9. Nessa

Nessa

“ E xplain it to me again.”

June’s words had my jaw tightening for the umpteenth time. With the amount of jaw clenching I’d done the last few days, I was no doubt working myself toward a TMJ diagnosis.

“Walk while you talk,” I told her, doubling my pace.

We were on our way to the empty space next door to Smutty Buddies. The former storefront, which had been empty ever since the pottery studio had closed last year, had been designated as the festival command center for the next month. Thanks to a lengthy line at the bakery, we were already running a few minutes behind for this morning’s committee orientation. Free coffee and pastries were the least I could offer to our team of volunteers.

Which included Kaylani and Ryan.

“You ran into Kaylani in the street, who revealed that she was not only engaged, but also that she was marrying the fucker who made your life miserable in high school?”

“That’s correct.”

“And in a moment of shear, I don’t know, panic or desperation—”

Or all the above ?

“—you found yourself kissing the dude that annoys the ever-loving shit out of you, and now the two of you are dating.”

It sounded a lot more ridiculous coming out of her mouth than it had in the moment.

“Fake dating.”

“Ness, this isn’t one of your books.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

I heaved a sigh, resituating myself and the two boxes of hot coffee in my hands. Jo might not have been able to make today’s orientation, but he had more than made up for it by loading us up with enough coffee and treats to feed a small army. That was what it took to pull off a successful Buns and Roses Festival—as many willful recruits as possible.

“Can you blame me?” I demanded. “I go fifteen years without laying eyes on Ryan Mitchell, and then all of a sudden, he’s standing across from me, fiancée on one arm, pumpkin in the other.”

Her brows wrinkled. “Why the fuck did he have a pumpkin?”

“That’s not important.”

“I mean, it kind of is,” June argued. “It’s way too early for pumpkins.”

“Forget the fucking pumpkin!”

She halted her steps, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. She wasn’t the only one. It was a busy Saturday morning in downtown Rose City. The streets were packed full of weekend shoppers and Roasters fans gearing up for this afternoon’s game, several of whom were now staring at the crazy lady cursing gourds outside the old movie theater.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders to face her. Tardiness be damned, she needed to understand where I was coming from.

“You don’t get it,” I told her, lowering my voice. “You and I went to different high schools.”

“Well, that’s just silly because we went to the same high school.”

I blinked. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Understanding dawned on her face, with a hint of something else: remorse. That was because June had had a very different high school experience than Kaylani and me. Unlike the two of us, June had never been on the receiving end of Ryan’s torment, most likely because she and my brother had been varsity athletes like him—volleyball and soccer, respectively.

“Okay, I hear you,” she said, her voice free of judgment. “I just worry about you, you know that.”

I smiled weakly. “I know.”

We continued our walk toward the bookstore in silence, a nearly impossible feat for June, who always had something to say. Just when I thought I might get a pass from her inquisition, she spoke again.

“Jared Pink, though? You hate the guy.”

I scrunched my nose. Hate was a strong word. I didn’t hate anyone, not even Ryan. The fact of the matter was I didn’t know how I felt about Pink, and that kiss a couple of days ago had only further complicated my feelings.

“Unless . . .” I looked over my shoulder when she trailed off. “Do you like him?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

She gasped. “Oh my god, you do. You like him.”

My mouth twisted. “That’s not what I said.”

“Girl, it all makes sense now.”

The truth was, I hadn’t had enough time to break down my complicated feelings for Pink. I didn’t want to like him. For months, I had chalked up my attraction to him as just that: pure, unfiltered lust, a byproduct of too much erotica and not enough sex. But his kiss—his tongue, those rough hands gripping my waist—had thrown me for a loop. One that still had me seeing stars.

I probably shouldn’t have told June anything at all. The fewer people who knew the truth about me and Jared’s arrangement, the better. She never gave me a chance for rebuttal, though, practically skipping the rest of the way to festival headquarters.

Damn tall people and their long legs.

By the time I caught up to her, she was casually leaning against the building, blocking my path. Her beaming smile made me want to scream, but I’d already done that once today.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I fired back.

She arched a perfectly shaped brow. “You sure about that?”

A pang of unease hit me like a one-two punch. I sidestepped her, and her slightly foreboding question, and rounded the building, coming to an abrupt halt when I saw who was holding the door open for me.

“What are you doing here?”

