Best Laid Plans Page 18

  She smiles sympathetically. “Oh, honey, I know.” She wraps me in a hug, petting my hair. “What are we going to do about it?”

  I sniffle. “I don’t know. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

  She jerks back, staring at me. “Are you sure? You told us what happened after you had sex, but do you really think he’s not in love with you too?”

  I shrug, as a tear slinks down my cheek.

  “Arden, you’re a smart girl, and I’d encourage you to review the signs.”

  “Which ones?” I choke out. “The one where he said let’s do this again?”

  “No. The last year of your life.”

  The last year.

  I let it flash before me, from the day on the trail, to when I brought treats to the firehouse a week later, to our first game of Words with Friends. I move on to other memories, from how he makes sure we spend time together, to his asking me to meet his pops, to the way he touched me in the elevator the other day. He even invited me to dinner with his parents. My God, he wants me to spend time with his family.

  Most of all, I linger on the way he looked at me when I opened the door in burgundy lace.

  Like he wanted me desperately.

  But it was more than physical, wasn’t it?

  I recall the fire in his eyes, how there was so much more than lust. He gazed at me like he wanted . . .

  Do I dare to let myself believe this?

  But it feels completely true.

  He looked at me like he wanted all of me.

  Like he wanted me the same way I want him.

  I want him in all the ways.

  And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t say it. After all, I didn’t speak my truth. I didn’t bare my soul for him and tell him he’s become my everything. Hell, I said, What if it doesn't work out? I didn’t even answer him. Maybe neither one of us said all that needed to be said.

  Because our friendship isn’t worth risking for a few more fucks.

  It is worth risking for something bigger. For something that might be everything.

  My belief that I could keep him in the friends-only lane was foolish. Gabe Harrison infiltrated the romance zone as soon as we started our project, truth be told. Once we picked up Hedwig then talked about our turn-ons in the Garden of Eden, I felt that tug on both body and heart.

  The pull only intensified, growing stronger the closer we became. Our sex-ploration made me fall for the man that had been right in front of me all along.

  As I replay all the signs I missed, I do what I do best.

  I plot. I plan.

  I need to find a way to turn this new awareness into a best-laid plan.

  43

  Gabe

  I heat up water for tea. “Remember that woman who came by the other day?”

  My pops laughs. “The one you’re in love with?”

  Yeah, he’s all here today.

  “That’s the one.” I pour the hot water into a mug with a tea bag.

  He winks. “She’s a pretty lady. And she has it bad for you too.”

  “Does she?”

  He nods sagely. “It’s not as if everything gets past me. Sure, some things do. But love? Little glances? I was a sly fox myself once, and I didn’t win Emily over by being obtuse about women.”

  Laughing, I ask, “How did you win her over?”

  He tuts, shaking his head. “Young people.” He motions for me to come closer.

  I leave the mug on his kitchen counter to steep and join him on the couch.

  “Closer.”

  I scoot over, waiting to receive his wisdom.

  He clasps a hand on my shoulder. “Put your heart on the line, young man.”

  “But how? How should I do it?”

  He huffs like he can’t quite believe whippersnappers today. “Just tell her you love her. That’s all you can do. If she’s going to toss you to the wind, she’ll toss you, but if you haven’t been clear, be clear. Back in my day, we didn’t futz around the way your generation does. When I knew I loved Emily, it was plain and simple. I spelled it out.”

  And that’s when I know what to do.

  But holy hell, it takes fucking forever.

  44

  Arden

  “Just wear this. I bought it the other day.” Vanessa thrusts a Happy Days bag at me.

  “You are an addict. You caved on the mint-green typewriter dress?”

  She shakes her head. “Look inside. It’s for you.”

  We’re at my house on Saturday night, getting ready. Because you can’t really prep to tell a man how you feel without your best girls by your side to help.

  I peer into the bag, and my eyes pop. “No, you didn’t!”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You are too much.” I brandish the simple periwinkle-blue skirt I checked out the other day, the one with cartoonish images of books on the fabric.

  It’s short, and it’s me, and it’s not me trying to ape Vanessa’s style. I kick off my capri jeans and slide into the skirt, then find a simple white tank in my bureau and pull it on. I check out my reflection as Perri raises a glass of Chablis.

  “Chablis. For when your best friend finally decides she’s going to go after her man.”

  “I am most definitely going after my man,” I declare to myself and to my friends.

  My man.

  That’s what I want Gabe to be.

  Excitement flares inside me, chased by nerves.

  There are no guarantees. I don’t have a promise. We won’t have a written edict that we’ll remain friends. Nor do I know if his heart is banging as wildly for me as mine is for him.

  But I’ll never know the answer until I try.

  There’s no substitute for experience.

  Some things in life you can’t charade your way through. You need to put your neck out.

  If he says no, if I’m wrong about how he feels, then I’ll turn to my backup plan. To let him know he’s stuck with me as a friend. That even if he says see you later to a romance, I’m committed to staying friends with him, just like I was committed to thanking him that day a year ago when I brought him treats to the fire station. The man has seen me at my worst, and we became buddies. If we need to do it again, we’ll do it again.

