by Sonya Weiss
The French door behind her opened, and Kent joined her. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he said, “I think that kiss helped them believe you and I are—”
No, she wasn’t going to let him blow this off. No more faking it. “Kent, that kiss—”
He looked like he was in pain. “Don’t,” he said, his voice ragged.
“You can’t tell me that you didn’t feel what I felt. That you didn’t want more.” An ice pick jabbed her in the heart when he didn’t answer.
“Casey…I can’t.”
She stared into his eyes, determined to have her say. “If you say that it didn’t mean anything, or you try to explain it away, I’m not buying that. You were as lost in it as I was.”
He lifted his head to look up at the sky. “‘Lost’ being the operative word.” Raking a hand through his hair, he moved away from her. “Which is what will happen to us if we move beyond what needs to stay fake. We’ll get lost. You. Me. Our friendship.” He lowered his hand to her shoulder. “I couldn’t stand to lose the us that we have now.”
Casey exhaled slowly, the fight and urgency draining from her. She put her hand over his. “Me, either.” She could have argued with him, could have told him that people who started out as friends often ended up in romantic relationships that were stronger because of that friendship, but she didn’t. He was coming from a wounded place, and what she had to say on the subject wouldn’t matter because it was his issue to overcome. Her words couldn’t change that.
She shivered, and Kent wrapped his arms around her from behind so that she could lean back against him. The sensations racing through her body wanted more, but she squelched them. There would be no friendship with benefits, no real dating, nothing. “They’re watching us from the back door, aren’t they?”
“Yep. Stuck to the window like those suction-cup dolls.”
She sighed. They were on display. That’s why he’d made a move. “Think we should go in before the food gets cold?”
“Probably,” he said, but he didn’t let go.
“On the bright side, we shouldn’t have to fake it much longer. Your cousin’s wedding is almost here…” She watched the evening breeze blow through a tree and a handful of leaves float to the ground. Soon, the grass would be carpeted in a sea of red, gold, and brown. She sighed at the feeling of nostalgia for the days when she, her brothers, and Kent would jump in piles of leaves without a care in the world. Without someone’s heart being at risk.
Kent let go of her and then reached for her hand. “Come on. Put on your ‘Kent’s a wonderful man’ face so we can go inside.”
“I don’t have a ‘Kent’s a wonderful man’ face.” She gave him an impish grin. “I have an ‘I’m so wonderful to put up with him’ face.”
He laughed. “I saw a lot of that one when we were growing up.”
“Because you were such a pain in the ass.”
Covering his heart with his hand, he gave an exaggerated wince. “I think the thrill is gone from this relationship.”
“I’ve always seen your true colors.” She opened the back door, and they went inside, following the sound of talking into the dining room.
“There you are,” Jean said with a wide-eyed innocent look.
“Like you didn’t have your nose pressed against the glass,” Casey said as she took a seat beside Kent.
“After that kiss, I had to keep an eye on you to make sure you weren’t doing anything that would embarrass the neighbors.” Jean raised her glass with a smirk.
…
Surrounded by their families, the room filled with the sounds of talking and laughter, Kent felt a pang in his heart every time he reached for his glass. His leg would brush Casey’s, and a surge of wanting her would hit him. He’d never meant to kiss her like he didn’t want to let her go. He’d never meant to allow himself to feel even an ounce of desire.
She wasn’t a one-night stand, and he couldn’t offer more. He didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship by doing something stupid. Needing some distance between them for his peace of mind, he shifted in the chair, but with Grayson sitting on his other side giving him a “what the hell?” look every time he inched closer, he had no more room to escape.
“Tradition is so important,” Jean said loudly. A little too loudly.
“Oh, you’re so right,” Casey’s mom gushed.
“I agree,” Kent’s mom added.
Beside him, Casey tensed and whispered, “Here it comes.”
“Tradition?” Josie asked with her brow furrowed.
