by Liza Kendall
So he felt guilty, sitting across the rough wooden table from her and not being attracted to her on more than a surface level. He felt bad that he didn’t enjoy her company. He could feel her frustration and puzzlement and the wound to her ego, just as much as he could feel the perspiration and the chill of his beer bottle.
He felt the crazy urge to apologize to Bridget. Some version of the “It’s not you; it’s me” speech he’d given her four years ago. But that would be even more offensive, since he’d be giving voice to the currently unspoken and unacknowledged rejection that hung in the air. Shut it and keep it shut, you jackass.
He found his gaze straying back to Charlie, who was still deep in conversation with his sister at the bar. Lila’s shoulders were hunched and her head was cocked at a dejected angle, and Charlie put her hand on Lila’s and squeezed it.
This was more than a bitch session about Bridezilla.
Charlie’s hand remained on Lila’s, and Jake remembered the way it had felt on his own. In his own. Her skin soft, her fingers tapered, her nails free of any polish.
He became aware of a deadly silence across the table from him. Bridget took a perfect sip of her beer and waited. For what?
“Uh,” he said, at his most articulate. “So . . . how is your dad?”
Judging by the flash of hostility in her blue eyes, this was exactly the wrong question to ask. “I was just telling you that, Jake. But I guess you weren’t paying attention.”
“Bridge, I’m sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”
“Clearly.”
He could almost see the gears turning in her head, telling her to warm up her smile and play it casual.
“Want to talk about it?” she said.
His gaze returned to Charlie, to the way the barstool hugged her curves. “It’s complicated.”
Bridget followed his eyes; her own narrowed at the sight of competition. And as if Charlie felt them looking at her, she turned her head. Lifted an eyebrow.
Jake raised his Shiner Bock in a wry toast.
“Are you serious, Jake?” Bridget said. “You’re thinking about going there again?”
“What?” He so didn’t need this right now. “No. Of course not. I’m just a little worried about Lila, is all.”
“Is that right? Yeah, your little sister’s got herself into a situation, or hadn’t you heard?” Bridget washed down the faint tinge of malice in her tone with another sip of her beer.
Jake stiffened. He didn’t like hearing Lila spoken about in such a tone. He sure as hell didn’t like Lila having a situation that people like Bridget knew enough to gossip about but that he knew nothing about. Jake was racking his brain for a polite out from a conversation that was about to go south, fast, when a shadow fell across the rough wooden table—a curvy, Charlie-shaped shadow, which brought with it the scent of jasmine and fresh lime. And to his surprise, his heart skipped a happy beat.
“Jake, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think Lila needs you.”
Jake tried to process this. His little sister . . . needed him? Since when? And when the hell had seeing Charlie started to feel good? First, he’d gotten used to the dark memories of her. And then he’d gotten used to feeling blank. But good? Good was . . . bad. Terrible, in fact.
“Lila needs me?”
“Yeah. Believe it or not, she does.”
Chapter 13
Charlie could still read Jake like a book.
When Bridget had walked into Schweitz’s in her pink cowboy boots and made a beeline for him, Charlie had known a moment of doubt. What man wouldn’t want to buy those long, tanned, taut legs a beer? But the trip back to the bar for the glass, the awkward body language, the forced laughter, and the entitled tilt of the woman’s perfect chin . . . they’d all told her a different story.
And when Jake had toasted her with his Shiner, he may as well have had HELP ME branded on his forehead.
Sure, Charlie had hesitated. It really wasn’t her place, not anymore. But he definitely looked like he needed an out. Besides, her excuse wasn’t exactly a lie, and if she’d guessed wrong and he wanted to stay with Bridget, that would be a useful piece of information for her unruly heart to know.
