by Cindi Madsen
“That’s the one. I’ve got tomorrow off, so I can stay out late. Please tell me you still like your movies bloody and violent.”
His warmth was seeping into me, his voice comforting in the way I told myself was because he knew my movie preferences, and hello, we were friends. “The gorier the better, I always say.” That much was true. I’d grown up watching movies with Dad that he probably shouldn’t have let me watch. Even after I started planning weddings—or maybe because I did deal with love so much—I liked to escape with what a lot of girls told me were “guy movies.”
“Awesome. Tonight, then.” I swore there was a flash of something in his brown eyes, but I couldn’t tell what exactly. Excitement? More?
My imagination was running away with me. That had to be it. Needing a distraction, I shoved my fabric samples into my bag. “I didn’t realize how late it’d gotten. I’ve got an appointment to get to.” Now that I did notice the time, it wasn’t even a lie. Valentina was coming by my office first thing to look at the fabric, make a few other decisions regarding flowers and the cake, and so we could order individualized party favors. Traffic was often slow this time of day, and I liked to get to my office with enough of a head start to set up before my clients arrived.
My binder was too huge to go in with the fabric and my laptop, so I put the bag over my shoulder, stuck the lid on my to-go mug of coffee, and attempted to balance my binder and keys in the other hand.
“Need help?” Brendan asked.
I hugged the binder to me, shifting the bag, since it was trying to swing forward and throw off the balance I was struggling to maintain in my heels. “I’ve got it. I’m an independent woman now. Self-sufficient and everything.”
“It’s okay to have help now and then, you know.”
“I’ll remember that if I ever need it,” I said. “Have a good day, and I’ll see you later for the movie.” The door took me two tries and I nearly dumped the binder and my coffee, but I finally got it open. Locking it was going to be tricky, but before I could dig out my keys, I heard Brendan engage the dead bolt from the other side.
I just have to make it to the car, I thought as my arms started to burn—I really needed to figure out a way to bring less crap home every night. Two trips would probably make it easier, but it seemed like a waste of time when I could easily suffer through a few minutes.
When I rounded to the driver’s side door of my car, the rim of my tire was on the ground, the black rubber underneath it completely flat. Are you kidding me? Can’t I get a break, like, ever?
This so wasn’t on my to-do list. I tossed my bag and binder in the car and headed to the trunk. Brendan was pulling out of the garage, but he parked in the driveway and got out of his truck, heading over to me.
I set the spare tire on the ground and then reached for the jack, making a shooing motion with my free hand. “I got this. I don’t want you to be late to work because of me.”
Brendan eyed me, his lips pressing into a skeptical line.
“I’m serious. I don’t need help. And I can call Valentina and push our appointment back. No big deal.” Actually, it threw off my entire well-planned day, but that was life. Especially mine lately.
“Didn’t we just talk about how it’s okay to need help?”
“We did, and I said I’d ask for help if I ever need it. Which I don’t. My daddy taught me how to change a tire.” I positioned the jack under the car and pumped it until the flat tire was hovering above the ground. Luckily I was wearing slacks today, although the heels weren’t doing me any favors. I glanced up at Brendan. “Go already.”
Brendan crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen.”
“So you’re just going to stand there and watch?”
“Unless you’re going to let me help?”
Yes, it would be easier to have him do it, but the point of my new life plan was to get back to the girl who didn’t get hurt because she counted on herself, and she knew how to take care of things without help. I’d already moved in with him. I refused to rely on him any more than I already had to. “That’s a negatory, good buddy.”
Brendan laughed, and as frustrated as I was about his hovering, the noise made me smile. I gave the lug wrench a good twist, but holy crap the lug nuts were on tight. I could feel Brendan’s stare, so I cranked harder. Finally the nut came lose—pretty sure I only popped one eye blood vessel, too, so score! The second came undone after a few muttered swear words, and a struggle that left sweat forming across my forehead. By the third one, my arms were burning. Jeez! Had they welded the damn things on? I was sure those screw guns were quick and all, but they made being a modern girl who didn’t need help more difficult than it needed to be.
Brendan readjusted his weight from his right to his left foot, not even bothering to fight the amusement playing across his features. “Ready for some help?”
“No.”
I stepped onto the wrench, gripped the side of my car, and jumped. The thing didn’t even budge. I jumped again. Nothing. My options were go inside and get sneakers so I could properly jump up and down, or let Brendan help. My pride objected to the latter option, but I was pretty sure it was leaking out of me by the second as it was.
Brendan held out a hand.
I reluctantly took it and stepped to the ground. “It’s the heels.”
“That’s why I rarely wear them. They’re a bitch when chasing down bad guys, too.” He rolled up his sleeves, crouched next to the flat tire, and gripped the wrench. The muscles in his forearms stood out as he slowly turned it. “These really are on tight.”
“See. I told you,” I said, reverting back to my nine-year-old self, apparently.
“I’m impressed you got two off.” He held up a hand as I started to open my mouth. “It’s a genuine compliment; just take it instead of arguing with me.”
