by Laura Drewry
So far, all Jayne knew was that Maya had a bit of a crush on Jack, and that’s where Maya planned to leave it for now. There was no question that the ex-wife in her wanted Jack to go tell Dickhead the truth, or better yet, let her do it, but the rational, empathetic part of her knew why he couldn’t, why he wouldn’t. What she didn’t know was what she should do about it, because even though she hadn’t touched him since he jerked his hand away from her at the table, he’d still kissed her goodbye when he dropped her off after the movie and both times they’d taken Pete out, and those moments, short as they were, wreaked all sorts of chaos inside her.
She had to remind herself that he’d done it every time he said goodbye, but there was no mistaking the differences this time. His lips, always gentle against her cheek, now lingered a heartbeat longer than usual. His sigh, warm against her skin, tickled a small tremble up her spine, and Holy Mother of God, he smelled good.
Cologne? Aftershave? She didn’t know, but the light, clean outdoorsy scent made it really, really hard for her to keep her hands to herself when all she wanted to do was reach for him like she’d done in her car after leaving Jayne’s house. This time, though, her fingers would get a hell of a lot farther than just dancing along the edge of his jaw. God help her, if she’d known how he felt then, she might not have been so quick to peel out of that damn parking lot the way she had.
Yup, the whole thing was definitely screwed up, which was why she was happy to be by herself on Saturday night, making lemon meringue tarts and three different kinds of pie for Thanksgiving dinner at Regan’s. It gave her time to think, to reason, to try and sort out what she could do, or if she could actually do anything at all.
Unless things had changed with the Carsons in the last couple of years, right about the time Maya was whipping up the meringue, Jack was no doubt elbow-deep in soapsuds, scrubbing the roasting pan while Tammy and Will argued over who should wrap up the leftovers.
And around the time Maya was done cleaning up and had set the desserts on cooling racks, Jack and Will were probably wrestling each other for the remote control while Genie and Tammy…and Stella…drank chamomile tea out in the solarium.
She didn’t miss it; okay, she didn’t usually miss it, but this year her parents had flown to Red Deer to spend Thanksgiving with her brother and his family, so being alone right then made her a little lonelier than usual.
But that was okay. She’d armed herself with enough Denzel movies to last clear through the weekend, so she’d be fine, especially with the family-sized bag of Twizzlers she’d picked up this morning. And no, the irony of that was not lost on her.
In her oversized nightshirt, Maya flopped down on the couch, feet up, and hit the play button, only to hit pause a few minutes later when her phone buzzed in a text.
I’ll bet next week’s movie admission you’ve got Training Day or John Q going right now.
“Stop it,” she muttered, trying to stop the fluttering going on in her chest or at least force the new smile off her lips. She failed miserably at both.
Lifting the case for Philadelphia, she snapped a quick picture and fired it off to him with her response.
I want my own bag of popcorn this time.
She didn’t have to see Jack to know he was probably grinning down at his phone, too.
Nice toes.
Frowning, she scrolled back up a bit to look at the picture she’d sent, and sure enough, there were her toes, navy polish and all, poking out in the back of the picture.
How’s the green bean casserole?
Amazing.
Do they know you’re talking to me?
No. I’m in the can.
Ewww. Maya grimaced down at the screen. It was a little soon to be sharing that kind of information, and as if he’d read her mind, another text followed almost right away.
I came in here so I could text you.
Aw, okay, that was kind of sweet. Still weird, but sweet.
Gonna get yourself in trouble if any of them find out.
It took him so long to respond that she’d started to think he’d either been caught or he was typing out a whole novel, so when his next message came in, she was surprised by how short it was.
You okay?
Two little words, that’s all they were, and yet they were huge to her. It wasn’t often she preferred texting to actual face-to-face conversations, but this was definitely one of the times, because he’d never have to know what those two words did to her or how long it took for that one tear to roll all the way down her cheek. No, all he’d know is what she typed.
Fine. I’ve got Denzel in HD.
She even added a smiley face.
Then, before he could say anything else that would make her feel even more pathetic, she quickly tapped out another message.
You better go before they think you died in there. Don’t forget to wash your hands.
Another smiley face. Good.
See you tomorrow.
Yes, yes he would. And somehow between now and then she was going to have to figure out a way to stop thinking about him touching her or kissing her. At least while they were around other people.
What she thought about when she was alone, or with him, was no one else’s business.
Snuggled down on the couch under her old blue quilt, she hit the play button and spent the next two hours staring at the TV and not hearing a single word.
—
Maya arrived at Regan’s early to help set up and the whole time she worked, she would have sworn everything was fine, that she was back on an even keel, no worries. She could totally handle this friend thing with Jack.
No problem.
And then he’d shown up, coming in behind Jayne and Nick, and she realized just how completely wrong she actually was. There wasn’t anything even about her keel or any other part of her, and the second his gaze sought her out, she knew it was only going to get worse.
It didn’t matter that she’d turned her attention back to her sink full of lettuce, because she could still feel him coming closer. And it didn’t matter that washing the lettuce kept her hands good and busy, she still quivered a little when he finally made it into the kitchen.