  But God, I hope he picks Plan A.

  I turn around, showing them the outfit. “Does it meet your approval?”

  Vanessa cheers. “It’s so cute.”

  Perri points her glass at me. “You look fantastic.”

  “I’m ready to go take a chance.” I toss a glance at Perri. “Speaking of chances, did you tell Vanessa about the guy you busted?”

  Vanessa flicks out her tongue salaciously. “She did, and he sounded delish.”

  Perri leans back on my bed and laughs. “That man had trouble written all over him.”

  “And you like trouble,” Vanessa points out. “You were always the daring one.”

  “Girls.” Perri rises from the bed, lifting her glass. “We are all the daring ones. Now it’s Arden’s turn to go be daring.”

  I take a deep breath, drawing in their strength, feeling it mingle with my own confidence. I’ve always believed in myself. I’ve never been an insecure girl. But the last week with Gabe has taught me there’s no replacement for speaking my mind.

  I head to Pin-Up Lanes to meet him for a friendly night of bowling, picking our regular lane, setting up our bowling names on the scoreboard, and then hoping. Hoping that when I go for a strike, I won’t strike out.

  Once Gabe walks in, my breath catches.

  It’s not because he’s so damn handsome.

  It’s not because of that confident walk or that easy grin.

  It’s because tonight marks the first time I’ve looked at him and let myself own my feelings. The first time I’ve watched him come toward me and known in my heart what I feel is love.

  45

  Arden

  When he reaches me, I see he’s clutching his phone like it’s a lifeline.

  “Hey, Arden
.”

  “Hey, Gabe,” I say, my brow knitting over the way he’s attached to the mobile device.

  “You look”—he stares at me up and down, like he did at my house—“beautiful.”

  I wasn’t seeking confirmation, but I love the compliment nonetheless. “You look more handsome than ever. And there’s something I want to ask you.”

  “Okay?” His tone is tentative.

  “Do you remember that time I asked for your help with my project, and I made a list?”

  He laughs lightly, more sure this time. “You think I’ve forgotten?”

  “No, but it was a week ago. Since then, I’ve made another list. Because I’m a plotter.”

  He nods, moving closer. “You’re definitely a planner.”

  “There are new things I want to try, so I wrote them out.”

  “New things?” His voice is laced with curiosity.

  “Yes.” Nerves flutter inside me as I take my list from my purse. “Can I read it to you?”

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  I flip open the paper, clear my throat, and dive into the great unknown, clutching fervently to the wish that he might feel the same. “Things I Want to Try.”

  I meet his blue-eyed gaze, seeing possibility in them. Here goes the first one. “One: Being your friend and also your lover.”

  His eyebrows lift in excitement.

  “Two: Doing it outside.”

  His eyes sparkle.

  “Three: Spending the night with you.”

  The irises dance now with a happiness that matches what’s in my heart. It spurs me on.

  “Four: Going on dates with you, and only you.”

  Yes, he mouths.

  I love that he can’t wait till I’m done to give an answer, but I have more to say so I keep going, the look in his eyes helping me drive it home. “Five: Taking the chance to be with you . . . because I believe you and I are worth it. Do you know why?”

  He smiles so wide it’s like it reaches another county. I’m about to give the answer to my own question when he cuts in, holding up his phone screen.

  I peer at it, reading the three little words he made on the game board. In an instant, joy radiates through me, stretching into every corner of my body. He’s spelled I LOVE YOU. “You made a Words with Friends for me?”

  He nods, proudly.

  “How did you do this?”

  “Well, I can’t play it, of course, but it took me only, say, 218 games against myself till I came up with one of the letters on the board I needed, and then the rest of the seven letters to play it.”

  “You were determined,” I say with wonder as I read his phone again, my eyes filling with tears of happiness, my heart flooding with love, a love I didn’t expect but can’t imagine living without.

  Now, as I look back on the last year, and the last week especially, I can see this is where our story was heading. Love was always what was written on our pages. I just had to keep reading the book.

  “I was determined, and I am determined, because you’re worth it.” He lets go of the phone and reaches for me, lifting me in his arms. “I love you, Arden East. I love you so damn much.”

  He drops a kiss to my lips before I can get a word in edgewise, but I don’t care, because I’m on a hot air balloon soaring to the stratosphere with him—my friend, my lover, and my man.

  “I’m so in love with you. That’s what I was going to tell you,” I say when we separate.

  He presses another soft kiss to my lips, and this is even better than sex. Tingles radiate all through my bones. I sigh happily, savoring every second, delighting in this true and honest kiss that feels like a promise.

  But words matter too, so when we stop, I press my hands to his chest. “I don’t want to lose you, Gabe. I meant everything I said before. You mean so much to me. I hate the thought of you not being in my life.”

