving her a squeeze.
Stacy laughed as she pulled back. “Well, thanks for coming.” Then she leaned in. “Is everything good between you and Beatrice?”
Tiffany shrugged. “We’ll make it work.”
Stacy pulled back to study her. Then she nodded. “Good. Cause I’m ready for my cousins to start talking to each other again.”
Tiffany nodded. “Of course.”
Stacy turned to the other girls and clapped her hands. “All right, I think Deb is finished with the last-minute fittings, so we are out of here in five.”
They cheered as Tiffany helped Stacy off the pedestal and into the dressing room to take off the dress.
Thirty minutes later, Tiffany was following Stacy and the other bridesmaids across the parking lot of Hotel Debonaire. When they got to the front doors, they slid open, revealing the hotel lobby.
Just as Tiffany was hit with the wave of air-conditioning, her stomach dropped.
There, standing next to the check-in desk, was Trent. Someone must have not noticed that she had stopped, because they plowed right into her.
“Hey,” Beatrice said, but then whatever else she was going say never came.
Turning, Tiffany studied her cousin, whose expression seemed to mirror exactly how she felt.
“What is he doing here?” Beatrice asked, whipping around to glare at Tiffany.
Tiffany held up her hands. “I didn’t invite him. How could I? I haven’t talked to him since…”
When the pained expression passed over Beatrice’s face, Tiffany decided that mentioning that night probably wasn’t the best idea, especially if she wanted her cousin to forgive her.
“Stacy,” Beatrice called out as she made her way over to the bride-to-be.
Trying not to look conspicuous, Tiffany headed over to the water cooler sitting along the far wall and grabbed a cup. After filling it, she took a long drink. Just as she turned, a familiar voice stopped her.
“Hey. Fancy meeting you here.”
Trent.
Turning, Tiffany gave him a quick smile. “Hey, Trent.” Then, realizing how close he was, she took a step back. “What are you doing here?”
Trent’s hair was blonder now. He had it styled in a way that looked like he wasn’t trying—even though he obliviously was. His blue eyes danced in a flirty way that made her stomach twist.
This was not good.
“Hey, I can be here. I’m friends with Rob.” He leaned in. “Unless you forgot that.”
Tiffany glanced over at Beatrice, who was watching them with her lips pinched and a pained expression on her face. Worried their interaction was giving her the wrong message, Tiffany stepped back and held her hand up to stop him from advancing.
Trent raised his eyebrows as he too flicked his gaze over to Beatrice and then back to Tiffany. “That’s over and you know it. It’s not my fault that she never got the memo.” Then he leaned closer. “I’ve missed you.”
Tiffany’s stomach twisted. T
his was not the conversation she wanted to be having. Especially not about her cousin who she wanted to fix her relationship with.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a warm arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her next to a very warm and very muscular body.
Jonathan.
And from the look on Trent’s face, he was just as startled as she was.
“Hey, babe,” Jonathan said as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Miss me?” His fingers fiddled with her dress and sent shivers down her spine.
“Hey. Name’s Trent,” Trent said, reaching his hand out for Jonathan to shake.
“Jonathan.”
They shook hands but remained quiet. Like they were sizing each other up.
“Here with Tiffany?” Trent asked after he finally dropped Jonathan’s hand.
“Yep. She brought me here to show me off.”
Tiffany laughed as she turned and pressed her hand to his chest. “You know me,” she said as she glanced sideways at Trent.
Trent was watching the two of them for a moment before he pushed his hands through his hair. “Got it. Well, it was good catching up with you,” Trent said, reaching out and resting his hand on her arm.
Tiffany pulled her arm away and nodded. “You too.”
Trent gave her one last look before making his way over to the elevator and pressing the up button. Once he was out of range, Tiffany let out the breath she’d been holding and turned to study Jonathan—who she had just realized was still holding onto her.
She patted his hand, letting him know he could let go of her, and then glanced up at him. It took a moment for Jonathan to drop his arm. When he did, he shoved both hands into his front pockets and turned to look at her. His eyebrow was raised, and he ran his gaze over her.
“So, that was Trent.”
Tiffany nodded. “That was Trent.”
Jonathan leaned forward. “Are we going to talk about Trent?”
Tiffany held onto the strap of her purse like it was a lifeline. “Nope.”
That seemed to surprise Jonathan. But Tiffany didn’t care. There was no way she could delve into her past with him. Not right now.
Just as she boarded the elevator to head up to the room, Jonathan stuck his hand out to stop the doors and then stepped on. His inquisitive look irritated her. He didn’t have to say anything. She knew he was never going to let her off that easy.
Eventually, she was going to have to tell him the truth.
They rode in silence up to the third floor, and, just as the doors opened, Tiffany hurried out.
Jonathan kept pace with her as she walked down the hall to their room. She swiped her card over the door’s sensor, only for the light to remain red. Tiffany let out a frustrated groan.
A warm hand engulfed her as Jonathan stilled her movement.
“Let me,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
Tiffany tried to not let it bother her. He didn’t mean anything by it. He wasn’t her doting boyfriend. He was just playing a part.
Turning back to the door, he swiped his card over the lock—which of course turned green right away—and pushed open the door, waving her inside.
“After you,” he said, winking as she moved past him.
Tiffany went over to the bed and collapsed on it. She sighed as she flopped onto her back. All sorts of emotions were rushing through her.
The bed shifted, signaling that Jonathan had joined her. Turning her head to the side, she studied him. When he met her gaze, he gave her a relaxed smile.
How could he be so calm about this?