“Hey, Snip.” With a case of beer tucked under his arm, a mickey of rum in one hand, and a bottle of her favorite Shiraz in the other, Jack made his way around the corner of the island but thankfully didn’t come any closer. “Where should I put these?”
“I’ll, uh, hmm…there’s good.” She tipped her chin toward the empty space on the counter next to the fridge. “I thought Regan told you not to bring anything.”
He answered that with a shrug, set everything down, then hesitated before moving closer, too close actually, towering over her in that dark green button-up shirt and looking down at her with those eyes.
They were just eyes, Maya. They weren’t velvety, they weren’t an amazing mishmash of gold and brown and green, the colors didn’t melt together…they were eyes. Just eyes.
Clearing her throat, Maya blinked hard as the piece of lettuce she had gripped in her hands ripped in two.
“How’re you doing?” He leaned back against the counter, his hands wrapped around the edge, his sleeve brushing hers. And while she might have imagined it—hell, she might even have only wished it—she’d have sworn his arm vibrated a little.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’d say fine, too, but then we’d both be lying.” He kept his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “And neither one of us have emoticons to hide behind this time.”
“I’m—” She started to protest, but he just nudged her arm gently and tipped her a look until she finally laughed. “Whatever. You’re not helping matters right now.”
“Me?” he choked. “What am I doing? I’m just standing here minding my own business.”
“For starters, you need to take at least three giant steps that way.” With a lift of her chin she motioned back toward the fridge. “And if you
could keep at least a three-foot gap between us for the rest of the night, that’d be a big help.”
She wasn’t entirely kidding, but they both grinned anyway as he did what she asked, albeit reluctantly.
“There’s cold beer in the fridge,” she said. “And while you’re in there, grab the rest of the deviled eggs and put them out on the table, will you?”
It didn’t take long for the crowd in Regan’s living room to spill over into the kitchen, which meant there was no longer time or space for Maya and Jack to be alone even if they wanted to be. She could still look at him, though, and she did—a lot actually—but she was always careful to keep the glances brief and inconspicuous, because if Ellie caught a glimpse of any of that…ooh, boy.
And speaking of Ellie, she was walking toward Maya at that very moment, and she wasn’t alone.
“Maya,” she said, stepping aside to give the dark-haired guy room. “Have you met Yves Gagne? He’s RCMP.”
“Yes, of course.” Blinking pointedly at Ellie first, Maya turned to smile at Yves. “He’s been in the shop a few times. How are you, Yves?”
“It’s nice to see you again, Maya.” His French Canadian accent made his voice smooth, almost like it flowed from a river of melted chocolate. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“And to you. Not on shift today?” As she spoke, movement behind Yves caught her eye. There was Jack, hovering over the appies with a beer in one hand, a plate in the other, and his gaze flickering between the plate of mozzarella sticks and the back of Yves’s head.
“I’m on evenings,” Yves said, glancing down at his watch. “So I am sorry to say I cannot stay for the meal.”
“Are you sure? It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Thank you, no.”
“That’s too bad, but it was good to see you.” The oven timer dinged behind her, so with another smile, she excused herself then tried to make it look like an accident when she bumped her shoulder against Ellie on the way by.
What the hell was that about? It was bad enough dealing with Jayne’s matchmaking disasters, the last thing she needed was Ellie starting up.
With a muffin tray of Yorkshire puddings in each hand, she turned to set them on the cork pads and almost crashed into Jack.
“Oof!”
“Who’s your friend?” he asked, backing up only far enough that she could set the pans down.
“His name’s Yves,” she whispered, wagging her brow a little. “He’s French Canadian.”
“Is that right?”
“Oui, and you’re inside the three-foot gap again.”
Before they got caught grinning at each other, they turned in opposite directions—she to get the big bowl from Regan’s cupboard, and he to do nothing more than look like he was looking for something.
Over the din of the crowd, the doorbell rang, but Maya didn’t bother looking up, so it wasn’t until they were all getting ready to dig in that she realized Brett’s partner Tory had arrived. She should be off shift, but given that she was still in uniform, she must have been roped into a little overtime.
Regan and Carter had brought in a couple banquet tables and set them up end to end under the huge living room window. Once the food was lined up buffet style, Carter clinked a fork against an empty wine glass for attention then waited a second while everyone settled.
“Red and I want to thank you all for coming and say we sure hope you’re hungry, because it looks like we’ve got enough food here for about fifty people.” His grin softened as he wrapped his arm around Regan’s waist. “It’s no secret I have a lot to be thankful for, but mostly, it’s for this chick right here. If it wasn’t for you, Red—”
“Rossick and Jules would still be trying to find a way to get him the hell out of their apartment,” Nick chirped, making everyone laugh. And before Carter could rebut, Rossick and Jules both lifted their glasses toward Regan.
“To Regan!”
A dozen glasses and bottles lifted and clinked together in a chorus of “To Regan”s.