“Amateur move,” Casey said under her breath.
“Getting together for family dinners, holidays, passing treasured items from one couple to the next,” Jean said.
Casey elbowed him and whispered, “Brace yourself.”
Jean turned to him with a wide grin. “Don’t you agree, Kent?”
He looked at his parents. His father was shaking his head, while his mother was leaning forward eagerly. He looked at Casey for help, but didn’t get any. “Um…yes?”
“I’m so thrilled that you think so,” Jean said. “I have Casey’s great-grandfather’s 1967 Porsche 912. I promised him I’d give it as a wedding gift to the first great-grandchild who got married.”
Rafferty whistled, took Josie’s hand, and begged, “Marry me?”
Everyone laughed. Casey shook her head. “Grandma, I can’t believe you’d try to bribe one of us into getting married just for a car.”
“It’s a really nice car,” Grayson said.
“Beautiful. I’ve seen pictures,” Lincoln added.
Casey crossed her arms. “Well, you can count me and Kent out.”
“Let’s not act hasty,” Kent said, and everyone laughed again.
After that, he carefully steered the conversation toward events at the station house, and Casey’s father joined in, his delight clearly showing as he discussed the place where he’d spent so much of his time. When her father started to talk about burn drills and some of the other training he’d been through, a lively discussion began to take place.
Kent was thankful, not only because it distracted them from looking too closely at Casey and his relationship, but because it also prevented him from doing the same. When she lifted her chin and laughed in delight at something her father said, Kent felt his brain begin to war with his heart. His brain was firing dozens of warnings to watch himself, be careful, don’t fall for this girl—while his heart enjoyed every minute of the time they spent together.
When his mom artfully steered the conversation back to marriage and children, Casey set her fork down beside the homemade apple pie she’d been enjoying and said, “I didn’t realize how late it was. Kent’s on duty tomorrow, so we should probably get out of here.”
Just like that, she managed to extricate them from the plotting. Jean smiled as if she knew what was going on. Wiping her mouth, she put her napkin beside her saucer. “Since I’m staying with Casey, and she was my ride over, I’d better go as well.”
Kent thanked their families for the meal and walked outside and onto the front porch with Casey and her grandmother.
“I guess I’ll see you at the October Days get-together,” he said. That was the day most of the people met to make any needed repairs on the town’s holiday decorations It was a longstanding tradition he and his family had always participated in. With the grilled foods, his father’s famous barbecued ribs, and all the baked goods everyone brought, the work felt more like a celebration.
“Okay.” Casey put her hand on his forearm as he started down the steps. “Be careful.” She looked worried for him.
“I always am.” He smiled and kept that smile frozen in place even when he thought about how much he’d like to kiss her good night. He wanted to lean down and taste the same sweetness he’d tasted earlier. Then Jean said something about a show she wanted to see, and he kept the hunger to himself. He walked to his truck alone, and after he climbed in and headed home, he realized he’d wanted to ask Casey to
come with him. To spend the night in his arms. He felt like such a hypocrite after pushing her away. The wisest step to take would be to bail on his deal with Casey. To call her up and say their situation wasn’t working out so well. But he couldn’t walk away when she needed him. He was only sticking around for her sake. It had nothing to do whatsoever with how much he really looked forward to spending time with his fake girlfriend.
Chapter Twelve
Three days later, Casey finished grocery shopping, then picked up Josie and her grandmother to meet the rest of her family at the community center. During the first week of October every year, the mayor started the push to get started checking the prior year’s fall decorations for needed repairs. Casey looked forward to it. She enjoyed spending time with her family as well as with the people she’d grown up with. The food was always delicious, too.
When she walked in the door, the first thing she noticed were the long tables set up with dozens of pumpkins, scarecrows, and swags of red, brown, and orange leaf garlands. The second thing she noticed was Kent’s ex, Rebecca, cozied up to Trixie Majors.
“That girl is trouble,” Jean muttered.
