With You: A Queensbay Small Town Romance (The Queensbay Series Book 5)

by Drea Stein

  Jake pulled a pout, then brightened up. “Need a date for Phoebe and Chase’s wedding? I’m told I clean up pretty well.”

  “A what?” Tory said, straightening up, not sure she had heard straight.

  “You know, a date, a plus-one. Chase said the invites were going to be a plus-one. I figured that maybe if we go together we could save them a couple of bucks.”

  “I don’t think Chase cares about saving a couple of bucks on his wedding,” Tory pointed out. From what she knew of the plans, Chase had pretty much invited the entire town and their cousins, plus booked a circus for entertainment.

  “He’s a guy,” Jake said, shrugging his shoulders, “so of course he cares about saving a few bucks. Don’t tell me you’ve already got someone in mind?”

  “What?” Tory said, feeling her face flush. She had not just been thinking about Colby. She barely knew Colby; it would be weird to ask him to be her date. And she had already decided to go alone. It was less complicated.

  “Ah ha,” Jake said, his dark blue eyes fixed on her. “You totally do have someone in mind. I can see it in your face.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tory felt the sudden need to start unpacking her groceries, and she whirled around the small galley kitchen, finding places for things, hoping that activity would hide her discomfiture.

  “So, there is someone. You’re not planning on taking one of those guys from the gym, not one of those meatheads, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” Tory said automatically. Definitely not someone from the gym—or work, either, now that she was the boss. Nope, solo was definitely the way to go.

  “I see, going all mysterious on me.” Jake nodded sagely. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that fancy new car you’re driving? Could it be that there’s a new mystery man in your life? Or course, if he’s allowing you to borrow that, it must be serious. I wouldn’t even let my mother drive something like that, and she still wants to wash my underwear.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tory said, trying to sound as if everything Jake said meant nothing to her. But she wondered. Colby could have gotten her a nice, compact little sedan, a perfectly ordinary car. Instead, he had given her something … different, interesting, full of power and noise … and sex. She shook her head, trying to clear away the direction her thoughts were heading.

  “Ok, fine, if you don’t want to be my just-in-case, I’ll just go find someone else.”

  “Your what?” Tory looked at him.

  He shrugged. “I thought, you know, we could be each other’s just-in-case.”

  “Just-in-case, what does that mean?” Tory asked, though she had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly what he meant.

  “You know, just in case no one better comes along.”

  Tory looked around for something to throw. Jake neatly ducked the clump of fresh basil she hurled in his direction.

  “Get out, will you? Just so you know, I’m no one’s just-in-case,” Tory said, her eyes blazing.

  Jake held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I know. I mean, it came out all wrong. It’s not like…. I mean, it would be cool and all, and we wouldn’t, like, have to worry about it, you know? We could go just as friends, no expectations.”

  “Well, perhaps I do have someone in mind, ok? So, you know, I don’t have to be anyone’s last choice.”

  “Does this mean no dinner?” Jake asked as Tory started to shut the door on him.

  “How do you know I can even cook?” Tory asked.

  “I’ll take my chances.” The last thing Tory saw before the door slammed shut was Jake’s grin.

  Chapter 17

  Lynn and Phoebe had the giggles. While ordinarily that wouldn’t bother Tory, tonight there was something just slightly irritating about listening to two of her best friends drink wine and moon over wedding dresses when she had just been asked to be someone’s just-in-case.

  “His just-in-case,” she muttered as she put the leftover shrimp scampi in a plastic container. She thought, just for a second, about sending it over to Jake but then shut the lid on it firmly and placed it into her refrigerator.

  “What did you say?” Lynn’s dark head of hair and Phoebe’s pale blonde one swiveled in Tory’s direction.

  “Me? I didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh yes, you did.”

  Tory looked at two sets of inquisitive eyes, one brown, the other hazel green. She glanced away and out the window, trying to evade them. Gauzy curtains gave way to a view of the harbor, ringed by the twinkling lights of the houses that dotted the headlands.

