by Tawna Fenske
She laughed, and Tony’s chest warmed at the sound. That was…different.
But it didn’t mean anything. Just some laughs with his best friend, plus the beers and cinnamon whisky he’d had already. What was that rhyme from college—beer to liquor, never sicker? Maybe the Fireball was a bad idea.
“Sure,” Kayla was saying. “What did you have in mind?”
“One of the rookies told me about this new one—did you ever play Flip, Sip, or Strip in college?”
Kayla surveyed the bar, and Tony noticed how blue her eyes were. Bright, like the sky as he pitched himself through the door of the aircraft. He thought about that breathless free fall and felt dizzy.
“Not that I’m opposed to public stripping,” she said, “but let’s not get kicked out of this place.”
“No, that’s not it—the clean version is called Flip, Sip, or Post.”
Kayla sipped something that looked suspiciously like water. “How does that go?”
Tony combed his brain to remember. “You start by flipping a coin. You can go first, since you’re a lady and all.”
She rolled her eyes. “Such a gentleman.”
He grinned, pretty sure she was kidding. “I call heads or tails, and if I’m right, it’s my turn to flip. If I’m wrong, you flip again. This time, if I get it wrong, I have to answer any question you ask me.”
“Any question?” Kayla lifted a brow. What did that mean? It’s not like they hadn’t bared all their secrets to each other.
Okay, not all his secrets. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Wait, no,” he corrected himself. “You answer the question if I get it right.” Or something like that. He was definitely messing this up. “Anyway, on the third flip, if I guess right, I take a shot.”
“And if you guess wrong?” she asked.
“You get to pick any social media platform or person and choose what I have to post or text.” Yeah, definitely a bad idea. But he trusted Kayla and knew she wouldn’t have him do anything too mortifying. “Like you tell me I have to text the third name in my contacts and say, ‘I like the smell of my own armpit.’ Or post to Facebook about how Mariah Carey is my favorite recording artist. That sort of thing.”
Kayla laughed, blue eyes flashing. “Take the booze out and the clean version sounds like a middle school game. This should be interesting.”
He’d been starting to think this was dumb, but that spark in her eyes had him thinking twice. Damn, she was pretty. No, not pretty—fun. Fun to be around. That’s what he’d always loved about her.
Kayla rummaged in her purse and pulled out a quarter. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
She curled her fingers into a fist and tucked the coin onto her thumb. “Call it in the air.”
“Tails,” Tony said as the coin flipped and spun, landing easily in her palm.
Kayla looked at it and grinned. “Heads.”
Damn. “Flip again.”
She did it, and he called out, “Tails.” Might as well stick with it.
The coin landed with a smack in her palm. Kayla looked at it and shook her head. “Nope. So now I ask you a question?”
He wasn’t positive but nodded anyway. “Yeah. Yep, go for it.”
She rested her hand on her chin, studying him a moment. “Why do you think you burn through girlfriends quicker than most guys change socks?”
“Geez, are you my shrink?” It wasn’t a bad question, though.
Kayla shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “No, but one of my sisters just did this communication workshop she was telling me about. It’s all about self-reflection and owning your mistakes and shortcomings in relationships. Not that she needs it, since she’s ridiculously happily married, but she loved it.”
There was that flash in her eyes again—a sign there was more going on inside that beautiful brain of hers. “Anyway,” she said. “She just sent me this book she got at the workshop. All this talk about self-reflection and shortcomings made me wonder if you have a theory about why you’ve been through so many breakups.”
Tony scratched his thumbnail over a mark in the bar and tried to come up with an answer. One that didn’t make him sound like a total asshole, which he probably was. “I don’t know. Lousy schedule, maybe? Smokejumpers are gone so much that it’s tough to have a relationship.”
That was dumb. Grady made it work with Willa. Kayla knew it, too, though she was too polite to say so. “Okay.”
Tony sighed. “Look, I’m just a shitty boyfriend. Maybe it’s that simple.”
She eyed him for a long time, then picked up the coin again. “Call it,” she ordered.
“Tails.” Third time had to be the charm.
“Ha! Heads again. You suck at this.”
He loved the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed. In a purely platonic, friendly kinda way. He shook his head, fighting to remember the rules of the game. “So instead of a shot, I have to post something or text someone.”
“Hmm.” Kayla tapped his phone, which he’d set on the bar beside him. “Text the sixth contact on your phone and ask if eyebrows are considered facial hair.”
“And you say I’m childish?” Snorting, he picked up the iPhone and scrolled through his contacts. “Willa. Great.”
He tapped out the message, grateful Kayla was taking it easy on him. She could have easily made him text Grady and ask to borrow his underpants. Or Becca. Or about a zillion more embarrassing things.
Setting his phone back on the bar, he held out his hand for the quarter. “My turn to flip.”
She slipped the coin into his palm, fingertips tickling the callused ridges there. “Heads,” she said as he tossed the coin.
He caught it easily, never mind the beers and the Fireball shot. “Heads it is. You flip again.”
