The Best Friend Incident (Driven to Love)

by Melia Alexander

  She stood abruptly, and he pulled his gaze away. Thinking about his safety was one thing, but getting caught staring? That was an entirely different thing altogether. “Where do you want these?” he asked when he got closer.

  She turned with a lantern in each hand and glanced at the boxes he carried. “Careful,” she said. “One of those has a container with the fortune cookies from The Chinese Stop. Dennis customized them per Julian’s request.” She pointed to the small table and sighed. “He’s such a romantic.”

  Yeah, that kind of thing would appeal to her. “I suppose that’s what the roses are for, too,” he said, setting the boxes down.

  “Martha’s favorite. He’s always had roses for her at every dinner I’ve done for them. Bright red. He said it didn’t matter what it cost me to get them.” She visibly swallowed and looked away then headed for the worktable discreetly tucked between two sage bushes. “Carly will be here soon.”

  “What’d she make them?”

  “Scallop ceviche, roasted beet salad, and an apricot-stuffed pork tenderloin. She also made her famous truffles for dessert. Another of Martha’s favorites.”

  “Wow. Too bad you don’t cook.”

  “Oh, please.” She waved him off. “If you can read a recipe, you can cook anything. It’s like another language, that’s all. You should try it. Women dig a guy who can cook.”

  He grunted. “Not my kind of woman.”

  She stared at him. “That’s interesting, but I bet when you find the right woman, you’d gladly learn to cook for her if that’s what she wanted.”

  “Then she’d better like steak a lot.”

  She looked up and trained her gaze on him, a frown on her face. “Honestly, Grant, I don’t understand how you manage to get any woman interested in you at all.”

  “I have my ways.” And once he had their interest, he made sure the woman knew the parameters of the relationship up front: they were going to have fun, and that was all. Dinners, movies, hiking, even. Anything beyond that led to the kind of attachment he refused to let himself have.

  If she wanted more than that, he moved on before either of them got hurt.

  Stacey set the lanterns down and slid the glass open in one of them. “You really don’t have to be here, you know,” she said, pulling a candle out and turning it over.

  “What if I want to be here?”

  The candle’s fake flame flickered to life. She lifted her head, her gaze searching his, and it was easy enough to see the question before she posed it. “You’re giving up an afternoon where you could be doing something more fun than helping me. How could being here possibly be something you’d want to do?”

  “I’m here to help out, Stace. I’ve done that at least a couple of times since you started this business, remember?”

  That’s exactly why he was here now. For his friend. To be supportive. Nothing more.

  Liar.

  He firmly shoved the mocking accusation to the back of his brain. He was here to help. Period.

  “You could be kayaking.” She tilted her head, the puzzled look on her face only making her more adorable. “You know, taking one of your new ones out on the river or something.”

  “I can do that anytime,” he insisted. “I’ve got the afternoon off, so you just go ahead and use me.”

  There could be a double entendre in there. At least, that’s what his dick was insisting. Damn. All he needed was Stacey to realize he was practically at full mast. “I’m free labor, so might as well,” he said quickly, walking past her and toward the parking lot. Better to move while he still could.

  He felt awkward. Clumsy. Like he was a teenager again, talking with Milestone High’s head cheerleader. Something he’d done because Stacey had first dared him, then told him it was the best way to get over his shyness around girls. She’d convinced him that if he flopped as a teen, he’d have it out of his system so the rest of his life would be pretty great. It’d made sense back then.

  Only now he felt like he’d lost more than a decade of progress. He was that tongue-tied teen again. And this time, it was Stacey’s presence that made him feel that way. What the everloving fuck was wrong with him?

  The question rang through his head on a continual loop, from the moment Julian and Martha shuffled from the parking lot, sat through their drinks and appetizers, and then had dinner.

  He suspected he knew the answer, and it set off all the warning bells in his head.

  So he did what he did best. He buried his emotions.

  Grant was there to be supportive through what he knew was a tough time for Stacey. If he had to pound that thought into his brain a thousand times he’d do it. He was not going to screw things up by complicating their relationship.

  Of course, it’d be tons easier if helping didn’t require him needing to be by her side most of the evening. The torture of being around her and not touching her, not kissing her, not pulling her toward him… Deep down, he admitted it was worth it to be around her for a little while. Something about her just made him feel lighter.

  And there went the warning bells again.

  They worked together quietly, with an ease born of familiarity. He liked it that way. With one look, one gesture, they moved in sync with each other. One of them poured wine, the other cleared the table. Really, it was no different than the time he’d helped her move into her apartment or when she’d accompanied him to the mayor’s brunch. Only this time, he was having one helluva hard time not thinking of all the not-just-friends things he’d love to do with her.

  “Son, how about giving my lady a hand up, would you?”

  Julian’s request snapped Grant out of his thoughts, and he straightened from where he’d been leaning against a tree trunk.

  “I can do it,” Stacey offered. She set down the carafe of water on the staging table.

  “Let Grant do it.” He smiled, planted his cane in the dirt, and rose to his feet. “Maybe I’d like to have a word with him.”