  He threads a hand through my hair. “Wouldn’t you know? Turns out I hate that thought too. So let’s stay in each other’s lives.”

  I smile like a woman in love.

  And love feels so . . . empowering.

  So does something else. Another choice I make. I clasp his face, loving the freedom to touch him like this. “What do you say we skip bowling, go to my place or yours, and spend the night together?”

  “I’d say I’m game for that. I only have one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  “Tonight, I’m making love to you.”

  At my house, he makes good on his promise. He spreads me out on my bed, strips me naked, and worships me with his lips and his tongue. He lavishes my body with kisses, settling between my legs and bringing me to ecstasy. Then he climbs over me, reaching for his wallet.

  I stop him, circling my hand around his arm. “I’m on the pill. I want to feel all of you.”

  He groans his appreciation for that answer, tossing his wallet behind him. It hits the floor with a thunk, and he wiggles an eyebrow. “Who cares about the damn wallet right now?”

  “Definitely not me.”

  He spreads my thighs wide, slides inside me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, drawing him closer.

  “Arden,” he groans, “I’ve been falling in love with you for a long time.”

  “Keep falling in love with me,” I whisper as he moves luxuriously inside me. “And I’ll keep falling in love with you.”

  He reaches for my wrists, raises them above my head, and pins them, driving me wild, making me love missionary in a whole new way because the man I love is taking me and fucking me and loving me.

  The next morning when we wake, I wear nothing but an apron as I pluck eggs from the carton, prepping to cook him breakfast.

  Before I can turn on the burner, though, he’s found other things to do with my apron. In a flash, I’m on the counter, my wrists tied with the apron strings as he introduces me to new uses for the kitchen, and after that we christen the yard too.

  Eventually, a whole lot later, I cook him eggs, and he devours them. After all, he worked up quite an appetite.

  I work up an appetite of another kind a few days later when he gives me a striptease. We’re talking the full regalia. Fireman suspenders, turnout gear, and a hot-as-hell dance.

  Let’s just say I give him his reward.

  On my knees.

  46

  Arden

  A couple of days later, Perri pops by the bookstore and asks if I’m free to grab a bite to eat. I’m finished up, and Madeline is working for the evening, so we head to Helen’s Diner, one of our favorite places in town.

  “How’s love? Is it as fabulous as everyone makes it out to be?” she asks as we sit.

  I smile. I can’t help it. “It’s the most fabulous thing. I highly recommend unexpectedly falling in love with your best guy friend after he gives you hypothetical lessons in seduction that turn real.”

  She wiggles an eyebrow and taps her temple. “And I’ll just file that away under possibilities I never expected.”

  “Same here. But seriously, Gabe is great, and I’m the luckiest girl in Lucky Falls.”

  “It’s not luck. You went after your happily ever after and you got it.

  “And I’m not going to let it go.”

  “You better not.”

  Then it’s my turn to wiggle my eyebrows, because I want the dish on the guy Perri’s been hot for. She thought nothing would come of the man she pulled over, but Derek McBride turned up in her life again in a most unexpected way, and I’m dying for more details. “Tell me all the details about the hottie.”

  “Whomever would you be referring to?” She plays it coy.

  I shoot her a look. “The one you pulled over the other day who looked at you like he wanted to eat you up, toss you over his shoulder, and then pleasure you all night long. That one.”

  Her eyes twinkle. “He did look at me like that, didn’t he?”

  “Um, yeah. And if memory serves, I feel like you were giving him the same look.”


  “You did hit the nail on the head when you said I had a type, and he is definitely it,” she says with a laugh as the server comes over to take our order. I opt for a chicken sandwich, and Perri chooses a salad. I steer us back to the conversation. “So, Miss Has a Type and He’s It—what’s next with him? You ran into him again, you flirted, you had an epic kiss, and now? Tell me what’s next?” I’m dying to know.

  She sighs, and it seems full of import. “Seems he showed up last night on my doorstep, with his duffel, since my brother went ahead and rented the room above the garage to him.”

  My eyes bulge. My jaw drops. My head spins. That’s a twist I didn’t see coming. “That means you’re living with the guy you want to bang?”

  “Seems the hot guy that I want to bang is now my new housemate.”

  “That’s a bit of a conundrum. You definitely can’t bang him if you’re living with him.”

  She tightens her ponytail. “Yes, that would seem to be the wise plan. This landlord shall not bang her housemate.”

  “The housemate she’s oh so tempted by,” I add, then I smile. “I can’t wait to hear how the non-banging plan unfolds.”

  Epilogue

  Gabe

  * * *

  Several months later

  * * *

  “Do I look handsome or do I look handsome?” I hold my hands out wide for my pops as we stroll slowly around the grounds, wandering past gardens of daisies and tulips.

  He narrows his eyes, giving me the once-over, appraising the pressed shirt and slacks. “You got your good looks from . . .”

  I wait for him to say from him or from Emily or from my mom. But instead, he smiles. “You got your good looks from here.” He taps my heart. “It’s what’s inside that matters.”