The Best Man in Texas (12 page)

“Are you sure this is about
you
not being passionate
enough?” Giff finally asked. “I know I spend half of our evenings out networking and I don’t dance with you as much as I should. And even though we haven’t made l—”

“Please stop! You are perfect. For some other woman.”

There was a noise like he was grinding his teeth. “This just doesn’t make sense. I saw you earlier this week and you were fine. We were making plans for reception food. Then you call me from Tennessee, clearly upset, and now… Something happened.”

“I am so, so sorry.” The words sounded empty compared to the damage she’d done. But she couldn’t stop herself from saying them. “Really very sorry.”

“Sorry enough to tell me the truth, all of it? Whatever it is, Brooke, I can handle it.”

“You son of a bitch!” Giff was barely out of his car before he’d shouted the accusation. Then he was zooming across Jake’s driveway and front yard with a determined speed he hadn’t shown since they played high school football.

Jake, having just come out of his house for work, froze, too shocked to brace himself for the flying tackle to come. “Ooomph.” Both men hit the dirt, and it distantly occurred to Jake that, one, it was a good thing he had spare uniforms inside and, two, he was going to be late for his shift.

Now that his initial surprise was subsiding, Jake’s training kicked in and he quickly got to his feet, evading his infuriated friend. “So obviously she—”

“Don’t! You do
not
get to talk about her,” Giff ordered, sounding as militant and intimidating as the scariest drill sergeant ever had. “I was going to
marry
her.”

“I know! And I’m sorry.” Jake bobbed to the right. “I should never have laid a hand on her. But marrying
her would have been a mistake. I know you, and you do not love her like that.”

Giff lunged. “That’s not your decision to make, you arrogant—”

“Will you stop?” Jake blocked a punch he no doubt deserved. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s a little late for that,”
Giff roared, a blow glancing off Jake’s shoulder as he turned his body to deflect. “Do you know how much I
trusted
you?”

The full enormity of what he’d done was more bruising than anything Giff could mete out physically so Jake stopped dodging. Giff was so startled that he lost his balance, nearly toppling into the grass.

“Fight back.” Giff glared. “You owe me that.”

“No. But take your best shot. I have that coming.”

Suddenly Giff laughed, the sound harsh and jagged enough to grate cheese. “And to think
I’m
the one who asked you to take her to the concert. I’m the one who suggested she write the article. I wanted you two to
like
each other. Guess that worked out pretty well, huh?”

Jake was too miserable to say anything in his defense. Betraying his brother was indefensible. “If it helps, she never wants to lay eyes on me again.”

“Neither do I.” Giff brushed bits of grass off of his slacks and squared his shoulders, looking less like a mad man and more like himself. Except for the set of his jaw and the uncharacteristic coldness in his eyes. “Don’t come to Santa Lucia’s on Mom’s birthday. That’s a
family
dinner.”

“W
OW
.” K
RESLEY SQUINTED
into the dim apartment, which was cavelike compared to the June sunshine
behind her. “You said in your voice mail that you were fine, but you look like refried hell.”

“Thanks.” Lacking the energy to stand there and make small talk, Brooke retreated back to the couch where she’d spent several worthwhile hours crying, castigating herself and watching quality daytime television. She knew Kresley would follow her; she’d be too curious to resist. “So you got my message about breaking off the engagement with Giff and taking a personal day.”

“Yeah, and about that…a
message?
I’m one of your best friends. Plus I’m nosy. It’s a requirement for a career in journalism. You had to know I’d be over.”

“I thought it would be after work, not your lunch hour. Otherwise I might have made more of an effort to clean up for you.” But probably not.

Kresley sat on a chair, her expression growing more serious. “Honey, what happened? I’ve never heard of you guys fighting—over
anything
—and you’re both too stable to get cold feet.”

“Kres, let me ask you something. Do you and Dane ever fight?”

Her friend frowned. “Well, sure, sometimes. I’ve never stormed out and told him I’m moving back in with my parents, and he doesn’t call me ugly names, but we disagree as much as any normal couple. Did I tell you some of the names he suggested for the baby? Honestly, any woman in her right mind would have argued with those!”

“Right.” Brooke leaned her head back against the sofa cushions. “So you think it’s normal for couples to fight
sometimes. And Giff and I never fought about anything. I don’t think Giff and I were a normal couple.”

“So…you broke up because you never fight?”

