Love Is Page 5

  “I’m not hiding, I’m…” I sighed, realizing he was right. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  With one last threating look, Jules finally, thankfully, went back inside.

  Jackson whistled briefly, leaning back on his heels. “Fake date, huh?” Even in the shadows, I could see a small smile tugging at his full lips. “Should I even ask?”

  “Not if you value your kneecaps.”

  He laughed. It was such a good sound that I just looked at him for a minute, a little half-smile on my face. Such a fun laugh from someone so urbane and sophisticated was unexpected. Nice. And yes, I was well aware I shouldn’t enjoy making him laugh as much as I did. With that thought in mind, I headed inside.

  I paused at the door. “Jackson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.” He paused. “Does this mean I don’t have to help with clean up?”

  “It’s just your birthday, Jackson. You’re not dying.”

  His laughter followed me in the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The day Julian showed up with my fake date in tow, I had an ominous feeling. Way down deep in my gut. Mostly because I’d watched a lot of silly, hopelessly romantic Lifetime movies in my day, and I knew how this fake date business was supposed to go.

  He was supposed to bring me the perfect guy. Someone funny, smart, and—hell, just to go for the hat trick—attractive, too. Tall dark, and handsome. And no, there would be no hidden reason why such a paragon was still on the market. He’d have a career that he was passionate about, but would know how to leave work at the office. He’d love pets and kids and be so perfectly sweet, it’d make my teeth hurt.

  Mr. Perfect and I would proceed to talk about all the things we have in common—get out, I love Jordan almonds, too!—and fall ridiculously, hopelessly in love. That was the way Lifetime would want it. That was the way my rom com should go.

  Only from the sheepish expression on Julian’s face, I immediately gleaned that my rom com had taken a horrid turn. And he’d screwed the pooch but good. In fact, I knew exactly who was going to get out of the passenger side of his car the moment he pulled up.

  I stomped down my front porch steps as Julian came up the walk to meet me. He was rolling the luggage I’d asked to borrow and holding up his free hand in a placating manner. “Don’t get mad,” he warned.

  “I wake up mad,” I informed him.

  And there, trailing behind him was Jackson, looking like a walking, talking Abercrombie and Fitch ad. Despite my annoyance, I took a moment to enjoy the way he filled out a pair of whitewashed jeans—an ass like that deserved to be celebrated, regardless of the situation. Even if I was in the middle of putting out a five-alarm fire, I’d take a moment to appreciate that ass in those jeans. He’d paired them with a soft-looking green Henley that made his eyes look even greener and a pair of scuffed tan boots. He looked casual, but delicious. Edible.

  And completely inappropriate for a fake date.

  Fuck Lifetime and the horse they rode in on. Getting people’s hopes up like that. Fuck Jules, too, while I was at it. I told him to bring me someone nice and this was what he brought me? What part of nice meant someone gorgeous enough to make my knees a little weak? To get through this weekend from hell, I needed a boring stooge, a clear head, and a stiff upper lip.

  Unaware of how close he was to becoming someone I thought about fondly in remembrance, Julian waved his arm with a flourish. “Fakedate.com at your service, madam.”

  I sent him a glare that should have had him trembling in his overpriced Gucci loafers. “Are you kidding me?” I demanded. I turned to Jackson. “What did Julian have to do to make you do this?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You have siblings.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you know.”

  Yeah, I did. Those bastards knew where the bodies were buried, and they always knew where to find a fucking shovel. I turned my ire on Julian. “What part of low-key do you not understand?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I think you mean ‘thank you, darling Jules. Thank you for fulfilling my crazy, last minute requests.’”

  “Thank you?” I spluttered.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with an indignant sniff.

  “I’m not actually thanking…” I took a deep breath. “You. Are. An. Idiot.”

  He put his hand on his hip, thoroughly irritated with me. “You wanted a date.” He waved an arm at tall, blond, and beautiful. “You told me to find you a date.”