And why do you look that good first thing in the morning?

I kept that last bit to myself.

“Nine-thirty, right?” Pink rested one hand against the door and used the other to check his phone. I tried to ignore the inked ivy winding itself around his well-defined forearm and the cotton joggers hugging his waist, thighs, and . . . other things like a second skin. Geez, thirsty much?

“I’m a few minutes late. Sorry.” The beautiful bastard smiled, almost as if he knew where my head was at. “Then again, so are you.”

I opened my mouth, ready to give him the tongue lashing of the century—and not the kind the horny bitch inside of me had been craving ever since he’d kissed me. He deserved nothing less for teasing me before I had my first cup of coffee.

“If you even think—”

The words barely left my mouth before Kaylani came racing around the other side of the building, her fingers linked through Ryan’s.

“Nessa Gibbs running late?” Kaylani asked, a puzzled look on her face. “I never thought I’d ever see the day.”

“It’s my fault,” Pink explained. His baby blue eyes crinkled in the corners as one side of his lips tipped up in an infuriatingly sexy grin. “We had a late night.”

My cheeks burned. I might not have been a varsity athlete like June or Ryan, but I had been a drama geek. Improvisation, however, had never been my strong suit—I much preferred the safety of a script, one that clearly outlined where the scene ended and reality began.

Pink and I still had a lot of ground to cover—starting with the list of rules I had texted him late last night, long after I should have been asleep—but our script would have to wait. We were already running well behind, and there was a croissant with my name on it burning a hole in one of the pastry boxes.

“That’s right.” I kept my eyes on his when I added, “But like I told Jared, it takes some guys longer than others, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everybody gets stage fright now and then.”

His smile soured. It was a low blow for sure, but if he wanted to play, I was going to level the field.

Ryan cleared his throat and dragged Kaylani inside before she could say anything else.

“Oop,” June squeaked from behind me. “I’m just going to—”

She made her escape, too. When it was finally my turn to brush past Pink, I jammed my shoulder into his chest a little harder than necessary. Not that it did much good. My shoulders were no match for his chiseled abdomen.

Just as I cleared the door, he stopped me. “I don’t know who you’ve been with, angel, but I don’t get stage fright. Ever.”

I turned over my shoulder and narrowed my gaze in warning.

“Neither do I.”

I had a newfound appreciation for teachers.

Three hours of talking, two cups of coffee, and one pistachio croissant later, I was desperately in need of a throat lozenge—and maybe a nap. Public speaking had never been my forte. I could organize an Excel document like nobody’s business—a “freak in the spreadsheets,” as June called me—and I threw one hell of a Halloween party—people still talked about my Sunday Bloody Sunday twenty-four-hour horror film fest to this day—but staring down a room of strangers for hours on end? Not my thing.

“That’s all for now,” I told our team, thankful that our orientation had finally finished. My tennis shoes had been working overtime for the last forty-five minutes. “Please be sure to add the festival email address to your approved list and look out for an email from me in the next day or two. See you next week.”

June stood to add, “And don’t forget to grab a bag on your way out the door.”

Based on Clarke’s endorsement, the Roasters had agreed to sponsor this year’s festival, and that sponsorship included some branded, drawstring backpacks full of swag.

While our volunteers dispersed, June cozied up to my side. “I think that went really well.”

“Agreed.” Even though the last few hours had drained me—mentally and emotionally—I was feeling more invigorated than I had in days. “Excellent recruiting, by the way.”

June and Jo had assembled a top-notch mix of festival regulars, plus a handful of newbies. Seeing as it was my first time chairing the event, it was a major relief knowing that I had the support of my right-hand man and woman.

She nodded. “If what Clarke said is true, we should have more closer to the day of, too.”

That had probably been the biggest surprise of them all. When Jo had emailed me the final list of volunteer sign-ups, Pink hadn’t been the only Roaster on it. Half of the team’s starting lineup was there, too, though none of them made my stomach jump quite like the man leaning against the doorframe, nursing another glass of Miles’s lavender lemonade.

For a world-renowned celebrity who made a living throwing balls around, Pink sure fit into small-town life seamlessly. I’d even caught him taking notes more than once during my presentation, which had stirred something in me—specifically below the waist.

Great, now I’m fantasizing about his notetaking.

