For Better or Worse

by Lauren Layne

  “The guilt?” she muttered. “No, not really.”

  Josh dipped his head forward and tried to think of the right thing to say. Nobody was closer to him than Jamie—they’d been best friends and worst enemies growing up, as siblings often were, and by the time they got into adulthood, only the friendship was left behind.

  But then he’d gotten sick, and in ways that only a twin could understand, Jamie had blamed herself when she hadn’t been able to fix him.

  “You want another pep talk?” he teased. “The one where I tell you all the reasons it wasn’t your fault, and talk realllllly slow like Dad when he’s disappointed?”

  Jamie smiled, but it was tight and forced, and his gut tightened when he saw her eyes were watering. “I’m just really glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

  “You and me both,” he said. “But it’s your turn to let people fuss over you. Why do you think I came down here to visit?”

  “Actually, I’m glad you brought that up,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I’m glad to see you. So glad. But don’t think for one minute that I missed the fact that you have your escape face on.”

  Josh blinked. “Am I going to need a drink for this?”

  Jamie waved behind her. “Beer in the fridge, booze above the fridge.”

  “Shit, so that’s a yes, then,” Josh muttered, going to their liquor cabinet and rummaging around until he came up with some Maker’s Mark bourbon. He poured him himself a healthy serving, added a splash of water, and joined his sister once more at the table.

  “I know you’re not going to shut up until you say your piece, so have at it.”

  “You’re running from something, and I want to know what.”

  “I’m not,” he replied, taking a sip of the strong, bracing drink.

  “Please. You know that time you wanted to dump Kelly Nicholson because you liked Valerie what’s her name better, but couldn’t figure out how to tell Kelly? Escape face. Or that time you took Dad’s Cal Ripken–signed baseball to school for show-and-tell and lost it, or the time you broke Grandma’s jewelry box—”

  “Jamie. The point.”

  “Right, anyway . . . whenever you’re avoiding someone or something, you get this look on your face.”

  “A look.”

  She nodded. “Yep, like your mouth is kind of tight at the corner and your nose is all flat and your eyes are shifty.”

  He could only stare at her. “Is it cool if I record this so later when you’re not pregnant, I can play it back and laugh at you?”

  “Oh, did I mention?” she asked, pointing at him. “You also try to change the subject.”

  “Yeah well, I can’t imagine why. Having my past faults described in great detail is definitely my idea of a good time.”

  “Fair enough,” she said, nodding her head graciously. “Let’s not talk about your past mistakes. Let’s talk about your current ones. I’m sensing a female is involved?”

  Josh pretended to look around the kitchen. “Don’t you need your crystal ball for this?”

  “Josh!” she said, finally snapping. “Would you talk to me. Please.”

  He sighed and took another sip of his drink, hating that she was right, the way that she usually was.

  He was avoiding something.

  And it was a female.

  Josh sighed. “Okay. There’s this girl.”

  Jamie smirked but managed to withhold the I knew it.

  “She moved in next door a few weeks ago, and we’ve been . . . hanging out.”

  “You know, I’m thirty-three just like you. You don’t have to apply a euphemism for sex.”

  “Actually it’s not really like that,” he muttered.

  “Really,” she said, her interest seeming to increase tenfold as she sat forward, hand resting on her stomach. “This just got interesting.”

  “Not interesting so much as frustrating. The attraction is mutual. We both know it. But she’s all wrapped up in her job, and then she’s got this thing with Trevor, and she asks all these annoying questions all the time . . .”

  Jamie put a hand to her mouth, but not before he saw the smile.

  “Don’t,” he muttered.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out a hand toward him. “It’s just that you’re so cute when you’re falling for a girl who’s not falling back.”

  “I’m not falling for her,” he muttered. “We’re just friends, and I wouldn’t mind adding benefits to the arrangement.”

  “And how does she feel about that?”

  “Good question. One minute she’s kissing me like she wants to have her way with me, the next she’s dragging me around the botanical gardens and talking about peonies, and the minute after that she’s making sexy eyes at Trevor.”

  Jamie’s eyes were wide with fascination. “So. Many. Questions. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Here’s another one for you,” he muttered. “Mom invited her to Thanksgiving.”

  Jamie barked out a laugh and slapped her hand on the table. “Oh my God, it keeps getting better. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be there.”

  “Yeah well, you might not be missing much. Pretty sure she’s not coming.”

  Jamie’s smile dropped. “Josh. Tell me you didn’t uninvite her.”

  “No. Of course I didn’t. It’s just . . . we had a thing, and she’s not exactly pleased with me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’d you do?”

  “How do you know it was me that did something?”

  She pointed downward. “Ovaries.”

  Josh winced. “Gross. Don’t. Anyway, I didn’t do anything, precisely, I just sort of . . . snapped at her to stay out of my business.”

  Jamie’s smile was all the way gone now. “Josh . . . does this girl—”

  “Heather.”

  “Does Heather know you were sick?”

  He took a sip of his drink. Then another. “Nope.”

  She gave a little sigh. “Josh.”

