The Closer You Come

  He handed her the glass and returned to hammering new pieces of shingle into the roof, her scent surrounding him. Vanilla and sugar today. "By the way. Your phone is a POS. I want to get hold of you when I want to get hold of you. Consider this a bonus for working for me." He pointed to the box resting beside the grill.

  She picked up the device and frowned at him. "You bought me a phone?"

  "Yes. And there are no take backs."

  "But--"

  "No buts. It's yours. Agree and save us an argument."

  "I... Thank you," she said, then quietly returned to the house.

  He glanced over just as she disappeared beyond the door and caught a glimpse of long blond hair swishing at the waist of her shorts, a pert little ass he'd like to sink his teeth into and the lithe legs he wanted wrapped around his head.

  A moan escaped him, his body so hard he could have used it as a battering ram. Hell. He wanted to use it as a battering ram.

  Not yet. And not just because of her work hours and pay. She'd tied him in knots, and those knots had to be undone first. Otherwise, there was no telling what he would allow to happen. Like, say, feeling more, deeper...wanting more.

  His mind replayed two conversations that had taken place over the weekend, both of which had scared the hell out of him.

  He'd spent some time in town...not looking for Brook Lynn. He'd once again felt as if he were being watched, but when he'd found no evidence of a stalker, he'd known he had to get over these little paranoias if he had any hope of staying sane. He'd soon come across an elderly woman doing her best to change a flat tire. Despite the summer heat, she wore a sweater. But his favorite thing about her? She had quintessential old-lady hair, white curls forming a ball of fluff around her face.

  He was ashamed to admit he'd held an internal debate about whether or not to help her. He hadn't wanted any of the locals thinking about him, much less talking about him, or inevitably looking him up, but in the end he hadn't been able to leave the woman on her own. Especially since she hadn't been working the scissor jack properly.

  He'd parked in front of her, at the side of the road, and walked over.

  She'd stiffened, backed a few steps away and held out her hands to stop him. "You think you're the first stranger to approach me today? Think again. I've got Mace, young man, and I'm not afraid to use it."

  "I'm not here to hurt you, ma'am." He'd slowed his approach and put his own hands up, all innocence. "Just wanted to help."

  "That's what the last guy said and he had serial killer written all over him."

  "I didn't know serial killers were so obvious nowadays."

  She'd lifted her chin and hmphed. "You just go on now. I'll have this tire changed on my own in another hour or two."

  "I'm Jase Hollister, friends with Lincoln West and Beck Ockley," he'd said, and her entire demeanor had changed from suspicious to fawning in less than a heartbeat.

  "I've met West and Beck. Beautiful boys. I'm Peggy, the event planner for the Silver Foxes. You ever heard of us?"

  "Uh, no, can't say that I have."

  "Well, we are hot mommas still going strong. We host mixers at the assisted-living center. You should come." She'd patted his shoulder. "Look what a big strapping lad you are. And so helpful, too, stopping to take care of my needs." A calculated gleam had entered her eyes. "Are you married, Jase?"

  He'd swallowed a groan, knowing where she was about to delve. "No, and I--"

  "Wonderful," she'd said, speaking over him. "My granddaughter is single, too."

  Yup. There.

  "I know you'd love her. She's a nurse at that assisted-living center I mentioned, and let me tell you, you will never meet a girl with a better personality."

  "That's, uh, great," he'd replied, while thinking: I should have driven on. "But I'm kind of...seeing someone."

  As in...dating?

  No, some part of him screamed. No!

  "Who?" she'd asked, as if she'd had every right to know.

  He'd ignored her, and she'd spent the next twenty minutes regaling him with reasons why city girls were inferior to Strawberry Valley girls, as well as stories about her granddaughter, while he'd taken care of the tire, a captive audience. By some miracle, he'd gotten away without having to relinquish his phone number.

  For his trouble, Peggy had given him a Werther's Original. Seriously.

  Afterward, Jase had helped Virgil Porter carry his groceries to his beater of a truck.

  "Heard you're dating Peggy Newcomb's granddaughter," Virgil had said as he settled behind the wheel. "You sure that's wise, considering you're pinin' for our Brook Lynn?"

