The Makeshift Groom: A Romantic Comedy (Wrong Way Weddings Book 5)

by Lori Wilde

“I can’t help wondering something though.”

  “What’s that?” He was so close he could feel the warmth of her pink lemonade breath on his cheek.

  She was having fun with him, and that was more erotic than her toes caressing his crotch at The Loophole.

  “Would you have kissed me if I hadn’t been with Dirk?”

  Considering that he wouldn’t have been at the bowling alley at all if she hadn’t been there with Dirk, he couldn’t say yes.

  “Dirk isn’t here right now,” he said.

  “Isn’t he?” she asked, edging away from him. “In your head? Aren’t you dithering about whether you should indeed come up if I gave you the green light because you want so badly to best your buddy?”

  “No,” he said, but his tone had no tooth to it. “I want to be with you. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Enough to blow off your bet?”

  “I do.”

  She swung her gaze into his like she was swinging a bat, and Tom literally jumped at the force of her stare. “Do you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

  “I want to come up.” Being turned down always challenged him, but this was different. He wanted to be with her for a while longer on any terms, even though he knew nothing was going to happen between them tonight.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she said and nodded.

  Mixed messages. He got it. He was filled with contradictions too.

  “Can I kiss you good night?” The devil made him ask—or maybe it was because he could still remember the feel of her foot burrowing against him.

  “Maybe a little peck on the cheek,” she said, pointing.

  He was playing with fire, but it was hard to think rationally when she was driving him crazy. He wanted her in his arms, in his bed…

  And in his life.

  Whoa! Slow way down, Brunswick.

  Rashness poured him like water through a wide-open drain. He bent his head and gently let his lips tease the corner of her mouth, nibbling a little as he eased his arms around her. Her coat was open, and her breasts pressed against him, firm and delectable under the soft material.

  He was stunned by his own reaction; he hadn’t even kissed her properly, and he was already harder than flint. He tried to blame it on his celibate lifestyle of late, but he knew it was Jude.

  All Jude.

  She raised her arm and circled his neck, her gloved fingers stroking the skin under his collar.

  He couldn’t take any more. He kissed her hard and long, parting her lips with his tongue and forcefully taking what he wanted, holding her head in his hands and not sparing himself or her.

  This was no first-date kiss; he was going too far, too fast, so eager for the sweetness of her mouth, he forgot himself. Using all the self-control he possessed, he backed off, giving her a chance to protest or leave.

  Instead, she tugged his head down, pressing her pelvis against him, weakening all his resolve in the sheer torturous pleasure of holding her close. He slid her coat off her shoulders and ran his hands down her back, gripping her buttocks, squeezing and urging her even closer until he was almost lifting her off the floor.

  The tiny vestibule was steamy warm, and he heard her gasping for air even as his own lungs panted for oxygen. He didn’t know how they’d come so far so fast. It was a fantasy come to life—Jude locked against him, riding his knee between her thighs as he tried to clear his head and still not lose what was happening.

  “Maybe you could come up for a few minutes,” she said in a husky whisper.

  This time, he did scoop her into his arms, and she let out a whoop as he carried her up the first flight of stairs.

  “Put me down, you loon.” She laughed, but he could tell she was enjoying herself.

  He slowed on the second staircase but kept going.

  “Tom,” she said. “This is silly. Please put me down.”

  “Almost there.” He panted, sweat popping out on his forehead.

  “Tom!”

  “Did I ever tell you I tried out to be a fireman?”

  “I can see where you get your stamina. Why didn’t you become a fireman?”

  “I did,” he said. “And then I realized I was trying to live someone else’s dream for me.”

  “Who’s?” she asked as he set her on the ground in front of her apartment.

  “Amanda’s.”

  “Your first real girlfriend.”

  Tom nodded. “Amanda thought making furniture was too sedate.”

  “Just like Jaxon thought I was boring,” Jude mused.

  “That’s how I know you have to be true to yourself and let other people sort themselves out. You can’t twist yourself into a pretzel trying to be something you’re not. I tried it for Amanda. It didn’t work.”

  “Do you mean like being so obsessively competitive that you lose sight of your real motive in service to the goal?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Why did you accept Dirk’s bet in the first place?” she asked.

  Her question caught him off guard and he stood blinking at her, still trying to fully catch his breath.

  “Why are you sticking to it?” she went on. “There’s nothing holding you to the bet other than this fierce rivalry.”

  The question deserved an answer, but it wasn’t as clear cut as she made it sound.

  “The rivalry might have been fun when you were young, but isn’t it time to let that stuff go?”

  “I’ve always had a competitive streak,” he said, feeling a little defensive, but only because her questions were making him uncomfortable. “I’m a twin. Competition comes with the territory.”

  For the first time, he fully understood that his relentless drive to be the best had consequences. He’d thought winning was a good thing. His determined mindset had gotten him where he was in his chosen field. Made him a great furniture maker. It kept him in tip-top physical shape, but…

  It had cost him too.

  The biggest casualty?