  “You were muttering,” Lynn pointed out and then giggled. Tory sighed. She had a feeling that her friends might be sleeping on her couch tonight.

  “Something about a plus-one, or maybe it was ‘just in case’.” Phoebe nodded, while still flipping through the bridal magazine she had brought to show Lynn. Phoebe’s wedding was planned down to the very last detail, Tory knew, her dress already picked out, along with the flowers, the music and the menu. Lynn, on the other hand, hadn’t given too much thought to the whole formal wedding deal, and Tory had a sneaking suspicion it was because Lynn and Jackson planned on eloping.

  “Oooh, does that mean you’ve decided who to bring to the wedding?” Lynn asked and shot a knowing look at Phoebe.

  “I told you I was going solo.” Tory brought the bottle of wine over to the coffee table.

  “What are you talking about?” Lynn asked. Phoebe just shook her head as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of this conversation.

  “Well, my money is on Jake,” Lynn said, then took a gulp of her wine when saw the look on Tory’s face.

  “You mean Jake as in Jake Owen?” Tory said in what she hoped sounded surprised as she sank into the gray, low slung couch and pulled one of her favorite pillows onto her lap. Phoebe had helped Lynn decorate the apartment. Since Phoebe had great taste, Tory hadn’t had to change much when she moved in. Lynn had left pretty much everything, including her furniture, and Tory had only needed to add some of her favorite accessories to make the place feel like home.

  “Are there any other Jakes floating around?” Lynn pointed out.

  Tory looked Lynn squarely in the face. “You do know that there is no way I would ever consider being his date.”

  “Why not?”

  “Probably because she’d be afraid he’d leave her and run off with someone else, before she did it to him,” Phoebe said, taking a sip of her wine while her hands delicately hovered over the plate of snickerdoodle cookies Tory had put out for dessert.

  “Jake would never do that,” Lynn said confidently.

  Tory shook her head. “It’s sort of his thing.”

  “I thought it was your thing?”

  “Very funny. I don’t do it in the middle of a date.”

  “In the middle of a date? No way!” Lynn’s eyes darted between Phoebe and Tory.

  “Oh, yeah. He did it first at the prom, a long time ago. Went with Darby, from the Golden Pear, but snuck away with Colleen McShane.”

  “And he did it after Noah and Caitlyn’s wedding. Took Annabeth Simmons, who works at the university, and then snuck off with one of Noah’s second or third cousins, or something like that,” Phoebe said, shaking her head.

  “He wouldn’t do that to you,” Lynn said, but Tory could tell from her voice that she was rethinking the whole concept of Tory and Jake.

  “He might, and I don’t think he’d feel bad about it either,” Tory said. “I’m practically one of the guys to him. In fact, he just asked me to be his just-in-case.”

  “What’s a just-in-case?” Lynn said, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Sort of like a worst-case scenario plus-one,” Phoebe offered in explanation. Lynn still looked puzzled.

  “It means he wants me to agree to go with him since he can’t find anyone better,” Tory said.

  “Oh … that’s terrible. You could do much better than him!” Lynn said, her voice quiveri
ng with indignation.

  “So, now you think Jake’s a terrible choice for me?” Tory said, feeling amused despite the subject matter.

  “Well, I don’t know. It just seemed sort of cute. I mean, you live right next door to each other, just like Jackson and I did,” Lynn pointed out.

  Tory shook her head. “Lynn, don’t start thinking that this apartment has some sort of love charm on it. One, you know I don’t believe in that kind of thing, and two, I’ve known Jake Owen for a long time. We both grew up here, and sadly, he’s just not my type.”

  A crafty look came over Lynn’s face. “Well, then, who is your type?”

  “Maybe the type of guy who lends her a Mustang to drive,” Phoebe murmured, just loud enough so they could all hear it.

  Lynn’s eyes brightened with interest.

  “And we’re back to Colby, with the cowboy boots and lovely accent, the one who is oh so gallantly fixing your car.”

  “Yup,” Phoebe said, and her smile was definitely smug.

