Something About You (Something Borrowed Series Book 2) Page 16

  Her throat felt scratched and raw. For a few minutes, she’d thought this might actually work. Somehow. By some sort of miracle.

  But there it was, Jenna’s recipe for disaster; take one sweet and hot kiss and sour it with the pressure of real intimacy and a little girl’s trust.

  Because it wasn’t so much the problem of the drawing in his notepad. It was the look on his face when Evie said he was part of their family that had been the killer.

  Chapter 13

  After the notepad debacle, Jenna had been expecting Nick to cancel the Passing Out Parade non-date. Added to that, she’d heard nothing from him for four days, but then he’d sent a text.

  Still on for tomorrow?

  And now she was right back to not knowing where she stood.

  She’d answered: Looking forward to it

  So here she was, not knowing whether she was or she wasn’t.

  A few free hours with Nick? Yes, she was looking forward to that. But she wanted things to go back to that brief easy they’d shared, or rewind to the hot kiss and not the hot mess that followed.

  ‘Hey, I forgot to tell you, I spoke to Tyler. He said stripy hat guy’s name is Frankie, but doesn’t know—Oh. Are you okay?’ Chloe stopped short in Jenna’s bedroom and gaped at her half-dressed, trembling sister. A new black dress, with a portrait neckline and demure-but-just-enough-boob-showing one that she’d nipped out and bought for far too much money from the designer in the arcade up the road, was falling over her shoulders. Jenna didn’t have the steadiness to reach behind her and do up the zip. Yes, she must have looked a state, but fear and panic had literally paralysed her.

  ‘No. I’m not okay.’ And she definitely wasn’t ready.

  There was no point lying; Chloe could see right through her anyway. So could Nick, apparently. I can see it in your eyes. But basically, Jenna didn’t know what to do. How to feel. This wasn’t a date, but it kind of was. After all, they’d kissed. She’d bought… supplies. If she looked deeply inside herself, she was thinking of moving forward, if not with Nick then with someone, at some point.

  Only, she couldn’t think of being with anyone other than Nick.

  So Nick it was.

  Nick.

  Not Oliver. Not her husband.

  This new, exciting, beautiful, sexy man. He was worth taking a risk over.

  If he was willing to take a risk with her. If she could get him over that hurdle.

  ‘Truth is, Chloe, I’m scared.’ So damned scared. And feeling so disloyal to the man who she’d promised to love forever.

  Forever, being four short years until that drunk driver had killed him. How could she stay committed to him if he wasn’t damned well here? She had to move on. She had to. She couldn’t stay stuck for the rest of her life.

  ‘What are you scared of, hun? It’s only for a few hours. You can manage a few hours. Nick fitted the alarm and camera, so there’s no worry there. I’ve got Evie for the night—okay, so maybe you should be worried…. Joking!’

  ‘I just…’ Jenna’s hands were shaking as she fingered her wedding ring, still firmly on her finger. It was a tie to her old life; it was who she was. Who she’d been. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day. And I think I need to take this off.’

  She hadn’t been able to stop thinking, in fact. Because yes, she did glow when Nick was around. She did feel lit up inside, and outside too. She felt lit up all over, and she didn’t want to stop that feeling. Even if it only lasted for a short time, even if they weren’t right for each other in the end. Even if he told her today he regretted the kisses and the fun, that was okay. She didn’t. She’d taken a risk and been someone new. This ring on her finger would forever be a metaphor holding her back from living a full life.

  With sex. Perhaps.

  ‘Oh, darling.’ Chloe stepped over the piles of discarded clothes, which hadn’t looked right for a Passing Out ceremony, and wrapped her sister in her arms. ‘Yes. I think maybe it’s time.’

  ‘Is it though? I don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore, who I’ll be without it.’

  Chloe tipped Jenna’s chin up so she could look her in the eyes. She had so much fierce love in her gaze, the same love that had fired her into action when Ollie had died, and that had helped carry her through the birth of Evie. It had dragged Jenna out of the sump of despair and made her look after her child. God, sisters could be such a bloody pain and yet brilliant at the same time. ‘You are Jenna Cassidy-Pearce. You’re strong and big and brave and independent. You’ve survived so much… so much you shouldn’t have had to face, but you did it. You can do this.’

