What Happens Between Friends (24 page)

He scowled. “You’ve been working only twenty minutes.”

“And now I’m taking a break.” She glanced pointedly at the only two patrons at the bar, the couple seated at a booth near the pool table. “I think you can handle the early-Saturday-night crowd.”

She kept going, pulling Charlotte into a small break room off the kitchen. Either her sister was extremely brave or she had reason not to fear her scary boss. “Are you sleeping with him?” Char asked.

Sadie twitched in surprise. “Who?”

“Scary man. Your boss.”

“Please. Even I’m not that stupid.” She handed Char a bottle of water from a small fridge, opened one for herself. “Now, what’s going on?”

Char took a sip, put the lid back on. “I...I need you to talk to James for me.” When she’d come up with this plan, it had seemed like a good idea, but saying it aloud made it seem a little too...middle school. But she’d come this far and Char didn’t like to go backward. “Please. He’ll listen to you.”

“What do you want me to talk to him about?” Sadie asked, sounding hesitant.

Well, she probably didn’t want to get involved between her sister and her best friend. Char could understand that, but this was important. “I love him,” she said quietly, then again, louder, because it was the first time she’d said it out loud. “I love him. But he’s afraid to be with me because of the age difference or...I don’t know why. I just need you to talk to him, ask him to give me, to give us, a chance.”

Sadie was staring at her, stunned. She shook her head. “You...you love him. James? My James? I thought it was just a crush.”

Something in the way she said
my James,
the second time she’d slipped like that, had Char’s eyes narrowing. “I love him,” she repeated. As if she didn’t know her own feelings. She was a grown woman, for God’s sake. “We’d be so good together. But I need to know I have a chance. He said he wasn’t seeing anyone. Is that true?”

Sadie was white. “Char, honey...I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just spit it out.” She inhaled deeply. “He’s seeing me. Sort of.”

“No, no. I mean, is there some woman he’s romantically involved with?”

“Me. James and I are...together. Well, we have been...together.”

Char went hot then cold. Her skin crawled, as if someone had poured hundreds of tiny spiders over her. “What?”

“Break’s over,” Sadie’s boss said, sticking his head into the room. “A bachelorette party just came in.”

“In a minute,” Sadie said.

“You...you’re seeing James?” Char asked, stepping closer to Sadie, her big sister, the woman she’d always looked up to, whom she’d admired and loved so much. “You’re with James?” The more it sank in, the angrier she got. How dare Sadie take James from her? “You’re screwing him?”

Sadie flinched, but then her expression hardened. “Watch it, little girl.”

“I am
not
a little girl.” And if she wanted to add a foot stomp to that proclamation, no one had to know but her. “How could you do this to me?”

“Believe it or not, me getting together with James had nothing to do with you.”

Of course not. She hadn’t even thought of Char, of how this would affect her. “God,” she said, stepping closer, “you are unbelievable, you know that? You just waltz back into town after years,
years
of being off—” she waved her arm wildly, forcing Sadie to take a step back “—finding yourself or whatever it is you tell yourself you’re doing while you run away from being a real grown-up—”

“Seriously starting to tick me off,” Sadie warned tightly.

But Char didn’t care. Why should she? Sadie never cared about anything, not her family, not the havoc she wreaked on people’s lives. “Oh, please, it’s the truth. You’re so selfish. All you care about, all you’ve ever cared about, is yourself.”

“If you two are going to keep at it,” O’Riley’s owner said drily, “mind if I hose both of you down and charge a cover fee? Might as well get something out of this catfight.”

“Shut up,” Char said, whirling on him.

“Hey,” Sadie said, pushing Char’s shoulder. “Don’t tell my boss to shut up.”

Char used both hands to shove Sadie back two steps. “Don’t push me.”

“Back up, little sister,” Kane said, grabbing her arm and pulling her away as if he sensed she was gearing up to punch Sadie’s nose.

“Don’t touch me,” she said lowly, not bothering to try to free herself, just giving him a withering glare.

It didn’t bother him in the least. Figured. “If you don’t calm down,” he said in his flat voice, his grip on her firm, but not tight enough to actually hurt, “I’m going to personally escort you out of here. You get it?”

Tears threatened. She choked them back. “I’m leaving anyway. I don’t want to be in the same building as her.”

He opened his fingers and she headed for the door.

“Okay, enough of the drama-queen routine,” Sadie said, blocking what had been a very regal exit on Char’s part. “Look, let’s just calm down and—”

“I won’t calm down,” Char snapped, slapping at the conciliatory hand Sadie reached toward her. “You stole the man I loved.”

That may have been a little over-the-top, but it was heartfelt and true.