It took Jake mere seconds to extricate himself after that, and before the poor girl could manage the second syllable of “goodbye,” he was by Charlie’s side on the way back to Lila. Oh, why did he have to look so delicious? All snug denim again, rolled-up flannel sleeves and biceps and strong forearms . . . T-shirt over his wide chest and dark hair curling at his collar. Why did he have that firm jawline with the five o’clock shadow that she wanted to trace with her fingers? Why those instantly assessing dark eyes that could go from warm to distant in half a second?
Right now they were brimming with gratitude. “Thank you,” Jake said.
Charlie smiled. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing.”
“A big thing. I’m in your debt.”
“Not by a long shot,” she said as they wove their way back through the crowd.
“What’s wrong with Lila?”
“It’s not for me to say. She’ll tell you herself when she’s ready.”
Behind them, the door of Schweitz’s banged shut as Bridget made her exit, her Louis Vuitton shoulder bag slapping against her hip as she strode away.
Jake sighed.
“But she’s perfect,” Charlie teased.
“Not for me,” he said as they reached the bar.
Lila shoved a little sequined makeup kit back in her purse and looked up.
She had powdered her nose and buried her blues from sight. The tequila was already hitting her. It was visible in her loopy grin as she eyed Charlie and Jake standing side by side. “Hi, Jake. Huh. You guys look like you’re rehearsing your new roles for the wedding.” She seemed to scent the air for a moment. “Wow. I must have said that out loud. You could cut the tension between you two with a spork.”
Behind the bar, Otto laughed, turning it into a cough when Jake and Charlie glared at him. He quickly busied himself slicing limes.
“Hi, yourself. You’ve always been so subtle,” Jake said to Lila. “But everything’s fine. Right, Charlie?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“Everything’s fine,” Charlie repeated.
“Fine, huh?” said Lila, swaying a bit on her barstool. “Deny it all you want, but I know better, and you’re going to have to deal with it eventually.”
“Is Felicity driving you to drink?” Jake asked, neatly changing the subject. “Did she get worse after Mick and I left? What’s up?”
“Yes, she is driving me to drink, and my blood pressure is what’s up.” Lila left it at that, and Charlie didn’t volunteer that as bad as Felicity was, the wedding wasn’t the only thing that had brought Lila low.
Tell your brother, Lila, Charlie thought. Talk to him.
“Seriously, Charlie, is there anything you can do?” Jake asked. “To warn your cousin Will about the level of crazy he’s about to bring into your family?”
“Uh . . . how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Charlie asked. “Besides, she’s different with him. Almost normal.”
“There is nothing normal about her,” Lila said. “What is she thinking? A hellfire red wedding dress? I think it’s bad luck, but what do I know? Otto, can I have another shot, please?”
Otto poured it. “And you, Jake? Can I get you anything?”
“Guess I’ll do another Shiner.”
Lila tossed back her shot and nodded for another.
Jake shook his head. “Jeez, Lila . . . That’s number four. So who’s driving you home?”
“Possibly you,” said Lila, “since you look like you have nothing better to do.”
Jake looked heavenward. “Not this again. I’ve already heard it from Kingston Nash.”
Charlie’s stomach roiled at the sound of Granddad’s na
me, which of course reminded her all over again of his agenda and the role he wanted her to play. Ugh—absolutely not.
“Ah,” Lila said, grinning and plopping her elbows sloppily onto the bar. “More of the same? That you’re paid to be a lazy layabout? Paid to be here in this bar drinking beer?”
Jake frowned. “Hey! I happen to be off shift right now. You know as well as I do: forty-eight hours on, forty-eight hours off. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but we stay pretty damn busy. Who did your safety inspection earlier today out at the barn? Who talks to the schoolkids about Smokey Bear? Who checks all the gear and equipment daily? Who rides out with the ambulance half the time as a backup paramedic? Who did the water rescue last month when the flooding swept away Mrs. McGowan’s old Honda?”
Lila smirked. “Calm down, bro. I think you’re totally worth it. It’s just fun to wind you up.”
“Yeah, well. I get enough of that. I’m going to punch the next person who asks me what my going rate is for sleeping on the job.”
