Go For It

by Selena Blake

  “It’s all in there,” Joe said in that quiet, commanding way of his. “The driver’s seat was set to Stephanie’s height, just as Trevor said.”

  Julia wrapped her hands around Trevor’s arm, silently giving him strength.

  “She was driving, Carson. I swear on my life. She was the one who stalked me for so long.”

  “She had a crush on you, you bastard. She–”

  “Labs confirmed she sent him the letters, Carson,” Joe said.

  Every fact seemed to take another ounce of wind out of Carson’s sails and Trevor felt bad for him. He’d clearly built a story in his mind where Trevor was the villain. That in itself had the power to knock the breath right out of him, like a linebacker to the solar plexus. After everything they’d shared, the fact that Carson could believe the garbage he was spewing, that he’d had so little faith in Trevor… Trevor swallowed the lump of acid burning his throat.

  “How–but–”

  Trevor felt Julia vibrating with fury and frustration. Once again she was stepping up, stepping in, standing up for him, his warrior goddess. But it was time to get her out of the situation.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart. You can’t talk sense into a rock. He knows how to get in touch if he ever wants the truth.” He gave Carson a hard stare then wrapped and arm around Julia’s waist and propelled her toward the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Gretchen woke with the sun, acutely aware that she wasn’t alone in her little house. Call her crazy but there was a shift in the energy when you weren’t alone. Add to that the fact that she had been in love with her roommate for a good year now, probably longer, if she were honest.

  She sat up in the daybed and stretched out the kinks in her back. Hours in the office chair and a different bed only added to her fitful night. She hit the button on her cell phone to check the time. She’d checked on Greg every few hours throughout the night just as the doctor had instructed. But now he needed to take another pain pill.

  She pulled on her robe and headed for the living room, where she’d left the amber bottle. After getting a fresh glass of water, she strode back down the hall. She could do this. He was just a guy. Her best friend’s brother. There was nothing awkward about the situation. Nothing at all.

  Okay, so it was a little awkward, she admitted to herself a she raised her hand to knock on her own bedroom door. Her crush was sleeping in her bed.

  And she was sleeping in her guest bed. Like a good girl, a snide little voice whispered.

  Don’t let him break your heart, the voice said a little louder this time. Win him over. This could be your chance.

  Hah. If she knew how to do that, she’d have done it already. Or at least, she would have wanted to.

  Squaring her shoulders, she raised her hand to knock again. She was just being courteous. It was her bedroom after all, but what if...what if he slept in the nude? And what if the sheets had gotten tangled around his legs leaving his–

  “Need me to knock for you?”

  She whirled around at the sound of Greg’s voice. “Greg!” His name was both an exclamation and a grimace.

  Luckily she kept a firm grip on the glass but a wide swath of water rained across the old hardwood floors. She stared from him to the floor and back again for a good fifteen seconds. Blood pumped heavily through her veins and she clutched a hand over her racing heart.

  As her pulse settled back into its normal rhythm she took him in. Dishevelled hair, two days’ worth of oh-so-sexy scruff, laughing blue eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you quite that badly.”

  So he had intended to startle her, just a little? Yes, she could see the answer to her silent question in the quirk of his lips.

  She darted past him to get a hand towel from the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she mopped up the puddle. “Did you sleep all right? When I wasn’t waking you up every two hours,” she added dryly. But doctor’s orders were doctor’s orders.

  “I slept fine.”

  Gretchen tried to concentrate on the task at hand and not the naked feet in front of her. But the man had nice feet. Obviously owned a pair of toe nail clippers and knew how to use them.

  Greg groaned and her head popped up to catch a grimace on his face. “Sorry,” he said on another groan. “I’d offer to help but–.”

  “Don’t even–where’d you come from? You’re supposed to be resting, hot shot.” She stood and gave him her best teacher expression.

  He didn’t wilt a bit. “Bathroom.” He jerked a thumb toward the door behind him.