“That, and I kissed his best friend.”

Kresley started to shoot to her feet, but was thwarted by her lower-than-usual center of gravity. Instead, letting herself fall back in the chair, she squeaked, “You
what?
You’re talking about Jake McBride, right? The one who was originally Satan’s spawn because he hated you and was dead set against the wedding, then took you dancing and was judged to be a decent guy after all, and then…I sent you to Tennessee with him! Is that where you kissed? Oh, dear Lord, I’ve wrecked your marriage.”

“Kres! Take a breath. This is not your fault. And, actually, we kissed right over there.” She pointed toward the front door. “When he brought me home Saturday night. Yesterday, I told Giff that I didn’t think I loved him enough to marry him.”

“Ouch.”

“It’s not his fault, obviously.” Brooke tunneled a hand through her unbrushed hair. “I’m defective or something. I’ve known since I graduated college what I was looking for in a man, and Giff fit the description to a tee.”

Kresley was silent, pondering. Finally she offered, “Well, it’s been a few years. People grow. Maybe he would have been right for you once, but you’ve changed. Or maybe you were wrong about what you wanted. Or maybe you made a mistake. Does it have to be irreversible? You and Jake
just
kissed, right?”

“Yeah.” But since she hadn’t done much more than
that with Giff, she didn’t think he’d be very comforted by that.

Meg had mocked Brooke’s decision to wait until the wedding night to make love to Giff, and Brooke realized now her sister had a strong point. It was fine to decide to wait—that was a personal decision—but shouldn’t she have at least been more tempted? Shouldn’t she have found herself fantasizing about the honeymoon to come? He was a gorgeous man and a decent kisser. Not in Jake’s league, but—

“Aah!” She pressed her hands to her ears as if she could drown out her own trampy thoughts. “I am a bad person.”

“Not usually. You can get a little cranky once a month and when a big deadline is approaching, but… Sorry.” Kresley relented when she noticed that her teasing hadn’t cajoled a smile. “I’m trying to help. You just tell me what I can do.”

“Help me return gifts and put postage on handwritten notes of apology? I don’t know. I’ve never screwed up this big.” Even when she’d been blinded by lust—which she’d confused with love—over Sean and let herself fall behind in classes, she’d had the excuse of youth. And she’d only hurt herself. This time she was a mature woman who’d hurt a good man. “I’ve never had to fix anything of this magnitude!”

No wonder Didi and Meg gave in to occasional hysteria. Even though it had often looked to Brooke like attention-seeking lack of control, she had newfound tolerance for them. And for their screwups. She was still baffled as
to how she’d messed up her life so spectacularly despite having the best of intentions and a solid plan.

“I’m going to have to see Giff,” she said. “I need to give him the ring back. He’s way too chivalrous to ask for it, but I can’t keep it! And at some point, I have to talk to his mother, though Lord knows what I’ll say.”

“I don’t envy you either task.” Kresley bit her lip. “If you don’t mind my asking, what about Jake?”

Brooke sighed heavily. “Yeah, it won’t be easy for him to face the Bakers, either. Giff sounded like he was seething when he got off the phone with me.”

“I can imagine, but that’s not what I meant. What about you and Jake? You planning to…talk to him again?”

“Oh. No.” Brooke looked away, trying not to think about Jake. That way lay madness. “Not unless I have to e-mail him a follow-up question before we print the story. He’s not looking for a girlfriend—said so himself. He has an erratic schedule and likes to travel alone. And, even if he was, can you
imagine
the complications? He and Giff have been best friends forever. This should just be a blip for them—Giff’s not the type to hold a grudge. But how awkward would it be for them to double-date, to get together at the holidays with their girlfriends if I was one of the girlfriends in question?”

Kresley nodded. “I see your point. But it’s kind of a shame. You are one of the steadiest, most dependable people I’ve ever met, both professionally and personally. For you to do something so—”

“Reckless and self-destructive?”

“I was going to say impetuous. Anyway, for you to
have done that, your feelings for him must be pretty damn strong.”

Brooke wanted to deny that she had feelings at all. Instead she settled for a resolute, “I’ll get over them.”

J
AKE RETURNED THE HOSTESS’S
smile, trying to project some warmth despite the chilled feeling he hadn’t been able to shake this week. This evening in particular, when he should have been at Santa Lucia’s, he felt as if he were suffering frostbite from the inside out.

