Forty Candles (2 page)

“Whatever you want, Jack.” The vet purred. Chloe resisted giving her a knowledge bump.

As he passed her, while she was washing her hands in the sink, his fingers grazed Chloe’s back. “See ya later, Red.”

Mumbling a response, she turned and went back to work. She could ignore the way her body had pulsed to life at that touch—but should she? Wouldn’t it be smarter to start being impulsive? Before she could make up her mind, he’d gone and she was left holding dog sperm.

***

Back aching from a long day, Chloe unlocked the apartment—empty, as usual. Even with thirty-nine candles in her past, she lived the life most of her friends probably secretly envied. Pouring a glass of wine, she headed out to the porch to sit on her swing. Everything in her yard was placed for her pleasure, from the sweet-scented cedar chips around her garden to the bamboo wind chime clunking in the breeze. Most importantly, all of it was
hers
.

Which meant no one could take it away from her. As a child of divorce, Chloe understood how quickly things could slip through her fingertips and be gone. Her failed marriage only reinforced the lesson. She would never do that to a child—make them deal with the horror of divorce. She couldn’t. Not that she could have kids, a hard-learned truth in and of itself.

With a sigh, she reminded herself not to go down that path. Not to think of the sad times, the bad times, the dark moments and failures but to instead focus on the happy possibility of the future. The lack of breeze brought silence to her little corner of the world—and, in Chloe’s experience, nothing was more terrible than silence.

On the swing, wine gone warm, Chloe sighed because apparently she wasn’t going to be able to shake the forlorn mood. If life had worked out differently, if she’d been the kind of woman made for commitments, maybe it would have been Jack she came home to at night. He’d always be there, would always say and do the right thing... She was sure she would have felt smothered with his constant attention, not content. Frowning, she headed in and to bed. No use rehashing the past. Nothing ever came of it. But as she curled up, clutching her pillow tightly, she felt strangely connected to Jack. She could almost imagine his arms wrapping her in safety as she fell asleep.

Smiling as she dozed, she allowed herself the pleasure of imagining him since it didn’t hurt anything to dream of him.

Clapping his hand down on Dylan’s shoulder, Jack couldn’t help the grin that split his face. “How’s it feel to have a wife?”

“Pretty damn good. Pass the mustard?” Squirting the yellow condiment on his hotdog, Dylan glanced around their favorite diner. “Been a while since we’ve eaten here. Wanna tell me why I drove half an hour for a hotdog?”

Shrugging, Jack sipped his coke. “Rumors spread pretty fast in town. Wanted to chat where every word I say isn’t going to be discussed over dinner tonight.”

“So we’re talking about Chloe?” Dylan grinned.

It didn’t surprise Jack that Dylan guessed since he’d had a thing for the little redhead since they were kids. “You’ve got it. Figured now that you’ve snagged your high school sweetheart and convinced her you aren’t a schmuck, it was about time for me to work on my Chloe plan.”

“Shit. You’ve got a plan. That is never a good sign.” Dylan chomped into his hotdog.

“You really shouldn’t say that since one of my plans helped you get that pretty sparkly ring you’re wearing.” His best friend was a good guy, but not so charming with the ladies. Without Jack’s intervention, his lovely wifey would’ve been a story of the big fish that got away.

At least that was how Jack saw it.

Dylan grunted. “It’s not sparkly. It’s manly. And I like it.”

Scratching his shoulder, Jack grinned. “Hey, man, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dylan asked, “What’s the plan? Romantic gesture?”

Snorting, Jack bit into his hamburger, looking around and chewing before answering. “No. The ex-husband proposed all grand gesture-like, making a big to-do about it and every other moment along their path together and that ended in ruin. Methinks that the way to the lady-fair’s heart is through a more devious plot. Besides, I’m not a total sap like you, so I couldn’t pull off the overly romanticized bullshit.”

He expected Dylan’s punch and response. “Screw you.”

“Asshat.”

“Jackwad.”

Comfortable, Jack kicked back his chair onto two legs and smiled. “You want to hear the plan or not?”

“Hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jack joked. “Okay, Chloe, as you know, has a couple hundred reasons why she thinks she isn’t the kind of girl made for commitment to work, even if our relationship has been the only real one she’s ever had. So, I can’t go the usual soppy route. It wouldn’t work. I’ve tried blunt honesty—”

“By blunt honesty, do you mean proposing to her, drunk and stupid?”

“Why you gotta bring that up?”

“Just wanted to clarify what ‘blunt honesty’ meant.” Dylan’s grin was familiar.

“Dick.”

“We’re back to name calling?”

“Anyway, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I’ve decided to go with a bait and switch philosophy.” The idea occurred to Jack one night and he’d not been able to shake it.

“How’s that work, exactly?”

Happy to finally reveal his plan, he leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “You know the old adage, boy chases girl ‘til girl catches boy?”

“I’ve heard it.”

“That.”

Dylan didn’t seem to believe a word of it. “How are you going to get her to chase you?” “She has been shooting me the eye.”

Dylan’s expression remained dubious. “The eye?”

“There is a look Chloe gets when she wants me…it’s back.” He wasn’t sure how to explain it further than that, he just knew.

“So you’re psychic as well as psychotic now.” Dylan’s laughter wasn’t mean-spirited, so Jack ignored it and simply continued.

“Shut up, asshole, and follow me here. The plan is to dangle my very sexy body, and all that I can offer her, in front of her ’til she can’t resist me.” As he’d told her, he was a simple man and he figured a simple plan would work best.

Dylan practically choked on his drink. “You’re also sexually irresistible. Good to know. Remind me to steer Harp clear of all that animal magnetism. Wouldn’t want my new wife to get caught up in lusting after my best guy pal.”

“Harper can’t see past your giant ego to notice me. No worries. Chloe and me, we have a connection.” They did, too. Sometimes, he would swear they had whole conversations just with their eyes. He knew her, understood her in a way he didn’t understand most people, and figured she knew him just as well. He might be close to Dylan, but there was just something about his relationship with Chloe unlike any other he’d ever experienced in his lifetime.

“Says the man who chased her away once.” Dylan’s words weren’t meant to be cruel, but they hurt nonetheless.

“I’m serious, Dylan.” He might have lost her once, but he didn’t plan to do it again.

Considering him, Dylan kicked his own chair back, sipping his soda. “So, how am I to help with this plan?”

“You’re going to help me create opportunities for us to run into each other. Sort of like physical business cards.” Tapping the table, he realized the plan seemed almost too simple when he said it out loud. Still...

“You mean the idea that if your name is in front of them, they remember you.”

“Yup,” Jack agreed. “If she is around me, nature will kick in and take its course.”

“Vaguer than your usual complex plans.” Dylan waved his drink. He didn’t look as against the idea as he had moments before, though, which encouraged Jack a bit.

“I think that is why it has more of a fail-proof tightness than my usual plans.”

With the arch of one brow, Dylan’s expression turned devious. “Care to place a bet on whether Chloe falls for this or not?”

Jack glared, dropping his seat to all four legs with a clank of noise. “I’m not betting on my love life.”

Dylan shook his head. “Not a bet on your love life, a bet on the success of your plan. If you can convince Chloe to marry you in less than a year…”

“I get that old convertible you have rusting in your back field.”

Dylan whistled. “I’m planning on rebuilding that. Just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a ’56 ’Vette. I want it. You’ve got it. If we’re betting and the stakes are me getting a pretty wedding ring like yours, I get the Chevy.” Jack rubbed his head and grinned. It sounded a bit like a win-win proposition for Jack, which happened to be his favorite sort of bet.

“What do I get if you lose?”

Snorting, Jack shrugged. “What do you want, aside from the right to buy me beers to cry in?”

Dylan considered his options as he polished off his hotdog. Finally, he said, “The right to speed.”

Jack choked on his Coke. “Vague much?”

“You’re a cop. I want the right to speed.”

“I can’t give you that.” And wouldn’t if he could. If anyone should have the right to speed, it would be Jack. Since he couldn’t grant himself that particular boon, he surely wasn’t offering it to Dylan.

“Had to try.” Dylan shrugged. “How about you come be my bitch for a period of one year. Basically, any Honey-Do stuff that comes up, you do—and I get to kick back, drink a beer, and throw random slurs your way.”

