A Tempting Friendship (Clover Park #10)

by Kylie Gilmore

  She took a deep breath and hesitated. Could she really go through with it? Because in setting Angel free, she’d be opening herself up to who knew what waited for her out in the real world. She’d been wrapped in her safe cocoon for so long it made her nauseous to even think about meeting a stranger for a date.

  Angel pulled a kitchen chair out. “Hey, take a seat. You feeling okay?” He gestured toward the chair, and when she didn’t move, he came to her side and sort of herded her over there, coming just short of touching her. He was three inches taller than her, and he used his larger body to shield and guide her without actually making contact. She complied, dropping to the seat. He went to the sink and got her a glass of water.

  She took a long drink and set the glass down. He took the seat next to her and leaned close, his dark brown eyes full of kindness and concern. He was a school social worker at the same school where she taught and an excellent listener. “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded. The timer on the oven dinged.

  “Sit,” he said. “I got it.”

  He pulled the potholders from the middle drawer to the left of the oven and took the popovers out. Then he slipped in the tray of mozzarella sticks she’d prepared.

  “Four twenty-five,” she told him. He adjusted the temperature and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. She kept his favorite kind on hand. She watched as he pulled the bottle opener from the third drawer on the right. His familiarity with the kitchen made her realize she and Angel were like an old married couple minus the sex. She’d let this go on long enough. Angel deserved so much better.

  He remained standing, taking a sip of beer and watching her over the rim. “What is it?”

  She clasped her hands tightly together, suddenly nervous that Angel would fight her on this. He’d been so protective of her since Brad died. “I, uh, I signed up for an online dating site.”

  His jaw dropped, and the beer slipped from his hand, hitting the old linoleum floor with a thud and then a bounce. Beer spewed everywhere. She leaped up, grabbed some paper towels and hurried over to clean the mess. Angel stood frozen in place, saying nothing. It scared the hell out of her. She’d never seen him shocked into speechlessness.

  She sopped up what she could—it was nearly a full bottle—and tossed the towels and bottle in the trash. Then she grabbed more paper towels, the kitchen still eerily silent. “Angel? Please say something.”

  Still nothing.

  She glanced over, took in his clenched jaw, his lips a flat line, and swallowed hard. He remained silent as she knelt at his feet and cleaned up the rest of the wet floor. She yelped as he suddenly grabbed her by the upper arms and yanked her to her feet. Not only because he hadn’t touched her in five years, and his fingers were burning through the thin fleece, it was his grip, tight and unforgiving. Her fingers clenched the sopping wet paper towels, beer dripping between them, soaking the floor, soaking her socks.

  “Let me throw these out,” she said, her voice unnaturally high. Angel never lost his temper with her. With Brad, yes, but never her.

  He gave her a little shake, and she squeaked. “You’re ready to date?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  She sucked in a breath. No, absolutely not, but she needed to make things right. To set him free. “I-I want to try.”

  He leaned close, and she dropped the towels, her heart thudding against her ribcage. Angel close up overwhelmed her senses every time, but the fierce look in his eyes lit a dark desire that filled her with shame.

  “With a stranger?” he bit out. “Some random asshole you met over the Internet?”

  She looked away. “There’s nice people online too.”

  He released his grip on her arms and crossed to the far side of the kitchen away from her.

  “It’s for the best,” she said, her voice shaky. “I…” She trailed off at his hard, furious look. This was not the Angel she knew. Her Angel was kind, good, unbearably sweet and tender always. Except for those times when she’d crossed the line. Then they’d both been animals, consumed by base desire heightened by the forbidden.

  He advanced on her, and she braced herself. Stay strong. For once in your life, do the right thing with Angel. He stopped short a foot away. “No. I won’t allow it.”

  She bristled at his authoritative tone. “You’re not…you don’t get a say.”

  “The hell I don’t.”