  “It’s not relevant,” he snapped. “That’s my past.”

  “Sure, but it’s shaped your present. And your future. And if you want this woman to be a part of either . . .”

  Jamie broke off, and Josh rubbed his forehead. What did he want from Heather? He couldn’t think about her as part of his future. He didn’t let himself think about anyone in terms of his future. He wasn’t sure he had one.

  But the thought of her not being a part of his life had him all sorts of irritable.

  Josh sighed and glared at his sister. “Any chance we can skip the bit where you laugh at me and call me names, and just go straight to the advice?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, surprising him by reaching across the table and patting his hand. “Okay, so here’s the thing. Did Heather say yes to Thanksgiving?”

  He shrugged. “I think she feels awkward.”

  “But she has nowhere else to go? Otherwise she wouldn’t even be considering it.”

  Josh felt tense at the thought of Heather being alone. “Her mom’s out of state. I feel like there’s a story there, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “So I’ve never met the woman, so this is a guess,” Jamie said, pursing her lips, “but is it possible she’s feeling as vulnerable as you?”

  “Hey, who said anything about vulnerable?”

  “Right, right, because you’re a big man,” his sister soothed. “But my point is, maybe this girl needs something different from your sexy smile and your crooning and your biceps.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m not buying her flowers.”

  Jamie smiled. “I think it might be even simpler than flowers. Cheaper, too. This woman’s on the verge of spending the holidays alone. Is it possible that what she wants more than anything from you . . . is just a little bit of kindness? To not be alone?”
<
br />   Josh blew out a breath and sat back, irritated by how easily his sister had cut straight to the heart of the issue, when he’d been gnawing on it for days. “So what do I do?”

  “Be her friend. Trust me when I say that for some women, there’s no better seduction technique. And, Josh?”

  He rolled his eyes. “What?”

  Jamie squeezed his hand and waited until he met her gaze. “I think maybe you need a friend, too. A real friend. One that knows everything.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  HEATHER HAD EXACTLY ONE plan for Thanksgiving:

  Sleeping in.

  She’d even bought a sleeping mask for the occasion. A fuzzy leopard-print affair to block out the morning light so that she could finally—finally—catch up on some sleep.

  The sleep mask did an excellent job blocking out the sunlight.

  It did not, however, stand a chance against a thirty­something male rummaging around in her closet.

  At first Heather thought she was dreaming. Or hallucinating.

  But a full minute after she’d shoved her mask up onto her forehead and blinked sleepily in the direction of the ruckus, it became painfully clear that this was no dream.

  Josh Tanner was in her bedroom, rifling through her clothes like he owned the place.

  What. The actual. Fuck.

  “Seriously?” she managed, her voice still croaky with sleep.

  He glanced over his shoulder with a cocky grin. “Morning, 4C. Aren’t you pretty in the morning. And by pretty I mean your hair is enormous.”

  Heather sat up. “How did you get in here?”

  “Key,” he said simply, as though it were obvious, turning his attention back to her closet and pulling out a blue-and-white-striped dress. “Is this a tent?”

  “What do you mean key?” she asked, lifting a hand to smooth her hair and then realizing it would be futile. She’d slept with it wet last night. His description of enormous was probably phrasing it politely.

  “Mrs. Calvin had one made for me a while back.”

  Of course.

  “And I’m just learning about this now, because . . . ?” she asked.

  He shot her another of those cocky grins. “Been saving it for a special occasion. Happy Thanks­giving, 4C.”

  “Hang on,” she said, lifting a hand and frowning as the last remnants of her sleep fog drifted away. “You’re talking to me now?”

  “What do you mean?” he put the maxi dress back in the closet. Not where he’d found it, but in the very back corner, as though hoping she’d forget about its existence.

  “Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that you’ve been giving me the silent treatment ever since I pried into your personal life last week? Hell, Josh, I haven’t even seen you in days.” Or at least not since that horribly awkward scene outside their apartments the other night, with Kitty and Trevor.

  Heather knew that nothing had happened with her and Trevor. They’d talked, watched a movie. She’d fallen asleep, and when she’d woken up the next morning, he was gone.

  But as far as what happened with Josh and Kitty, she didn’t have a clue. And if the truth wasn’t the one she wanted, she wasn’t sure she needed to know.

  “That’s because I’ve been out of town,” he said, tossing a black sweater on the bed. “You should wear that.”

  “Out of town where?”

  “Nashville. To see my sister.”

  “Since when do you have a sister?” she muttered, reaching for her hair band on the nightstand and pulling her hair into a knot on top of her head.

  “Since always. Jamie.”

  “Older? Younger?”

  “Twin.”

  Heather stared at him as he pulled out a pair of black pants and tossed them on top of the sweater. “Yup. Lives in Nashville. She couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving because she’s a hundred pounds pregnant, so I went down to visit her for a couple days.”

  “Well, what about before that,” Heather said. “You were barely speaking to me.”

  “I was brooding.”

  “You mean sulking,” Heather corrected.

  “No, you were sulking. I was brooding.”

  “Why the distinction?”