“Hey, Ness.” A soft tap on the shoulder had me turning toward a fresh-faced Kaylani. After a couple of days of solid sleep, she was back to her usual bright and bubbly self. “Got a second?”

“Of course.”

She twirled the ends of her ponytail, a nervous habit she’d had since we’d been children. “Great seeing you, June.”

“You, too. I’m going to text you the details about my gym.”

“Perfect! Thanks.”

That was Kaylani for you. The girl had barely been back in town for forty-eight hours and she was already making plans to throw tires and barbells that probably weighed as much as she did.

June excused herself to answer some questions, leaving Kaylani and me alone for the first time since I’d found out about her engagement.

“So . . . ,” she prompted.

“So . . .”

“You didn’t return any of my texts. Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Just busy.”

She pursed her lips. “Are we okay?”

That was the real question, one I wasn’t sure I had an answer for just yet. So far, the best I had come up with was that sometime in the last year, Kaylani had lost her mind or been hypnotized— dickmatized was more like it—into believing that Ryan was a good person.

In the end, I settled on a watered-down version of the truth. After all, I had just gotten my friend back; the last thing I wanted was to scare her off.

“We’re okay,” I told her. “But I’ll admit I was a little . . .”

“Surprised?” she hedged.

I nodded. That was certainly one of the emotions I’d felt the other day, along with hurt, anger, betrayal. The list went on and on.

“I know I should have told you sooner about Ryan, but you have to believe me, Ness, the whole thing happened so fast. We only started dating around Christmas.”

Christmas.

That had been nine months ago. Nine months of text messages, phone calls, and virtual tea parties, yet she hadn’t mentioned him once.

“He’s been living in New York for a few years, and we ran into each other at this holiday gala thing. After that, it was just . . .”

My eyes widened. She couldn’t leave me hanging like that. I might have had my doubts about her choice of partner, but like it or not, I was also a glutton for a good love story.

“It was what?”

She took my hands in hers and tugged us toward the bench in the corner. And just like that, we were thirteen again, cuddled up on my couch and mooning over our latest crushes. The only thing missing was my pink iPod Mini blasting Destiny’s Child.

“Easy. For the first time ever, it was easy.”

That didn’t sound like Kaylani at all, the self-proclaimed chaos queen. “What was easy?”

She sighed. “Everything. It was like we had been together for years. Our first date lasted nine hours. For our fifth, he took me bungee jumping off a bridge in Kentucky.”

“But you hate heights.”

A startled laugh bubbled out of her. “I know. But with him, I feel like I can do anything.” She thought a second before adding, “Or nothing at all. Ness, there are days when we’ll lie around and just rot on the couch, and it just feels right. I don’t feel guilty at all.”

I was suddenly feeling that I shouldn’t have had that second cup of coffee.

Consequences, Nessa.

Conflicting feelings churned through my stomach, making my favorite black denim cutoffs feel unusually tight. On the one hand, I was happy for my friend. Kay deserved someone who would love and appreciate every one of her unique quirks—that was the best any of us could hope for. On the other hand, why did it have to be Ryan?

“Look, I know he doesn’t have a great track record with you—”

“Or you.”

Her smile soured. I didn’t want to hurt her or push things too far, but she needed the reminder—I wasn’t the only one who had been on the receiving end of Ryan’s torture.

“Just give him a chance, Ness,” she pleaded. Those mesmerizing, obsidian eyes of hers pierced the deepest depths of my heart. “For me?”

She knew the effect she had on me.

“Fine,” I told her. “But only because it’s you.”

She batted her eyelashes with flair. “You’ve never been able to resist me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, now that that’s settled, I’m going to get back to my fiancé before he talks Jared’s ear off.”

I quirked my brow. “Huh?”

She pointed across the room, past the last few stragglers loading up on spare pastries, to Ryan who was currently yakking it up with none other than my fake boyfriend. For someone with such a big mouth and an even bigger dick—something I could now confirm thanks to our passionate kiss in the street two days ago—Pink sure did have a talent for sneaking around undetected.

“By the way, how long has that been going on?”

Kaylani nodded her head toward my knight in shining Under Armour.

“It’s still pretty new,” I answered honestly.

“He’s not your usual type.” She tilted her head to the side and twisted her lips. I’d seen her make the same face when trying to solve quadratic equations or understand the rules of football. Kaylani was a basketball fan through and through. “But I kind of love that for you,” she added before skipping off to join her fiancé.