  He'd had to swallow a mouthful of curses.

  But...was he pining? What, exactly, did he want from Brook Lynn?

  Irritated with himself now, Jase worked outside for hours, even skipping lunch to avoid being around the temptation of her. Of course, after a while, she brought food to him.

  She's concerned for me. Caring for me.

  Ruining me.

  Stopping himself from grabbing hold of her and pulling her body against his might have been the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

  When dusk finally descended, she peeked her head out the window and called, "Jase. I need you."

  Just like that, he was hard. "Everything okay?"

  "Everything's fine." When she disappeared back inside the house, he stored his tools and entered the kitchen. She bustled around between the stove and the counter, mixing ingredients.

  "You need something?" he asked. Need me?

  "Yeah. Answers. Did you tell Kenna you'd help me with my fun list?"

  More like demanded. "Yes," he reluctantly admitted.

  "Well, then, you need to help me. I'm ready to check off another item."

  Dance for me. He cleared his throat. "How about we hustle West and Beck during a poker game tonight?"

  She glanced at him, bit her lip nervously--and it was sexy as hell. "Shouldn't I learn how to play first?"

  "You've never played?"

  Wiping her hands on a towel, she said, "Would you be able to teach me? It isn't that hard, is it? It looks so easy and fun on TV, so I'm absolutely certain I can learn, like, superfast."

  You've got to be kidding me. He retrieved a deck of cards and shuffled. As her newest casserole baked, he showed her how to pull a royal flush, straight flush, four of a kind, full house, flush, straight, three of a kind, two pair and the two least desired hands. He taught her about the flop, river and turn, and through it all, she nodded her head.

  Then they played several hands. She lost. Badly.

  "You'll get better," he said. In a few years. Maybe a few decades. "As for tonight, let's hustle West and Beck at pool. You can play that, right?"

  The lip-biting started up again. "Sure I can...if you teach me how."

  The timer on the oven went off, and right on cue the front door opened and closed. Jase had begun to suspect his friends clocked their days according to Brook Lynn's meal preparation.

  West and Beck entered the kitchen, both sniffing the air and moaning with approval.

  "What'd you make this time?" West rubbed his hands together. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess. Once again he smelled of alcohol.

  "What?" Jase said. "No greeting for me? You just go straight to the girl with the food?"

  "Yeah, I'm smart like that." West slapped him on the shoulder. "Brook Lynn? I believe I asked you a very important question."

  She laughed with genuine amusement. "This is called Thanksgiving Dream. It's turkey and dressing, with a mix of green beans and potatoes, and a cranberry sauce topping."

  "Rename it Heaven in a Dish." Beck reached out to pinch a piece of the dressing. "And then you're going to marry me right here, right now."

  Jase scowled at him.

  "Bad boy." Brook Lynn slapped at Beck's hand before he could sample the dish. "Also, my answer is heck, no."

  "Um, I hate to break it to you," Beck said, "but I was proposing to the casserole." br />
  "She says she'd rather die the death of a thousand bites," Brook Lynn replied, deadpan.

  "Oh, I'll bite her all right," Beck replied, equally deadpan. "And I guarantee she changes her mind. From what I hear, my mouth is pure magic."

  Brook Lynn laughed again, only to grow quiet when her gaze collided with Jase's in a tangle of need.

  I better unknot soon, he thought. Or else.

  *

  BROOK LYNN FOUGHT hard to hide the evil-overlord quality of her grin.

  Hook, line, sinker.

  While Beck and West took care of the dishes, Jase ushered her into the poolroom, where the mighty fine table he had never allowed her to polish or clean awaited. He helped her pick a cue. The shortest one he owned.

  She pretended to pay attention when he planned the break, the first shot of the game. He told her about the scratch, when the cue ball jumped off the table, and how to continue afterward. He let her start, standing behind her to help her line up her shot, his body flush against hers.

  Suddenly, fighting a grin wasn't her biggest problem. Can't breathe...can barely stand. Her knees wouldn't stop trembling.

  "See how the balls are laid out? The solids will be easiest to sink this game, so that's what you'll pick," he said.

  The connection screwed with her concentration, and missing her shot proved easy.

