More than Friends: (A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance)

by Jillian Quinn

  I hold my hand over my heart, making a sad face. “I’m hurt.”

  Kat chuckles and tugs at my hand, dragging me to the rink exit. “You are not hurt. Stop being a baby and take a shower. You smell horrible, and I’m leaving for the restaurant in one hour. Dad will not wait for you, so get moving.”

  “You are such a bossy kitty,” I joke, using my nickname against her.

  She purrs at me, as per the usual, and we both laugh.

  At least one of my girls was here to watch me win another championship. Kat walks with me to the locker room, where we part ways, promising to meet in the same spot. I wish I could attend dinner as her boyfriend and not her best friend.

  Chapter 8

  Senior Year

  Kat

  After messing with my hair for far too long, I give up on the curls that refuse to stay in place and rush downstairs to the lobby to meet Dean. He stayed with his team a few blocks away at an affordable hotel. I was planning to do the same, but my dad had insisted on booking me a suite at the Peninsula, which was complete overkill for the weekend.

  The elevator doors open and within seconds, I step out to find Dean, dressed in a black oxford and slacks that blend perfectly with his dark features. Even in the winter, his skin still has the appearance of a slight tan from his olive skin. Waiting with his palm against the wall, as if he’s holding the damn thing up, Dean looks like a Greek god, with his short, wavy hair styled and his muscular body toned to perfection.

  My best friend has no shortage of women throwing themselves at him—and with good reason. It’s hard not to be attracted to Dean. But I like having him as my friend. Our situation is far too complicated. Sometimes, I wonder if I ruined our friendship by asking him to take my virginity. Regardless, I have no regrets. He had me at hockey, and we have been inseparable ever since.

  “You clean up good,” Dean says to me with a wink and his usual cocky grin.

  He eyes up every curve of my body, from my legs to my face, making me feel somewhat self-conscious in this tight red dress that compliments my blonde hair and light complexion. Good thing I have a winter coat covering the more exposed parts of my flesh.

  “For once, you look like a girl.”

  If he wasn’t my best friend, my fist would be connecting with his jaw right about now. Dean gets away with things no one else could manage. That was his way of complimenting me without making things too weird between us.

  I laugh at his stupid comment and shake my head. “Thanks, jerkface. You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He holds out his arm for me, smiling like an idiot and completely unfazed by my dig at him. “Ready for dinner, Kitten?”

  “Yeah, I’m starving, and I can’t wait to see my dad and brothers. I haven’t seen them in over a month.”

  “At least you will have all summer with them.”

  I smile at the thought of our yearly traditions at the Baldwin Estate, my childhood home just outside of Chicago and only a forty-minute drive from where we are standing.

  “Dad wants you to come this summer. He asked me last night on the phone if you would be joining us.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Wherever you are is where I want to be, but I can’t leave my mom all by herself. She needs me to help her out with the bills.”

  Once I latch onto him, Dean pulls me at his side, keeping me close. My younger brothers love Dean because of how protective he is over me. Tucker and Theo are also the reason we never took our relationship further.

  “Your mom is invited, too. The more, the merrier. We have plenty of room for you both.”

  “She would love that, but I doubt she will come with me considering her work schedule.”

  With a firm grip on my arm, Dean escorts me outside, the chill from the air leeching into my skin. Dean runs his hand down my back and arms to keep me warm, while his teeth chatter.

  “Why don’t you have a coat?”

  He shrugs, as he hails us a cab. “I dunno. All I could think about was getting here in time to pick you up for dinner. A coat was the last thing I cared about.”

  I shake my head at him, even though his gesture warms my heart. Dean always puts me first. “It’s too cold to forget about something as simple as a jacket. You could get sick.”

  “I play hockey, Kitten. No weather is too cold for me.”

  “I play, too, but that doesn’t mean I need to freeze my ass off outside the rink.”

  “You should be used to it, especially after growing up in a cold climate and traveling from rink to rink most of your life.”

  A cab pulls up to the curb, and Dean releases his grip on me to open the door and help me inside. Once I’m snuggled against his side and on our way to the steakhouse, he takes my hands in his and rubs them together. Then, he brings them up to his mouth to breathe on my skin, warming them with his touch.

  “How about now? All better?” He stares at me with those denim irises that pierce through my soul.

  For a second, my breath catches, and I have no idea what to say because words fail me. Dean’s gesture is so intimate and loving. In times like these, I wish we could become more than friends.

  “Uh-uh,” I mutter. The heat from his mouth ignites a fire beneath my skin. I turn my head to look out the window, desperate for a break from the emotions Dean stirred inside my chest.

  I hate when I have flashes of attraction to Dean. He makes it hard not to feel something for him, even if it’s only sexual tension. Most girls ask me how I can stay friends with Dean without throwing myself at him every day. It’s not easy.

  We don’t speak on the ride over to the restaurant, which suits me fine. A friendship like ours does not require words.

  Dean holds my hand on his thigh until the valet attendants open our doors. I give the driver money before Dean can open his wallet, which I have no doubt will piss him off. He hates when I pay for anything, despite knowing how much money I have in my trust fund.

