Chapter Seven
N ick chalked his cue, leaned over the billiard table at Blaze’s, and positioned his pool stick. It was an incredibly easy shot. One he could make in his sleep. He just needed to sink the eight-ball in the corner pocket. Then he’d win his third consecutive game tonight.
He focused and slowly drew back his stick. But before he could make contact with the ball, he heard one of his earlier opponents greeting Emerie.
“ Dayum , Em! Is that really you?” Marcus gawked, a hand cupped over his big mouth.
Nick completely botched the shot, much to his current opponent Doug’s relief.
But Nick was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of Em to pay attention to Doug talking shit. Besides, the man still had four balls on the table.
Marcus was grinning like a wolf. His hooded gaze raked down the body of the woman standing in front of him.
“Em?” Nick whispered her name beneath his breath. He could hardly believe the woman whose partial profile he’d caught a glimpse of was his best friend. But he barely had time to take in Emerie’s new look because his attention immediately returned to Marcus who was staring at Em like she was a prime rib and he hadn’t eaten in a month of Sundays. Two other men, who seemed just as mesmerized by Em’s new look, had joined the conversation.
Nick gripped his pool stick tight, his jaw clenching as he watched the men fawning over his best friend. A few women joined the conversation.
Nick gritted his teeth and tried not to entertain his sudden urge to land a punch squarely on Marcus’s misshapen jaw and tell him to leave Em the hell alone.
Marcus had never considered Em as anything more than one of the guys. So why was he acting as if she was a completely different person now?
Then again, why was he? Or more specifically, why had he been struggling to look at Em as just a friend since she’d admitted at the bonfire that she had feelings for him?
Doug’s celebratory shout brought Nick’s attention back to their game of billiards.
“You ran the table?” Nick eyed the empty pool table, then looked up at Doug again.
Shit.
“Double or nothing?” Nick asked, his attention still split as he watched people fawning over Emerie.
“Given how distracted you are right now, I’m tempted to take you up on that offer.” Doug chuckled. “But I think the safer bet would be to collect.” The older man wiggled his fingers, his palm open.
Nick pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet, glad they only made small, friendly bets at Blaze of Glory—one of Blaze’s rules. He stuffed the crinkled bill in Doug’s palm, then returned his attention to the crowd surrounding his friend.
It was Wednesday night. Four days since Em’s big makeover with the girls on Saturday. But she’d been adamant about not sending pics or video conferencing since then. She’d wanted him to see her big transformation in person.
She was finally there for their weekly night out, and he was still waiting to get the full effect of the makeover because his view was blocked by the locals crowded around her.
He should’ve chosen The Foxhole instead. Wednesdays were a lot slower there.
Nick got the attention of Glory—Blaze’s mother and half of the bar’s namesake.
“I’ll take that table now, please, Glo,” Nick said. “And another beer for me and a cherry lemonade for Em.”
“Yes, sir. Just grab your regular table, and I’ll bring ’em over.” Glo nodded toward his and Em’s preferred table over by the deck.
The big windows offered a lovely view of the Atlantic Ocean—even on a winter’s night. And the mounted televisions permitted them to watch whatever games were on.
Glo wiped down a table that had just been vacated. “That bestie of yours is a showstopper tonight. She’s got everyone talking, and she’s turning quite a few heads.”
Nick’s hands involuntarily curled into fists at his side. He forced a smile that barely stirred the corners of his mouth. “The new look seems to be a hit all right.”
Nick glanced over toward the commotion. He could still only see the back of Em’s head and the peacock-blue peacoat she was wearing. Yet, he couldn’t pull his gaze from the fraction of Em that he could see.
“Looks like our girl got tired of waiting for her bestie to get a clue.”
Nick snapped his attention to the older woman who was well-known for her unsolicited bits of wisdom that were always on point.
Was he the only person in town who hadn’t realized that Em was into him like that?
“I… I mean we’re just…” Nick stammered, unable to think of what he could say that the woman wouldn’t call bullshit on—and rightly so.
He snapped his mouth shut again and sighed quietly.