“You’re in time for our early-bird dinner specials,” she told him, flipping her long hair back off her shoulder. “Right this way and I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Actually, do you have anything in Maggie’s section?”

When the young woman frowned at him, looking puzzled, he tried again. “Megan’s?”

“Oh, sure! Meg’s one of our most popular waitresses.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Got a crush?”

“No ma’am, we’re just friends,” he said. With any luck, allies. Was there a chance that he could win Brooke’s sister over to his cause?

He needed all the help he could get. At work, he’d found himself wishing for more calls to distract him—not in the form of tragic accidents, of course, but maybe a few cats stuck in trees. He’d pulled out his cell phone dozens of times, never entirely sure whom he wanted to call more, Giff or Brooke. Talking to Brooke seemed like it might be easier because he at least had a little bit of right on his side. He
knew
deep down that she was
just as attracted to him as he was to her; that kiss on Saturday had been spontaneous combustion.

Given the opportunity, maybe he could get through to her, get her to at least consider the idea of dating him.

He suspected that it would be more difficult to face Giff because Jake was so clearly in the wrong.
You don’t kiss your best friend’s fiancée.
Even if the engagement
had
been a horrible idea. Was Giff missing Brooke as much as he was, sleepless with thoughts of her? Or had Giff resumed business as usual, sorry to see her go but not having a strong emotional reaction to it? Jake would bet his house that it was the latter. But since the two men weren’t speaking, Jake had no way of knowing whether his theory panned out.

“Here you go.” The hostess indicated a mini-booth for two, and handed him a menu. “The early prices are valid as long as you order before five-thirty. Your server will be with you shortly.”

Jake didn’t have long to wait before Meg appeared, her bright “welcome to Buck’s” smile faltering when she identified him.

“Well, well,” she drawled, one hand on her hip. “Look who it is.”

He sighed. “I suppose you hate me, too?”

“I try not to hate anyone. It’s a karma thing. But, no. I think you hurt my kid sister, for which I’m half tempted to kick your butt. But…”

That one syllable filled him with more hope than he’d experienced all week. “Yeah?”

“But I think in a way, you woke her up some. No offense to your buddy, but I think she was sleepwalking
when she was dating Giff. She’s not happy right now, but I think she has a greater capacity now to be truly happy than she would have if she’d married him.”

“Thank you!” He was so grateful to have someone validate his point of view that he could have kissed her. Except he’d already gotten himself in enough trouble that way. “So will you put in a good word for me, help persuade her to talk to me?”

Meg looked sorry for him as she shook her head. “No can do, Romeo. I’m rooting for you two crazy kids, but she’s my sister. You made this mess, you’re going to have to clean it up alone.”

Alone.
He almost sneered at the hateful word. Brooke had said once that he came across as a loner and there had been times in the past when he would have agreed. But not after this week, when unfamiliar loneliness had swamped him. He’d lost his best friend and had, for the first time in his life, been on the edge of falling in love, only to lose that, too.

The question now was, how did he get both of those people back?

“I
CAN’T BELIEVE
I’
M HERE
.” As if seeking divine guidance, Jake cast his eyes heavenward. He hadn’t even called first, so there might not be anyone home.

Or maybe he only
hoped
that no one would be home.

Stop being a wuss and go knock on the door.
Giff’s comment about Grace’s birthday being a “family” occasion had been a direct hit. Jake had been bereft this week in part because he’d felt orphaned. When in
fact
he
was the one who’d blown off most of his own mother’s overtures to come by and have dinner some time, to see for himself the changes in his dad and the McBride household. How could Jake accuse Brooke of emotional cowardice when he wasn’t willing to face his own parents?

Besides, Meg’s mention of karma had stuck with him. He fervently wanted Giff to forgive him. Maybe Jake should try embracing forgiveness, as well.

Deciding that he just needed to bite the bullet and get this over with, he took the porch stairs two at a time in determined, long-legged strides. It was after eight but, given the long summer days, it wasn’t dark out yet. He started to ring the doorbell but it felt silly, too formal considering that he’d grown up in this very house. Instead he rapped on the door, then stood there as ill at ease as a code violator suddenly faced with a surprise fire marshal inspection.

Even from the other side of the door, he could hear his mother’s gasp when she saw who it was through the peephole. The door flew open so quickly that he worried about its aged hinges.