  I slide out of the car and Dean hooks his arm through mine, as he drags me to the sidewalk.

  “You should have let me pay,” he growls.

  “He drove us down the street. It was only ten dollars. I won’t miss it.”

  He frowns. “That’s not the point, Kat.”

  I tug on his arm to pull him toward the front door, and he complies. “Stop making a big deal out of the money. In a few months, you’ll have your signing bonus and enough money that you won’t have to think about it ever again.”

  “It won’t be that much money,” he says, his breath creating a white cloud in front of us. “I play hockey, not football or basketball.”

  “It will be enough for your mom to stop working at the diner and for you to buy a car and move into an apartment.”

  “Hey, maybe I like taking public transportation. Did you ever think of that?”

  “No one likes riding the bus with the dude that jerks off in the back late at night. So, don’t even try to convince me that you enjoy the drive back home when you have that weirdo hogging up space.”

  “Jerkoff Jerry is a staple on the sixty-seven bus.” He has trouble saying the words without laughing.

  I chuckle. “You are so ridiculous.”

  “You’d be bored without me.” He lowers his deep voice to a more sensual tone.

  We walk into the restaurant, decorated with wood accents, and the smell of steak fills my nostrils, causing my stomach to growl.

  “Hi,” I say to the hostess standing behind a big oak desk. “We’re looking for the Baldwin party.”

  “Party?” Dean cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “Dad rented us a room for dinner,” I tell him, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

  I grew up with more money than I ever knew what to do with, while Dean and his mother have struggled their entire lives. I often feel guilty for having so much when they have so little. That’s why I wanted to do something special for them both, though Dean has no idea what I have planned for him.

  A beautiful brunette,
dressed in a floor-length flowery dress, gives Dean a once over before she makes a gesture that looks like an invitation for sex. He ignores her, as he normally does when we are together. Dean has always acted as though no one is in the room with us.

  The hostess leads us upstairs to the private room, where I find three of my four brothers. Tucker and Theo are chatting amongst themselves in the corner of the room, hovered over one of their cell phones and laughing. The twins get lost in their world most of the time, completely shutting us out. They have what I consider their twin language because their inside jokes tend to mean nothing to any of us.

  Duke, my eldest brother, has his shoe propped up on his knee, drinking a glass of whiskey. He and dad share the same love for the liquor, while I can’t even stomach the scent.

  “We’re here,” I announce, as we step into the room.

  “About damn time,” Duke says with his usual scowl. He gets up from his chair and sets the glass in his hand on the table. Palming my head with his big hand, Duke breaks the grip I have on Dean, as he pulls me into a bear hug that crushes my insides.

  “Denny,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.

  He wipes my lipstick from his face, acting as if he’s disgusted by my nickname. “You’re lucky I like you, Kit-Kat.”

  Since we were kids, our dad has called Dennis Duke, after his favorite movie actor, John Wayne. My dad and Duke would watch old Westerns together, with Duke pretending he was in the movies by re-enacting the scenes with my dad. He knew every movie by heart, and to this day, he can still quote True Grit verbatim. It’s something Dad and him did together, and even more so after our mother’s passing.

  We all have special traditions with Dad. He was around so little, because of all the traveling he did for hockey, that my father had made it a point to have something for each of us to look forward to when he would come home.

  For Duke, that was old movies. With Austin, the second eldest, they collected bottle caps and kept a collection in the basement. The twins liked comic books, so that was always their thing to do with our father.

  Being the middle child and the only girl, my dad always treated me differently. We had our traditions, too, though they weren’t very girly. I wanted to learn how to play hockey. That was a given with my brothers, but the thought had never even occurred to my dad until I asked him to teach me how to shoot a puck.

  He had no idea how to raise an eight-year-old girl, so that suited him just fine. Hockey he knew like the back of his hand, but menstrual cycles and makeup were like something out of the Twilight Zone for him. He didn’t even know how to braid my hair.

  Duke was the one who figured out how to make me look presentable for school and can most likely still tie a half decent braid, though he would never admit that to anyone—not even to me. Austin sat with me every night to go over my homework and would quiz me for my tests since he was always the smart one. Between Duke and Austin, and help from the staff at the Baldwin Estate, my older brothers raised the twins and me while Dad was on the road with his team.

  “Look who Kit-Kat brought with her,” Duke says over my shoulder to Dean, causing me to cringe. “Are you still hitting on my sister?”

  “Stop that.” I smack Duke on his thick, muscular arm and peel myself from his grasp, before nudging him in the arm with my elbow. “Dean and I are friends.”

  Duke shakes his head and moves his hands to his waist, pushing out his thick chest. “No, you two are more than friends.”

  I roll my eyes at him, annoyed. We have gone over my friendship with Dean a million times. “As usual, you are wrong, Big Bro.”

  He smirks. “Men don’t have women friends.”

  “This man does,” Dean adds, interrupting this stupid conversation.

  “Right.” Duke narrows his eyes at me.

  “Because we would kick his ass,” Theo and Tucker chime in at the same time, their voices blending as one.

  Dean smirks at them. “You wish you could kick my ass.”