She wasn’t wrong; Pink was unlike any of my previous partners. Not that there was a long list of them—barely enough to fill a lineup—but as a woman in her thirties, I had had my fair share of good and bad relationships. Enough to know what I liked, what I didn’t, what was sensible, and what would inevitably end in heartbreak.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Jared Pink would break my heart if given the opportunity. Unfortunately, that didn’t make me any less attracted to him.

A high-pitched squeal from across the room stole my attention. Kaylani laughed as Ryan flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her toward the door. Just as he reached the threshold, she lifted her head enough to smile and say, “Bye, Ness. Bye, J—”

The door closed behind them before she had a chance to finish, leaving me alone with the man who had starred in my dreams for three nights straight.

“Great job today, angel.”

“Thanks.”

He smirked when I didn’t press him on the silly nickname. His ego was already the size of Jupiter; the last thing it needed was some stroking. Unlike another part of him I had been thinking about all week.

I blew out my breath. I refused to let my attraction to Jared get the best of me.

“I’d love to stay and help finish cleaning up,” he said, leaning his hip against the wall that had once housed hand-thrown pots, cups, and on special occasions, like bachelorette parties, ceramic dildos. “But I’ve got to meet with my agent about this podcast thing.”

“Good lord, they’re giving you a microphone?”

His chest shook. “Sadly, no. But this reporter is going to be following the team for a week or so to write a profile on me. He’s doing it for all the Cy Young nominees.”

I blinked. “Is that a baseball thing I should know?”

“As a fan, yes.” He rounded the table as I poured myself the last of Miles’s lemonade and positioned himself next to me until we were hip to hip. “As my girlfriend, absolutely.”

I rounded on him. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Quiet, angel. Somebody might hear you.”

We were broaching dangerous territory again. Already, I could feel myself inching forward, caught in Jared’s gravitational pull. Forget an ego the size of a planet; this man was a planet.

“You and Ryan were getting on like old friends.”

His smile waned at the sudden change in subject. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for dulling his shine.

“I was setting him and Kaylani up with tickets to Tuesday’s game.”

“That was nice of you.”

He shrugged. “I got you and June tickets, too.”

“What? Why did you—”

“Because gorgeous, gorgeous girlfriends support their talented, talented boyfriends, and I told you, I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“The best fake boyfriend.”

He smirked. “Right.”

I found myself suddenly distracted when he rubbed the back of his neck, exposing his thick, tattooed bicep. Even though I had never watched Jared play—although, from the sound of it, that was subject to change—I had seen photos of him on the pitching mound, and none of them had featured those tattoos. Flowers and plants of all varied species.

If his tattoos were anything like mine, there would be a story behind each and every one of them. But that couldn’t be. He was only twenty-four. How many stories could he possibly have?

“Have you?”

“Hm?”

Judging by the way his eyes went practically feral, he knew exactly what had distracted me.

“I said, have you been to a game before?”

I shook my head. “I’m not exactly a baseball fan.”

“You don’t have to be a baseball fan,” he said. “You only have to be a Jared Pink fan.”

“And I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”

A laugh belted out of him. “By the way, that Ryan guy? I know you don’t have the best history, but he seems okay.”

That was where I drew the line.

“Listen up, Pink ,” I said, spewing his name like a bad word. “You talked to the guy for four minutes. He made my life hell for four years.”

“I’m not excusing that.” He lowered his tone before asking, “But have you ever stopped to consider that maybe he isn’t the same person he was in high school?”

No, because I don’t want to.

It was a lot easier to keep Ryan in the box I had placed him in years ago, the one labeled “heartless jerk.” And his wasn’t the only box I kept tucked away. There was one for Pink, too, only that one was marked “disaster in the making.”

“I know I’m not the same immature, little boy from high school.”

I cocked a brow. “Are you sure about that?”

A devilish grin crossed his face. And then, before I even knew it happened, he looped a finger through the top of my shorts and tugged me toward him. My plush belly connected with his rock-hard abs.

Everything about him was hard.

“Oh, angel,” he all but growled. I cursed the way my body trembled in response. “We both know nothing about me is little.”

Cocky bastard.

“You— Um—”

“I’ll see you at the game.” He stepped back. I felt the weight of his fingers, even after he relinquished his hold. “I’ll be the one on the dirt hill, front and center.”