  Intimacy.

  In a competition, you couldn’t afford to be truly intimate with someone. Intimacy gave away your vulnerabilities and left you wide open for assault by your enemies.

  Something dawned on him then. Something that had been lurking in the back of his mind since he’d met Jude. He’d been going about relationships as if they were competitions. Keeping score between who was up and who was down. He did it with his sister; he did it with his friends, and he’d done it with the women he dated.

  Now, with Jude, he wanted to break that pattern.

  “One more question,” she said. “If that’s okay. What happens if neither you nor Dirk caves? What if you both make it to the forty-day deadline? Who wins?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s never happened in all the time we’ve been friends. One of us always wins.”

  “Meaning one of you pulls out all the stops to best the other one?”

  “Yeah,” he said, remembering how Dirk caused him to lose the last no-sex bet.

  “You’ve never compromised before?”

  “No.”

  “I find that sad.” Indeed, she looked quite forlorn.

  Stunned, Tom simply peered at Jude as she dug in her purse for her door key.

  She got the door opened and unlocked and stood to one side, her body language relaxed and inviting. “Well? Have you caught your breath yet?”

  How could he tell her that the stairs had nothing to do with it, that she was the one who took his breath away?

  “Are you ready to come inside where it’s warm or is the allure of winning just too much for you to consider an alternative path?”

  “Jude.” Any residual air leaked from his lungs on that solo word.

  “Come inside.” She took him by the hand—he didn’t resist—and led him into the foyer, closing the door behind them.

  His heart thumped wildly in his chest as the moment unfolded. She moistened her lips. He lowered his head.
She made a small helpless noise low in her throat.

  Screw the bet.

  He was out. O.U.T. He didn’t care about his competition with Dirk anymore. Jude was all that mattered. His only goal was to make her happy.

  Tom kissed her gently, drawing her tongue into his mouth but dropping his hands, and he knew to the depths of his soul that this wasn’t just sex.

  It was—

  Well, he didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know how to label it. But whatever was happening, he wanted it to go on and on forever.

  The wildest and best sex he’d ever had was nothing compared to Jude’s mouth on his. He ached to be inside her, but a warm, quiet joy beyond his experience overpowered him. He could hardly breathe; his knees were trembling.

  The first time he’d run a four-minute mile, he’d had the flu. He’d been terrified every step, afraid he’d get sick in front of the crowd at the track meet, afraid he’d disgrace himself and fail his team. He’d exerted himself to the max, his feet sprouting wings because he was desperate. That race was nothing compared to the effort it took to pull away from Jude.

  “I can’t,” he whispered.

  “Forget the bet,” she coaxed, running her tongue along his jaw, encouraging him to throw caution to the wind.

  “This isn’t about the bet.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “This is about you and me.” He paused. “Us.”

  “What about us?” She stiffened in his arms.

  “It’s too soon. We need time to get to know each other. I want to enjoy every second of this.”

  “So let’s start now,” she cooed, her wicked little tongue flicking his earlobe.

  It took every ounce of willpower inside him, but he stepped away from her amazing mouth. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too nice for this,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Meaningless sex.”

  “It would be meaningless to you?”

  No, no, it wouldn’t and that was the problem. “You think you want casual sex, but trust me, you don’t. You’re just not built that way, Jude.”

  “You don’t get to make that decision.”

  “I can’t stop you from having sex, but I can stop you from having sex with me.”

  “Be honest. You won’t have sex with me because you care too much about winning.” There was a tremor in her voice and her eyes looked stricken.

  She was hurt.

  He’d hurt her and it crushed him.

  “Dirk is right. Winning is all you care about. You are who you are. You’re a competitive guy. I can’t change you. Honestly, I don’t want to change you.”

  Clearing his throat, Tom said the truest thing he knew. “I do care about winning.” He paused to laser his gaze straight through her. “I care about winning…you.”

  “I’m not a prize to be won,” she said. “But this is my fault.”

  “How’s that?”

  She set her chin and held on to his gaze, a desperate light coming into her eyes. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  His chest tightened and he bit down on his bottom lip, suddenly filled with apprehension. “About what?”

  “I was supposed to get you so turned on tonight that we either had sex or you went home and broke your vow of celibacy.”

  “Wait.” Tom shook his head and frowned, confused. “What?”

  “When Dirk and I went out the other night…” She stopped to inhale a huge breath. “He told me how damaging your competitive spirit had become to both of you.”

  “My competitive spirit?”

  “He wants to stop the way you two try to outdo each other. He’s over it. He’s ready to grow up and leave the past in the past.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I do.” Jude notched her chin upward and met his gaze, but she couldn’t hold it for long. “He says your rivalry, which was fun in the beginning, has become toxic.”

  “Me? He’s the one who made the damn bet!”

  It took a moment for Tom to register what she said. She and Dirk were in cahoots? They’d been talking about him behind his back. No, not just talking about him, scheming against him.

  “Dirk is sincere,” she said. “He proposed the entire bet in order to show you how silly this competitiveness between you had gotten. He truly wants out.”