  The old man wanted to talk? This should be interesting. “I hope you don’t want relationship advice, ’cause I’m not your guy.”

  “He isn’t kidding, Julian.” Stacey grabbed up the napkins. “He’s got commitment issues.”

  “At least I don’t believe in white knights and princesses.”

  She propped a hand on her hip. “I don’t know why you bother to deny the existence of either.”

  “Dreamer.”

  “And not apologizing for it one bit.” She headed toward the plastic bins she’d stashed away.

  Julian chuckled. “Now, kids, no need to argue.” He turned until he faced Grant. “Believe me, son, it isn’t worth arguing. She’s going to get her way whether you think she should or not.”

  “That’s good to know.” Grant took the bouquet of roses off the table, then offered his arm and held himself steady as Martha grasped onto it. She sure had a firm grip for someone so small.

  “Thank you, young man,” she said, tentatively rising to her feet. “You’re nice and strong.”

  Julian chuckled from behind him. “Just remember who you’re sleeping with tonight.”

  “Oh, Jules, you know there isn’t another man out there for me.” She winked at Grant. “Doesn’t matter how handsome he might be.” Her voice was as light and playful as her husband’s. “Of course, some men’s looks do improve with age.”

  “I would hope so.” Julian took her hand, raising it to his lips.

  Grant shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Did he just stumble into a private moment or what? Talk about awkward.

  Now what should he do? He couldn’t exactly step back and let them have their privacy. Not with the way Martha was clinging to his arm.

  He pulled his gaze away from the couple. There was no denying that whatever these two had going seemed to work.

  Martha patted her husband’s arm. “We should get going. Pearl’s not gonna stand around all night.” She pointed to the woman by the waiting car in the parking lot.


  Grant squinted at the tiny older woman beside the silver Cadillac. “Is she all right to drive?”

  “Pearl? Oh, sure,” Julian answered. “She’s got a pillow on the seat so she can see over the steering wheel.”

  Yeah… Maybe he should offer to drive all three of them home and grab a taxi back.

  “Pearl’s chauffeured us around the past couple of years. She’s fine.”

  “Ummm…okay.”

  Grant looked from one to the other as the three of them slowly inched along the gravel path. He tried to think of something to say. “How long have you two been married? If you don’t mind my asking?” Didn’t old people like answering questions like that?

  “You tell him, Jules. Unless you don’t remember,” Martha said with a mock sniff.

  “You kidding me, woman? Is this some sort of test? Because you know I’ll remember that day forever.” Julian stopped and regarded Grant with sharp eyes. “Sixty years, son. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to experience the same thing with a woman of your own.”

  That’s right. He vaguely remembered Stacey mentioning this. “You never know,” he lied.

  But he did know. Maybe others were willing to expose themselves to vulnerability, but Grant knew better. Even if it paid off for other people, he was different. People always left him. Look at his mom. Look at the half a dozen foster families who’d sent him on his way. Sure, he was fun when he was a still a kid, but in the end, he wasn’t someone any of them had wanted to keep.

  Really. If his own mother couldn’t be bothered to keep him, why would anyone?

  No way was he opening himself up to that kind of pain.

  “Now, Jules, don’t make assumptions. Maybe Grant prefers men.”

  Prefers men? Holy fuck. He didn’t give off that vibe, did he? “Uh, no, actually. I prefer women.”

  “Oh, good,” Martha said. “Because it’s easy to see that you and Stacey like each other. A lot.”

  “Sure we do. We’re best friends.”

  “That’s all?” Julian asked.

  They stopped again, and the older couple stared at him.

  “That’s all.” Grant said the words firmly. Because that’s the way it needed to be.

  “That’s interesting. I’m rarely wrong about these things.” Julian shrugged as they resumed their trek toward the parking lot.

  “Julian’s predicted which of our friends would have successful relationships,” Martha added. “Of course, some of them didn’t listen when he’d told them not to get too involved with someone.” She sighed. “He’s a good matchmaker. Look at us.”

  They stopped again as Julian leaned in toward Martha, planting a quick kiss on her lips.

  The older woman giggled. “Oh, Jules, stop. What will people think?”

  If anyone had told Grant he’d be involved in a conversation between two old folks about marriage, he’d have made a bet and obviously lost. Might as well ask the burning question on his brain. “What’s the secret to staying married so long?”

  “The secret to staying married? Why, that’s easy.” The old man carefully placed the tip of his cane to one side of a rock. “A guy’s gotta know that the woman he marries is his other half, nothing less than that. Because when you treat her like she’s a part of who you are, there’s no way you wouldn’t do what’s best for the relationship.”

  Huh. That made some sense.

  “And,” Martha said, “It isn’t enough to love each other. You gotta be sure to touch a lot, too.” She winked at Julian this time.

  Geez. Now the two old people were flirting with each other. Grant wasn’t sure if he should be honored or amused or what. He chose the middle ground. Always safer that way. “Right. Good to know.”

  “In my experience, when you do find that special woman, life takes on a whole new meaning,” the man continued. “Everything tastes better and sounds better. You smile when you wake up in the morning, and you can’t wait to see each other at the end of the day. Love’s powerful stuff, son. Powerful stuff.”