I clamped my lips shut, watching as he continued to work the last two nuts free and then secured the spare tire in place. Admittedly, he was faster than I could ever be. Well, the kind of silent admitting, because I wasn’t going to say it out loud. Not to mention, watching the show wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. Was there anything sexier than the muscles in a guy’s forearms?
He stood, and it took me several seconds to realize he was handing me the wrench. My fingers wrapped around the metal. It was warm from the sun, but not nearly as warm as the heat starting to wind its way through my core.
Manly displays of strength must have some hypnotic power that made girls stupid—another point for taking care of things myself. Apparently it was the only way to avoid having dirty thoughts about my roommate that had nothing to do with the fact that he was actually dirty.
Oh holy crap, look at those black-smudged hands. I thought of them trailing across my body, putting black streaks over my skin. It was so the opposite of what I usually wanted. I shook off that thought and shoved the tools back in my trunk. My feelings for him were slowly morphing into something that left me feeling off-center, and it had panic rising up and squeezing my chest. “Here.” I thrust the package of wet wipes I kept for wedding-related dirt emergencies at him and then cleaned my own hands.
“Don’t stress yourself out over your appointment, okay? It’ll still be there when you get there.”
Plenty of people had told me I was too uptight about my schedule, but the way he did it actually calmed my racing pulse instead of made it beat faster.
“See you later, Deej.” He climbed into his vehicle, and I got into mine. He let me go ahead of him, ever the gentleman. I used to get mad at him for things like that back in the day, because I didn’t want the other guys to look at me as a weak girl. I supposed there wasn’t anyone else around right now, and it was nice, though not helping on the independent woman front.
As soon as we split off in different directions, I called Jillian. “I think I’ve got a problem.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jillian was on a tight deadline with an event tomorrow, so I met her at the local organic market
to chat and shop. Not having her to talk to as much, especially late at night, was the one thing I missed about crashing with her.
“So are you plotting Phoebe’s demise and hit a snag you need me to help work out, or did a caterer pull out of one of your weddings?” she asked as she picked up a basket and headed toward the produce section. “I’m pretty booked, but if I can squeeze it in, you know I’ll—”
“Actually, I’m having another kind of problem. I’m totally lusting after my new roommate.”
Jillian whipped around so fast I nearly barreled into her. “You’re lusting after the guy you just picked up and moved in with, even though you only knew him when you were a kid?”
To say Jillian had doubted my judgment about moving in with Brendan was putting it mildly—especially since she’d yet to meet him thanks to all of our busy schedules. When she helped haul boxes into the house, though, even she admitted it was better than our previous cramped living situation. And okay, maybe I could’ve found a way for them to meet if I’d tried harder, but I hadn’t wanted her to find any problems with Brendan when being around him was doing wonders for my sanity. Before I’d started, you know, going insane thinking about his forearms and his dirty hands on me, that is.
I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, wrapping it up until the lighter caramel color was covered with the darker part. “It was better than moving in with a stranger, and it’s not like I meant for it to happen. Although he is a good-looking guy, so I should’ve probably seen it coming. I thought the fact that we used to know each other so well would keep these kinds of feelings from developing. But he’s been so great about everything, and I mentioned the super good-looking thing, right?”
“So the problem is he’s attractive and you need rebound sex.”
“No! I mean yes to the attractive…” I waited for the elderly woman to pick out a clump of tomatoes and then leaned in close to Jillian, keeping my voice low. “No to the rebound sex.” I exhaled, trying to organize my thoughts. “The problem is I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.”
“But if you’re really going for the whole independent woman thing, sex without strings is the part I’d suggest embracing. It’s one of the only benefits in a sea of crappiness, honestly.”
Jillian was one of the few women I knew who could pull that off without getting attached. It didn’t mean she wasn’t picky, just that she chose hot, smart guys and viewed them as temporary fun, no false expectations. “One, you know how easily I fall for guys, and two, Brendan’s my oldest friend. Even though we’ve spent years apart, he knows things about me that most people don’t. Things I haven’t even told Grant.”
“Like…?” Jillian frowned at the bundle of cilantro she’d picked up and then tossed it down in favor of another one.
“Like stuff with my mom. I mean, Grant knows that she and I have a strained relationship, but I never told him how abandoned I felt when she picked her job over me. I didn’t really tell Brendan, either, but he knew. And he can read me no matter how hard I try to hide my emotions, which is annoying and comforting at the same time.” I picked up an apple and tossed it in the air, just to have something to focus on besides my confession. “Right now my life’s a mess, and he’s making it all seem okay anyway. But I need to not think about if he’s going to kiss me, and definitely not about doing anything more that would make things weird between us.” I set the apple back on the stack, careful to not knock any over.
“And what about Grant? Is he still asking for a second chance?”
“We’ve been on a bit of a break, but he called earlier. I sent him to voicemail, and he only said to call him. But in theory, he’s still on the table.”
“Well, I think he lost his chance.” Jillian’s eyebrows drew low over her eyes as she tapped her fingers on the shopping basket. “But I see what you mean with Brendan. You do live with the guy already, so that makes things complicated with a high possibility of messy.”
This was why I’d come to Jillian. No-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is advice.