  "Don't worry," he said. "Even the best players miss sometimes. I rarely do, but that's just me."

  Oh, Jase. You have no idea what's in store for you. "But I haven't hit a single one," she said, turning to pout at him.

  Had her uncle always had this much fun with his cons?

  The thought sobered her. Shake it off. She wasn't doing this to get something out of someone, but to have a good time with someone who liked to tease her to the edge of insanity. Huge difference.

  Jase sifted a lock of her hair between his fingers. "How about we play doubles eight ball? We'll be partners, and we'll alternate shots. I'll be able to set you up."

  No, no, no. But she said, "That's so sweet of you."

  The doorbell rang. Jase frowned, and Brook Lynn pretended not to know her sister--who she'd secretly texted during dinner--had just arrived. A few minutes later, Jessie Kay strode into the game room with Beck and West trailing behind her. West now had a beer in hand, and Beck was watching him warily while Jessie Kay just looked tired.

  Brook Lynn felt a flicker of unease. Jase and Jessie Kay in the same room not long after they'd seen each other naked may not be a great idea. Don't go there. Such thoughts wouldn't do any of them any good. She forced herself to concentrate on the situation at hand.

  "Come here." Beck turned away from West and swung an arm back to pull her sister forward. That arm remained around her waist as he rubbed his knuckle into the crown of her head.

  She giggled like a freaking schoolgirl. "Stop it!"

  "Only when you pee your pants," Beck said. "You don't call, you don't write, and I'm just supposed to forgive you?"

  West watched the interaction through narrowed eyes before draining his beer.

  Something had obviously angered him, but Brook Lynn had no idea what it was.

  "I came to speak with my little sis, but if y'all are playing pool, the conversation can wait." Jessie Kay pushed away from Beck and threw her purse in the corner. Strawberries had stained her hands red. "I'm in!"

  "We were fine without you," West muttered. "You may go."

  His uncustomary rudeness surprised Brook Lynn--and ticked her off. She opened her mouth to demand an apology.

  "Dude," Beck said to his friend. "Don't think I can't kick you out of your own house. The lady deserves respect, and she'll get it."

  "Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?" Jase demanded.

  "Yeah!" Jessie Kay bristled. "Clearly everyone else is happy to have me."

  "Maybe they're just better at hiding their emotions," West said.

  "Or maybe they hope my delightful personality will make up for your crappy one." Jessie Kay fluffed her hair. "Or are you just jealous you're the only one who hasn't nailed me?"

  West's nostrils flared. "The day I let you in my bed is the day I want to be smothered by a pillow." He took a seat at the poker table in the corner, cut off the end of a cigar and began to smoke.

  Wow. What had gotten into him?

  If Brook Lynn allowed herself to dwell on it, she might unleash the viper's tongue she'd been known to use...or actually physically hurt him.

  What the heck? Why not both? "Talk to my sister like that again, West, and I will rip out your intestines and use them as a jump rope."

  All three men gaped at her.

  Jessie Kay gave her a thumbs-up.

  "Sorry, Jessie Kay," West mumbled.

  "Now that that's settled." Brook Lynn cleared her throat. "Let's move on."

  As soon as the boys turned away, Brook Lynn flashed her sister the signal her uncle had taught them, and it was odd, doing so without being forced. As she flashed back to childhood times she'd resented, she felt no remaining animosity, just satisfaction that she possessed the skill.

  Amazing what a change of perspective could do.

  "We're playing something called doubles eights," she said. "Ever heard of it?"

  "Maybe from a movie?" Jessie Kay shrugged. "Either way, you'll be my partner, Brook Lynn. Of course. And I'm just certain we'll figure out the rules together."

  "No," Jase said, shaking his head. "Brook Lynn is with me."

  Jessie Kay bit her bottom lip the way they'd been taught. "But I came here after a long, hard day of work, and all I want to do is play with my sister. Or should I go home? Yeah, I probably should. Just like West said. I don't like to cry in public."

  Jase's eyes narrowed, and he glanced between them suspiciously.

  Can't laugh. Really can't laugh. "Oh, Jessie Kay. Please don't cry. I'd love to play with you. Beck? West? Which one of you will be Jase's partner?"