  “I knew this was a stupid idea. I knew that when I first heard it. Mostly because it was emerging from your big yap.”

  Julian waved a hand negligently. “Are you going to do this or not?”

  I debated my options. The right thing to do would probably be to accept my situation with grace and humility. To say “thank you but no thank you” to Jackson, and thank Julian for lending me his treasured luggage set. So of course, I did nothing of the kind.

  I pointed a finger at Julian. “You’re so dead.”

  And because he’d known me since college, he knew better than to think I was joking. He took off with a squeal.

  He was fast, but then again, so was I. I’d run track in college, after all. I’d also eaten quite a few mini quiches that morning, so the playing field was about even. He ran around my BMW in the driveway and after a brief, silent apology to her pristine, waxed exterior, I pulled a Dukes of Hazzard on the hood. It was all the edge I needed. I tackled him and we went flying into the hydrangeas.

  At this point, it was hard to understand him he was laughing so hard. “I did”—huff— “exactly”—huff-huff—“what you asked me to do.”

  I didn’t remember at what point I started beating him with a hydrangea, but there you have it. Petals and pollen flew around us like fragrant, sticky confetti.

  “You had one job!”

  “And I did it,” he said, batting away a shower of petals. “I did a pretty good job, too. That’s if he’s still here after this terrible display of ungratefulness.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Yeah. He was. In all his magazine ad glory. He was laughing pretty hard at his brother’s trouncing and I was hard pressed not to grin in return. Well, at least he had a sense of humor. So I wouldn’t be stuck with some dry stooge all this time. Maybe this would work after all.

  At that moment, his hair caught glints of the sun, haloing him from behind. The way the sunlight lit his sparkling eyes, they looked unbelievably, impossibly green. With those tattooed arms folded negligently across his chest, he was the perfect mix of angel and devil—bad boy turned good turned maybe bad again. I glared at Jules and began showering him with petals. May he smell like hydrangeas for the rest of his days.

  “AJ, you need to pull yourself together.” Jules had finally had enough of my histrionics. “He’s here, he’s available, and in case you’ve forgotten? You’re desperate.”

  I huffed. “I’m not—”

  “You are.” He pushed me off and I landed in the pile of leaves and broken flower petals. “Unless you want to show up without the date you swore you had.” I gritted my teeth and he continued. “Maybe they’ll even think you’re still in love with Adam. And if he actually shows up with his new fiancée, won’t that be peachy?”

  I growled.

  He threw a hydrangea at me that nearly took out my cornea. “You need to hurry up and have your come-to-Jesus moment.”

  “I’m working on it,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Do it faster,” he snapped.

  I sighed, falling back in the leaves and petals. I was going to be itchy later, but I couldn’t care less. It would go nicely with my desperation. Alone, desperate, and itchy—a perfect trifecta of misery.

  Something large suddenly blocked my sun. I squinted up to find Jackson squatting next to me, those threadbare jeans pulling taut. Sunlight glinted on the thick sheaf of hair that fell in his eyes as he plucked a leaf off my shirt. He twirled it between hi
s fingers, looking at it introspectively. “Have the two of you considered some sort of couples therapy?”

  After our behavior of chasing and beating one another with flowers? It was hard to deny the possible need for mental assistance. I sighed as his eyes laughed at me silently. They were hazel like Julian’s, but that was where the similarity ended. A sunburst of gold ringed his irises and blended with the green. I blinked and tried to focus. “You do understand what kind of commitment we’re talking here? A weekend of your time to play devoted boyfriend?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s a long drive down.”

  “I’ve driven a car before.”

  “What about Kacey? I don’t think she’s going to appreciate you going on a trip with another woman.” Even I realized I was clutching at straws. Jackson had been dating Kacey for two weeks. She was pretty, perky, and a successful weather woman with one of the local news stations. In other words? She was perfect which, knowing Jackson, meant she was already history.