  “Oh.” She hadn’t even heard him. So she was a sound sleeper. Well, that answered that question.

  He stared at her for a few moments and she couldn’t help but notice the curve of his biceps beneath the sleeves of the scrubs. It didn’t matter that she told herself to stop staring. But the second he absently rubbed his chest her sanity snapped back into place.

  “I brought your pills. Do you want to go back to bed or rest on the couch?”

  He stared at her so long she wondered if that had sounded as much like a proposition to his ears as it had to hers.

  “Couch is fine.”

  She followed him down the hall and tried not to stare at his butt. She failed.

  After helping him get comfortable she went back to the bathroom to grab the bottle of pills. “Here you go.”

  Feeling unusually flustered, she handed him the remote and then retrieved the cordless phone for him. She was halfway to the kitchen when the phone rang. Doubling back, she heard Greg answer.

  She paused in the hallway just to listen to his voice. A tremor quaked through her. There was no other description for the vibration wracking her body. And she knew enough about chemistry and desire to know why she was feeling this way. Attraction. It’d been there, hovering between them, well, on her side at least, for a very long time. But she’d never acted on the attraction because their timing was lousy.

  A spontaneous game of touch football in that backyard of the Fairchild house had woken her senses, introduced her to longing. Not only had they collided, but they’d rolled across the grass, limbs entwining. He’d grinned down at her like a Hollywood heartthrob and apologized profusely for his clumsiness. She’d smiled and shrugged it off but really she’d been looking at him. Really looking. It was almost like they were in a movie and he’d been cast the lead role. He’d always been Greg Fairchild, JJ’s cocky, attractive brother. Young, athletic, always dating some pretty southern girl and he had a talent for building things.

  But that day he’d looked at her too. He’d lingered, his forearm beneath her head. Her breathing had stalled in her lungs as he’d checked her over, apologized again, and then offered her his hand. She’d stared at it for a long second, realizing then why women liked men who worked with their hands. That day-in-day-out activity made those hands strong, capable, dexterous, and talented...

  The instant she’d slipped her palm against his and let him pull her to her feet her life had changed. All the while her body had been sending out signals, soaking in the feel of him, memorizing the zing that had zapped up her arm. It was an honest to goodness zing. An awareness unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The whole moment was etched in her mind and if she closed her eyes she could still feel his touch.

  “Gretchen, it’s Cindy.” Greg’s voice shattered through the memory and she bolted away from the wall feeling like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Greg was definitely a cookie she wanted to sample.

  Swallowing, she stepped forward.

  “Sorry I answered your phone,” he murmured, holding the phone against his chest. Dear heavens, what a lucky phone.

  She licked her lips and nodded. “No problem.”

  He held out the device and she reached for it with trembling fingers. Get a grip, Gretchen Mascoe. He’s a man, not a god. One very fine man, she reasoned with herself.

  “Hey Cindy. What’s up?”

  She turned back to th
e hallway and made her escape to the kitchen.

  “Okay, first of all. Why is Greg Fairchild answering your phone?”

  Gretchen leaned her forehead against the doorjamb and recited the story of how Greg came to be her houseguest.

  “Oh my gosh. Is he okay? Why didn’t JJ call me? Do you need anything?”

  “He’s in some pain. I have no idea. No, we’re good, thank you. ”

  There was a lengthy pause punctuated by Gretchen’s fruitless rustle through her pantry. She was a cereal eater. Ten bucks said Greg preferred bacon. Or sausage. She wasn’t a vegetarian, by a long shot, but too much grease first thing in the morning never sat well.

  “You okay?” Cindy asked.

  “Yeah. Just trying to figure out what to make for breakfast.”

  “I’m glad he’s okay. How scary.”

  Cindy had no idea. Gretchen had stared at the ceiling half the night, trying to imagine what she would have done if the news had been worse. And then she’d told herself that the news was bad enough. There was no need to borrow trouble.