Impatience crossed Sadie’s experience. “You don’t even know him. You had a crush. It’s understandable. He’s a great guy, the best, but, honey, you don’t love him. Not really.”

She did. Didn’t she? He was perfect for her, for her plans, for what she wanted for her future. But Sadie had taken that away from her. “And you do?”

Sadie looked as shocked as if Char had given in to that urge to pop her one. “James and I are...we’re...friends. We care about each other.”

“Friends?” Char sneered. “Friends with benefits? How convenient for you, and just how you prefer things. No strings. No promises, certainly no ties to strangle you. God forbid you actually commit to anything or anyone. But while you’re having this easy, no-strings-attached affair, did it ever occur to you that you’re holding him back? James deserves a woman who’s going to love him forever, who wants to get married, have children and raise them here in Shady Grove.”

“Someone like you?” Sadie asked.

“Someone exactly like me,” Char snapped. “You only came here because you messed up your life. And once you get bored or something more interesting—
someone
more interesting—comes along, you’ll drop James and take off like a rocket. It’s what you do. It’s who you are.” Char stepped closer, couldn’t stop her voice from shaking. “You’ll hold him back from finding true happiness, but worse than that, you’ll hurt him. You’ll leave him alone with a broken heart, and that’s something I never, never would do.”

Sadie was white, her lower lip trembling, but Char didn’t take her words back. Couldn’t. They were true. And it was past time someone told Sadie exactly what she was doing wrong instead of always letting her charm her way out of things.

Sadie turned and walked away.

Because she couldn’t defend herself. Because she knew damn well every word, every single one, was true. But if she was in the right, and Char assured herself she was, why did she feel so horrible?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“S
ADIE
!” I
RENE
CALLED
,
waving her arm frantically as she jogged across the backyard toward Sadie and Elvis.

“Mom?” Sadie raised her eyebrows and, wrapping the leash around her hand, picked up her pace, causing Elvis to trot to keep up. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong? Is the house on fire?”

They’d just returned from their evening walk, had only been gone an hour. What could have possibly happened? She glanced over her mother’s shoulder but there was no smoke billowing from the windows, no flames shooting from the roof.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Irene grabbed Sadie’s hands, clutched them tightly. “You’re not going to believe it. You were right!”

“Yes, that is a shock,” Sadie said drily. “As I’m usually completely wrong.”

Irene laughed, squeezed Sadie’s hands once more before dropping them. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s just such a shock...after all this time who would’ve thought...” She bent and rubbed Elvis’s head—the first time Sadie remembered her petting the dog. “Wait until you see who’s here for you,” she told him.

Why that made Sadie nervous, she had no idea. “Mom, what is going on?”

“Jo Jo!”

At the shout, Sadie looked up. Elvis barked, hopped into the air. Barked again.

Then took off like a shot.

Which wouldn’t have been a problem except he practically took Sadie’s arm off. Running to keep said arm attached to her shoulder, Sadie grabbed the leash with both hands and struggled to get Elvis to show a little decorum, but he was out of control. He lunged at the last moment and Sadie used all her strength to yank him back before he knocked over a lanky teenager with short brown hair and a chin covered in acne.

She opened her mouth to apologize only to choke on the words when the kid fell to his knees and held out his arms.

And her dog raced into them.

“Hey, boy,” the kid said, rubbing Elvis’s ears, then holding the dog’s face in his large hands. “Did you miss me?”

“I...I don’t understand,” Sadie whispered when her mom joined them.

But she was afraid she did.

Irene put her arm around Sadie’s shoulders and steered her toward the edge of the yard where a smiling Will stood with an equally cheerful-looking middle-aged couple. Everybody was all happy-happy.

Sadie wanted to cry.

“Sadie,” Irene said, “this is Kent and Tracy Jackson. And that—” more smiles, this time accompanied by a head tilt toward the kid “—is their son Jason. They’re Elvis’s—” Rolling her eyes, she laughed. So glad to see everyone was having such a fabulous time. “They’re Jo Jo’s owners.”

Sadie’s blood chilled. “How... Why...”

“It’s such an amazing story,” Irene said. “You’re not going to believe it.”

“Try me.”

“Well, you see, six months ago, we moved from Pittsburgh to York,” Tracy, a heavyset woman with round cheeks and kind hazel eyes, said. “About two months ago, Jo Jo dug a hole underneath the fence in the backyard and took off. We searched for days.” She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Poor Jason was heartbroken. We thought for sure we’d never see Jo Jo again.”

Kent nodded. “We’d even started checking into getting another dog from the shelter—Jo Jo was a rescue.”