“What is it?” Lila asked, laughing, dodging behind Charlie and using her as a human shield.
“I’ll get you, little sister,” Jake said, narrowing his eyes in fake menace. “When you’re least expecting it.”
“Oooh, I’m scared. Now, d’you want to buy our drinks ‘on the taxpayers’ dime’?” Lila almost pulled Charlie over backward as she maneuvered them both behind a potted palm. Normally, Charlie would have laughed. But given the topic and her granddad’s obsession with it, she didn’t find it funny. Especially since she knew the old man would never let it go.
“Lila, let go of me,” she said, slapping at her friend’s hands.
Jake eyed her curiously.
“What’s the matter?” Lila asked.
“Nothing,” Charlie said.
Jake’s gaze made everything she wore feel too tight and hot and scratchy. The sips of tequila had burned a hole down her throat and into her gut. She felt edgy. Perhaps she shouldn’t have rescued Jake from Bridget. He’d said thank you, but maybe he was just being polite. What if he thought she was throwing herself at him? “What?” she said.
Jake shrugged.
Lila tilted her head toward him and then toward Charlie, assuming that weird bloodhound-scenting-the-air stance again. “Hmm . . .” Then she craned her neck toward the back. “Is that Old George I see in the back booth? I’m going to go say hello.”
“No!” Charlie hissed under her breath. “Don’t leave me alone with your brother.”
“What’s that?” asked Jake, even though Charlie was pretty sure he’d heard her.
“Be right back!” Lila said with a wink.
Charlie was going to murder her. Lila had been fiercely loyal to their friendship, but she was also bullheaded and merciless when she got an idea into her head. And she seemed to have the idea that—
“So it’s just me and you, kid,” Jake said.
Charlie took her seat at the bar and threw back the rest of the shot of tequila that was still sitting there.
“Want to tell me why you and my sister are doing shots on a Tuesday night? Felicity’s bad, but I don’t know if she’s this bad.”
“Nope.”
“And why you’re pulling at your clothes and shifting in your seat.”
“Am I?” Charlie asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because you make me uncomfortable, Jake. Isn’t that obvious?”
A normal guy would have backed off. Jake didn’t. “Guilty conscience?”
She exhaled. “Yeah, maybe. It’s not like my family treated you well.”
“Let’s leave your family out of this. You didn’t treat me well.”
His words landed like a bowling ball in her stomach.
Oh God. Were they going to get into this now, after all these years? Couldn’t they just ignore it for a little while longer? Not rip open the old wounds?
Bad enough that she had to walk arm in arm with him down the aisle and eat with him at the rehearsal dinner on Thursday night. And then there was the wedding itself to get through on Saturday evening . . .
“If I buy you another shot, will you talk to me? Really talk?” Jake asked in a softer tone.
“About what?”
“The past.”
“What is there to say?” Charlie asked.
“Plenty. I think you owe me an explanation, don’t you? Otto, one more for the lady.”
An explanation. Yeah, he probably did want one.
This day just got better and better. “I don’t want another shot,” she said. “Make it water. Thanks.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up, and he folded his arms across his chest. Widening his stance, he rocked back on his heels. “So?”
Otto eyed her quizzically, and she wished he’d just go polish the other end of the bar or something. He stayed put, of course.
Both of them waited. Charlie almost wished something would catch fire so Jake, off shift or not, would go running out of the bar as fast as she’d like to. But that was terrible. She didn’t wish a fire on anyone. “Uh. Um . . .” She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively.
“That’s not a great start,” Jake said as an almost predatory expression crossed his face.
Otto got bored and went to check on tables. Inexplicably, when he returned, he set a second shot in front of her. Charlie stared down at the tiny glass of poison. “Really, just water.”
“Lila ordered it for you,” Otto said. “From the back booth.”
Charlie pushed it away. “Of course she did. No, thanks. She’s on a roll. Take it to Mick.”