“Yeah, yeah.” She laughed, and blushing slightly, she shot Carter a teasing wink. “It’s a tough gig, but you know…he caught me at a weak moment and now I can’t get rid of him.”
“Damn right.” Leaning in, Carter nuzzled her neck a second, then whispered something that made her blush like a schoolgirl.
“Get a room!” Ellie groaned, then laughed. “Oh yeah, we’re at your house—then at least wait until we’re gone!”
Carter’s wide grin proved he wasn’t making any promises on that. “Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Now dig in.”
As Maya watched, both Carter and Regan stepped back a little, giving everyone room to get to the plates; then Regan wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder, prompting him to pull her in closer and kiss her head.
“I see she’s sporting the Rock of Gibraltar on her left hand,” Jack said, leaning down to whisper in Maya’s ear. “When’s the big day?”
“With those two? Every day’s a big day.” Maya leaned back against the island, arms crossed, and smiled. “They’re not interested in a big ceremony or a piece of paper to prove anything to anyone.”
Her whole life, Maya had always believed if you loved someone and wanted to make a commitment to them, then you did the normal thing and got married, but Regan and Carter made her see things very differently now.
“Then why such a big ring?”
“Honestly?” She laughed. “I think it’s Carter’s way of marking his territory. He knows Regan’s his for life, but he wants to make sure everyone else out there knows it, too, especially the men who go into her salon.”
“Not a bad idea,” Jack muttered. “But jeez, if the light hits that thing, we’ll all go blind.”
Maya didn’t respond, just tilted her head a little and watched her friends. With his plate in one hand, Nick kept his other on the small of Jayne’s back as they made their way down the table, she filling both their plates. Like the team they were, Ellie and Brett worked together, adding food to their own and each other’s plates at the same time. For some reason, Ellie laughed when she scooped stuffing onto her plate but not his. Brett’s mouth twitched a little, but he didn’t laugh.
“Get in there,” Maya said, nudging Jack with her elbow. “If you don’t grab a plate now, Rossick’s going to get the last drumstick.”
“What about you?” Jack hadn’t moved a muscle even though his mouth was probably watering something awful. “Don’t you want anything?”
“Yeah, I’ll get something in a while.” For now she just wanted to stand back and watch, but when she realized he still hadn’t moved, she nudged him again. “Go.”
“In a minute. I want to see what you see first.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You used to do this at Genie’s, too,” he said. “You hang back and watch everyone else before you fill your plate.”
Smiling up at him, Maya shrugged then looked back at the crowd around the table.
“It’s just kind of awesome to see everyone you love get together for a meal, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough, low. “It is.”
“It reminds me that even though I might not have everything I want…” She cast another glance his way, adding a smirk when he blinked down at her. “I’ve still got it pretty damn good.”
He didn’t have time to respond, because Tory walked up then with a full plate and stood next to Maya.
“Carry a firearm and they let you move to the front of the line.” Tory laughed. “Go figure.”
“Nice,” Maya snorted. “I’ll have to remember that for Christmas dinner. Tory Hudak, this is Jack Rhodes; he’s an old friend.”
After exchanging “good to meet you”s, Tory bobbed her dark head toward Carter and Regan.
“Was nice of them to ask me over,” she said over a swallow of stuffing. “Kids are with their dad this weekend, so I’m covering for one of the other members tonight.”
“Makes for a long day, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it beats sitting around the house by myself.”
“Maya!” Ellie called, waving Maya over.
“ ’Scuse me for a second.” She made her way through the throng, but as she got up to Ellie, Ellie jerked her chin towards the corner of the living room.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Ellie whispered, picking a piece of turkey off her plate with her fingers. “I just thought we should give Tory and Jack a second to see if…you know.”
“Oh my God,” Maya gaped. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight? First Yves and now Tory—did Jayne put you up to this?”
“No, I just thought…well, it’s no secret I wasn’t exactly kind to Brett or any of the cops here for a long time.”
“You don’t say.”
“Whatever, smartass. My point is, the entire force went above and beyond when Kurt was stalking me, so I thought I’d try to help a few of them out if I could.”
“By setting them all up with your friends?”
“What all? It’s you and Jack, so what’s the big deal? And before you go and write Yves off completely, you should know that he makes this stuff called sucre à la crème…” Ellie inhaled deeply as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Oh. My. God.”
Brett came up then, plate in hand, his steely blue gaze warming as it fixed straight on Ellie. “Did you start without me again?”
“She’s having a…moment,” Maya said, scooting over a bit to make room for Brett. “Something your friend Yves makes.”
“Sucre à la crème.” Brett nodded. His voice was almost reverent; then he blew out a low breath. “It’s freakin’ amazing.”
“Apparently.” Maya laughed. “Well, God bless Quebec. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll leave you two to have your…moment…together.”
She took a couple steps toward the kitchen and looked up just as Tory and Jack shared a laugh. A streak of something red hot seared through her, stopping her mid-step. Jealousy? Really? Holy shit, when was the last time she felt that?
She couldn’t even remember.