  He pointed at her breasts, then her crotch. “Tits. And, ah—”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Yes? What charming word for the female anatomy do you want to throw out there, big guy?”

  Josh merely grinned. “Coffee’s almost done. Get thy ass to the shower.”

  “Um, why?”

  “Because it’s Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to be at my parents’ house in a couple hours, and I’m supposed to pick up some flowers for my mom’s damn centerpiece on the way.”

  “We’re supposed to be at your parents’ house?”

  “Did you forget that I invited you?”

  “No, I guess I just thought that what with the brooding and all that the invitation was off the table.”

  “Quit being such a girl. You going to shower, or you want to go like that, all drooly and crazy haired?”

  She lifted a hand to her cheek to wipe away any drool marks. “Are you sure about this?”

  He pointed to her bathroom. “Go. Or I won’t share any of the coffee I brought over.”

  “I have my own coffee.”

  “I know. Decent stuff. Mine’s better.”

  “Josh, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t think—”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. “No problem. Just give my mom a quick ring and tell her you’re not coming. She’s already set a place for you at the table and has been talking about it for days, but I’m sure she’ll only cry a little—”

  Heather groaned. “You’re evil. Also, you’re the one who screwed this up. Remember your whole beastly ‘I am man, I no talk’ routine? You were a jerk, Josh.”

  He surprised her by giving her a steady look, sliding his phone back into his back pocket. “I know. I’m sorry. Really. Let me make it up to you.”

  “How?” she asked, with narrowed gaze.

  “Well, okay, I didn’t really have a plan beyond bringing you coffee,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

  Heather gave a fake-weary sigh. “Coffee’ll do.”

  “You’re easy, Heather Fowler. Way too easy.”

  “Says the guy who’s never gotten near my lady bits.”

  Heather meant the comment as a joke, but his gaze seemed to darken, and his eyes drifted downward slightly.

  “Hey,” she said, holding up a warning finger. “Don’t do that. I’m not becoming one of your women.”

  “We’ll see, 4C.”

  Heather rolled her eyes and reached for the covers, then paused as she waited for him to leave. He didn’t budge. He’d traded his usual Henley and jeans for a button-down dress shirt and slacks, and he looked good. Really good.

  “Privacy, please?” she asked when he still hadn’t moved.

  He grinned. “I knew it. That tiny little tank top doesn’t have any bottoms, does it?”

  “I’m wearing underwear,” she muttered.

  “Thong?”

  She snorted, but actually, it was a thong. Not her favorite to sleep in, but she was a little behind in laundry. And she hadn’t slept in pants or shorts since she’d gotten her own place after college.

  “Out,” she ordered.

  “Prude.” But he left, closing the door behind him.

  Once he was gone, Heather couldn’t hide the huge, happy smile as she flung back the covers and hopped out of bed.

  She’d been surprised by how much she’d missed his presence in her life. And if he wanted to keep their friendship all flirty and on the surface, she could do that. Better than not being friends at all.

  And hell, maybe if they got back to being friends, she’d stop having th
e naughty dreams about him that had been plaguing her sleep for weeks. Dreams of him pulling off her thong with his teeth, dreams of dragging her nails down his back as she lay pinned beneath him—

  “Wow,” Heather muttered as she jerked open her dresser drawer. “So a cold shower then.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Heather squeaked in surprise, and spun around, clutching her bra to her chest as she glared at her neighbor.

  “Josh!”

  He gave her a lazy grin and held out one of the two mugs in his hands. “Coffee?”

  For two seconds, her modesty demanded she order him out, but . . . what the hell. He’d already gotten an eyeful of her ass, and she really did want the coffee.

  She marched toward him and accepted the coffee, ignoring his smug smile. “For someone who complains about his mother’s lack of boundaries, you’re definitely crossing some of your own.”

  “What can I say, a chip off the old block. Also, 4C, can we talk about your bra choice?” he asked, nodding to the bra in her hand.

  “No,” she said, taking a sip of the still-too-hot coffee.

  “Because I’ve got to tell you, if we’re going to do the deed, I’d like to request something other than that light brown thing in your hand.” He wrinkled his nose. “It looks like something my grandma would wear.”

  Heather choked on her coffee. “First of all, it’s a nude bra, not light brown.”

  “It’s brown,” he said, sipping his own coffee.

  “Second of all,” she continued, “where on earth did you get the idea that we were going to do the deed?”

  He shrugged. “You were muttering about needing a cold shower, and I can assure you that scratching the itch is a better solution than trying to stifle it.”

  “Gross.”

  “Also,” he said, “I just saw your ass, and . . . well-done, 4C. From the day I met you, I knew you had sweet buns, and we just confirmed it.”

  Heather laughed and put a hand on his chest, shoving him backward. “Out. For real this time.”

  “Fine,” he called after she shut the door in his face. “But don’t think I didn’t notice that you just copped a feel of my pecs!”

  She was still smiling by the time she got out of the shower and got dressed, purposefully wearing the nude bra just to spite him, even though he’d never know it, she reminded herself firmly.