“I would have to second that,” Josie said.
“Which one?” Casey asked.
“Both of them.” Her grandmother went straight to the tables and picked up a scarecrow, draping it across her arm. “This one needs more straw stuffing.” She cast a glance at Casey. “When Kent shows up, I’d make a beeline for him and mark your territory.”
“I don’t own him. I’m not the jealous type, and there’s nothing to worry about.” If Kent wanted to rekindle things with his ex, Casey wouldn’t stand in his way. Sure, she might question whether or not he’d had a lobotomy, but she wasn’t going to carry on and act silly about it if it happened. So what if Rebecca was the sort of beautiful that made guys fall all over themselves? So what if he and she shared a history?
Casey wrestled her feelings and finally admitted the truth to herself. Okay, so maybe she was a little jealous and a little ticked off. Rebecca had gutted Kent and then breezed back into town with her “wanting to be friends” speech at the diner. No way was she buying that bull. And she hoped Kent didn’t, either. He deserved someone better than the kind of woman who’d kick him when he was down. Rebecca had dumped Kent because of the initial worry that he might not be able to walk again and because of his scars. What kind of woman did that?
“Casey? Josie?” The mayor motioned them forward. Lifting a trio of wooden crows, she tapped on one of the beaks. “This guy needs a little orange paint where it flaked off, and that one is missing feathers.”
“I’m on it.” Casey took the decoration.
“I’ll find the paint.” Josie went to the table set up with art supplies.
Casey found a spot in the back of the room. One of the crows had a nail sticking out where his tail had been attached to the body. She snagged a hammer from a nearby workstation and knelt on the ground. As she placed the crow flat, Rebecca sauntered up to her. Twisting a strand of her hair and pushing her lip out in a pout, like she thought she was cute, the other woman said, “I think it’s only fair that I warn you. Kent doesn’t love you. He’s still on the rebound from me.”
Tapping the weight of the hammer against her palm, Casey said, “I think the blow-up decorations need a refill of air. Why don’t you go huff and puff and take care of that?”
Rebecca put her hands on her hips. “You think you’re better than me.”
“When it comes to Kent, I am better than you. I would never do what you did.”
Rolling her eyes, Rebecca said, “Like you’d be such a saint that you’d stick with a man you had to take care of instead of wanting one who could take care of you.”
The gall of the other woman made Casey angry on Kent’s behalf. “I don’t need a man to take care of me, because I have self-respect and independence. Kent’s not an ATM or a financial plan. He’s strong and heroic. He’s funny and loving, he’s—” Casey stopped. He was one of the best men she knew, and if Rebecca was too blind to see that, nothing she said would change it. She had to get out of sight of this woman before she did something that would cause tongues to wag for decades.
“Excuse me,” she said and brushed past the other woman. She needed to take a glass of the punch from the refreshment table, sip it, and calm down.
Her mother ladled some into a paper cup and handed it to her. “Every time I see Rebecca or Trixie, I picture vultures.”
Casey could imagine that. “Rumor is that Rebecca is in town for a visit, but I think she returned hoping to get Kent back.”
“I can understand how much that thought upsets you.”
Casey reached for one of the thick brownies dotted with chocolate chips. “He deserves better.”
Her mother frowned. “He has better. He has you.”
Shoving a bite of the brownie into her mouth to give herself time to think, Casey chewed, then chased the morsel with a sip of the punch. “I meant he deserves better than to be harassed about the past.”
“Especially since this latest fire probably stirred up memories for him. It’s the first time since Aiden’s death that the station had to respond to a fire of that size.”
“I know. I tried to call him and sent a text, but he didn’t respond.”
Her mother stooped to take a box from beneath the table and started setting out more paper cups. “When a man is hurting, he’s always ‘fine,’ and then he retreats into his space to deal with it alone.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug at the look Casey gave her. “Your father experienced things over the years that I’m sure he’s never told me about. The men in our lives try to protect us from the things they feel are too ugly or heartbreaking.”