  “Gretchen? Did I lose you?”

  “Sorry. I’m here.”

  “Anyway, I called to ask if you can watch Gizmo? I need to go out of town.”

  Gizmo was Cindy’s fluffy, spoiled rotten cat.

  “Sure. Bring her over on your way out of town. I’ll get her litter box set up.”

  “Thanks! I owe you.”

  Gretchen had a three ring binder full of IOUs. One of these days she was going to start cashing them in. It was a promise she made to herself daily.

  A few more minutes of idle chit chat and she was free to scour the refrigerator. Toast and fruit would have to do it on such short notice. She started the coffee pot, thanked her lucky stars that she still had plenty of her favorite blend, and then slouched against the counter.

  Four hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t her youthful self anymore. Her shoulders ached, which might have something to do with changing the tire yesterday instead of calling for help. Her back ached too, which she attributed to sleeping on a different bed. And her eyes felt gritty, which meant allergy season was coming.

  The toast popped up in the toaster and she straightened. After adding the butter dish and a jar of jelly to the tray, coffee mugs were next. Then the toast and finally, a bright red apple for each of them.

  She carried the lot into the living room and found Greg watching a Saturday morning cartoon. The characters were familiar due to her students but she’d never watched an episode.

  “Whatever happened to Garfield?” he asked as she sat the tray on the ottoman.

  “Beats me.”

  He looked better this morning than had he yesterday afternoon. Sleepy perhaps, but well rested.

  “I’m betting you’re a meat eater but I’m afraid all I–”

  “Gretchen,” he interrupted.

  “Yeah?” Something about his tone made her heart pound.

  “Stop apologizing. I’m...” he shifted so he was sitting up straighter. And though he winced, he didn’t ask for her help. “I’m grateful for everything. The food, you nursing me back to health. You weren’t prepared for company. I get that. So–”

  “It’s the southern hostess in me,” she inserted.

  “It’s not a bad quality, but you don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re no trouble.”

  He regarded her for a long moment and she tried not to squirm. “My mom used to say that. Well, JJ’s mom.”

  Gretchen had always looked up to Leigh Ann Fairchild.

  “I loved your mom,” she said, settling back onto her sofa. “She was something special.”

  For a good half decade Mrs. Fairchild had made Gretchen feel right at home, in a way Gretchen’s own mother never had.

  “Yeah.” He got this faraway look on his face and then a gentle smile. “She was. When my dad first introduced us to her, it wasn’t weird. She wasn’t...I don’t know. She just fit in. But it never felt like she was replacing anyone. My brothers and I never resented her. She was just so easy to love.”

  “And JJ?”

  Greg chuckled and broke off with a grimace. “She was a little harder to love at first.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her you said that,” Gretchen said with a wry smile.

  That was water long under the bridge now. They were both thirty now and business partners. Greg did the heavy lifting in their house flipping business and JJ kept them on schedule, budget and made the design decisions.

  “Oh she knew. There was plenty of rough housing and name calling in those early days.”

  “And hair pulling, I’m sure.”

  “Plenty.”

  Gretchen didn’t miss the warmth in his voice, the tender smile.

  “And I’m sure she gave as good as she got.” She still did. With three older brothers, JJ could play flag football with the best of them. And now that she was marrying a former NFL star, her chances of winning all their backyard skirmishes was even higher.

  Finished with her toast, she sat forward and reached for the creamer. “How do you like your coffee?”

  “Black is fine.”

  “Then enjoy your ‘world’s best teacher’ mug.”

  He accepted the cup and studied the design before lifting the rim to his lips. She tried not to stare, but that was impossible.

  “Good coffee,” he murmured a moment later and that broke the spell.

  She sighed, straightened and then stood. “Glad you like it.”

