Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

T here had to be a way out of the friend zone.

Derrick Wright had heard of this place, where women saw men as pals instead of prospects. He'd always thought it was the stuff of myths and legends. Nightmares, maybe. Because, really, how hard was it to just ask a woman out? Derrick had never had any trouble getting dates. The problems always came after the asking, when he had to suffer through the actual events, which usually included long-winded discussions about social media ad strategies, or the care and feeding of two-year-olds in a daycare, or—and this had been the worst—the step-by-step process of cleaning a dog's abscessed tooth.

He'd hardly been able to finish his lunch, sitting across from the veterinarian who'd gotten less and less attractive with every word.

Suffice it to say, though getting first dates wasn't a problem, Derrick hadn't had a lot of second dates in his life.

Being a pilot was a plus in the whole attracting-women thing, and when they learned he owned his own jet, they were usually keen to at least give it a go. Not that he ever shared how, after years in business, he still had months when he struggled to make the payment on said jet. Good thing his brother had financed it, and Sam wouldn't foreclose if Derrick missed a month. But Derrick sure didn't plan to take advantage of his brother's generosity.

Not only did Jasmine know Derrick was a pilot, but she'd ridden on his plane when he'd brought her and her sister to the US from Greece. It'd been a rescue mission. That should count for something, right?

Yet, here he sat, in Jasmine's friend zone.

Technically, he sat on Sam's couch, watching the woman of his dreams on the far side of the living room. A Christmas tree glittering with lights and shiny ornaments stood in the corner between a stacked-stone fireplace and a wall of windows. The star that topped the tree sparkled just centimeters below the twenty-foot ceiling. Presents already poked out from beneath it, though they were still weeks from the holiday. Other Christmas decorations filled almost every surface—Eliza's doing, no doubt.

Between the festive decor and all the family and friends, it was downright cramped. Eight women were gathered near the entrance, and Derrick's brothers and dad hovered around them like spotters at the gym, as if one of the females might swoon and need rescue.

Only Derrick held back, trying to be a casual observer. Trying not to stare.

Despite being the future bride's twin and the maid of honor, Jasmine stood apart from the rest of the bridal party as they prepared to go wedding gown shopping. She wore a shapeless dress that was too big for her slender, five-foot frame. She had straight, silky brown hair that reached past the middle of her back and the most gorgeous liquid-brown eyes he'd ever seen. Right now, they were wide as she observed the crowd, an expression Derrick had seen often in the months since he'd met her. She was overwhelmed and nervous—but also delighted, as if being here were a blessing she couldn't wrap her mind around.

That was one of the reasons Derrick loved her—that beautiful wonder she saw in the world.

"You got a little drool"—Bryan plopped on the sofa beside him, tapping his chin—"right there."

"Shut up."

His brother grinned. "How's that coming along?" He tipped his head toward Jasmine as if there was no question of what he meant. All the brothers knew exactly how Derrick felt about Jasmine, who'd escaped with her sister from their tyrannical father in Iraq. He figured her twin, Leila, also guessed Derrick's feelings, though, unlike his brothers, she was too kind to tease him. Mom and Dad knew. If Derrick had to guess, all the sisters-in-law knew.

Everybody knew how Derrick felt about Jasmine—except Jasmine.

"It's fine," Derrick said. "Just great."

"You ever need some advice?—"

"I'll ask someone who knows something about women."

"Which one of us has a girlfriend?" At the word, Bryan glanced at the curly-haired blonde who'd recently moved in with Leila and Jasmine. Sophie probably knew, too, come to think of it. She, like the twins, was hiding in Shadow Cove from terrorists. Because…yeah, his family had had a strange few months. Derrick wasn't privy to all the details, just enough to know there'd been danger and excitement—all of which he'd missed.

"I'll figure it out," Derrick said.

Bryan eyed him like one might eye roadkill. "You should get a haircut. Maybe Jasmine prefers her men to look like, you know, men."

"She likes it." Didn't she? She'd remarked on it once, her cheeks turning bright red about a second later. Derrick ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "You're just jealous."

"Yeah"—his voice was heavy with sarcasm—"that's it."

"Bryan," Sophie called from the middle of the throng. "Can you help me with something?"

He popped up and rushed to her as if he'd been summoned by the queen.

Derrick's gaze skimmed the women and, of course, landed on Jasmine again. She smiled that shy smile—lips closed but tipped up at the corners, chin dipped, eyes wide as she watched him from below those long eyelashes.

The expression was a hit to the solar plexus. It took everything in him not to act just like his brother, run to her and take her in his arms.

