by Noelle Adams
She nodded sympathetically. “But you wish she was more.” It wasn’t a question.
Why try denying it. “Pretty much. I’m here to be supportive and I thought it was a good idea, but now? Not so much.”
“Wow. Sorry. Been there, done that. Does she know how you feel?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid if she finds out, I’ll lose the friendship. And I definitely don’t want to do that.”
“What if you don’t lose the friendship? What if she feels the same way, and then you go on to have this great future together?”
If only it were that easy, he thought to himself.
“If it were going to happen, it would have by now,” he said miserably. “Look, I’m sorry. You seem like a very nice woman, and it’s not fair to you that I’m not here for the right reasons.”
She waved him off. “Everyone’s here for different reasons, and not everyone is looking for a serious date. I’ve gotten four offers for sex—no strings—and three offers to fix me up with their friends. So really, you being here to support a friend that you have feelings for? That’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve heard all night.”
“You’re being far too kind,” he said with a small smile. “I hope that you meet someone tonight who’s good and decent and appreciates that about you.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks, Jace.”
The bell rang, and Jace moved on. Only two more “dates” to go before he was at Isabella’s table. Doing his best, he put some effort into engaging with each one and even forced himself to not look in Isabella’s direction. But as soon as the bell rang out to announce he could get to her, he nearly fell out of his chair to get there.
“Hey, there,” he said with a smile and sat down on the bar stool. “I’m Jace. I’m a Sagittarius, I work for the town of Preston. I enjoy a good burger and watching old Monty Python movies.”
Isabella laughed, her head falling back as she did. When she looked at him, her smile took his breath away. She decided to play along and introduced herself.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jace. I’m Isabella. I’m a hair stylist who dabbles in cosmetology. I work for a salon here in Preston. I also enjoy a good burger, but I’m a sucker for a romantic comedy.”
He sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess we gave it a try. Good luck to you!”
She laughed again and then reached out and grabbed both of his hands in hers. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re finally here. This has been the worst!” she said in a hushed tone. “There are a lot of creepy guys out there.”
“That’s what I’ve been hearing.”
Releasing his hands, she sat back in her seat a bit and sighed. “And we’ve still got another half-hour to go.”
“We could leave right now. Go grab a burger—or ice cream,” he said with a wink, knowing it was one of her weaknesses, “and pick a movie on Netflix and call it a night.”
She grabbed one of his hands again and squeezed. “Seriously, this is the best date I’ve had all night, Jace. And as tempting as the ice cream and movie sounds, I need to stick this out. For all I know, my dream guy is going to be in this next batch—maybe even the last guy I talk to.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her it was highly unlikely, but he kept it to himself. “How about afterwards? When all of this is over, we’ll grab something to eat and compare notes.”
She smiled. “That sounds perfect. Thanks.”
The bell rang out, and he was forced to move on—disappointed that his last round of dates would have him sitting with his back to her as he made his way around the other side of the bar.
***
Jace waited by the door for Isabella. Throngs of people walked by on their way out—most of them smiling and laughing. When he caught a glimpse of Isabella, however, she wasn’t.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“I just want to leave,” she murmured. “Can we just go?”
Nodding, he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her out the door. “Bella, what’s wrong? What happened? Did someone upset you?”
She said nothing as they made their way to his car. Then she spun around and faced him. “What is wrong with me?” she cried out. “Can you please just tell me what it is?”
“Wrong? I don’t understand.”
A loud huff was her only response before she tried opening the car door. He hadn’t unlocked it yet, and he quickly hit the remote to do so. Isabella climbed into the car and slammed the door, and Jace hung his head and opened his door and braced himself for whatever it was she had to say.
But she didn’t say anything.
They made it all the way back to her place without uttering a single word.
It wasn’t until they were parked in front of her building that she finally turned to him.
“I had thirty-two dates tonight. Thirty-two! And not one of them asked for my card.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I was propositioned by a couple of creeps, got offers to be fixed up with some of their friends or brothers—and even two sisters!—but no one wanted to date me, Jace. It was like none of those guys were even looking for a serious relationship!”
He sighed and pulled her into his embrace—not an easy task in the confines of the car and with the console between them. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know how much you wanted this to work.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I really did.” It didn’t take long for him to feel her tears through his shirt.
Dammit. He hated when she cried.
“Bella, you can’t take this personally. If it makes you feel any better, I got propositioned by some pretty forward women. Mostly ones that were almost as old as my mom.”
She let out a quiet laugh and lifted her head. “Promise you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
He chuckled softly, wiping away her tears. “And I was even offered a date with someone’s uncle. So you see? It was creepiness all around.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I just don’t get it. We’re good people, aren’t we?”
He nodded.
“We’re nice and fun and attractive?”
He nodded again.
“Then why can’t we find normal people to date us?” she asked sadly.