  “Best friends are supposed to—”

  He grabbed her and hauled her close, her softness pressed against his hard planes, filling her with traitorous heat. He’d never touched her first. It was always her.

  “Please don’t,” she said on a near sob, turning her head away. This wasn’t going to help either of them. One kiss and they’d be naked. It was out of control. But Angel and sex had always been wrong. Always been her weak spot. Brad had no idea the kind of wife she’d been. The kind of girlfriend. But it was even worse now. With their twisted history, she and Angel couldn’t…she felt light-headed. He’d bail for good this time. Just the thought of losing Angel forever robbed her breath.

  “Julia.” The one word was a harsh demand and rasp of frustration at the same time. “Look at me.”

  “Please,” she whispered. “You’re the only person I can count on. The only thing that kept me sane when the grief was too much.” She licked her dry lips. “You deserve…” She trailed off as he leaned close, her mind suddenly blank.

  “What do I deserve?” he asked, his voice a husky rumble in her ear.

  “We never should’ve been together,” she blurted. The words flew from her mouth before she could soften them.

  He pulled away. The loss of him, his heat, his rock-steady body, nearly made her weep.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her eyes. Her stomach turned. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Angel, I’m so sorry.”

  He looked toward the door. “I should go.”

  “Please don’t. New Year’s won’t be the same without you.” They’d shared ten years’ worth of New Year’s Eves together. Sometimes with other people, but always together.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes still on the door. Time was running out to fix things between them tonight. She feared time was running out to fix things between them period.

  “Can’t we have a do-over?” she asked desperately. They’d had a few of those already—Angel’s idea—when they needed to…reestablish the boundaries of their relationship.

  He jabbed a finger at her. “You don’t want me? Fine! But Internet dating is a mistake. You don’t know who’s going to show up at your door.”

  She’d always wanted him. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was their friendship couldn’t take another wild night that ended in shame and regret. The last time, after Brad’s funeral…she thought she’d die from the cool distance Angel kept. It had taken months for anything close to their old friendship to return. And the careful way he kept his distance ever since then, jumping back at the slightest chance of contact, was a sharp reminder of not only what they’d done, but what they’d lost as friends. No more easy affection, no teasing banter, no hugs after a rough day. Nothing.

  She sucked in a breath. “It’s just—”

  “Fuck it. I don’t want to hear it.” He stormed out of the kitchen. A moment later, the front door slammed behind him.

  She winced. She should’ve handled that better. Explained herself better.

  Dammit. Why couldn’t she find a way for both of them to move forward?

  Chapter Three

  Ten years ago…

  Angel had never believed in love at first sight until the day he met Julia MacKendrick. It was the first week of a new school year at college, and she’d been sitting alone in the lounge of the coed honors dorm where he lived—reserved for students there on academic scholarship—her nose in a book. Her hair was dark brown, softly sweeping past her angular face with its high cheekbones and cute pointed chin, and trailing to just past her shoulders. She sat cross-legged, oblivious t
o the noisy chatter of another group of students across the room. He instantly knew two things—she was shy; he had to meet her.

  He stopped in front of her, took a quick look at her book, and came up with the best line he could think of, one bookworm to another. “Good book.”

  Her head snapped up, her dark blue eyes widening in surprise, her skin a creamy white like the porcelain doll his stepmom had, her cheeks a rosy pink. She took his breath away. Then she spoke, her voice soft and uncertain, drawing out a protective instinct he didn’t even know he had. “You like Wuthering Heights?”

  He cleared his throat. He didn’t want to start things with a lie; he’d never actually read it. The cover had a woman on it from a long-ago time, like an old painting. “I heard good things. You new here? A freshman?”

  The noisy group left and rushed out the door. It was close to dinnertime. People were heading to the cafeteria.

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah.”

  “I’m a junior. I could show you around.” He held out his hand. “Angel Marino.”

  She shook his hand in a weak grip, the touch sparking between them. She met his eyes with a light of surprise before pulling her hand back. She’d felt it too. “Julia MacKendrick.”