  "I'll do it." Beck selected a cue. "Word of warning. I never let my opponent win."

  "I'm glad, because we're going to wipe the floor with your face," Brook Lynn said, giving trash talk a try.

  "I'll kick us off, then," Jase said tightly.

  Poor guy. His plan to help her hustle his friends had failed--and he had no idea Brook Lynn had been hustling him all along.

  "How about we put cash on this game?" Jessie Kay said. "I could use the cash."

  "No money," Jase said. A sudden gleam in his eyes as he focused on Brook Lynn. "But we can play for favors."

  "What kind of favors?" she asked, doing her best to sound nervous. He'd stopped trying to help her and now saw this as an opportunity to win something from her. Sneaky devil. At least the new prize had doused his suspicions.

  "Open ended," he said. "To be named at a later date."

  "I don't know," she hedged.

  "Yeah. What if you ask us to count our own hair or lick our own elbows?" Jessie Kay said. When everyone gaped at her, she added, "What? Someone asked me to do that just this morning."

  "Nothing impossible," Jase said. "Nothing illegal."

  What about...sexual? Brook Lynn gave a faux-reluctant nod. "Okay. We're agreed. One non-illegal favor for every game won. So go ahead. Kick us off."

  What should she ask for? Because this game? In the bag.

  Radiating fierce determination, Jase racked and broke the balls. He sank a stripe in the right pocket and then another in the left. But he missed his third shot--thanks to Brook Lynn "accidentally" dropping her new phone and bending down to pick it up.

  Now she aimed her cue, choosing the most difficult shot, and met Jase's gaze. With a grin slowly blooming to megawatt, she sank the ball with expert precision.

  He blinked in surprise. And when she did it a second time, he unleashed a stream of curses. Jessie Kay giggled.

  "Dude," Beck said. Clearly fighting a grin, he patted Jessie Kay on the shoulder. "You girls are hard-core."

  As she preened under the attention, West muttered anothe
r curse, his eyes never leaving Jessie Kay.

  Jase leaned against his cue. "I just got hustled, didn't I?"

  "Prepare to owe me a bunch of favors, Jase Hollister," Brook Lynn said and sank another shot.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BROOK LYNN UTTERLY annihilated Jase, showing zero mercy. I'm heartless, and I love it! She didn't trounce him once, but every single time. He gave up after the sixth game, which was probably a good thing, considering West and Jessie Kay could not stop fighting.

  She called one of his shots "pathetic" and he said, "You'll have to forgive me if I'm not as talented as you are at handling shafts."

  She'd blustered before gritting out, "Did my opinion bother you? Well, you should have heard the things I kept to myself!"

  "What's the difference between what you're saying and a knife? A knife has a point."

  Finally, Jase led Brook Lynn outside, where the moon glowed romantically and the stars sparkled like diamonds. The perfect setting. The scent of salt water blended with strawberries, roses and magnolias, delighting her further.

  She removed her sandals and sat at the edge of the pool then dipped her feet into the warmth of the water. He claimed the spot right next to her, leaving only the slightest of gaps between them, surprising her.

  "What is going on with West?" she asked. "Is he always this mean when he drinks?"

  He looked uneasy before saying, "It's a bad time of year for him."

  "And he's decided to take it out on my sister?"

  "Appears so."

  "But why?"

  "Who knows? He's been different with women ever since he lost Tessa."

  Tessa. The one Brook Lynn was planning the GED celebration for. "Lost? As in...she died?"

  "Yeah."

  How sad. "He loved her?"

  "More than life."

  Well, it wasn't an excuse for his behavior, but it sure did break her heart. "I think he's a great guy and all, but I will never be okay with him hating on my sister. And if he does it again, I will get a little Dillon girl revenge."

  Jase gave a mock shudder. "Sounds scary."

  "You have no idea."

  "Let's forget about those two for the moment." He pulled a cigar from his pocket, cut off and lit the end then handed it to her. "For you."

  Another item from her list. "Thank you, Mr. Loser."

  "You're welcome, Miss Con. But I have a feeling you'll soon be cursing my name."

  "Why? A little smoke can't be that bad. I didn't react to West's cigar."

  She puffed on the cigar--and promptly choked.