“Do you really need to know?” she asked, flipping to her side and bending her arm so she could rest her head on her hand.
Jonathan shrugged. “No. But we haven’t really been the kind of friends who keep secrets from each other. Remember the pact?” He raised his pinkie finger and hooked it just as they had done pretty much their whole lives.
A feeling of sadness formed in the pit of her stomach as his words sank in. He was right. They’d always shared everything with each other. No matter what.
Why were things changing?
Before she allowed herself to delve into that thought, she pushed herself up and grabbed a pillow, hugging it as she sat on the bed.
“There’s not a lot to tell. Five years ago, Beatrice was dating Trent. And then she wasn’t, because I was.” Ugh. Just saying the words out loud made her sound like a terrible person.
Who did that to their family?
Jonathan was studying her. “Really? You stole her boyfriend? Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“I was too embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think bad of me.” Tiffany buried her face into the pillow. “What I did was awful,” she said softly, her voice muffled.
Jonathan tsked, drawing her attention up. He was studying her with a playful smile on his lips. “Such a player,” he said.
Frustrated, Tiffany grabbed the edge of the pillow and smacked him across the chest with it. “I am not. And, besides, he’s a jerk. I was just helping Beatrice out. Revealing his tendencies before she got sucked in further.”
Jonathan faked a hurt expression, but then he grabbed the pillow just as Tiffany went to whack him again.
He inhaled through his wide smile. “See, now that’s exactly what a player would say.”
“Oh!” she yelled as she launched herself forward and grabbed onto his shoulders. She shifted, trying to pull him down onto the bed, but Jonathan barely moved.
He laughed as he stared down at her. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Tiffany’s face heated as she glared at him. “I’m trying to wrestle you,” she said, hoping he felt the sheer weight of her menacing stare.
Jonathan quirked an eyebrow, and then he whipped his back down onto the bed, causing Tiffany to tumble on top of him.
He chuckled as he lay there, staring up at her. “You’re so strong,” he teased.
Frustrated, Tiffany pulled herself up and began tickling him. He twitched but remained calm.
Tiffany let out a growl as she sat up, sitting next to him. “You’re no fun anymore. I can’t compete against all of that.” She waved at his muscles.
Jonathan sat up, glancing down to where she gestured. He flexed as he brought his gaze back up to her. “All of this?”
Rolling her eyes, she nodded. “Yes.”
Jonathan leaned forward. “You better be careful. With all this talk about my body, I’m going to start getting a body complex.”
Tiffany snorted. “You? A complex? Not likely.” She grabbed the nearby pillow and flung it at him.
He caught it—of course—and peered over it at her. Then he threw it to the side and lunged at her. After pinning her down on the bed, he brought up her arm and dangled his fingers above her armpit.
Tiffany let out a squeal as she twisted, trying to free her hand so she could tickle him instead. But it was in vain. Jonathan weighed too much.
Then, he lowered his fingers and began to tickle her. Tiffany giggled and twisted.
“Okay, okay!” she squealed. “You win.”
Jonathan wiggled his eyebrows as he stared down at her. “I win?”
She let out her breath as she met his gaze. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how close they were. He was just a foot away from her, staring down at her with his dark, intense eyes.
Suddenly, his expression stilled as he reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. A shiver rushed across her body as his fingers brushed her skin. He studied her and she could see the gold flecks in his eyes.
Had he always had them? Why hadn’t she ever noticed?
Just as he parted his lips to speak, Tiffany’s phone rang, snapping her out of the trance she was in.
Suddenly needing to get as far away from him as she could, she patted his arm. He snapped back, flopping down on the bed as Tiffany got up and crossed the room to grab her phone from her purse.
“Hello?” she asked after she pressed the talk bu
tton.
“Tiff?”
“Stacy?”
“Yeah. A bunch of us are going down to the pool to hang out. Want to join us? You and Jonathan?”
Tiffany’s gaze made its way over to Jonathan, who was lying there with his eyes closed. Her heart picked up speed as she studied his features. Then, feeling like an idiot, she nodded. “Yeah, sure. We can join you guys. Be down in a few minutes.”
Stacy squealed her response, and a moment later, the call ended.
Tiffany sighed as she slipped her phone back into her purse. “I guess we’re going to a wedding party pool shindig,” she said.
Jonathan glanced over at her. “Pool party?”
Tiffany grabbed her black swimsuit out of her luggage and nodded. “Yep. So get changed.”
Jonathan pulled himself up and nodded. “Perfect. I could use some time in the water.”
Tiffany just smiled as she made her way into the bathroom and shut the door. Once there was a wall between her and Jonathan, her heart finally decided to calm down and return to a normal rhythm.
Sighing, she slipped on her suit and stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t be this discombobulated. Not when she was about to face Trent. She needed her wits about her, so her confusing feelings for Jonathan were not something she should be focusing on.
If only her body could agree with her mind, then she might actually survive this weekend.
Chapter Nine
Jonathan stood in the hotel room in his swim trunks and flip flops. The idea of swimming had lightened his mood after the confusion he’d felt on the bed. Why had he tickled Tiffany?
Why had he allowed himself to get so close to her?
It had been a stupid move.
He cleared his throat as he pushed his hands through his hair. He needed to stop these ridiculous feelings that crept up every time he was around her.
She was his best friend. That was it. If he allowed himself to acknowledge how he was feeling, he would ruin that friendship. And he couldn’t do that.
Frustrated with himself, Jonathan made his way over to the window and stared down at the pool. He could make out Stacy, Rob, and the rest of the wedding party down there.
Friendship Blooms in Honey Grove Page 7