  I want to thank the boys for crawling out of their twin headspace to put an end to this discussion. At times, Tucker and Theo can be more inappropriate than not. Luckily, this was not one of those times. Duke should learn from them and stop with the usual grand inquisition. I hate when he does this in front of Dean.

  The relationship Dean has with my younger brothers was always enough to keep us from doing anything that could jeopardize our friendship. Hockey comes first for both of us. So does family.

  “My boys.” Dad strolls into the room with his arms out at his sides to hug Theo and Tucker.

  As always, he looks like a million bucks in a navy pinstripe suit and brown wingtips. He cleans up well when he’s working. Otherwise, Dad sports the same T-shirt and track pants my brothers and Dean usually wears.

  Tucker and Theo go over to Dad, and he wraps his arms around them. “I’m so proud of you two. Keep it up, and you’ll be joining your brothers in the league soon enough.”

  The twins are a year younger and in their junior year at Strickland University. I always remind them of that fact. Duke’s in his fifth year in the NHL and Austin is in his third.

  “Who let the riffraff in,” Duke says to my dad with a rare smile he reserves for when he’s with family. My brother has anger issues. Ever since our mom passed away, he hasn’t been the same. None of us have been the same, but with Duke being the oldest and closest to our mom, he took her death worst of all.

  Duke lifts two glasses from the table and hands one to dad. I roll my eyes at the thought of what I know is coming before it even happens.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m going to keep you in whiskey,” Dad says to Duke, taking the glass from his hand.

  “I don’t buy that, I confiscate it,” Duke says, quoting John Wayne, with the accent and all. “And a touch of it wouldn’t do you any harm against the night air!”

  They clang their glasses together and tip their heads back in laughter.

  When Duke is around us, especially Dad, it’s one of the few times Duke looks truly happy. Otherwise, I imagine he stews inside his penthouse apartment he shares with his teammates in Washington D.C. He plays for the Capitals, one of my least favorite teams. But they have grown on me more now that my brother is their enforcer and one of the best in the league.

  After my dad finishes up with Duke, he locks eyes with me, saving me for last. He hugs me so tight that he lifts my feet off the ground. “Kat,” he whispers. “I missed you, baby girl.”

  “I missed you, too, Dad.” I wiggle free from his strong grip. “But I think you’re going to smush me if you don’t let go.”

  He releases me and places his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length to study my face. “You look so much like your mother, even more so than the last time I saw you.”

  My brothers have my father’s dark hair and hazel eyes that have flecks of gold in them. But I am the complete opposite of them with my blonde hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of my mother. She used to call me her twin when I was a child.

  I smile at his comment. “Where’s Austin?”

  “He’s on his way.” Dad winks at me because I know why Austin is late, though I was hoping he would be here sooner. In fact, I thought he would make it in time to catch, at very least, the end of the game. That was part of the plan that apparently went to shit.

  “Great game, son,” Dad says to Dean. He pulls Dean into a hug, which I know has to be the highlight of his life. He loves my dad almost as much as I do.

  Dean smiles. “Thanks, Nick.”

  “You keep that up, you’ll be making the big bucks soon enough.”

  “I hope so.” Dean gets so starstruck around my dad that it’s cute.

  My dad slaps his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You hungry?”

  “Starving,” Dean says.

  “Good.” Dad smiles, his eyes traveling from Dean to me and then to my brothers. “Let’s eat.”

  We take our seats at the table, with Dad sitting at the head and Duke
next to him. I skip over the seat on my dad’s other side, leaving it open for Austin. Despite having a lack of consistency growing up, we have always had a structure to our family.

  “That was one hell of a game you boys played today,” Dad says, staring at Dean and my brothers. “I’m glad we can all get together to celebrate without any of our schedules getting in the way.”

  Dean has a childish look on his face when he’s around my dad. He was one of the players Dean had looked up to when he was younger and his reason for wanting to become a hockey player.

  My dad was one of the best puck handlers and facilitators back in his prime, earning him a well-deserved place in the Hockey Hall of Fame and four Stanley Cup victories.

  While the men exchange pleasantries and talk about the Strickland Senators victory in the Frozen Four, our waitress comes into the room to take our orders. I remove my cell phone from my purse, about to send Austin a text message, when I hear his voice cut through the conversation.

  “Look who I found on my way home,” Austin says with a big smile that reaches up to his eyes.

  Emma Crawford smiles in my direction, wearing a long dress that fits her petite frame and a warm smile. My surprise is finally here. Too bad she wasn’t able to make the game.

  Drawn to the sound of her singsong voice, Dean looks over his shoulder in disbelief at his mother. “Mom,” he whispers, as he gets up from the table.

  He practically runs over to her and wraps his arm around her, burying his face in her neck.

  “Hey, baby,” she says, running her hand along his back. “I’m sorry I missed the game.”

  “But…” He struggles to find the right words, and then his gaze travels from his mother to me. “We can’t afford this.” Dean lowers his voice, though it’s not hard to hear him with the silence in the room.

  “I didn’t pay for a thing, sweetie.” She reaches up to touch his cheek and smiles, a gesture he returns immediately.