Chapter 1 #2
“Thanks.” She placed the glass in the sink. She couldn’t look at him, knowing she’d see kindness, and possibly something else there too. Ugh. Thanks, Mum, for giving me that gene with an overactive romantic imagination. “Excuse me. I’d better get back to work.”
And she hurried away without a backward glance.
Jordan watched EJ leave, her new fancy haircut swinging sassily around her chin like nobody’s business. And while he knew it certainly wasn’t any of his business to be admiring his friend and coworker this way, these days it was like his brain had lost all capacity to tell his heart what to do.
He didn’t really know when it had happened, but somehow in the past few months he’d started noticing his childhood friend as something …
more. More than just his childhood friend.
More than as his coworker. More than simply his BFF.
Which was unfortunate, as she seemed to have zero interest in returning the favour or showing any interest in him as a man.
She seemed content to keep things at best friend status, which he supposed was something, at least. It wasn’t like her head had been turned by another man, so he figured his chances were as good as anyone’s.
Besides, he was a patient man. EJ had always bucked at being handled, manipulated, or controlled.
She’d dig in her heels if she felt that way, stubbornness being one of those qualities that might be great for making apps a reality—but it had its downside too.
And while EJ might generally prefer up-front honesty, he’d learned that sometimes she responded to a gentler suggestion, which was why Dream Match, EJ’s baby, now wore so many of his own fingerprints.
Emma-Jane Bennett had always owned a certain confidence, an attitude his father called brazen but his mother called vivacious.
Probably because Mum had known Elizabeth Bennett for the past thirtysomething years, and together they had raised their children in a small town and become solid friends with a history spanning decades.
Just like he and EJ had, their history on display in photos while each inside their mum’s proud pregnant belly, to playgroup, school years, youth group, university courses, and now here, working at Donwell Enterprises.
“As different as night and day,” some people joked.
Others said that Jordan was the brother EJ had never had, while yet others hinted that EJ and Jordan appeared a little too close.
Which was crazy, but whatever. They’d never worried about that, as they just clicked.
And as Jordan considered EJ his best friend, and she’d often said Jordan was her bestie, then it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.
They both knew they’d always be each other’s best mate forever.
Until recently it seemed like they didn’t, and he was starting to wonder if she’d ever see him as something more.
His phone buzzed with a message from his housemate and university friend, Aidan Quinn, who had recently met a girl in Ireland. Looked like he wasn’t the only one starting to think about the future and settling down.
“Yo, Knight, are you coming to the meeting?” Dallas Valiskirous called.
“Be right there.”
Whoops. He should’ve locked the meeting in his brain rather than concentrating on EJ.
He strode to the conference room, trying to make it look like he wasn’t hurrying.
He veered to collect a folder from his desk, his detour meaning he had to follow EJ’s shapely legs to a meeting guaranteed to draw a yawn or two.
She glanced behind, murmuring, “Are you ready to say goodbye to another hour of your life?”
“You know it.”
She chuckled then winked.
Heat flushed through his cheeks, and he coughed in a desperate attempt not to seem flustered.
She paused. “You okay?”
“Yep.” Well, he would be. One day. Maybe. If he ever got over this stupid infatuation with his best friend. Friends shouldn’t wink at each other if they didn’t want the other person getting ideas.
“Come on.” She clasped his arm and tugged him toward the conference room, then pushed him down in the faux leather chair next to her.
Which made it difficult to concentrate on what was being said, as he was too busy trying not to inhale the subtle perfume she wore, something that smelled like daffodils looked, like sunshine waving in a gentle breeze.
Ugh. Things were getting really bad when a man started thinking thoughts like that. Any second now and he’d be making up poetry! Jordan bit back a groan and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, head in one hand as he covered his peripheral vision to block his view of her. This was torture.
“Did you say something, Jordan?” Dallas had always possessed an unfortunate tendency to hear everything.
“Uh, no.” His cheeks heated again. Fair skin did not make hiding his blush easy, something EJ had always teased him about.
It was one reason why he’d always been up front with her, as he knew his face could never get away with lying, even if he wanted to.
Their friendship had experienced ups and downs, but trust had always been key.
He’d tell her what he thought, she’d do the same to him, and everything was sweet: open, clear, honest. Until these feelings had crept in, almost overnight, stealing his ability to be honest because he didn’t know how to handle the roller coaster of highs and lows of wanting more then having to wrestle with being content with less.
She tapped Jordan’s arm again, but he shook his head slightly at her, unable to face her. Not yet, anyway.
Somehow he made it through the next hour and even managed to contribute a couple of comments he hoped showed he was a team player. EJ wasn’t the only one waiting to get a bonus next week.
He was among the first to escape when EJ caught up to him.
“Oh my goodness, I’d be so happy to never sit through another Dallas lecture again.”
“If you tendered your resignation, you wouldn’t have to,” he murmured.
She peered at him. “You know, if I was insecure, I might think that sounded like you are trying to get rid of me.”
“Of course not. But I think we both know that you’re wasted here. The sooner that payout comes through, the better.”
She nodded but kept watching him with those blue eyes that always seemed to have Superman laser-like intensity, like she could see straight past his flimsy walls of self-denial.