  Jenna looked over Chloe’s shoulder and into the wardrobe mirror, seeing her hips sticking out either side of Chloe’s. ‘I can do big any day of the week, but I don’t feel brave or strong.’

  ‘Of course you are. It doesn’t mean you love Ollie any less. It just means it’s time to create something different, something new. Something wonderful. You deserve that.’

  Jenna stepped away from her sister’s hug and reached for the turquoise box by the side of her bed. ‘I’ve never taken it off. Not once. Never.’

  ‘Give me the box.’ Chloe stuck her hand out and waited. So many memories rushed through Jenna. The day they’d been to the jewellers and he’d let her choose the most perfect ring. Anything, he’d said, pick anything. As if he was rich enough to be able to really do that. She’d picked the next to cheapest and said it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. And it was. It wasn’t pretentious, or gaudy. It was small and discreet, and she loved it. Loved him. Loved being his wife. But she wasn’t that any more. She handed the box over to her sister, who sighed and blew her a kiss. ‘That’s my girl.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jenna’s throat felt raw and closed and she fought to see through a blur of tears as she twirled the ring round her finger one last time. I love you, Ollie. I do. I just have to… let go.

  Then she tugged the gold band from her finger and placed it into the open box.

  Whatever happened today, tomorrow, next year, it was time to start creating new memories. It was time to move on.

  *

  ***

  So many recruits. So many visitors. As they paraded across the yard, Nick squinted to find her somewhere in the crowd. His eyes beelined to the back corner. Aha. He just knew she’d position herself there. Jenna was not one to take a front seat. Although she should have, she was meant for great things.

  She was holding her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. Rays bounced off her red hair, giving her something akin to a freaking halo.

  Again, poetry. He was going crazy. She was making him crazy. And that kid of hers too. He’d taken a lot of flack for the drawing on his work book—a shitload—but the thing that had caused the stabbing pain under his ribcage had been the look in both Evie’s and Jenna’s eyes as they’d talked about families. No matter how much she denied it, Jenna wanted the whole picket fence thing. She deserved it too, after what she’d been through.

  Families. Yeah. The family with Helen, blown apart by lies and betrayal. The family with his platoon, blown apart by an IED. He didn’t want to be part of any kind of family. Not again. Not when all that came out of it was hurt and more pain.

  His eyes lifted to the commemoration plaque as they marched past. In remembrance of those who lost their lives in the line of duty. His mind tumbled back to that day that had taken his friends, when he’d held Howie’s hand as he’d died and told him everything would be okay.

  Big fat lie there. Another one to Dougie’s wife when Nick had told her her husband’s death had been instantaneous and with no pain. But those were the lies you told to help people through, like the one he kept telling himself: you won’t fall for her.

  He was already in way too deep but somehow kept coming right on back. It made no sense. See? Crazy.

  Two hours of marching and clapping later, he’d received his badge and was waiting in line for his commemo
rative photograph.

  ‘Hi, Nick!’ There she was, emerging from the crowd, one hand on her head, stopping her hair from blowing in the wind. She brushed her lips on his cheek. Hot damn that dress fit her like a glove. It was something Marilyn Monroe would have worn. Black silk. Creamy skin. Boobs. Hell. She looked like a movie goddess from the fifties.

  ‘You okay, Nick?’ She sounded a little uncertain. Because of him? Because of the other day? ‘Is it okay for me to watch you have your photo taken? I’m not sure what the rules are here.’

  Me neither. He doubted whether kissing her senseless on parade was within the rules, but it was what he most wanted to do. He swallowed and pulled himself together, picking his jaw off the floor and hoping gloop hadn’t dribbled out. ‘You look incredible.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She glanced down at her dress. ‘It’s new.’