  Sure enough, he shook his head. “We broke up a week ago.”

  Forecast says? Lots of rain. Sorry, Kace.

  I shook my head. Good Lord. It was even worse than I thought. I wondered if the poor girl had rubber tire marks up and down her back. “A month, though. What is that, a record for you?”

  “You going to lecture me about my dating habits or you want my help?”

  I didn’t know at what point he had dropped the leaf and began to brush little tendrils of hair back from my face, but he needed to stop. It made me blush like a schoolgirl. I almost expected to hear Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” start playing in the background.

  I swatted his hand away, hoping he’d attribute my blush to the heat of the sun. “We’ll have to stay in the same room, you know.”

  “Yeah, I hear boyfriends and girlfriends do that sometimes,” he said. “I’m assuming as long as I don’t touch you, you’ll maintain your human form.”

  “Jackson,” I growled.

  He gave me a look that was part amusement with a heavy dollop of sympathy. “Let me help you, AJ.”

  I blinked. He never called me AJ. Just Avery in that precise, clipped way of his. Usually disapprovingly, when Julian and I were acting crazy. Which was most of the time. I kind of liked it. It made him seem more…approachable. Less like a lawyer on a partner track in a prestigious firm, and more like someone I could confess my secret shame to. I was lonely and embarrassed that I’d been dumped, and because of that, I was desperate not to look so pathetic.

  I’d already rented a car to make the drive. It didn’t make much sense to turn him away, but I still could. I could admit that I’d lied. That I had no date. Then I could watch Adam and his new fiancée across the dinner table with the world’s fakest smile plastered on my face. Hopefully, I could still manage to act surprised when the Guinness world record committee arrived with my award for the Longest Time Spent in Hell without Burning to an Ashy Crisp.

  I swallowed hard. That made the choice surprisingly simple.

  Do Greek gods have luggage or what? I closed my eyes briefly. “I’m in.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  We were only two hours into a ten-hour trip when I had to acknowledge the undeniable—I was glad to be going back home. Even if it was only for a few days. I may have been confused about how I felt about my father right now, but I was never confused about how I felt about home. Just thinking about sitting on the back deck with its unobstructed view of the water, smelling the air so salty and crisp tossing my hair about…it was almost so vivid I could touch the memory. Taste it. Feel the sand drifting through my toes. It was enough to make me speed up a little.

  I glanced over at my quiet companion, smiling a little as Jackson fiddled with his phone. “Everything okay?”

  “Trying to hook this up to the Bluetooth,” he said, swiping his finger across the screen. “I figured we could use some music.”

  Music would be good. Maybe that could distract me from being in a very small, enclosed space with a man who smelled too damn good. He was one of the few guys I knew who understood how to apply cologne correctly—just enough to make me want to lean in and smell more. Not enough for me to reach for an emergency airline breathing mask. He smelled like the ocean—all fresh and beachy. Like salt and sand and wind and sun. As a Florida girl, born and bred, I could get addicted to that smell.

  You better not.

  My subconscious knew the folly of betting against the house.

  He reached in the backseat to grab his briefcase and laptop case and almost concussed me on the way back up, yanking them back at the last moment. He grunted as he hit his knee bringing them back down. “Avery?”

  “Yup.” I had a feeling what he was going to ask.

  “Explain to me again why you rented the smallest car on the lot?”

  I patted the dash briefly. “Good on gas, I say.”

  “Not worth it. I think on the return trip, we should get something that I can’t fit in my pocket.”

  I glanced over to find him setting up his work area with a grimace on his face. He had a lot of papers. And files. I felt a little bad, realizing he’d probably done a lot of schedule shuffling because I couldn’t face another weekend of pitying. I could’ve at least sprung for something mid-size.

  “I hope you’re not missing anything too important,” I ventured.

  He offered me a distracted smile as he booted up his laptop. “It’s only a three-day weekend, Avery. If I couldn’t make the time, I wouldn’t have volunteered. It’s fine.”