“But Jason would not give up hope,” Tracy said, her lower lip quivering. “And then yesterday, one of his friends from his old high school messaged him on Facebook—”

“And told him he’d seen an ad in the paper about someone finding a dog that looked like Jo Jo,” Kent said. “So we looked up the ad online—”

“And Jason was so sure it was Jo Jo he wouldn’t even let us call first to warn you all we were coming,” Tracy said. “So we hopped in the car and here we are.”

“They got here right after you left for your walk,” Irene told Sadie. “They’ve been waiting ever since.”

Sadie couldn’t speak. All she could do was stare at Jason and Elvis—at Jason and
Jo Jo.
She wanted to scream, to demand these people show proof that this was their dog. She wanted to rip Elvis—damn it, Jo Jo—from the kid’s arms. Run inside and lock the doors until they went back to York.

But she didn’t need proof. Not when the dog and boy were obviously crazy for each other.

She had to let Elvis go.

Her eyes pricked with tears and she blinked rapidly. “I’ll just...” She frowned. Wasn’t sure what to do. What do say. “Uh...get his things.”

“That’s not necessary,” Will said, watching her carefully, the only one of the original happy campers who seemed to suspect she wasn’t as thrilled with this development as everyone else. “We’ve already gathered up his things and put them in the Jacksons’ car.”

“Did you get his squeaky toy? And his rope? He loves that rope.”

Will patted her shoulder. “I got them.”

She crossed her arms. Her throat was tight, her chest ached. “Good.”

Kent checked his watch. “Come on, Jas. We need to get on the road—it’s a three-and-half-hour drive home.” He turned to Sadie. “We can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of Jo Jo.”

She tried to smile but it wobbled around the edges. “My pleasure.”

Jason had the dog’s leash, walked over to Sadie and held out his hand. “Thank you for finding my dog.”

He’s not your dog. He’s mine.

He was going to be mine.

She shook his hand. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

She trailed her fingers over the silky fur on Elvis’s head then turned and hurried into the house.

She was in the kitchen searching for her keys when Irene came in. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Fine. I just... I’m going out for a little while....” Where were those damn keys? She could have sworn she’d left them right here on the counter.

“It’s Sunday night,” Irene said with a concerned frown. “Going out where?”

Sadie spied her keys hanging on the key rack—right where her mother must have put them. “Just out.” She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek then practically ran to her Jeep.

She drove aimlessly for an hour. Around town. Outside of town. One street after another. Finally, she pulled to a stop at the place she’d tried like hell to avoid.

The place where she’d known she’d end up eventually.

A minute later, she knocked on James’s door.

* * *

J
AMES
OPENED
the door, his heart tripping to find Sadie, once again, on his doorstep. Except this time she wasn’t drunk, wasn’t hanging on another man. She was simply heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Can I come in?” she asked, her eyes bleak, her lower lip trembling. “Please? I...I could really use a friend.”

He couldn’t turn her away. Had always had a hard time refusing her anything.

He stepped aside. In the great room, she stared at the cold fireplace, her shoulders slumped. She was dressed in bright orange jeans, her top was a kaleidoscope of colors ranging from black to deep red to pink that burned a man’s retinas. But the long sleeves were loose, the wide neck falling down one shoulder to show the white strap of her bra.

“Everything okay?” he asked reluctantly, afraid to be drawn back into friendship with her, terrified of letting her get close enough to rip his heart out again.

“They took him.”

“What?”

She faced him. “They took Elvis. The Jacksons.”

He moved closer, wanting, needing to keep his distance but unable to do so when she looked so lost, when she sounded so incredibly sad. “Who are the Jacksons?”

“Elvis’s owners. Except, his name isn’t Elvis. It’s Jo Jo.” She tossed her hands up. “Jo Jo! What kind of name is that for a dog?”

James glanced at Zoe, who watched him with her head cocked, one ear up. “Uh...”

“A stupid one, that’s what,” Sadie said, starting to pace. “They moved to York from Pittsburgh and it seems El—Jo Jo,” she ground out the name, “ran away one afternoon, made it all the way back here where I just happened to pick him up one rainy night.”

“You’re saying you found Elvis’s owners?”

“They found him. A friend saw the ad in the paper, contacted them. Isn’t that great? A happy ending for everyone.”

Except she didn’t seem happy. She seemed angry. Miserable.

“That must have been hard,” James said, watching her carefully. “Giving him up.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Why would it be? It’s not like I’m stupid enough to think I could actually keep him. You sure as hell didn’t seem to think I was capable of taking care of him.”

“That’s not true.”