“Em and I have never been involved romantically,” Nick finally managed. “That’s how we’ve been able to maintain our friendship all these years.”
The older woman clucked her tongue, her eyes narrowed as she shook her head in what he was pretty sure was a silent “Bless your poor, pitiful heart.”
“Well, doesn’t matter how perfect I think you two would be together or that Em probably believes you would be, too. If she isn’t the one you want, she just isn’t. I just hope that A: you won’t come to regret that choice someday and B: you won’t be a hater and cockblocker to every other guy who sees what a jewel our girl is.”
A sixty-five-year-old woman had just accused him of being a cockblocker. He definitely needed to work on his nonchalant expression if he was going to support his best friend in this Soulmate Project of hers. Because he’d promised her that he would.
“No, of course not. I love Em… as my best friend,” Nick added quickly. “I want her to be happy. If this is what makes her happy, I’ll support her. And I do realize what an amazing person Em is—that’s why I value our friendship so much. But I wouldn’t be doing my job—as her best friend—if I didn’t try to protect her from someone who is wrong for her or who doesn’t have her best interests at heart.” Nick stood taller, his shoulders pulled back and his gaze resolute as he met Glo’s stare.
“Then make sure any objections you make are about what’s best for Em, not about trying to keep her in a box so you won’t lose your faithful sidekick.” Glo poked a fingernail polished in her signature black into his chest.
Nick nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Glory rolled her eyes and walked away, tossing over her shoulder, “Be back with your drinks in a sec.”
Nick held back a tiny smirk. Glory hated being called ma’am, Ms. Glory, or any of the other niceties common to most Southern folk. She rode into work most days on a big, loud Harley-Davidson motorcycle wearing an old-school, black motorcycle helmet with a gray rose etched on it and a small visor. Glory had her fair share of tattoos, and her preferred style was tattered jeans, T-shirts with smart-ass sayings, and anything bearing a skull and crossbones—like the gleaming silver ring on her right hand. Glory Blaisdell definitely wasn’t your typical grandmother. So her accusing him of being a cockblocker was pretty much on brand.
Or maybe she’s just… right.
“No.” Nick shook the thought from his head and moved toward his usual table. “That’s not true.”
“What’s not true?”
Nick turned around, startled by Em standing behind him.
Had she heard his conversation with Glory?
“Em? Oh my God.” Nick scanned the woman standing in front of him. The slicked-back ponytail was gone. An angled, chin-length haircut showed off Em’s gorgeous face and amazing cheekbones. Her simple makeup highlighted her expressive eyes and full, sensual lips.
Why had he never noticed that her lower lip was just a tad bit fuller? Or how her dark eyes glinted in the light?
“ Dayum ,” he said finally.
He wanted to say something profound and encouraging. But his capacity for language had abandoned him the moment he’d caught a glimpse of Emerie Roberts’s fine ass putting everyone in that bar on notice that she wasn’t one of the boys. She was a showstoppingly gorgeous woman.
“Okay. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.” Em flashed a shy smile and raked her short, manicured nails through her layered hair so it wouldn’t cover her eye.
“Are you kidding me?” Nick rubbed his chin and shook his head, still hardly able to believe it was his best friend who’d spent most of her adult life in T-shirts, leggings, and Chucks. “Em, you look fucking amazing.” Nick’s neck and cheeks suddenly felt hot. “Here, let me take your coat.”
Nick helped her out of the blue peacoat and tried not to gasp. Em wore a baby-blue off-the-shoulder sweater that looked like angora or cashmere. A navy, wool skirt hit her mid-thigh and was the perfect complement to her black, knee-high riding boots. The sweater and skirt highlighted the subtle curves of her toned, athletic body. And she smelled like some heavenly combination of flowers and citrus. It took everything he had not to lean in and press his nose to her neck to get a deeper whiff.
“Thank you for the compliment and for taking my coat. But you didn’t need to do that.” Em folded her coat over her arm. “We’re not on a date. I don’t expect you to treat me differently because I’m wearing a skirt and a little makeup.”