Summarizing, Jack ticked items off on his fingers. “So, you’ll help me get the girl, and if I get the girl, I get the ’Vette. If I don’t get the girl, I’m your bitch?”

“Pretty much.”

Clanking their glasses together, Jack agreed. “You’re gonna cry when that rusted piece of shit in your back field is all shiny red and white and I am cruising down the road in it.”

“Yeah, well, my money is on Chloe. She is tough. Even with my help, you’re screwed.”

***

Jack leaned back in his truck to look out at their favorite local swimming hole, letting the memories overtake him. The first time they’d made love, they’d been little more than horny kids experimenting. Due to that youthful fling, Chloe never really responded when he’d propositioned her over the years.

Except when she was broken, hurting or otherwise feeling like her life had gone to shit.

He understood the definition of friend-zoned and figured he’d spent his fair share of time in that particular area. The thing about being friend-zoned, though, was that it meant he was her friend. They were close and when things went bad, they leaned on each other.

He couldn’t think of a much better foundation to build a lifetime upon.

The trick would be convincing Chloe their relationship could matter—that he was more than the guy she leaned on in times of trouble and slept with periodically. His girl, she was a blockhead. The best way to convince her of anything was to make it seem like the whole matter was her idea in the first place.

The water was quiet, the night still, and how he wished he could go back in time and never have dated her when they were kids. Maybe they wouldn’t be a second chance romance, then, and instead they would meet each other and fall in love as adults. Life, however, rarely cared for what might be easiest.

His phone jangled to life—some poppy, chipper song, about a hollerback girl—and he thumbed it awake. “Sis, how many times have I asked you—no, pleaded with you—to stop messing with my ringtones?”

The snicker on the other end of the line pulled him firmly into the present and shook loose the last dregs of the past weighing him down. His youngest sister, Ellie, could easily claim she was his favorite sibling. “I heard you got a dog.”

“You mean to say you heard I dropped a dog off over at the vet’s office.”

“No, I heard you got a dog. Ever heard of big black dog syndrome? You’re stuck with him. I have some gift cards left over from my last birthday, so I ordered you some supplies—dog bed, bowls, stuff like that, and—”

“I hate to interrupt you, Sis, but—”

“If you hated to interrupt me, you wouldn’t have just done it.” Ellie went silent and he counted to ten, knowing she’d feel the need to talk again if he didn’t answer. The best part of having sisters was knowing he didn’t have to talk. Women, in his experience, were happy to fill silences with words.

Well, except Chloe. But he wouldn’t let memories drag him back down that slippery slope.

As expected, Ellie broke the silence. “Anyway, so I got things for your dog, and I can’t help but notice that in a town with three vet offices, you chose to visit the one where Chloe is finishing off her internship.”

Jack closed his eyes and leaned back. He couldn’t answer that one without giving too much away. Better not to answer at all.

His sister wasn’t having it. “Jack Reginald Sparks, don’t you dare go all silent on me. You and I both know you’ve had a thing for her since high school. Don’t play dumb.”

Again, Jack decided silence was his best option. Besides, he’d liked Chloe before high school.

“Ma! Jack has something he wants to tell you!”

“That is low, El.”

Her giggle was followed by a shuffling noise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for his mother on the line. “Jackie?” she bellowed. His mom always thought she had to speak very loud so that they could hear her over the cell phone. None of them had managed to convince her otherwise, something he secretly thought she understood but continued just to irk her now-adult children.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Ellie tells me you got a dog.” There were three beeps in between the words, probably his mother banging her face into the touch screen on the phone. “Would you stop pushing buttons on that phone and SnapBooking or FaceTweeting or whatever you’re doing? I’m trying to talk, Jack.”

He didn’t bother to explain she was the one making the beeps. “I didn’t get a dog, Ma. I found one and took it into the vet to get looked over until I find its owners.”

“Is it a nice dog? We had a dog once, horny thing…he’d make love to couches, pillows—even knocked you down once and caused that cute little scar on your chin. Do you remember that?” His mother’s voice faded for a moment, then he heard her in the distance muttering, “Ellie? This phone is beeping at me. Is it another call coming in?”