She stopped moving long enough to throw him a hard glare. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” But maybe, just maybe, he thought, guilt pricking him, it was. At least a little. “You’ve just...never been the type to want any commitment. No pets. No long-term plans.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Arms crossed, she stormed past the sofa, Zoe following her. “I don’t like anything to tie me down. Nothing.” She swallowed. Her chin quivered. Her eyes glittered with tears. “Nothing.”

Aw, shit.

“Come here,” he said gruffly, opening his arms.

With a sniff, she went into them. He lifted her, cradled her against his chest as he crossed to the couch and sat, settling her on his lap. She pressed her face against the crook of his neck, her tears wetting his skin, dripping down to the collar of his shirt. Her sobs shook her body. He felt helpless. Inept. He wanted to take away her pain, to go after the Jacksons or whoever the hell they were and get Elvis back for her. He wanted to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt her again.

But all he could do was smooth back her hair, kiss her forehead.

And hold her while she cried.

* * *

S
ADIE
WOKE
with a start. Her heart racing, she clutched the blanket covering her and glanced around frantically, trying to figure out where she was, why her mouth was dry, her eyes burning. It came to her in a flash. Elvis was gone.

She’d been upset and had done what her instincts demanded. She’d come to James. He’d held her while she cried, gotten her some water then held her some more. She’d finally drifted off, exhausted and emotionally spent. It was dark now, though she had no idea how late. James had obviously left her to sleep on the couch, covering her with a blanket.

She wiggled her toes. He’d even taken off her shoes.

He’d taken care of her.

She wanted more from him. It was selfish. But she wanted more.

Not bothering with the lights, she slipped across the room, undressing as she went. She slid her shirt off by the chair, dropped it on the table. Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra, left it on the floor outside James’s bedroom.

She opened the door quietly and Zoe padded over. Sadie shooed the dog toward the kitchen then crept inside the bedroom, shutting the door again. She unzipped her pants, pushed them and her underwear down, stepping out of them as she approached the bed.

James slept on his stomach, his bare back visible, his right leg bent, his left arm stretched out over his head. He was beautiful, his tanned skin smooth, his back sculpted with muscles.

James deserves a woman who’s going to love him forever, who wants to get married, have children and raise them here in Shady Grove.

He did, he absolutely did. She wasn’t that woman. From the moment she’d set foot in Shady Grove, her one goal had been to get out. To live the life she was meant to live, the one she’d lived before her father had died and her mother had become a totally new person. A life filled with freedom and endless choices. She wasn’t cut out for the routine of small-town life, the drudgery of the same job year after year. The normalcy of marriage and kids and Friday-night dinners at the same restaurant and weekends spent by the pool or the ice rink.

There were too many places she had yet to see, too many things she had yet to do to ever be tied down.

But instead of feeling excited about those adventures, thinking about them made her anxious, as if they somehow weren’t enough for her anymore. And that scared her to death.

She slid under the covers and he stirred. His scent, the soap he used in the shower, his laundry detergent, tickled her nose, would always remind her of him, of them as they were now.

Friends to lovers.

She pressed against him, seeking his heat, his strength. Smoothed her hand down his back. He rolled onto his side.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep, his first thought, as always, of her and how she was.

“Fine,” she whispered, not wanting to break the tranquillity of the moment. “I want to be with you.” Nudging his shoulder, she pushed him onto his back, made quick work of the boxers he wore, then straddled him and leaned down to speak directly into his ear. “I hope you don’t mind.”

His erection pulsed between them, nudging her lower belly. “I guess I don’t.”

Smiling in the dark, she trailed her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, felt the ridges of his ribs then moved lower to the muscles of his stomach. She shifted back, dragged her finger from the top of his penis to the base and back up again. It jumped.

“Are you sure?” she asked, encircling him and sliding her hand up. Then down. “Because I could always go back to the couch.”

“No, no,” he said, his voice breaking on a moan when she rubbed her thumb over his slick head. “That’s not necessary.”

“Good.”

She bent her head and took him into her mouth. He exhaled a soft curse, his hands going to her head, his hips lifting in supplication, in a plea. She pleasured him, reveling in his sighs and moans, in how his fingers kneaded her hair. And when those hands fisted and he gently pulled her to him, she willingly slid up his body for his kiss. He reached into the drawer next to the bed and she helped him sheath himself with the condom. He flipped her over and entered her, his hands linked with hers.

She arched as he moved inside of her, so strong and hard. This, this was what she wanted. What was between them. Charlotte had been wrong. What she and James had was special and lovely and real. It was more than just a fling, more than friends with benefits.

You’ll hold him back from finding true happiness, but worse than that, you’ll hurt him.