Em slipped into her side of the booth, placing her neatly folded coat on the bench beside her.
“Right.” Nick slid into the seat across from her. He picked up his menu, but he found himself staring at Em over the top of it.
“Oh my God, stop it.” Em put her menu down and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re making me self-conscious. I realize that I look different—better, even. But y’all are acting like my old look was a complete dumpster fire.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go straight to dumpster fire,” Nick teased, and they both laughed. It seemed to ease the tension for both of them.
They’d chatted on the phone several times since that night at the bonfire. They’d even seen each other a couple of times. But things hadn’t felt the same. And he missed his best friend. Nick was determined to put any lingering uneasiness behind them tonight so they could go back to the way things were before the bonfire debacle.
“Okay, yes, Sinclair did make me throw away a lot of my old clothes,” Em admitted. “It was like being in my own private episode of What Not to Wear , and Sin was doing her best to channel both Clinton and Stacy.”
“I can definitely envision that.” Nick laughed, thinking of the weekend they’d hung out on her couch, her sprained ankle propped on pillows, and watched a marathon of the old reality makeover show—a longtime favorite of Em’s.
Her mother had threatened to move in and take care of Em while she recovered from a sprained ankle and sprained wrist sustained during an awkward fall while playing volleyball, but Nick had offered to keep her supplied with snacks, baked goods, and sudoku puzzles instead. He’d watched the first episode of What Not to Wear as a concession to his injured friend. By the fifth episode, he had been fully invested, providing commentary and critiquing the outfits and hair and makeup choices. In the end, he’d had to begrudgingly admit he enjoyed the show.
“Well, whatever Sin did… you look amazing.”
Glory brought their drinks over, and Nick thanked her.
“Thanks, Glory,” Em said. “But I’d love a mojito tonight.”
“Excellent choice.” Glory nodded approvingly as she reached for the glass of lemonade.
Em clamped a hand around the glass and dragged it closer. “No need for this to go to waste. I’ll take the mojito with dinner. And I think we’re probably ready to order now. You know what you want, right, Nick? Nick ?” Em called his name again, snapping him out of his temporary daze.
“ You , apparently,” Glory whispered so only Nick could hear.
He glared at the older woman who was amused by his silent mortification.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Em shifted her gaze between him and Glory, a puzzled look on her gorgeous face.
“I was just saying that maybe Nick still needs a little time to figure things out.” Glory broadened her smile as she turned to Em. “He seems a little unsure about what he wants.”
Nick hadn’t realized that he’d been staring at Em the entire time, still mesmerized by how incredible his friend looked. Now that Em and Glory were staring at him expectantly, his cheeks and forehead were hot, and the erratic beat of his heart sounded like the crash of cymbals inside his head. For a moment, he was convinced both women could hear it.
“But the menu is pretty much the same every week,” Em noted. “You either get a steak or a burger. Besides, haven’t you been here like an hour playing pool?”
Emerie looked genuinely confused about his current struggles. But so was he.
Nick wasn’t himself tonight. In fact, he hadn’t been since his conversation with Em on the beach. But seeing her tonight… He hadn’t been this far off his game since he’d had a crush on Marsha Simpson in middle school.
“I… uh…” Nick tugged on his collar which suddenly felt way too tight. “I guess I’m not sure what I’m in the mood for tonight.” Glory made a quiet humph , her thinly-drawn-on eyebrow spiked as one side of her mouth curved in a smirk. “I’ll give you two some more time. But if you’re looking for a recommendation, tonight’s special is the lasagna. I think you’d appreciate the layers and unexpected complexity of the dish, Nick.”
“That sounds good, Glo. Thanks. I’ll have that.” Nick handed his menu to her, then sipped his beer to soothe his suddenly parched throat.
“I’ll have the lasagna, too.” Em handed Glory her menu. “And can we have an order of potato skins and fried oysters to start?”
“Oysters, huh?” Glory winked at Em, then headed for the kitchen. “Right away, hon.”
Today, of all days, Em would be in the mood for oysters.