He was an idiot.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he wasn't sorry for the excuse to walk out. Heading toward the kitchen, he glanced at the number, then swiped to connect. "Derrick Wright."

"Hey, man." Chet Williams, Derrick's biggest client. "Hate to do this to you, but I gotta cancel. We had a last-minute change of plans."

Derrick's stomach swooped like he'd hit an air pocket. "Just tomorrow, or…"

"The whole week. Board's decided to have the meetings on Zoom to save money and stick close to home for the holidays. You know how it is." He lowered his voice. "Tell you the truth, I was hoping to get out of here. My mother-in-law's in town."

As if Derrick should feel bad for the guy. He'd been hired to fly Chet to North Carolina, then the entire board down to Florida for a few days of golf before returning everyone home.

He'd had it on his schedule for months.

He'd turned down other clients because of it—higher-paying clients.

And now he'd lose a week's worth of wages in the middle of the holidays.

Gaze downcast, he leaned against the kitchen counter, his heart pounding. "Thing is, Chet, I'm, uh… It's really late notice."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. But we'll be sure to use you when we plan the Q2 board meeting."

"Right, but…" Derrick could do this. He had to do this. If he didn't start standing up for himself, his savings account would be empty. He'd miss payments, and what would that do to his relationship with Sam?

He'd have to sell the plane. He'd be bankrupt.

Footsteps told Derrick somebody had joined him in the kitchen, but he didn't look.

He took a breath for courage and forced the words out of his mouth. "I'll send you a bill for the late-cancellation fee." Which would be half what the company would've paid for the charter, but better than nothing.

Silence.

It ticked for seconds.

Derrick was pretty sure his heart was going to slam right out of his chest before Chet finally spoke.

"You're not serious. You really expect me to pay that?"

"You signed a contract."

"Here's the deal, Wright," Chet said. "You can either have your money now or you can have our business later. But you can't have both."

Derrick tapped the cell—was banged a better word?— against his forehead. He needed the money. He needed the client more.

He returned the phone to his ear. "Quarter fee, then," he said. "And next time, I need at least two weeks' notice."

Another long silence, and then… "I hope the money's worth it." The three quick beeps told him his most loyal client—former client, maybe—had ended the call.

"Everything okay?"

Grant, brother number four, was staring at him over a giant cooler on the kitchen counter. He might not've been the tallest of the brothers, but he was definitely the biggest. Derrick figured he could hold his own in a fight against the rest of the Wrights, but Grant would squish him like a bug.

Not that he'd ever admit that. Especially considering, of all the brothers, this one felt the most distant. Their relationship had taken a hit after Bryan's accident, and it had never recovered. Derrick hated that, but he'd had no opportunity to fix it, considering he never spent time alone with him. "Thought you were fawning over the women like the rest of the guys."

"There's only so much of that"—Grant chin-pointed toward the chatter—"a man can take."

"No kidding."

A few twelve-packs of drinks sat on the floor by Derrick's feet. He grabbed one and started shifting cans into the cooler.

Grant did the same. "What was that about?"

"The call?" Stupid question, but he didn't want to say. He was trying to imagine anybody in the world treating his ex-Green Beret brother that way.

Grant didn't need words. His slightly raised eyebrows spoke loudly enough.

"Cancellation for tomorrow's trip."

"I take it he didn't want to pay the fee."

"I don't usually expect him to, but he does this to me a lot. "

"Because you don't expect him to pay."

"Probably. I like to be good to my clients. I'm good to them, and they're good to me."

Still transferring cans into the cooler, Grant said, "Canceling a day before a trip is good?"

"Obviously not." Derrick couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. He lifted the last box of soda from the floor and slammed it on the counter. "But neither is what just happened. I probably lost that client for good."

"You need better clients."

"Owning your own business isn't that simple."

Grant shrugged. "I wouldn't do business with people—do life with people—who think they can walk on me. Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself. The people who matter will respect you for it. The people who don't respect you for it—they don't matter."

Easy for Grant to say. He wasn't an entrepreneur. He didn't have to kowtow to rich people to make ends meet.

Derrick grabbed a bag of ice from the freezer and dumped it on top of the cans and water bottles.

Not that the drinks wouldn't get cold enough just being outside today. It was December in Maine, after all. Probably wouldn't even hit thirty-five degrees.

"Thanks." Grant added a plastic bag that someone had packed for the snowmobiling excursion. Because as long as the women were off to do something fun, the men ought to as well.