  “Still…from the looks of all that”—I waved to encompass all his paperwork—“it looks like you’re missing an awful lot.”

  “In this sector, business is always good.” He sent me a crooked grin. “As long as people keep getting together, I’ve got a job helping them get apart.”

  “Wow. And I thought my views on marriage were cynical.”

  He chuckled. “We’re a family law practice, yes, but what do you think comes across my desk the most? Two people who once declared before everyone they know that they’d love one another forever. But in reverse.”

  “Is that why you’re such a relationship-phobe?”

  Since I was busy navigating Satan’s highway, I couldn’t glance over at him, but I could tell he’d stiffened a bit. “Do you even want to know some of the divorce statistics in this country?”

  I shuddered. “Please don’t.”

  “And I’m not a relationship-phobe,” he said. “I just enjoy the company of different women.”

  “A lot of them.”

  This time the irritation was clear in his tone. “And you would know this how?”

  How indeed. I opened my mouth and closed it just as quickly. There was no answer here that wouldn’t make me seem like a stalker. Okay, so I’d noted a few of relationships over the years. A revolving door of hot, perfectly eligible women. It was hard not to notice. But it wasn’t like I was watching him.

  “I’m a very observant person,” I finally said, a tad snootily. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. “I just thought you were aware of your serial dating ways. It’s not a crime if you haven’t found the right person.”

  “The right person?” He made a noise. “So you’re one of those.”

  Was I? I used to be before I was dumped. Now I thought a better definition for me might be cautiously optimistic. I had to believe that there was a reason my relationship hadn’t worked out. That there was a reason to try again.

  I thought about it for a second before I responded. “Are you asking me if I believe in love? Because I do.”

  “I believe in love,” he said. “But I don’t know if I believe in soul mates and all that crap. That there’s only one person for every person.”

  “I’d expect nothing else from a divorce lawyer. You’re a cynic.”

  “And you’re being naïve. I’d expect more from someone who’d been left…” He trailed off, and when I risked a glance his way, his cheeks were pink. He didn�
�t finish.

  “For dead? For refuse? Left for what, Sparks?” I demanded.

  “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not exactly a fan of your ex.”

  “Get in line,” I murmured.

  I accelerated to get around a slow-moving Beetle and I could feel Jackson’s gaze on the speedometer. My mouth twitched a little. I was an unapologetic speeder, so he might as well get comfy. I added a little speed, and he huffed out a breath, looking away.

  “A good day to die as any, I guess,” he muttered.

  I smiled, not bothering to defend myself. Knowing Jackson, that would be the extent of his complaining. I kind of liked how he went with the flow that way. By now, Adam and I would’ve been firmly entrenched in an argument—he would be demanding that we switch at the next rest stop, and I would be protesting that I was the better driver. Mostly by trotting out my perfect driving record of no accidents.

  I winced, remembering that I also liked to remind him that he’d once sideswiped a parked car, which usually resulted in him not speaking to me until I agreed to switch and let him drive. That was thing about being with someone so long—you knew exactly where to dig in your thumbs and how to twist the screws. Usually love kept you from using that knowledge. There hadn’t been much of that in the end. That was the toxic chaser to love’s cocktail—sometimes when things ended, you lost your lover and your friend.

  He’d been the boy next door growing up. At first, it had been a friendship…more of a convenience than anything else. He was someone to complain with about our siblings. Someone to sit with on the school bus. Someone to swim at the beach with and learn how to surf with…only by the time we’d gotten to high school, I was pretty sure he was feeling something else. Something more. And that me think of him as more, which was confusing to say the least.

  It was Adam for chrissakes. My friend. Only now we got caught staring at one another a little too long and talking on the phone a little too late. That was right about the time that, despite our repeated insistence that we were only friends, our parents had sat us down and made us suffer through a safe sex lecture.