  ‘It’s not just the dress, it’s you.’ There was a shimmer about her that made her look as if she’d been dipped in gold dust.

  ‘Ahem.’ The photographer butted in. ‘There’s a queue. We need to get this done, sir. Sorry. Photo of you and your wife together?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not….’ Her cheeks, that had started to redden at his compliment, darkened. ‘Friend.’

  ‘She’s not—just a friend. An old friend.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Sorry, I just thought…. Of course.’

  Jenna stepped away. ‘No. Just one of Nick on his own would be great.’

  That was a punch to his heart. One thing he did want was a photo of her in that dress. With him. He tugged her to him. ‘With Jenna please.’

  He wrapped his arm round her waist and pulled her into him, his other hand holding the badge that heralded a new phase in his life; with this new job, he could put the past behind him and start again… if his demons let him. Jenna leant her head against his shoulder as the photographer clicked. And in that moment, he didn’t know which he was prouder of, the badge or having her at his side.

  So now they were free to leave and he could take her home, but he wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet. He slipped his hand into hers. Because why the hell not? They both knew they had to be careful, but holding hands wasn’t a promise of anything else. They’d managed to keep a grasp of their friendship throughout these last few rollercoaster weeks. ‘Hey, how about I go get changed. Then we can grab something to eat?’

  She nodded, her hand tight in his. ‘I am starving.’

  ‘Then we’ll get something decent, and if you mention the word calorie once to me, I’ll make you order and eat double. Okay?’

  ‘Okay. Bossy.’

  He chose the best restaurant he knew of this side of the city and ordered a steak for him. She, typical Jenna, ordered a salad, which he’d bet she would pick at. ‘I didn’t know the whole ceremony was going to take so long. I hope you weren’t too bored.’

  She leant across the table, her dress spilling flesh that he ached to touch. ‘It was great. You do a good march, Constable Welsh.’

  ‘Like I said, I’m king of marching.’

  ‘Hmmm. What am I good at? I know, I’m queen of calories.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oops. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Right.’ He waved at the waiter. ‘Double order of fries then.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’ Jenna laughed, half amused, half horrified.

  He did. And he made her eat as many as she wanted to eat.

  Which was most of them. She licked her fingers. One by freaking one, and it was torture watching the way her mouth worked and wishing it were working on him. She smiled, slow and sexy. ‘Mum always said she’d like to come here. She reads all the reviews and pretends she’s rich and famous and can choose to eat out in fancy places like this.’

  Good, talk about banal things. Stop this raging teenage lust thing going on. ‘So where’s she gone on her cruise?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it’s about the where. It’s about the what.’ At his questioning frown, she elaborated. ‘Other than her sewing, she has two major passions: ghost hunting and cruises. This weekend’s cruise is a mix of the two. They’re going to Bruges to visit haunted sites, and on the boat, they have lectures and storytelling.’

  ‘Whatever takes your fancy. What happened to your dad?’

  Jenna still smiled, but there was pain there. ‘He died. A long time ago. I never knew him. Turns out he didn’t like being a father and wanted to escape the constraints of family life. Basically, he did a runner. Then he died.’

  ‘How could anyone do that?’

  ‘It happens.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let it happen.’ If he committed and had kids, he’d never walk. Never. It was the committing all over again that was the hard part. The trust. The letting go of the control he’d practiced for so long.

  ‘Do you…?’ She inhaled deeply. ‘Do you want to have a family? Some time?’

  He shrugged. Did he? Memories of a little girl curled up in his arm bombarded him. The weight in his heart as he watched her sleeping, not daring to move. Did he want that? Her? Because Jenna came with all that. Simple answer, he just didn’t know. ‘I did once. I fell in love with a dream, but that’s all it was. I don’t want to get sucked into thinking like that again.’

  ‘That was why you were so spooked by Evie the other day.’

  So they were going there. Of course. Jenna wasn’t one for letting things lie. ‘She took me by surprise, that’s all. It seemed… intense. Why did you choose to be a florist?’