And while he’d silently applauded many times when she’d fixed them on others, it wasn’t as fun when he was the object of her scrutiny.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course I am,” he blustered. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem a little off somehow.”
He lifted a shoulder, echoing her. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired, but that’s nothing new.”
Her lips tilted. “Let me guess: another late night watching House Hunters Australia?”
He wrinkled his nose at her. “Look, not everyone gets to live beside the harbour with a view of the Opera House.”
“You remember that it’s my great-aunt’s place, right?”
“That she’s left to you,” he pointed out.
Proof of the closeness of their families: He was privy to the intentions of EJ’s great-aunt’s will.
And sure, EJ’s great-aunt Marion was still with them, in a nursing home, but seeing she was past ninety years of age, it was only a matter of time before EJ owned a piece of property worth at least five million dollars. “Not all of us have rich relatives.”
“Yeah, she’s not that rich. Her parents bought that place back in the eighties when it cost a lot less.”
But behind her disclaimer, he could see the twitch of a smothered grin and glint of delight, which drew a pang within.
EJ was generous, proved in the huge list of children she sponsored and good causes she supported.
But she’d also always had a thing for the finer things in life, something that was shown by her wannabe-designer clothes and focus on money, money, money so she could afford the lifestyle to which she’d like to become accustomed.
It was enough to make him wonder if she’d ever get past that stage to appreciate less mercenary things.
Okay, to see humble him. After all, he knew appearances mattered to her.
And while she’d always said she’d rather make money than make time for romance, he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he didn’t own the looks that turned her head.
He’d seen her head turned by actors and those handsome lawyer and businessman types who wore a level of slick professionalism he’d never own.
He might be paid well, but in essence he was a coder, a computer geek who had helped his friend with some of the background coding that had led Dream Match to attain global success.
He was ordinary; he’d never be glamorous.
He swallowed a sigh. Lord, help me to be patient.
She raised her eyebrows at him, reminding him it was his turn to speak.
“Anyway, some of us have to think about such mundane things like where to live.”
She winced. “I wish Aunty Marion would be okay with you staying there with me. The flat is big enough.”
He shrugged. “She’s got her reasons.” And they were good ones, all of them.
EJ’s great-aunt Marion was a stickler for a moral code that most of society didn’t follow these days.
And men sharing houses with women they weren’t related or married to was a big fat no in her book, or so EJ had once explained.
And Jordan was totally okay with that. He knew staying with EJ—even in a purely platonic friendship—was a recipe for trouble.
“So …” She eyed him playfully. “What are you doing about a new place?”
Ah, the million-dollar question. Lord, I’d really like an answer soon, if that’s okay. “I don’t know.”
“I can’t believe James decided to get married and kick you all out.”
“Right? It’s hard to believe that newlyweds don’t want to share a house with three single guys,” he said dryly.
Her lips perked in amusement; then she studied him, head tilted. “But seriously, what are you and Aidan and Ben going to do?”
“I told you that Aidan has met this girl in Ireland, and the way he talks, I think he’d like to move there one day.
” At her nod, he continued. “But for me and Ben, I honestly don’t know.
I’ve even contemplated moving back home to Wattle Vale, working remotely and taking the train in to the city for important meetings. ”
“What?” She stared at him, horror etched across her features. “I can’t believe you’d even think that.”
“Not all of us secretly call Wattle Vale Hick Vegas.”
“I don’t say that,” she protested.
He raised his eyebrows.
She bit her lip. “Okay, I have said that, but not that many times.”
His brows arched higher.
“So maybe I have said it a few times, but come on. Your parents are great, but who really wants to move back in with the parentals when they’re nearly thirty?” She shuddered. “I sure don’t.”
His lips pressed together. He knew EJ’s mother wasn’t as easygoing as his own, and that EJ and her mum had clashed a few times over the years. He might be a man of patience, but EJ didn’t have much of it. Which might be partly why they’d made a good pair over the years.
“Besides, you don’t really want to live there.
Not when you could live here.” She gestured to the window, where the sparkling harbour promised a lifestyle he might occasionally dream about but could never really afford.
He’d have to work at Donwell a solid ten more years to earn enough to buy one of the small boats that EJ often had wished aloud she could enjoy.
“Hey, I don’t mind small-town life. It’s certainly a lot less hectic than here.”
“True, but it’s also a lot more boring, don’t you think?”
He chewed his bottom lip. She’d made a bunch of similar statements lately, like the girl who’d been all wide-eyed wonder all those years ago had become a little jaded, a little more cynical, needing more and more to be happy. Which mightn’t be nice to admit about his best friend but was honest.
Her eyes narrowed. “What is it you’re not saying?”
He held up his hands. Pointing out EJ’s discontent shown in her constant need for excitement sure wouldn’t be an easy conversation. “Hey, I just don’t think you should be so quick to dismiss Wattle Vale. It’s got a lot of good qualities.”
“Like what?”
“Like your family, for starters.”
“Oh.”
“And The Silver Teapot.”
She sighed. “Well, yes, okay, that’s true. But The Silver Teapot can hardly compare to dining at the Sydney Opera House, now can it?”
Jordan grimaced as Lionel drew near, demanding their attention. Questions about exactly why she felt dissatisfied looked like a conversation to have another day.
Or maybe never.