Handing the quarter back, he was conscious again of the warmth of her skin.
“Heads or tails?” she prompted.
“Heads,” he called as the silver disk spun.
“Tails. Do I flip again or ask you a question?”
He had no idea, but he liked her questions. Liked talking to her this way, cozy in their own little world with the Fireball warming his belly and her smile warming the rest of him. “Question.”
She thought about it. “Are you sad Becca broke up with you?”
Tony shook his head. “Not really. I should be. She’s great. The best. I just—I wasn’t in the same place she was, you know?”
“Yeah.” Something flickered in her eyes. “I do know.”
He thought about what had been weighing on him since she called with the good news about her contract. “This road trip—are you serious about it?” His question made no sense, so he fumbled in his beer-addled brain for a better way to ask. “I know we talked about me tagging along on your photo shoot, but is that just a pity thing?”
“A pity thing?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Hell, what did he mean? “Just wondering if you really want the company or if you felt sorry for me.”
Kayla shook her head. “You’re the least pitiful person I know.” She started to say something else, but his phone buzzed on the bar, breaking the moment. He picked it up and scanned Willa’s response.
Are you drunk? Does someone need to come get you?
The bubbles appeared, indicating she was still typing.
Also, yes. Eyebrows are facial hair. But please don’t shave yours.
He laughed and set the phone down as Kayla flipped again. “Tails,” he called, even though he wasn’t sure they were still playing.
“Got it.” She handed the coin to him. “For a drinking game, this doesn’t seem to involve much drinking.”
“You did call it a middle school game.” He gestured to the shot glasses. “But by all means.”
“
You go ahead. I’m good with water.”
Interesting. For a fleeting moment, he wondered at the reason she was keeping her guard up. Afraid of falling into bed with him? It hadn’t happened since they split up, but there was a weird sort of energy zapping between them tonight.
Or maybe that was just him.
Knock it off. Don’t fuck up this friendship by being a drunk idiot.
They kept going, with Tony flipping again and Kayla calling it wrong, then right on the second flip. His turn to ask a question.
He hesitated. “Did you ever think—” Shit, no. That was dumb.
“What?” Her eyes searched his as she spun her glass on the bar.
Hell. He’d started this. “Did you ever think we maybe gave up too easy? You and me. Together, I mean.”
God, he was going to regret this in the morning.
Kayla’s eyes filled with emotion. Good emotion? Bad? He couldn’t actually tell. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I know I love having you as a friend. And I’d never want to mess that up.”
“Got it. Same.” He cleared his throat. “Call it in the air.”
“Tails.”
Tony peered at the coin in his palm. “Heads. Please take a photo of your thumb and post it to Facebook with no explanation.”
Kayla laughed. “You’re so weird.” But she did it anyway, snapping the image and toggling to the app.
They went a few more rounds, with each of them winning and losing a few. Tony had to send a tweet saying he liked to chew his toenails. He also took another shot of Fireball, this one burning a lot less than the previous one.
On the next round, Kayla had to post something. “Text the twentieth contact in your phone and ask if they have any Grey Poupon.”
Kayla scrolled through her contacts and laughed. “An ex-boyfriend. Chris, that guy I dated last fall.”
“Is he the one who forgot to tell you he had a girlfriend?”
“No, that was Nicholas. Chris is the one who kept blowing me off to watch football.”
What was it with Kayla dating such idiot guys? Of course, that probably said something about him. “You don’t have to text him if it’ll be awkward.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Her thumbs flew over the screen. “We’ve stayed friends. He’s the least asshole of my asshole boyfriends. I’d almost call him a nice guy.”
Now why did that sting? Her friends ribbed her all the time for the long string of losers she’d dated, and he kinda prided himself on being the one decent dude in the bunch. Maybe he’d been wrong there.
He glanced at the shot glasses. There were two left, but he’d lost interest.
“Want some water?” She didn’t glance up from her phone and didn’t wait for his answer. Just shoved her glass in front of him.
“Thanks.” He drank gratefully, draining it to the bottom. He was going to feel all that whisky in the morning. He set the glass down and looked at her. “You ready to head out soon?”
“Sure,” she said. “I can drive you home.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can call a cab.”
She smiled and signaled the bartender for her tab. “That’s what friends are for.”
Tony stood up, feeling the ground tilt beneath him. Kayla put a hand on his arm and looked in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Never better.”
He turned and strode toward the door, conscious of Kayla’s eyes on him, of the possibility that he might live to regret this evening.
That if he thought too hard about it, he might have a helluva lot more to regret.
Chapter Two
Tony dozed off the instant he clicked his seat belt into place.
Passed out was more like it. Kayla had never seen him like this before. He’d usually have one drink, maybe two if he stretched it over a five- or six-hour period. But this Tony—the one knocking back shots of cinnamon whisky—wasn’t one she’d met before.
He was reeling from a breakup. That would drive any guy to drink.
Except Tony had been through quite a few breakups. Maybe there was something else?
