Always For You (Always Love Book 1) (17 page)

I shifted out of the way and glanced at Rilla, who was pushing to stand up. “You okay, Rill?”

“Yeah, I just need to pee. Again. And always.” She rubbed her huge stomach. “I can’t wait to have this baby. I thought being pregnant would be all sunshine and rainbows and glowing, but now it feels like I’m never comfortable, I can’t sit still and all I want to do is sleep. And everything Mason does annoys the crap out of me, which is totally unfair, because he’s being so sweet. But the sweeter he is, the more irritated I get. Does that make any sense?”

“Oh, sweetie, of course it does.” Ali patted her arm. “Right now, your patience is at an all-time low. Someone could hand you a check for a million dollars, and you’d take issue with the way he did it. I remember that feeling. But don’t worry. As soon as that little baby is here, it’s all going to change, and you’ll be your own sweet self again.”

“I hope so, or Mason may get tired of me pretty fast.” Rilla shook her head. “Excuse me for a minute, y’all. Don’t talk about anything good until I get back.” She waddled through the doorway.

“As if Mason would ever get tired of her.” Megan laughed. “That man is so totally taken with her. I remember when he told me he wasn’t interested in anything more than business with that shy little girl. I knew even then that he was a goner. He had the same look that—” She snapped her mouth shut as guilt suffused her face.

“The same look that what, Meghan?” Ali leaned over to tug one lock of her sister-in-law’s red hair. “The same look that Sam had? Or Flynn?”

“Yep. That’s what I was going to say.” Meghan managed a semi-convincing smile.

“No, it isn’t.” I sat up a little straighter. “You were going to say something else.”

She gnawed the corner of her lip then blew out a sigh. “Okay. I was going to say, I saw that same look on Smith’s face, when he talked about you.”

I swallowed hard. “Pretty sure that’s wishful thinking, Meghan. Smith doesn’t look at me that way.”

“You need to give him a chance, Reen. You automatically think he couldn’t love you, but sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us.” She paused, and I sensed she was struggling with how to say what she wanted. “Hasn’t he given you any sign that maybe . . . well, that he’s more than your friend? That he wants more?”

I thought of all the casual touches, the way he’d sometimes say things that could be taken as so much more. I never let myself believe they could be anything other than Smith being a flirty friend.

“Look at her face. She’s holding back.” Ali kicked at me again. “Come on, Reenie. You have to share. What’s he done?”

I squirmed. “Nothing. Not really.”

Rilla came back into the room, stopping at the fridge for another bottle of water. “Oh, Maureen, you’ve got to tell us. Some of us are living vicariously through you.”

“Okay, okay.” I exhaled. “It really isn’t that big a deal. But the night I first went out with Tim, Smith held my hand before Tim got there. He . . . he kissed it. And then after I got back, he asked me if Tim had kissed me good night. When I told him he had but just barely, Smith told me how he’d kiss me, if he had the chance.” I sat back, feeling again the heat of that night. “He didn’t touch me, he didn’t even get near me, but I swear, it was the sexiest moment of my entire life. I was a puddle by the time he went upstairs.”

“Oh, baby.” Ali fanned herself. “Reen, Meghan may be right. Maybe Smith really does have the hots for you. You need to keep an open mind.”

“If he does, why did he tell me I should go out with Tim? As a matter of fact, a few weeks ago, Smith told me that I should absolutely date Tim.”

Meghan tilted her head. “Exactly what did he say?”

I stared at the floor. “He said if I wasn’t going out with him—with Smith—that Tim was the guy I should be dating.”

Meghan laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh, my God! That’s perfect. Don’t you see? He knows you don’t have a spark with Tim. So he’d rather have you date someone you’re not tempted to get serious with. That’s good news.”

“How would he know that, though?”

“He’s seen you with Tim, right? If there’s no attraction there, Smith would see that.”

“Maybe.” I wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Meghan. I live with Smith. He’s with me all the time, practically. Why wouldn’t he say something if he really did feel something more than friendship?”

“That’s easy.” Ali answered for her. “He knows if he makes his move now, you’ll think it’s just because he’s threatened by Tim. Maybe all these years, he’s wanted the same thing you did. Is it possible that you’ve both been secretly in love with each other, but neither of you has been willing to take the chance to admit it?”

“I . . . I can’t imagine that. All during college, I kept looking for clues. My friend Lainey swore Smith had a crush on me the whole time. But I was too chicken to ask him. And then in our senior year—” I snapped my mouth shut. “Well, that doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, yes it does. Come clean, Reenie. You’ve got to tell us now.” Rilla leaned forward as far as her protruding stomach would allow.

“It’s humiliating. I’ve never told another living being about this. Not even Lainey.”

“But it was a long time ago. And if you don’t tell us the truth, we’re just going to imagine the worst.” Ali nodded sagely.

I closed my eyes and groaned. “Okay, okay. Fine.” I swallowed hard. “It was spring of our senior year, and Lainey convinced me that I had a chance with Smith. I got all dressed up and went to a party where I knew he was going to be. He’d told me he was taking a date, but it was just supposed to be someone his mom wanted him to take out. That used to happen all the time, he’d take out a girl just to humor his parents. So I showed up at the party, and I went looking for him. I found him, all right. In a very deep, involved lip-lock with a gorgeous girl.” Even now, all this time later, it still hurt. “It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him with other girls before, but never like this, and never when I’d let myself believe I might have a chance. So I did something stupid. I got really, really drunk, and I went upstairs with a guy.” I dropped my head into my hands, covering my face. “I’d never . . . I was still a virgin. But not after that night. And right, um, after, Smith came into the room. Someone had told him I was there, and he’d come looking for me.”