Nick was already trying his damnedest to keep it together and act like this was any other Wednesday night he and Em hung out. To pretend he wasn’t completely captivated by her new look and more attracted to his best friend than ever. And now she wanted to add an aphrodisiac to the mix.
Was she trying to torture him?
“Nick.” Em waved a hand.
“Sorry, what?” Nick cleared his throat. “I zoned out for a minute. I just… you look… amazing, Em. Sorry if I keep staring. It just seems so weird, you know?”
“Why? Because I look like someone else?” There was a hint of sadness in Em’s voice, and her gaze didn’t quite meet his.
“No, not at all.” Nick leaned forward and lowered his voice, placing a hand on hers. “That’s the thing that makes it so wild. You look very much like yourself. It’s just you with a whole lot of sparkle and glitter, if that makes sense.”
The corners of Em’s sensual mouth curved in a soft smile and her dark brown eyes twinkled. She gently tugged her hand from beneath his and sipped a little of her lemonade. “This is all new and weird for me, too,” she admitted.
“Because of all of the attention from everyone at the bar?”
“Yeah. That.” Em stirred her straw in her lemonade. “But what’s weirder is… we’ve been friends for two decades, and you’ve never complimented me the way you have tonight.”
“That’s not true.” Nick leaned back against the booth, hurt by Em’s accusation. “I compliment you all the time.”
“No… you say things like, ‘Cool shoes,’ or ‘That’s a badass jacket, Em.’” She imitated the deep tone and relaxed cadence of his voice. “But you’ve never said that I look good.” A slight frown furrowed her brows, her gaze still on her drink.
“I told you how good you looked when we were in Dexter and Dakota’s wedding,” Nick countered, searching his brain for additional examples of him complimenting Em—not just her taste in footwear and jackets.
He was coming up woefully short.
“Right. But you didn’t say, ‘Hey, Em, you look really amazing tonight.’ It was a group thing. We were taking photos and you said, ‘You ladies look stunning,’” she reminded him.
Shit . She was right.
He worked hard to ignore the fact that Em was an incredibly attractive woman. Which meant he sucked as her best friend. Because, as her friend, wasn’t it his job to hype her up and tell her how good she looked?
“It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I need my ego stroked.”
Right now, he wanted to stroke a hell of a lot more than just her ego. Her hair, her skin, her full glossy lips, her…
“Like I said… it’s just strange hearing you say it now.” Em’s dark eyes met his. “I realize I knocked our friendship off balance when I said what I did the other night. But we agreed to act like it never happened. So all I’m saying is… let’s not make it weird, okay?” Em tipped her head toward the TV screen on an opposite wall. “Who are you picking in the basketball game tonight? Cavs or the Celtics?”
“The Celtics, of course. They’re at home and none of their key players are injured.”
“I think it’s the Cavs’ night,” she countered. “They’ve got a lot more to prove.”
“Speaking of having something to prove… That marketing campaign I developed for the Virginia property our company is planning… our CEO was impressed with it.”
“Of course he was.” Em grinned, genuinely happy for him. “Way to kill it, friend.” She gave him a high five. “Are they going to let you run point on the plan?”
“I don’t know about that.” Nick shrugged. “But Jeff has asked me to sit in on a few meetings to discuss it. I’ll be flying to New York later this week.”
“Oh.” Em frowned, then suddenly forced a smile. “I mean… that’s exciting, right?”
“It is.” Nick’s voice was flat. His smile was as unconvincing as hers. “If I want to take on a larger role in the company, this is exactly the kind of opportunity I need. It’s a chance to impress the CEO and the rest of the executive team.”
“And I know you will.” Em’s sad smile made his heart ache. She raised her glass of cherry lemonade and clinked it against his bottle of beer. “To making our wishes come true.”
“Cheers.” Nick sipped his beer. But it felt like their world had been turned upside down. He wanted the best for Em. But if they both got the thing they wanted, it would slowly pull them apart. Nick wished things could go back to how they were before New Year’s Eve. Before everything changed between them in an instant. Knowing they never would.