Derrick had so few interactions with Grant. He hated that this one had been focused on his own deficiencies, especially when he had something far more important to talk about. "Can I ask you a question?"

His brother closed the cooler, then lifted the giant thing and set it by the door to the garage. He straightened and leaned against the countertop, nodding for Derrick to go ahead .

"You and Summer were friends for a long time before you were together, right?"

Grant nodded again. The man used words as if each one were as valuable as gold and he was low on cash.

"How'd you go from friends to…more?"

At that, his brother's lips tipped up at the corner. "Sure you want my advice?"

"You made it happen, so I think I do."

"Took seven years."

"From when you met? Or from when you realized you had feelings for her?"

"Yes."

Oh.

Not what Derrick wanted to hear.

"Summer wasn't ready," Grant said. "I had to be patient. But then I got to the point where it was too hard to be around her. I had to tell her the truth. Figured if she didn't feel anything for me by then, it was time to walk away."

"I'm not waiting seven years." And Derrick wasn't walking away either. That wasn't an option.

He was all-in with Jasmine. He'd had no say in the matter. One look and he was smitten like…like some stupid lovesick puppy.

Grant shrugged. "If I'd tried to rush Summer, she'd have pushed me away. Or slugged me—you never know with her." By the way his eyes lit, he seemed delighted by the prospect.

Before she'd opened the clothing boutique, his wife had been a bodyguard, like Grant, so Derrick figured she packed a punch.

"Seven years, though." Derrick ran a hand down his face. He couldn't imagine waiting so long. "And then you just told her, and she…what? Did she feel the same way? Everything was good after that? "

By the quirk of Grant's lips, that wasn't exactly how it happened. "She came around."

"You really know how to encourage a guy."

"Never been good at dancing around the truth. I can tell you this—Summer was worth the wait." Grant clamped a hand on Derrick's shoulder. "Considering nobody reads people like you do, I figure your girl must be too."

The compliment surprised him.

Before he could respond, Michael stepped in and looked between them. "I'm trying to escape the estrogen. Seems like I walked into more."

Grant dropped his arm. "Say that again. It's been a while since I've thumped someone."

Michael laughed. "I would, but I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your wife."

Grinning, Grant nodded to the cooler. "You two see if you can wrestle that into my truck. Let me know if you need my help carrying it." He walked out, chuckling.

"Idiot," Michael called after him.

"Putz." Grant turned the corner toward the women, whose voices were fading.

"Are they finally leaving?" Derrick asked.

Michael glanced at his watch. "Only an hour late."

"What was the problem?"

"Mom had her plan. Summer had different plans. I guess she knows people. There were some tense negotiations." He crossed the kitchen to the cooler Grant had left and grabbed one of the handles.

Derrick gripped the other. "Does Leila have any say in the matter?"

"She doesn't know one store from another, so she doesn't care. She's just excited to try on wedding gowns, wherever they take her. Ready? "

They carried the cooler into the dark garage and set it by the door. Grant's truck was outside. The women's conversation carried from the driveway, along with the slamming of car doors. Derrick strained to hear Jasmine, but of course she wouldn't be talking, not in such a big crowd.

"Let's not open the door until they leave," Michael said. "I don't want to get sucked in." He headed back to the kitchen. "Anything new with Jasmine?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Derrick slammed the door.

Michael gave him a don't be an idiot look but said nothing.

"Grant told me to take it slow."

"Grant's right." Michael leaned a shoulder on the fridge and crossed his arms. "There's a lot about Jasmine you don't know."

"What do you mean?" He was careful not to let irritation seep into his tone. "Like what?"

"Her life hasn't been easy."

"I know that. She's told me a lot about her past." Well, not a lot, but enough that he understood she'd been imprisoned by her family. "Maybe she's already told me everything."

"She hasn't."

Michael's confidence ticked him off. He clamped his lips shut to keep his annoyance from escaping.

"Don't push her," Michael added. "She needs to heal."

"From?"

"If she wants to tell you, she will. If she does"—Michael's head dipped from side to side—"it's possible your feelings for her will change. I just want you to be prepared. She's great—I'm not saying she's not. Only that there are things you don't know. Until you do, you need to…hold back a little. Don't hand your heart over."

It was too late for that, and his feelings weren't going to change. But Derrick didn't say those things because…because Michael knew something he didn't.

Whatever Jasmine hadn't told him wouldn't matter. Derrick had never been in love before, but the feelings he had for her weren't fleeting or disposable. He loved her. Ridiculous as it was, he loved her, and nothing—including whatever secret she'd yet to share—was going to change that.