Chapter 22 #2
“They’re going to love and appreciate this so much. It’s straight from your heart.” Her lip catches between her teeth as she peers down at it again, her fingertip running along the line of the breaking surf in the waves. “The wood… the water… you know them so perfectly.”
There’s suddenly too much distance between us. We feel it at the same time because we both start coming around the side of the table to meet in the middle.
When we reach each other, my hands are at her hips while hers loop around my neck, and I’m turning her towards a work bench that has a clear space right behind her.
Lifting her up on it, she’s pulling me down so our lips meet in a kiss I thought was going to be hard and all-consuming, like so many are, but it’s actually full of affection and warmth. The sweet to so much spice between us.
My hand slides up her body, stopping to caress the side of her breast before wandering up to her neck.
She tilts her head, knowing that I want more access to the long column of her throat, and in the process, her lips part for me.
I’m tasting her more intimately the next moment, my tongue running along her bottom lip before slipping into the warm crevice of her mouth.
The moan it elicits has my free hand snaking around her waist to pull her to the edge of the bench.
My cock throbs in my jeans. I’m not a tall guy.
Five-ten—eleven on a good day. There’s no way I’m fucking Jordan while she’s sitting on the bench and I’m standing between her legs.
But I’ll be damned if I can’t feel every inch of her heat just above the waistline of my jeans.
Her dress has ridden up, and my hand drags back over her hip to her thigh, pushing the material up even further.
“What in the fucking hell is going on?” Nate’s voice roars from the doorway of the garage.
I fly backwards. Jordan yelps in surprise, jumping down from her spot on the bench. I bump into Nate’s soon-to-be table, grabbing the end to keep it from crashing to the ground before I realize that it isn’t going anywhere. The thing is solid and in zero danger of moving.
Unless Nate puts me through it.
Judging by the look on his face, I’d say he’s considering it. Unless he got severely sunburned in Hawaii on their honeymoon, his blood pressure is through the roof and he’s rip-roaring mad. He’s as red as the fire engines at work. Maybe redder.
“Nate!” Jordan exclaims, a hand clutching her chest. “We can explain!”
I think the words come out of her mouth automatically. We can explain, it’s true, but the words are so cliché they have Nate turning a shade of red I’ve never witnessed before.
“You can explain?” he explodes, the blue of his eyes a stark contrast to the color of his face as they dance between the two of us. “How the fuck do you explain his tongue down your throat?”
“Dude,” I start in the most relaxed and chilled tone I can find. It’s in complete contrast to the way my heart is pounding in my chest.
Nate is quick to turn on me, shoving a finger in my direction. “You! I fucking trusted you. I ask you to look after and help my baby sister and this is what you fucking do? Get in her fucking pants?” His head shakes in disgust. “This is so fucking typical. I knew I should have asked Brody.”
My stomach sinks. It isn’t the part about Brody. I can live with that. I know where he’s coming from, and I know he’s pissed. The part that gets me is his automatic assumption that we started this when he had us fake dating.
Jordan must be thinking the same thing because she shifts in her spot, her eyes darting in my direction.
Nate picks up the movement, and for one long, awful moment that seems to stretch into eternity, the garage is silent as he pieces it all together. He reads our guilt. He knows the truth. This started before he ever gave us the idea.
His eyes land solely on me, and he snarls, “I warned you she was off limits. How long have you been fucking my sister? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back?”
“Nate,” Jordan says, stepping towards her brother.
He doesn’t even spare her a glance, but he does snap at her. “I’ll get to you in a fucking second.”
“Dude, c’mon, let’s just take a breather and we can talk this all out,” I tell him, moving forward and ahead of Jordan. I know she’s in no actual danger when it comes to Nate, but I don’t like the way he’s talking to her.
“Talk? Now you want to talk?” Nate laughs humorlessly.
“That’s fucking rich. Maybe you should have thought about that before you went and fucked my sister, huh?
” His hands open and close at his sides, and he shakes his head as his eyes narrow at me.
“You’re a selfish fucking prick, you know that?
You always have to think with your fucking dick.
You don’t give a fuck about anyone else as long as it’s wet, ain’t that right? ”
“Nate,” Jordan interjects.