Remembering the expression on his face, when he’d seen me, holding a sheet awkwardly to my naked body, I wanted to cry. He’d looked shocked at first, and then angry and disappointed. Without saying a word, he’d turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. He didn’t even slam it—just pulled it shut.

The guy who’d just had sex with me—who’d taken my virginity—had laughed. “Dude looked kind of surprised, huh?”

I’d scrambled out of the bed. “I need to get out of here.” I’d fled to the bathroom, where I’d thrown up violently. I never could be sure if I was sick from the booze or the shame over having mindless, meaningless sex with a man whose last name I hadn’t bothered to learn.

And then I’d dressed fast and skulked out of the house and back to my dorm. I’d lied to Lainey, telling her I never did find Smith at the party. When I’d seen him a few days later, he’d been his same old self, laughing and teasing. We’d never mentioned that night.

“Oh, Reenie.” Ali pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“But don’t you think that if it hadn’t mattered to Smith—seeing you with another guy—he would’ve said something to you? Maybe he was afraid you could never feel the same way he does, and that kind of cemented it for him.”

“And aren’t you fucking tired of wondering?” Ali sat up straight, her face suddenly fierce. “Reenie, you’re the strongest woman I know. You don’t let people push you around. You’re a smart and savvy businesswoman. Take charge, woman. Go in there and ask Smith if he’s attracted to you. Hell, ask him if he wants to go to bed with you. Do something, for the love of God. The worst thing that’s going to happen is he’s going to say no, and honestly? After what I’ve heard tonight? I don’t see that happening.”

“I agree.” Meghan nodded. “Go for it, Maureen. Take life by the balls.” She gave me a mock leer. “And take Smith Harrington the same way.”

B
EING PATIENT WAS NEVER MY
strong suit. It was a testament to my lack of self-confidence when it came to Maureen, my uncertainty about her feelings, that I’d bided my time all these years, never pushing too hard or too much.

But I was finding now that my patience was wearing thin. Seeing her every day, indulging in the small, casual touches that Meghan had suggested were an integral part of the wooing process, were driving me slowly and painfully insane.

We’d been like ships passing in the night for the past few weeks, and I knew that it wasn’t an accident. Maureen was avoiding me, or at least avoiding spending long stretches of time alone with me. When we were together, the conversation stayed focused on work, on our patients and on anything else impersonal and meaningless. The closest we’d come to a real conversation had been back when Tim had asked her to the movies, and I’d informed her—honestly—that if she wasn’t going to date me, Tim was her next best choice.

I’d seen the confusion in her eyes. And at last, I was coming to understand it. When we’d been in college, one of the things that had fascinated me most about Maureen Evans was that she was a paradox. In class, and among her closest friends, she was strong-minded, with definite opinions and an air of genuine self-assurance that never strayed into arrogance. But when we were with our larger group of friends or in a setting that made her uncomfortable, she withdrew into herself, second-guessing everything she said or did.

I realized now that Maureen had effectively convinced herself that I had never considered her anything other than a friend. And once she’d accepted that falsehood, it had become easier to hold onto it than it was to believe that I might find her attractive. I wished that I could have gone back to the day we met and asked her out, then and there. I wished I’d been smart enough to know that she was the one girl for me. But I hadn’t, and I was still dealing with the consequences of being in the friend zone for far too long.

I thought about that the morning after her girls’ night at Rilla Wallace’s house. I’d accepted Mason’s invitation to join the guys at his bar, even though I had to stay sober since it was my weekend to cover after-hours. We’d played a few hands of poker in a back room of the Road Block, with Mason coming and going as they needed him in the front. I liked this group of men; they were easy-going and accepting, hard-working and obviously each one was completely gone over his respective wife.

They’d all known each other for years, though only Sam had stayed in Burton all along. He told me a little bit about his family’s farm, the generations who had worked the rich soil and how he and Ali had managed to keep it together after their parents’ untimely deaths. I could tell he loved what he did by the passion in his voice as he spoke.

“But from what I heard, you were ready to throw it all away if Meghan had decided she wasn’t cut out to live on a farm.” Flynn was leaning back, his chair balanced on two legs. “Would you’ve really done it, Sam? Sold the farm and left Burton?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Sam didn’t hesitate. “I’m damned glad she loves the farm, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful I got to keep it and keep her, too. But if it’d come down to it, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. To have her.”

The words rang in my ears the next morning. I’d gotten up early and gone for a run, but Maureen was apparently still asleep when I got back. I made coffee upstairs and mixed up my mother’s famous coffee cake, sliding it into the oven before I got in the shower. By the time I was dressed and taking out the cake, there was a soft knock at my downstairs door.

“Come on up,” I called, grinning to myself. I’d been banking on the combined appeal of hot coffee and delicious cake to draw her out.

Maureen plodded up the steps, her eyes only half-open. “Please tell me that’s coffee I smell, and that I’m not having a hallucination.”

“Fresh ground chicory and sour cream coffee cake.” I pointed to the table. “Sit down. I’ll bring you some coffee.”