She’d caught him staring at the calendar behind the bar a bunch of times, eyes glazed and fixed on the date. Was there something significant about today, or was her imagination getting away from her?
Wouldn’t be the first time. God knows she spent way too many hours imagining herself in a perfect, loving marriage like the ones all her sisters had found.
Problem was, she’d never managed to take it beyond the imaginary.
Kayla jammed her keys into the ignition and started the car. She glanced at the passenger seat to see Tony still snoozing. Even slack with sleep, he was obnoxiously gorgeous. Broad shoulders, strong jaw dusted with dark stubble, and lashes so long they damn near rested on his chiseled cheekbones.
“So unfair.” She surprised herself by saying the words out loud, not sure what she even meant.
His eyelashes; that was it. Men shouldn’t have lashes that beautiful.
Shaking her head, she eased the car out of the parking lot. It felt nice to play hero for a change, to be the one pulling designated-driver duty. That was always Tony’s domain, no matter who had been tying one on. Not like it happened often, but he had tons of friends and teammates in his circle. In their circle, since they’d been hanging out all the time for more than a year.
Best friends.
She really needed to stop ogling his eyelashes.
Turning the corner toward the west end of Hart Valley, she mulled her game plan. Take him to her house or his? His was closer, but maybe he shouldn’t be alone?
“Mmmph.” Tony stirred in the seat beside her but didn’t open his eyes. Scrubbing his stubbled chin against his shoulder, he breathed out a long, slow sigh. “Don’t leave.”
Kayla gripped the wheel. “What?”
His lashes didn’t flutter, but he smacked his lips. “Don’t go, Dad.”
The word Dad caught her off guard. The whole time she’d known him, he’d never spoken about his father. “Uh…where is your dad going?”
“He left.” Tony opened his eyes and looked at her, startlingly lucid in that moment. “Twenty-five years ago. Only remember ’cuz it was their anniversary.”
Holy shit. “Your father walked out on your parents’ anniversary?”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured and closed his eyes again. “Left me and my baby brother. Always thought my old man was a dumbass for throwing it away. Something I wanted, you know?”
She was having trouble tracking his line of thought. “What did you want?”
“Wife. Kids,” he mumbled. “The whole happy mess.”
“You did?” No way. This couldn’t be the same Tony. She’d never known a guy more adamantly opposed to settling down and having a family. It was the big reason they’d never gotten serious, that they’d only dated a few weeks.
Kayla saw herself as a mother someday, and Tony…well, Tony saw himself jumping out of planes and roaming the globe and basically doing anything to dodge daddyhood and matrimony. He’d said so himself, dozens of times.
So what was up with this drunken rambling?
“Tony?”
“Mmmph.”
Kayla gripped the wheel tighter, not sure what to say. Was it wrong to carry on a conversation with someone not completely coherent? Probably. “Never mind.”
She kept her eyes on the road, reminding herself he’d had too much to drink. Nothing he was saying meant anything.
Silence stretched out for a few beats. More; maybe a minute.
She glanced over to make sure he was still breathing and was surprised to find him watching her. His warm brown eyes were steady and lucid, showing no trace of the drunk guy she thought she’d strapped into her passenger seat. “I’m serious,” he said softly. “That’s what I want.”
She sli
d her eyes back to the road, unsure how to respond. “Marriage. Kids.”
“Yep.” He sighed. “I know I can’t. Shouldn’t. Still, sometimes I wish…”
He drifted off again, not finishing the thought. When she looked back at him, his eyes were closed again. “Tony?”
No response except a soft snore. Okay then.
It was just as well. The last thing she needed was to go stirring up her own feelings about marriage and kids. She got enough of that with her family. All her perfect sisters with all their perfect little children and amazing husbands, and her parents, who’d been blissfully married a gazillion years and couldn’t understand why Kayla couldn’t get it together.
Not that Kayla was bitter.
Only maybe she was. A little.
They’d reached the street where Tony’s little bungalow sat at the end of the block, and Kayla tapped her brakes. She’d never seen him intoxicated like this and didn’t know what to expect. Was he the sort of drunk who’d go roaming the neighborhood without pants? Better not take the chance.
Her place was just a few blocks away. He could have the guest room, and she could keep an eye on him. Make sure he was really okay.
She covered the distance cautiously, taking care on the corners so his head wouldn’t loll to the side. Pulling into her driveway, she parked and cut the engine and got out. How was she going to lift him? The guy was two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and a six-two smokejumper was way more than her five-four self could carry.
But the passenger door opened on its own, and Tony shouldered his way out. Blinking, he flashed her a grin that looked only a little dazed. “You brought me to your place?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t feel right leaving you alone.”
She braced for an argument. For him to insist he was totally fine.
But his smile cracked straight through her ribs and speared her heart. “You’re a good friend, Kayla.” He stood up, surprisingly steady on his feet. “The best friend I’ve got.”
Friends. Yes. That’s exactly what they were.
Even if that’s not what she once hoped they’d become.
Even though, apparently, he’d always wanted the same thing she wanted for herself.