  “Isn’t that accent just adorable? I think he’s kinda like a Brad Paisley without the hat.”

  “No hat but, yes, he sounds just like Brad Paisley, like….” Phoebe seemed to be groping for something to compare Colby’s accent to.

  “Like honey slowly pouring over hot biscuits.” Tory didn’t know why she said it. Probably because she was in the midst of thinking about Colby’s sexy-as-sin voice and the way it had of turning ordinary things into promises of long, lazy afternoon spent doing … things.

  “Yup, something like that,” Phoebe agreed.

  “I thought he was just lending you his car,” Lynn said, her voice slightly accusing. “You didn’t tell me….”

  “What…? That there’s something going on?” Tory sighed. “There is nothing going on. He’s just letting me drive his car.”

  Lynn narrowed her eyes. “My own brother won’t let me drive his car, and it’s nowhere near as nice as Colby’s. It’s a big deal when a guy gives you his car to drive.”

  “He let her drive Jaguar the other day,” Phoebe put in. Tory looked at Phoebe’s glass and had the sneaking suspicion that she hadn’t been drinking as much as the rest of them. It sounded very much like Phoebe was trying to enlist Lynn into a full-court press on the Colby and Tory matchmaking efforts.

  “Yeah, so he’s just being a nice guy,” Lynn said with a knowing smile and trace of sarcasm, “that kind of guy that lets you drive his fancy cars. And by the way, what’s he doing with a Mustang and a Jaguar?”

  “He owns an antique car restoration shop and dealership. He was loaning Chase the Jaguar for a catalog shoot, and the Mustang is his own car.”

  “Well, that sure beats the el Camino one of my crushes had,” Lynn said with a sigh.

  “I think anything would beat an el Camino,” Phoebe said with a laugh.

  After that, the night wound up, Lynn and Phoebe so significantly distracted by a thorough rehash of bad boyfriends that there hadn’t been much more talk about Colby. Jackson, who had been watching the game next door with Jake, picked up his slightly tipsy fiancée and future sister-in-law, promising to drive them both safely home. Tory had been on the verge of shutting her door and locking up for the night when Jake had popped his head out and given her one more suggestive leer. She shook her head and, for the second time that night, slammed the door in his face.

  Still, even after cleaning up and checking her emails, Tory was restless, tossing and turning in bed, her thoughts filled with the memory of Colby’s whispers and the twinkle of his blue eyes. Why, all of a sudden, should her mind be filled with thoughts of him?

  She sighed and turned over on her stomach, pillow under her head. She hadn’t quite pulled the curtain all the way shut on the window, and she could see out a little. It was late or early, depending on your view, and she had a sense that she would see the sunrise before she was through thinking.

  She had used to think that there was a one. In fact she had been almost obsessed with the idea. Stevie Wilder. Star lacrosse player, mediocre student, but oh so easy on the eyes. She had harbored a crush on him all through elementary school and junior high. By high school she had resigned herself to the fact that boy like Stevie didn’t go for girls like her. Until he couldn’t pass senior year math. So she had tutored him and when he’d broken up with his girlfriend right before prom, he’d asked her. She had thought he’d been joking. But he hadn’t. She had seen the tickets, even helped him pick out a tux.

  And then he had stood her up. Because he’d gotten back together with Heather. And she had wound up crying in her bedroom, pretending that she didn’t care. So she had hatched a plan. A simple one. She had transformed herself from a nerdy girl into a not so nerdy girl. All it had taken was a trip the hair salon, taking up regular exercise and a thorough analysis of fashion mags and endless viewings of What Not to Wear. By the time she left for college she was no longer nerdy Tory. But she didn’t trust guys.

  And then she had come back right after graduation. It was supposed to have been a short break before she started her ‘real’ job. But Stevie had been in town and they had bumped into each other. And things had progressed from there. He hadn’t recognized her at first and then he had apologized and then he had brought flowers and before she knew it, she had told the consulting company no thanks, begged a job from Chase and moved in with Stevie.