Otto grinned, removed it, and replaced it with a big glass of H2O.
Of course, as soon as the tequila was gone, she wanted it back. Jake was larger-than-life next to her, and she could smell the familiar scent of sweetgrass and a hint of leather, the laundry detergent of his shirt, the underlying scent of his skin. He leaned close to her, and she also caught a hint of mint and beer. “Talk to me,” he said.
I want to, she caught herself thinking. Maybe if we just say all of it out loud, it will make the pain go away. And if the pain goes away, maybe we can start over.
No! Stop it, Charlie, you fool. Don’t get any closer to Jake Braddock. It wasn’t just a question of the past; it was a question of the future. Of loyalties and betrayals. Granddad was still actively trying to abolish Jake’s job. He wanted her help to do that. And even though she had no intention of granting that request, he wouldn’t take kindly to her rekindling a . . . friendship.
She gulped some cold water as Jake awaited an answer. Loyalties and betrayals. The concepts seemed very abstract. Sort of pompous. All the man wanted to do was talk. Why was that so bad? Someone should tell him why they’d all cut him off and shut him out. She’d always felt terrible about it.
Charlie opened her mouth to say . . . what? . . . when she was rudely interrupted. A classic Def Leppard song, “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” kicked on, inciting Lila. She yowled the refrain from behind the potted palms in the corner.
Jake winced, and raucous male laughter broke out over the music.
Oh boy. As one unit, Charlie and Jake turned to stare.
Lila’s head and shoulders twisted unsteadily over the green fronds, black hair cascading over her shoulders, one bare because her sweater had slipped off.
Charlie shot off her barstool and headed over.
Jake followed quickly.
Lila was up on the table, swaying, while Tommy hooted and clapped—Old George looked shell-shocked, as if the Gerber baby had just donned pasties and a thong.
Lila had grabbed a saltshaker and was employing it as a microphone as she sang the lyrics tunelessly and gyrated.
“Hey, get down!” Charlie told her. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Lila’s chin jutted out
. “I’m juss havin’ shum fun.”
Jake caught the napkin holder as Lila kicked it. “Off the table. Now.”
His sister swung her booty at him and shook it, tossing her hair. “Go away. You’re no’ the boss o’ me.”
Wincing, Grady salvaged his bourbon just before it went airborne, courtesy of Lila’s left Windex blue wedge heel. “This would be so much better if we hadn’t all known her since she was five,” he said.
George removed what was left of a platter of wings and hot sauce before she could plant her right heel in it. He shot another traumatized look at Jake. Shaking his head, he excused himself.
Tommy just laughed. “I haven’t known her since she was five. C’mon, Jake,” he protested. “Don’t spoil the party.” His eyes roved helplessly up Lila’s curves as she kept gyrating.
In answer, Jake thunked him between the eyes with the napkin holder before setting it down on a chair.
“Ow!” Tommy said, but he took the hint.
“Lila, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Jake said. “Not to mention me.”
“Thiss isn’t ’bout you, dude! Thiss me, eshpreshing my inner Leppard!”
“And that’s a beautiful thing,” Charlie told her, deadpan. “But—”
“Nein!” they heard Schweitz yell from the kitchen. He came barreling out, wiping his hands on a liberally stained chef’s apron. “Restaurant insurance vill not cover! Get down, bitte!”
“Don’t be a schtick in the mud, Schweitzie!” sang Lila. “Come up here with me!”
She leaned forward, exposing a terrifying amount of cleavage, and grabbed Schweitz’s ball cap in one hand. She shoved the saltshaker between her breasts and grabbed his gray beard, yanking him forward for a big smooch on the lips as salt sprinkled his head. “Pour some sugar, babieeee!” she yowled.
“Schweitzie” blushed fire and looked dazed.
“Okay, you’re done.” Jake moved in to forcibly remove her, but the bar owner was in the way, petrified but now very much under the spell of Lila’s dubious charms.