  ‘Changing the subject? Okay. It’s okay.’ She put her hand over his and blew out slowly. ‘I’m not asking for your commitment or to be part of our family. It was just a kiss, not a proposal or anything. Except…’ She looked up at him through dark eyelashes. ‘I know I like you. I like kissing you. A lot.’

  His belly tightened. He saw her swallow—saying things like that, asking for things for herself was hard for Jenna. She’d had to survive on her own for so long. Passion glowed in her eyes. It made him disorientated. Made him think about being inside her. Stripping her clothes. Taking her over the table. ‘Geez, Jenna. You’re doing things to me that aren’t decent in a restaurant. Tell me about the flowers, take my mind off what I want to do to you right now.’

  ‘Okay.’ She ran her tongue over her lips, moistening them a little, and looked straight at him. ‘I’ve always had this thing about flowers. I love the smell, the way they look, the way people look when they get them—mostly. Let’s not talk about Mrs Delacourte’s reaction. For a long time after Ollie’s death, I lost interest completely, because flowers die so quickly. They’re so temporary, and I couldn’t bear to have something so beautiful die. It seemed like a metaphor for Ollie’s life. But I realise now that’s the beauty of them. You have to love them for the time you have with them. Then accept they’ll only be here a little while. And while they’re here, they’re so beautiful.’

  ‘So are you when you talk about them.’

  ‘I feel beautiful when you say it. Believe me, that’s a first.’ She shook her head as if that was the silliest idea she’d ever had. She edged away from the spotlight. ‘So what about you, Nick? Are you glad you came back?’

  ‘I am now. All I could think of when I was in that village of tents was how I didn’t want to be there. It was so suffocating, so intense, living in each other’s pockets, breathing each other’s air. I resented the time I was there when I could have been with Helen. Then that all fell apart and my squadron held me together.’

  ‘I know how that feels. My sister did the same for me.’

  ‘Then there was the IED and they were gone and I was on my own. For real this time. And somehow it felt like I had a responsibility to live for them too. And I didn’t know if I could. It was suffocating. The loss was suffocating.’ This was the first time he’d actually voiced that. It felt good, freeing, as if he’d made space in his heart somehow. She was good at that, encouraging him to make space and then fitting herself right in.

  She nodded and squeezed his hand. ‘When they put Evie into my arms,
I had this overwhelming fear; I was the only person who could keep her alive and I wasn’t sure I could manage that. It was too much responsibility. Too much for me to have to do. Sometimes I’d lie in bed praying for sleep, hoping I wouldn’t wake up and have to be something for someone else when I couldn’t even be me for me. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Total sense. And, look, we both survived. Here we are.’

  ‘Here we are. On a non-date wondering what the hell happens next.’ She looked at their empty plates then back up at him. For a few seconds, they just held that gaze. And in that moment, he knew he’d do anything to make the pain that had slid back into her eyes disappear. Because she was truly the most amazing, beautiful woman he’d ever met. She smiled softly. ‘So, Nick? What next?’

  ‘We need to go. Unless you want me to undress you right here.’

  Because he couldn’t not kiss her. Couldn’t not want to make love to her. It was as if he was being propelled to her by a greater force. Something he didn’t understand. Something he just couldn’t fight.

  *

  She was so aware of him. Of his scent. Of his arm brushing against hers as they sat next to each other in the taxi, hands entwined, stroking, stroking. She was aware of him looking at her, his gaze raking over her body. Of his thigh against hers. Of their breathing, hitched and unsteady. All she could think about was what he would feel like inside her.

  She was so drunk on the sensual overload, she was only dimly aware of the taxi pulling up outside her house. Of Nick paying the fare. Of him helping her find her key and stumbling through the door.

  Then, he was kissing her as if it were his last moment on Earth.

  The way her heart chugged too fast, it might well be hers too.

  He had her pinned against the door, one hand cupping her face, the other on her breast. She kissed him back hard, yanking his shirt apart, buttons straining and popping.

  Oh God. He was divine. She ran her hand across the bare skin of his chest, across his muscles, firm and framed. ‘Magnificent.’