“Don’t even start with me!” he seethes. “You promised me. You promised me that nothing would ever happen between you and one of my friends.”
Jordan tosses her hands up in exasperation. “That was over ten years ago!”
“What is your fucking point, Jordan?” Nate yells at her and I take a step forward, ready to jump in.
“Does a promise have a fucking end date? Is that how promises work? Does that mean in ten years I can just throw away every vow and promise I made to Savanna and go out and cheat on her, and it’s okay? ”
“No!” she shouts back, but I can hear the wobble in her voice. The threat of tears.
“Then why the fuck do you think it’s okay that just because you made me a promise ten years ago it doesn’t still fucking count today?” he yells, throwing his hands up just like she did.
“It—it—I—” she stammers, looking for words I know she won’t find.
“Nate, look, we made a mistake—”
“You’re damn fucking right you did!” Nate roars at me. “I’d love to say that I can’t believe you, but I fucking can. Congratulations, Liam! I hope you’re fucking happy, man. Santa Rosé’s biggest man-whore strikes again.”
“Nathan!” Jordan gasps.
I swallow the lump that’s grown in my throat, looking away from the two of them.
There’s no talking to him right now. It’s futile.
Maybe this whole fucking thing is futile.
Maybe trying to be with Jordan was a dumb idea.
Maybe the real mistake wasn’t keeping it from Nate.
Maybe it was thinking Jordan and I stood a chance.
Nate shakes his head, all but ignoring Jordan. “You don’t deserve her. She’s too good for you.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
Jordan tries again, her voice barely a whisper, and I know it’s taking everything to keep herself together. “Nate…”
“Nah,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender. I’m pretty sure it’s us who should be surrendering, though. “I’m done. I can’t with the two of you right now.”
Without another glance at either of us, he turns and walks out of the garage. I feel Jordan’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at her. My mind is spinning, and I need a second. Which she grants me as she takes off after Nate, leaving me alone in my workshop.
I scrub my hands over my face, releasing a frustrated sigh.
This was not the way it was supposed to go.
Things were supposed to be controlled, planned out.
He wasn’t supposed to walk in on us getting frisky with each other.
We were supposed to sit down, talk, explain.
I expected him to be mad, but I didn’t expect this.
This was next level, especially for Nate.
The thought of Jordan and I being together really upset him.
I’ve seen my best friend angry, but this went beyond anything I’ve witnessed.
Honestly, I didn’t know Nate had this level of anger in him.
He’s usually the rational one. The calm one.
That’s why he’s so good at being a lieutenant at the firehouse.
There were a couple of rational thoughts in his irate state, though. I don’t deserve Jordan. She is too good for me. Both things I’ve known this entire time. No one is ever going to be good enough for her.
I stupidly convinced myself that I could try to be the one man to live up to who she deserves.
I’m a fucking fool. An idiot. How in the fuck can the man-whore of Santa Rosé possibly live up to being with a girl like Jordan?
All I’m doing is setting her up for heartbreak in the end.
There’s no way this will work out. There’s no way it’ll last. So what the fuck have I been doing this whole time?
Being selfish, just like Nate said. Getting your dick wet. Like you always fucking do.
And isn’t that what led us here in the first place?
My fucking dick. I didn’t need to pull her out of that club the first night in Vegas.
Or kiss her at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
I sure as hell didn’t need to take her back to my hotel room and fuck the hell out of her. Or knock on her door the next night.
I didn’t fucking need to do any of it. But the fuck if my dick agrees.
And it’s led us to this moment. My fucking dick has led us to this moment in time where my best friend hates me, and the relationship between him and his sister balances precariously in the unknown.
My dick walked us right into this second where I’m more aware than ever that I don’t deserve Jordan. I was a fool to think I could earn her.
What a fucking joke. It’s like all those years ago how I wondered if I’d been a better son, maybe I could have made my mom stay. Maybe she wouldn’t have left my dad. Maybe she would still be around.
Too many fucking maybes. Not enough certainties.
You know what was certain? My life as a bachelor.
Jordan walks back in the garage right then, and the level of clarity that sweeps through my mind fills me with a sense of calmness. It’s not too late. I know what I need to do before I cause any more damage, and before either of us have any real feelings for each other.
This needs to end. Now.