  All Grant could do was stare, helpless.

  Julian chuckled. “Don’t you worry too much, son,” he said once they reached the waiting car and the driver who appeared to be as old as they were. “You treat Stacey right, and she’ll be by your side your entire life.”

  Stacey?

  “Uh…Stacey? Wait… We’re not…”

  “Oh, I know,” the man said, waving him off with one hand. “You’re best friends. Believe me, I know.” He smiled at his wife. “That’s how we started.”

  Grant tensed. It was just because Martha was hanging onto his arm for dear life while she got into the back of the sedan. That was all. It had nothing to do with the image the man had planted in Grant’s brain.

  Julian had hobbled to the other side of the car by the time Grant had Martha seated, the bouquet of roses safely in her lap. Once the couple was securely belted in, the old man leaned toward him. “You remember what I said, young man, and do right by Stacey. You do that and I promise you, the love you get in return will be worth it. You hear?”

  Arguing with a dying octogenarian seemed like a dick move, so Grant just nodded, then closed the door and stepped back as the sedan slowly edged forward.

  He wouldn’t find himself involved in a more-than-friends relationship with Stacey. Ever. He was a live-in-the-moment kind of guy who rolled with what life shot his way. And while the whole kissing thing and the practically-naked-straddling-him thing had happened with her, it didn’t mean he had to live there. He’d move on, see what was around the next turn in life’s road.

  Because that’s who he was.

  Chapter Nine

  Stacey had known Grant for years, knew everything there was to know about him. She’d watched him experience all the hurt and confusion and loneliness an eight-year-old could feel.

  She knew about his battle with shyness, knew how painful it was for him to stand on the perimeter of any crowd when he wanted so badly to be included. She also knew his resilience, saw his confidence deepen, saw his unconditional loyalty and devotion to the people in his life, despite his tomorrow-be-damned attitude.

  But the way he’d gently guided Martha and Julian to their waiting car? Well, that carved an even deeper groove in Stacey’s heart. It was almost like she was seeing him for the first time, and her heart definitely approved of what was there.

  She pulled off her hair band and redid her ponytail. What, exactly, did she feel for Grant? She snapped the band in place. The whole thing was so damned confusing, but no matter what she felt for her best friend, he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in any kind of a long-term, romantic relationship.

  Every relationship webinar she’d attended instructed women to believe a guy when he said such things, thus challenging them to leave him and find someone else. Easy to say when feelings weren’t involved.

  She blew out a breath and placed the wineglasses in a bin. Oh, sure, she could deny every ounce of what she was feeling for him, and might even convince herself the denial was truth, but she knew better. So now the question was, what the hell was she going to do about it?

  She pulled a slipcover off a chair. The attraction wasn’t one-sided. Grant was just as affected. She saw it in the look in his eyes and the way she’d caught him staring at her, felt it each time he’d held onto her hand longer than normal, or even in the way he’d text to say good night. Not that he hadn’t done those things before, but while Stacey couldn’t quite put a finger on it, things were…different.

  “How about some help?”

  A thrill shot through her at the sound of his voice. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She forced back the shock of desire that traced through her, and concentrated on folding the chair closed instead.

  “I’ve got this,” she said, glancing at him and nodding toward the table. “How about folding that up?”

  He silently maneuvered the table onto its edge, and all the while every part of her hummed to life, drawn to the way he effortlessly did as she’d ask
ed. There was definitely something attractive about a strong, capable man, whether he was folding up a table or taking care of the mundane things necessary to get through life.

  She openly watched him haul the table toward her SUV. His muscles rippled underneath his form-fitted T-shirt, and while she wasn’t sure why he didn’t appear affected by the dropping temperatures, she didn’t really care.

  She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep herself grounded.

  It was hard not to stare when he started back across the paved path that separated the parking lot from the grassy area. This was Grant. Who he was. How he’d always dressed. No pretense, no airs. Just Grant.

  And she’d only just noticed him. Like really noticed him.

  But while a part of her might secretly want him, Grant Phillips would never be hers.

  The knowledge brought a longing to her chest, one that reached inside and dragged her soul forward. To find someone to be beside her, believe in her dreams…why was that so impossible? Was it really too much to ask of life? She didn’t want a bunch of men, just one. The one.

  Her senses went on hyperalert the moment Grant returned. “Julian and Martha,” he said, shaking his head with a smile on his face. “What a couple.”

  “They’re great, aren’t they?”

  “I can see why Julian’s your favorite client,” he said, taking a lantern off a shepherd’s hook and handing it over to her. “You deal with the candle, okay?”

  “Can’t figure out how to turn it off?” she teased.

  “More like I’m afraid I’ll break it,” he said drily.

  “What did you talk about?” She reached for the other lantern and kept her hands occupied. It was either that or run the risk of hauling herself into his arms.

  “What makes you think we talked about much?”

  “Pfft. Are you kidding me? I’ve known Julian for way longer than you have. He’s great at passing on his wisdom, so there was a pretty good chance you got a dose of it.”