  And it had been great. They’d talked about marriage, and other things. She kept expecting a ring. Until the day she’d found out. Heather the cheerleader hadn’t left the picture, not really. Living two towns over, conveniently near one of Stevie’s big clients. And she was having his baby.

  He hadn’t even tried to ask for forgiveness, she remembered now. Hadn’t begged her to stay. Had told her that he needed to the right thing. That Heather had always been the one.

  She had been devastated. And she had run, straight back home and into a funk that lasted…much longer than she cared to remember.

  Stevie had broken her. Twice. And she’d let him. But she’d learned her lesson, hadn’t she. No guy was worth it. No guy was ever going to keep her up at night. So, why was she letting Colby Reynolds do exactly that?

  Chapter 18

  The Mustang rumbled to a stop, and her mother stood there, face fixed in an expression of disapproval as she took in the car.

  “Why are you driving that?” Linda Somers asked, as she stood at the end of the walkway that led to the entrance of the house.

  “It’s a loaner,” Tory said, as if her mother’s disapproval didn’t bother her at all.

  Tory had only had the Mustang for a few days, and it was in no way anything like her Mini. The Mini Cooper purred, darted and leapt. The Mustang rumbled and roared. It advanced. It leapt too, but with a bunching and flexing of muscles, while her Mini gracefully launched itself forward. She loved the Mustang, the feeling of power beneath her hands as they gripped the wheel.

  And the looks she kept getting. Sure, the Mini had gotten its fair share of second glances, but they had been squeals, mostly from women, delighting in how cute her Mini had been. The Mustang brought her attention of an entirely different sort and from an entirely different demographic. Middle-aged men with potbellies watched with envy, while bushy-haired bikers gave her a nod, as if she were part of some sort of secret fraternity.

  Other Mustang drivers, especially those in white t-shirts with thickly muscled arms, gave her sleepy-eyed, appraising looks and raced their engines. Tory had been tempted, but she had never given in to the desire to push the car as fast as it could go. She could imagine nothing worse than having to tell Colby she had wrecked his almost classic car.

  “What kind of body shop gives you an old Mustang as a loaner?” her mother said, her lips pursed.

  “One that specializes in classic cars,” Tory said. Her mother had insisted on taking her out to dinner to celebrate Tory’s promotion. Her hopes that it would be a relaxing evening were rapidly sinking.

  “I would hardly call that a class
ic,” Linda sniffed.

  “Well, to some people it’s an icon of American ingenuity and know-how.”

  “Loud and noisy,” her mother countered.

  “Why don’t we get going, so that we don’t hit the dinner rush at the diner?” Tory said, deciding that this was another debate with her mother that she wasn’t going to win.

  “Don’t worry. We’re not going to the diner,” her mother said as she lowered herself into the seat and struggled with the seatbelt, finally strapping herself in with a sigh of resignation.

  Tory started the car and raced the engine, just to see the look on her mother’s face.

  “Not the diner?” Tory said in surprise. It was her father’s favorite place, the chicken parmesan one of his favorite dishes.

  “No, I made reservations at the Osprey Arms.” Her mother said firmly, but when Tory tried to look at her, she slid her eyes away.

  “Mom, the diner is fine, you know. We don’t have to go to the Osprey Arms,” Tory said. Her parents went there only for truly special occasions, like Tory’s high school graduation or perhaps their anniversary.

  “Wouldn’t you rather go to the Osprey Arms?” her mother pointed out.

  Tory hesitated only a minute. The food was amazing, and the view couldn’t be beat.

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” her mother said.

  Tory shrugged. She couldn’t disagree. She was pretty sure that one dinner at the Osprey Arms wouldn’t break the bank. And though it was totally out of character for her mother to suggest something like that, she decided just to run with it.

  The evening was warm enough that Tory kept her window down a little, driving from her parents’ neighborhood back down to the harbor. She had offered to drive her mother because she figured her dad, busy with work, would come directly from the office. This way, they’d have only one car to deal with.