  “And that’s why he recruited you into trying to get me to violate the terms of the wager.”

  “We did the same thing to him last night.”

  “I can’t believe this. Dirk is manipulating you.”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Yes.” He nodded fiercely. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Tell me exactly what Dirk told you.”

  “Honestly, by getting so agitated, you’re proving his point.” Jude pursed her lips.

  “Of course I’m getting agitated. You were conspiring with my enemy.”

  She let out a long sigh and lightly scratched her temple. “It wasn’t like that at all. Dirk was worried about you and asked me to help him help you.”

  Okay, he couldn’t really get mad at her. She was naïve. Gullible. She didn’t know Dirk the way he did.

  “He’s a puppet master. His goal is to win. Always and forever.”

  “Dirk said that you would say that.”

  “Can’t you see how he’s gotten you wrapped up in the competition?” Tom asked. “It’s insidious. His need to win.”

  “And you don’t have that same driving need?”

  Tom couldn’t say no to that. Once upon a time, he’d been as ruthless as Dirk. “How can I prove to you that I’m no longer interested in Dirk’s stupid bet?”

  She cast a glance at her bedroom door.

  His heart was in his throat. “Are you suggesting—”

  “Show me the truth of who you are at heart. Stay. Spend the night with me.”

  “No.” He raised his hands and backed up toward the door. “This isn’t you, Jude. Dirk has gotten into your head and convinced you to see things his way.”

  “Oh, Tom.” She looked so incredibly sad, as if her heart were breaking. “Do you seriously think I would go to bed with you just to help Dirk win the competition?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you’re too nice. You believe the best in people.”

  “You underestimate me, Brunswick.” She sounded peeved. “You have two choices. Stay here with me tonight and tomorrow tell Dirk you’re out of the competition. Or…”

  Or?

  Her eyes said it all. If he didn’t walk away from the bet, it was as good as admitting he did have a problem with his competitive nature and that winning meant more to him than having a relationship with Jude.

  But it was no longer about the bet. Jude had conspired with Dirk against him. That’s what hurt. That’s where the knife’s blade cut deep.

  In a daze, he grappled for the door handle.

  “You’re leaving?” Disappointment snatched her mouth downward.

  “I have to. I can’t—”

  “Stand losing?”

  He didn’t even reply to that, just left her apartment at a dead run, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the vestibule, and burst outside into cold air that beaded the sweat on his forehead.

  Even though he’d never convince Jude otherwise, his running out on her had nothing to do with Dirk or the damnable bet.

  He simply couldn’t have a casual fling with Jude. She deserved better. He had to stop seeing her. His hormones—and his heart—were going haywire. If he could just have sex with her—get her out of his system, he would. But he could not. Something deep inside told him that if he ever made love to Jude, he could not just walk away unscathed.

  He hopped into the Mustang, knowing he could have enticed her to do anything, everything. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He started the engine and backed up, afraid he’d shr
ivel up and die if he didn’t make love to her.

  It wasn’t too late to go back.

  He stopped at the ramp leading to the road, too shaken to drive and aching to return to her.

  Just once. If he could make love to her just once, it might break the spell she had on him. He could get back to normal; he could feel like a separate individual again, his life unfettered by an overwhelming need for her.

  But he knew that was a lie. If he had sex with Jude, he would never be the same again. Some truths were just too profound to escape.

  Once wouldn’t be enough, not with Jude. Not nearly enough. She’d gotten under his skin and into his heart. He wanted her in bed and out of it, but she was far too pure for him.

  Now he understood why her fiancé had left her at the altar. It had nothing to do with Jude and everything to do with Jaxon’s own inadequacies.

  Inadequacies Tom shared.

  And he just wasn’t ready to face them yet.

  14

  Tom’s Autumn Fling Sale was in full swing, and business was good enough to hire another part-time person. He even had a shop-late week, staying open until ten every night. He worked the extra hours himself, too tired to do anything but drop into bed at the end of fourteen-hour days.

  It was better than moping around his apartment missing Jude.

  He’d picked up the phone to call or text her a dozen times in the past two weeks, but what could he say? She believed he couldn’t control his competitive nature, and he believed she was far too nice for a guy like him.

  He’d be okay when the hollow ache went away.

  Meanwhile, he couldn’t risk seeing Jude again—or even talking to her on the phone. He had the unfortunate habit, where she was concerned, of opening his mouth when his brain was on hold.

  After he left Jude’s house that night, Tom texted Dirk. U Win.

  Dirk replied with a suitable amount of gloating and then invited Tom to play pool at The Loophole.

  Tom did not go. In fact, he didn’t even text Dirk back. Their relationship was nothing but an ongoing competition. Always had been and always would be if he decided to continue the friendship.

  Which he was not inclined to do. He disliked how his buddy had used Jude, but he didn’t even bother to tell Dirk that he knew what he’d done, recruiting Jude to help him win. The guy would stoop to anything for a score.