He didn’t think now was the time to mention the eight cards he had in his pocket. Truth be known, he just hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings by declining their card. There was no way he was going to actually call any of them. The only date he wanted was sitting right here in front of him.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Isabella pulled back. “I have a small variety of ice cream inside. And Netflix. Would you… I mean I know we normally do that at your place, but would you like to come in and hang out for a while?”
“Bella…”
“Please, Jace. I just… this night just really messed with me and I need some time with my best friend. Please.”
Shit. There was no way he could deny her anything.
With a sympathetic smile, he turned off the car and hoped that he’d be able to handle being alone with her and not do anything stupid.
Like say “I told you so” about this whole speed dating idea.
Nine
Isabella had wanted Jace to come in and spend the evening with her, but as soon as he walked in, she started feeling confused and self-conscious.
He was there—right there in her hallway. Tall and solid and adorably rumpled with the sexiest, slightly heavy-lidded eyes she’d ever seen.
Her best friend. Who was somehow morphing into something more in her muddled mind.
She gulped and turned to hurry into the kitchen.
As she was standing in front of the refrigerator, she couldn’t remember what she’d been coming in here to get in the first place. Seeing a bottle of red wine she’d bought the other day, she grabbed it from the counter and started to open it, pleased to have something to do with her hands.
She poured a glass and offered
it to Jace.
He took it with a little smile, his eyes studying her face with the slightest hint of confusion. “I thought we were going to have ice cream.”
Shit. Ice scream. That was what she had come in here to get.
“I…I decided I wasn’t very hungry. But you can have ice cream if want.”
He shook his head and shook his head. “Nah. This is fine. Thanks.” After a pause, he added, “You okay?”
“Of course,” she replied, forcing a smile. After she poured herself a glass of wine, she leaned against the counter, trying to act natural and casual when she felt anything but.
She’d been feeling incredibly needy, incredibly close to Jace. And she’d wanted nothing more than to spend the evening cuddled up beside him. But now that he was actually in her house, she realized she wanted even more than that.
She wanted to kiss him again.
She wanted to touch him all over.
She wanted him to touch her.
Her mind kept screaming about how wrong this was, but she couldn’t seem to help her.
She desperately needed something to distract her. “So what do you want to do?”
Jace blinked. “I thought… Netflix?”
Damn! She couldn’t even keep track of what she’d said five minutes ago.
Desperately searching for an alternative she might reasonably suggest to make up for her gaffe, she stalled. “I know. I did say that. But… I don’t know. I kind of want…”
Jace took a step closer to her, something shifting in his expression that made her breath hitch. “You want what, Bella?”
She gulped. “I want…” In a panic, she thought of a somewhat reasonable explanation for her behavior, and she took it. “Remember when we were in high school, and I was depressed or fighting with Brock, we would stay up late playing Scrabble?”
Jace smiled, although something inside him seemed to slump behind the expression, so subtle she never would have noticed if she hadn’t known him so well. “Of course I remember.” He took a slightly ragged breath. “You want to play Scrabble?”
It was a relief—a deep relief—to break the strange tension of the moment before. Plus, the game might distract her from all these inappropriate thoughts and feelings she was having. “Is that all right?”
Jace took a big sip of wine. “Sure. Why not?”
***
An hour later, they’d almost finished the bottle of wine, and Isabella had to take a break to go to the bathroom and splash some water on her face.
She was feeling better—warm and amused and affectionate, not as scared as she’d been when they’d first arrived—but she was still finding Jace far too attractive, despite the familiarity of the game.
Blowing out a rush of air, she told herself to focus. Focus.
Scrabble was what was important at the moment. Nothing else.
“I’m telling you,” Isabella called as she left the bathroom and headed back to the living room. “It’s not a word.”
“It is a word.” Jace grabbed his phone and pulled up the dictionary app he used. “It has something to do with oxygen. You’ll see.”
“It’s a prefix,” she said, reminding herself he wasn’t nearly as hot as he appeared to her at the moment. It was just the mixture of alcohol and neediness. That was all it was. “But it doesn’t stand as a word on its own.”
She’d changed clothes a little while ago, so she could be comfortable as they played. She was now dressed in a stretchy t-shirt and plaid cotton pants that strongly resembled pajama bottoms. Jace knew better than to call them pajama pants, of course. He’d learned that the hard way a long time ago. They were “lounge pants.”
When Jace found the appropriate entry, his face reflected a surge of relief that made it clear he hadn’t been entirely confident in his grammatical claim. “Oxy,” he read out loud, “Containing oxygen.”
“But it’s a prefix! If it says it’s a prefix, then it doesn’t count as a whole word, and you can't use it.”
Jace smiled down at her as he showed her his phone. “It says it can be a prefix, yes. But look. It can also be used adjectively.”
Leave it to him to be able to use the word “adjectively” even after having downed three glasses of wine.