  “Nice to meet you, Julia.”

  “You too.” She tucked her bookmark into her book. “I found my way around campus okay,” she quickly added.

  He jerked his thumb toward the door. “I’m meeting my friend for dinner. You want to come?”

  She gripped her book tightly in her hands. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  He sensed she wanted to go, but was nervous. After all, he was an upperclassman and she didn’t know him. But she would.

  “Not at all.” He offered her his arm, bending it at the elbow and leaning close.

  She stood, just a few inches shorter than his own five foot ten, and their gazes locked. A long electric moment passed, a connection of one soul to another, before she turned away and tucked her book in her purse. “Okay, my roommate ate earlier, so…” She trailed off and headed toward the door.

  He rushed ahead and held the door open for her. They stepped out into the crisp sunshine of September in Connecticut. The trees were just starting to turn, bright yellow bursting among the green, the sky bright blue, the clouds white and fluffy. A perfect fall day. He led the way to the cafeteria, racking his brain for stuff to say that would naturally lead to asking her out. He’d never been as smooth with girls as his older brothers, so he finally blurted, “Tell me about you.”

  “Oh—” she laughed “—really not much to tell.”

  “What’s your major?”

  “Elementary Education. I want to be a teacher.” He loved that. She liked kids. So did he.

  “I’m thinking about being a family social worker,” he told her.

  “That’s really important work,” she said.

  “Or a psychologist,” he added. “I haven’t decided. People say I’m a good listener.”

  She studied him for a moment. “I could see that about you.”

  By the time they’d gotten their food—and he’d spent entirely too much time breathing in her fruity shampoo—he was so deep in lust he was having trouble speaking coherently. They found an empty table in the corner. His best friend, Brad Turner, was late as usual. The big goofball. They’d met freshman year in Psych 101 when Brad had slipped him a drawing of the professor—a distinguished older gentleman—riding a donkey, naked. Brad cracked him up and reminded him of his stepbrother Jared, who’d gone to college out of state. Poor Brad had to take summer classes to keep from flunking out and was on academic probation.

  Angel kept up a steady stream of questions, both because he wanted to know her and because he was working up the nerve to ask her out. She gradually relaxed, telling him about her favorite books and TV shows, meeting his eyes more. This filled him with pride, his ability to make anyone comfortable in a conversation.

  “What about your family?” he asked. “Any brothers or sisters?” He came from a large close-knit family of his dad, stepmom, two biological brothers, and three stepbrothers. He was the youngest. He hoped family was important to her too.

  She tucked her hair behind both ears. “No, actually, my mom couldn’t have kids.”

  “Oh. So…” Did she mean ever? Or after she had Julia?

  She stared at the table. “I’m adopted.”

  “Oh. How is that? Do you like your adoptive parents? I mean, of course you do. Sorry.”

  She met his eyes with a weak smile. “It’s okay. I’m actually still getting used to it. I just found out when I turned eighteen in June.”

  “Three months ago?”

  She nodded.

  “That must’ve been a shock.”

  “It was.” Her blue eyes flashed. “I’m still pissed at them. That was a hell of a bombshell to drop on my graduation day. Congratulations! You’re not one of us, and there’s no more where you came from.” She bit her lip. “My biological mother died years before. No one told me shit.” She gave him a watery smile, and his chest clutched. “I’m not who I thought I was.”

  “But you’re still you. Just with a new perspective.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, but I’m a good listener. You want to go somewhere to talk?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, taking his measure, he supposed. “Where?”

  “There’s a pond out behind the agricultural building.”

  “You’re not…dangerous, are you?”

  “Smart girl.” He smiled, knowing his dimpled smile made him look as angelic as his nickname, Angel, short for Angelo. “I’m harmless, I promise.”

  She studied him again, and he worked hard to hide the lust that only increased the more time they spent together. “Okay,” she said. “You have a trustworthy face.”