Casey expelled a frustrated breath. “I’m not some fragile little thing Kent has to protect. He can talk to me.”
“You know that and I know that, dear, but it’s not going to change how he deals with things.”
“Speaking of,” Casey said as Kent walked in the door and her breath caught. Every time she laid eyes on him, he was better-looking than the time before. Her heart pounded, and she felt feverish. His snug jeans and red polo shirt paid tribute to a body that looked like it was built from granite. She couldn’t make her throat work. Or her legs. Or her hands…
His gaze searched the room, and when he met her eyes, she could have sworn she caught a flare of vulnerability mixed with desire, but she blinked and the look was gone and the spell broken. She could breathe again.
Rebecca raced to Kent’s side like she was training for a marathon. The woman leaned close, putting her cosmetically enhanced lips near his ear. Her hand touched his arm.
Judging from the expression on Rebecca’s face, whatever Kent said to her, the woman didn’t like. He left her staring after him as he wove his way through the crowd until he reached Casey.
Aware that her mother was paying attention to them, Casey closed the distance between them to give him a hug, barely registering her mother’s soft “see you later.” Once they were as alone as they could be in a crowded space, Casey picked up a cup and filled it for him.
“Ready to stuff straw and give crows a fresh coat of paint?” He bowed his head and kissed her. Just a quick one, but it still sent a thrill through Casey. “Everyone’s watching. Got it.” She tilted her head. “I heard about the fire. Are you okay?”
“Yep.” He cleared his throat. “Lead me to the crows.”
…
He’d told Casey the truth. He was okay. He’d known the fire was going to be a beast from the way the smoke oozed from the spaces around the entry door and windows. He’d felt the heat of it through his protective gear right before it had rolled across the ceiling. Everyone thought he’d be vulnerable when he faced a fire of that magnitude again. But he was feeling a completely different kind of vulnerable right now.
He’d sworn to himself after Rebecca that he’d never give his heart again, and yet here he was, on the verge of handing it
over to Casey. Actually, that was a lie. Casey already owned more real estate in his heart than any woman ever had.
Casey was strong and capable. Well able to handle her own life, but he’d seen how heartbreak could fracture a person, and if he hurt Casey, if he broke her heart, how could he live with that?
“Kent? Hello?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “I asked if you wanted to help with the large crows or the smaller ones?”
“I’ll take whichever.”
Casey put her hand on his arm and went up on tiptoe to press a quick kiss against his cheek. “You take the crows.”
He put his hand on her hip and held her close long enough for her to send him a questioning look before he let go. Letting go was harder each time he was with her. Maybe it was the fire. Maybe that was the reason he felt such need for a connection.
Still looking at him curiously, she said, “I’m going to find another project to work on. Meet up later?”
“Want to walk around the lake?” He dropped his gaze to her foot. “If you can.”
Casey pointed to the table laden with food. “After a plate of that, I’m going to need a walk.”
“I’ll come find you.”
She gave him a little wave and walked off.
Watching her leave, watching her now, was bad for his health. If he didn’t stop sneaking glances at Casey, he was going to accidentally glue another leaf to his T-shirt. His cousin’s wedding was coming up. Casey’s business was doing better. Soon it would be time for their relationship to end. For both of them, life would go back to the way it had been. Him, the forever bachelor, her, the woman any man would be lucky to have. Casey with someone who wasn’t him. Laughing at that guy’s stupid jokes. Touching his face. Walking arm in arm with him. He hated that faceless, nameless guy. Kent wiped his forehead. What was he thinking, creating imaginary scenarios? He looked at her again. One of his colleagues was talking to her. Grinning down at her. Leaning in.
Kent let out a curse and dropped the glue gun as a drop of glue hit his thumb. That’s what he got for paying attention to Casey instead of fixing feathers on crows.