  A mixture of tiredness and excitement warred inside her. It was an odd combination, she was numb and yet ready to come out of her skin. How many times had she daydreamed of this? Him sitting there. Her sitting here. Sharing coffee. Maybe a newspaper. He’d read the comics, of course and she’d study the lifestyle section.

  The first pinprick in that thought bubble was the fact that she didn’t subscribe to the paper.

  “What’s Cindy up to?” he asked and she knew then that he was just making conversation. Filling the hours.

  “She’s bringing over her cat for me to cat sit. Evidently she has to go out of town.”

  Gretchen finished her apple and then reached for the phone. “I should check in with JJ and see if I can touch base with your dad.”

  “JJ’s fine. I told her to stop worrying about me and enjoy her weekend.”

  “You really think that’ll work?” Did he know his sister? Actually, JJ was pretty level headed, most of the time. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time JJ had seemed this anxious. But then again, her friend’s brother had been in a horrific car crash and she couldn’t get in touch with the rest of her family. That was enough to make anyone frazzled.

  “Trevor will keep her in line.” He shot her a conspiratorial grin. “Besides, she’s three hours behind us. Don’t wake the bear.”

  He spoke with tenderness and affection and Gretchen found herself falling deeper. Any man who spoke so sweetly of his mother and sister was a good guy in her book.

  Gretchen made a tisking sound to hide her emotions. “Good luck with that. I’m still calling your dad.”

  And there was still no answer. She checked her messages on her cell to see if JJ had gotten back to her with Ronny and Thomas’s numbers but that was a no go. Were any of the cell towers in the country working or had fate conspired to leave her alone with her crush for a weekend.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced at the screen. “Great.” She’d forgotten about her hair appointment.

  “Everything okay?” He’d devoured the toast and the apple, which she took as a good sign. At least he still had an appetite.

  “Yeah. I, ugh...” She sighed. “I forgot I have a hair appointment in an hour. I’ll call and cancel.”

  “Don’t cancel,” he said, turning the TV off. “I’ll be fine. Maybe my brothers will turn up by then. It would be much easier if we hadn’t gotten unlisted numbers t
hanks to Trevor’s latest stalker. Remind me to memorize their new number.”

  “Yeah, but Cindy’s supposed to bring–”

  “I’ll handle it if she shows up before you return.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She wrapped her robe tighter around her waist.

  “Okay. Great. I’ll stop by the store on my way home. Anything you’re hungry for?” she asked, picking up the tray.

  He stared up at her for several long moments, long enough to make her temperature spike. She didn’t understand the reaction. It wasn’t like he was undressing her with his eyes. But he was looking at her, almost as if he was lost in thought.

  “Cookies,” he finally uttered.

  “Cookies?” she parroted.

  “Cookies make any day better. Mom used to say that.”

  Gretchen smiled. “Cookies it is.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gretchen thumbed through a magazine as she waited for her stylist. Her body was still humming from the look Greg had given her right before she’d left the house. And the sound of his voice telling her to drive safely. A warm shiver wracked her body and she welcomed it. It wasn’t every day that she had a hot, caring guy on her couch. Okay, it’d never happened before.

  Too bad it wouldn’t last. One of his brothers was bound to show up soon. Greg would go home with them and it’d all be over.

  But wasn’t there a rule about living your life and getting what you wanted? JJ had done it, made the leap and was better off for it. But she and Trevor had been attracted from the start. Years of flirting and missed chances had culminated into a longing that they hadn’t been able to deny.

  Gretchen had never felt that type of longing for anyone but Greg. After seeing JJ go for it, admit her feelings, win her man, Gretchen had found the courage to do the same. Too bad her timing was off. It wasn’t just off…it, well, she’d had plenty of chances. Whoever said you miss one hundred percent of the chances you never take was right.

  She sighed and glanced around the posh waiting area. Though she stuck to a budget and lived within her means, she allowed herself a few extravagances. A good haircut was one of them. True, her hair was the color of a brown mouse and she never bothered with a fancy style.