  He stood, quietly victorious. “I do, don’t I? Let’s go.”

  They talked for hours, sitting on the grassy hill by the pond, mostly Julia, who was still coming to terms with being adopted and grappling with anger and grief over her biological mother, who’d died when she was eight. His own biological mother had died when he was five, but he kept that to himself because this was about her and her feelings. He’d learned all about the importance of validating feelings in his advanced psych course. Julia broke down in tears, and he sat in silent companionship, aching to hold her, yet knowing it was too soon. Finally she quieted.

  “Sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I guess I didn’t realize how much it still bothered me.”

  “It’s still very new for you.” Now he couldn’t ask her out. She was too upset.

  She swatted her arm. “The mosquitoes are coming out. We should get back.”

  He stood and walked her back to the dorm. Brad was in the lounge, playing foosball with Mike, probably waiting for him. Brad caught sight of him, took in Julia with an appreciative look, and bounded over to them. Angel was instantly wary. Brad with his golden looks and big personality easily eclipsed Angel whenever they met a group of girls, hogging all of the attention. This was one girl he didn’t want Brad taking an interest in.

  “You stood me up, you jerk!” Brad punched Angel’s arm. “I couldn’t find you in the caf.”

  “You were late,” Angel said.

  “I was raised by mules,” Brad quipped. “Bunch of asses.” He winked at Julia. “Adopted, of course.”

  “I was adopted,” Julia said quietly.

  “Oh.” Brad turned uncharacteristically serious. “Uh, me too. It’s a bit of a fuck you to have your real mom hand you over, ain’t it?” Was Brad adopted? He’d never mentioned it before.

  Julia brightened. “The biggest fuck you there is.”

  Brad grinned and moved in closer to Julia, making her cheeks flush bright pink. “You want to get wasted?”

  Angel’s protective instinct kicked in hard. “Brad, this is her first week. She’s a freshman.”
/>   Brad shot him a dark look. “Quiet, choirboy.”

  “Yes,” Julia said.

  Brad grinned. “C’mon. I’ve got a six-pack in my room. It’s across campus. I’m not honors material.” Brad bounded out the door, heading toward his dorm. Julia ran after him, and Angel followed to make sure she stayed safe.

  Later, Angel walked a drunk Julia back to her room, untouched by either of them. Brad had passed out on his bed after chugging four beers in rapid succession. Julia had two, and Angel abstained so he could keep an eye on her. She was a cheerful drunk and babbled happily about her two new best friends—him and Brad. He saw her safely inside her room and went to his room, knowing he had to stake his claim where Julia was concerned. He didn’t have the appeal of Brad, but he felt deep down that he and Julia were two parts of a whole. Just being near her made him feel amazing. Imagine if he actually got to touch her.

  The next day he stopped by Brad’s room at noon, their normal time to meet up for lunch on Saturday.

  He took one look at his best friend and blurted, “I saw Julia first.”

  Brad said nothing, which was unusual for him, just put his video game controller down and got off the bed, shoving his feet into sneakers.

  “I’m asking her out,” Angel said.

  Brad looked at him, more serious than he’d ever been in the two years he’d known him. “We’ll let Julia decide who she wants.”

  A rare temper flared. “No. Back off.” Angel shoved Brad, who was an inch shorter but strong and stocky.

  Brad shoved Angel back. “You back off.”

  “I saw her first!”

  “She’s not a damn toy. She’s a person.”

  “You’re just going to use her! Find someone else to hook up with.” Brad was notorious for hooking up and then dumping the girl.

  Brad stormed past him and into the hallway, striding toward the stairs.

  Angel followed. “Where are you going?”

  “To Julia’s room.” Julia had told them her room number in her drunken state and invited them to stop by any time to hang out.

  They marched straight out of Brad’s dorm and over to the honors dorm in furious silence. Brad reached her door first and knocked.