“I think you need a fling,” she said, and I reconsidered the no-nonsense part. “Someone super sexy who you barely know. It’ll get your mind off how hot your roommate is, and might also help you figure out if you even want to get back what you used to have with Grant. Maybe you’ll find you like playing the field again.”
“Doubtful. It’s just going to feel like a huge step backward after being almost married. A fling is a drive-through wedding, and you know how I feel about those.” I tried my best to not sound judgmental—she could do what she wanted, but I knew myself too well to pretend I could pull off no-strings-attached sex.
“They’re a big no-no. But a drive-through wedding’s promising forever in the fastest way possible, and this is promising fun for a little while.”
“It’s different, though. I don’t want some random dude, and the guy I suddenly find myself attracted to—although honestly, I thought he was hot the first day he came into my office, before I knew who he was…” I pictured the way he always had his tie draped over his unbuttoned shirt at the end of the day, and the way the smile brought out the cleft in his chin. Then there was the memory of his body bumping into mine as he reached for his keys and the whole tire-changing incident.
Jillian waved her hand in front of my face. “Yes…?”
“I just got Brendan back in my life, and there’s something about being around him that makes it easy for me to relax, and you know how hard that is for me to do. The last thing I want to do is mess that up, especially right now when work is such a challenge and I’m about to have to start that stupid anger management course. I’ve gotta keep my head on straight. I barely got out of a serious relationship, he’s simply being nice to me because we’re friends, and here I am ready to throw myself at him. I never was any good at being on the rebound. I make stupid choices.” Like the guy Raquel had mentioned during my hair appointment. “I go for the McDonald’s of rebounds—tastes delicious going down, regret it for a week. Then I still find myself heading back for more.”
Jillian wrinkled her nose—she loathed all fast food, and when she could make everything taste a hundred times better when she cooked it herself, why go cheap?
“Of course, that’s unfair to Brendan, because I’m sure he’s not a McDonald’s kind of—” I shook my head. “You know what, I’m not even gonna finish that. Like all my analogies, it’s gotten way too abstract, and now I want french fries.”
“You really do have it bad.”
“Not bad. I came to you at the first sign of temptation. That means fixable, right?”
Jillian tossed a couple of red and orange bell peppers into her basket.
“Jill?”
One of her dark eyebrows shot up. “You want me to tell you the truth, or what you want to hear?”
Silly me, I was kind of hoping for both.
A cute college-age guy with shaggy hair was working the cash register, and he greeted Jillian and me with a huge smile. Jillian kept tilting her head toward him, eyebrows raised, lacking enough subtlety he no doubt realized she was trying to get me to hit on him. Obviously she hadn’t been listening to the no-fling thing.
I left her to pay and waited for her at the front of the store.
No bad rebound, no needing a guy, no deciding to pay Grant a visit because at least I knew him, and no messing up my friendship with Brendan. So there was only one option really. I was going to chant drive-through wedding over and over in my head for the foreseeable future, to remind myself what I was not looking for.
GET READY TO WED by Dakota Halifax
Drive-Through Weddings
I was staring at my computer screen, trying to decide what words of advice to give the great city of Las Vegas this week. Let’s face it, you guys have already got the whole party-hearty-rock-and-roll thing down. What’s left? I was hungry, so I ignored my blank screen and decided I needed a food break. I went through a local burger joint’s drive-through and it hit me.
&
nbsp; Drive-through weddings are called that for a reason. Do you ever get halfway down the road after going through the drive-through at a restaurant only to discover you didn’t get exactly what you ordered? (I specifically said no onions! And where’s the ketchup I asked for?) Well, take a few minutes and think about your special day. Do you want to get married only to find out the guy performing your ceremony was also arrested for some horrifying reason? (Oh, the things I could tell you I’ve seen preachers dressed as Elvis do. Trust me, sometimes you’d rather not see hunka, hunka burnin’ love go down. Actually, change that “sometimes” and make it “always.”) Maybe you find out your union isn’t even legal—it still totally counts, in case you were wondering. A promise is a promise, and your drunk-in-Vegas excuse won’t hold up in court any better than you did after one of those drinks so large you needed a handle to lug it around the casino. You love your significant other, and this wasn’t just a drunken mistake, was it? Of course it wasn’t! Most any chapel can get you in and out quickly, and I’m not opposed to being married by any of the fabulous bejeweled and jumpsuited preachers out there if that’s what you want. (Just don’t go wandering into the chapel bathroom when they think everyone’s cleared out—trust me on that.) After all, being able to get married on a whim to the one you love is just another thing that makes our fine city awesome.
But please, please get out of the car and take a few minutes to pledge your love to each other. Preferably wearing pants, something that can also be missing during a drive-through wedding, but isn’t nearly as amusing a story for your children as you think it’ll be. Take a few minutes and look around at the decorations—be they cheesy cardboard cupids, fuzzy dice, and flashing casino lights, or chandeliers, elegant draped fabrics, and a rose-petal-strewn aisle—and soak in the moment of standing at an altar and exchanging vows with the man or woman of your dreams. You’ll thank me one day.