Isabella wasn’t feeling as competitive as she really should be feeling. In fact, she was having trouble not smiling sappily at his adorably pompous expression, “Fine. Whatever.”
Jace chuckled as she took her place on the floor across from her.
The Scrabble game continued, and Isabella eventually started growing suspicious as Jace clearly began preserving certain of his letters. She knew what that expression and strategy of his meant.
He had a great word, and he was just waiting for the opportunity to use it.
She was more suspicious than ever when he put down a T and E around an H to form the word “the.” He never would have put down such a waste of a turn if he wasn’t waiting for something phenomenal.
They were tied at the moment, but she had a little feeling they wouldn’t be for long.
“Uh oh,” she said, trying to sound like she would have sounded on any other evening with Jace. “That’s your snotty face. You must think you have a good move.”
Jace frowned too, clearly not appreciating being called “snotty.” But he ignored it, obviously more interested in his word.
She’d put down the word “roast” a few moves ago, and she watched as he started laying down tiles around it.
When he put down the Z tile on the Triple Word Score Square, Isabella made a little squeak. When he added R-I-A-N at the end of the word “roast,” thus including yet another Triple Word Score Square, she made a choking sound.
Looking quite proud of himself, Jace admired his completed word. Giving her a look of exaggerated mildness, he murmured, “I believe that should be 180 points.”
“Zoroastrian?” she read aloud, sitting upright as she stared at him.
He nodded. “Zoroastrian.”
“But… but…” She was almost sputtering, her slightly clouded mind trying to catch up to this indignation. “But that’s a proper noun!”
He shook his head. “Nonsense.”
“Yes, it is! It’s that old religion, isn’t it?”
Jace’s face was perfectly composed, but she could tell he was greatly enjoying both his word and this argument. “Yes, originally the word was used to identify a follower of Zoroastrianism. But now the word has moved beyond that specific context, so it’s no longer a proper noun.”
Isabella’s mouth dropped open, hardly believing his nerve in suggesting such a thing.
“It has, Isabella. That’s the way language works.”
“But it would still always be capitalized! That’s against the rules!” She was shifting between glaring at the word on the board and glaring at Jace's guileless face.
“No, it wouldn’t. Not when it’s used as a generic adjective.”
“Use it non-capitalized in a sentence.”
“She had a traditional, zoroastrian perspective on life, although she liked to consider herself a nouveau thinker.”
He was bluffing. He had to be. But he was doing it well—straight-faced and steady-eyed, with both his hands and his mouth relaxed.
Isabella’s outrage flickered a little, as she suddenly wondered if he was right.
He’d always been so smart. It was one of the things she loved about him.
“You had that ridiculous sentence planned all this time,” she said.
“Maybe. But it doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
She stared at him fixedly until she saw the corner of his mouth twitch just slightly.
“I knew it! You’re bluffing!”
“Never.” He was obviously still trying to hold onto his composure, but his eyes were brimming with humor, and he was having trouble hiding a smile.
“Cheater!” Bursting into laughter, she tackled him, playfully pushing him down so he was lying on his back on the floor. “You
’re cheating, and you know it, so you have to forfeit the game.”
She realized her mistake when Jace’s hard, lean body started to rub against hers. Her heart began to race with excitement as her breath quickened and shivers of excitement ran up and down her spine.
His hand slowly slid down her back until he was cupping her hips, almost—almost—touching her bottom. “I’ll never forfeit. I’ll go to my death declaring that Zoroastrian is a perfectly legitimate Scrabble word.”
Despite his light tone, his expression had changed again. His eyes were hot. So hot. As hot as she felt.
She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing against him again, and she suddenly realized how tense his body was.
Tense. And tight. And hard.
So hard.
All of him hard.
He shifted beneath her weight, and every little move he made against her fired all of her sensitized nerve endings.
She wanted him to roll over on top of her. Sink into her completely.
She wanted him to bury himself in her and never come out.
Jace closed his eyes and took a slightly shaky breath, and she knew now why that was.
He was aroused beneath her. She could feel it very starkly when she rubbed her pelvis against his.
She made a breathless noise at the realization, and she trailed her hand down his chest to his belly.
Jace jerked in what looked like surprised pleasure.
“Jace?” she whispered, her hand grazing down even further.
It felt like there was some sort of magnetic force drawing her hand down toward the bulge of his erection. He was sweating a little—she could see it—and his breath was blowing in and out in short huffs.
He grunted, not really forming a complete word.
Isabella’s hand had reached his belt, and she idly played with the supple leather. Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe she’d been holding back for too long.
But she heard herself saying, “I know that we’re just friends, and that we said that kiss didn’t mean anything. I know touching like this is really against the rules.”
Her hand slipped down even lower, brushing against the bulge at the front of his trousers. Jace let out a soft strangled sound in response, as if he were desperately trying to hold himself back.