How Forever Feels (8 page)

“Yeah.” Will's grin faded as he stared down at the floor for a few seconds. “Sorry, man, I was out of line there; if you want to be friends with the little psycho, that's your business, just be careful she's not using you to get back at me.”

Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut.

“And don't believe all that ex-wife bullshit I'm sure she spouts about me.”

“Relax,” Jack muttered. “She can't make me think any less of you than I already do.”

He was joking…for the most part…and thankfully that's how Will took it, so while Will was laughing, Jack jumped on the chance to change the subject.

“Looks like I'll get the company tickets to one of the December Seahawks games if you want to come down.”

“Sure, yeah, if we're around.”

“Where are you? Oh, right, the honeymoon.”

“Stella's trying to talk me into going to Venice.”

“And…what? You've got something against getting a little culture in your life?”

“No,” Will scoffed. “I've got something against spending a shitload of money.”

“Don't be such a tight-ass. You only get married once, right?” Quick as lightning, he rolled left, just in time to avoid Will's kick, which ended up connecting with the bed instead of Jack's kneecap.

They spent the next eight and a half innings as they usually did when they watched a game together; eating, drinking, and discussing the really important issues, like what kind of miracle it was going to take for the Mariners to clinch the wild-card spot and how Stella wanted to upgrade her phone but couldn't make up her mind on which one to get.

Yup, important, world-altering topics that had absolutely nothing to do with Snip or the way Jack's mouth could still feel the warmth of her cheek.

“I'm hopeless and awkward and desperate for love.”

Chandler Bing,
Friends,
“The One with the Metaphorical Tunnel”

“Stop it!” Gripping both sides of the bathroom sink, Maya stared back at her reflection as she took a couple of long, deep breaths.

Her life was complicated enough these days without…
this
. Ever since she'd left Jack's hotel room the other night, she'd been trying to rationalize it, and when she was able to look at it objectively, it sort of made sense.

She and Jack had always been friends; that was no secret. Sure, they'd had a two-year hiccup, but the second she saw him at the pub last week, none of that mattered. He was still Jack; sweet, funny, cute, and the most soft-hearted man she knew, so of course she'd be happy to see him and of course she'd want to spend more time with him.

That's what friends did, nothing wrong with it. It made perfect sense, right? What didn't make sense was the way his big lopsided grin—the same one she'd seen so many times before—now suddenly turned her insides to mush, or the way her fingers tingled when she'd wrapped her hand around his arm the other day.

That's right, they'd
tingled,
and it didn't matter how many different ways she tried to describe it, she always ended up right back there.

The first time she'd tried to pull her hand away, it was like her damn muscles flat-out refused to do what she wanted them to. She'd loosed her grip a little, but it had taken her another couple seconds to actually let him go, and when she finally did, all she could think about was touching him again to see if the tingling was just a one-shot thing.

Truth was, she didn't need to touch him again to figure that out. Every time he kissed her cheek…ohhh, boy. He'd always done it, but she didn't remember it ever feeling like it did now. Had it always been so gentle? So tender? And had he always smelled so good?

“Oh, for God's sake, get a grip,” she muttered. “It's just Jack.”

That's right. It was just Jack. In fact, it was entirely possible that it might not be Jack, specifically, who was getting her worked up; it could very well be the simple fact that she hadn't been worked up at all in such a long time. Like over-two-years kind of long time. Another couple months and she could probably make a claim to have her virginity reinstated.

If that was the case, though, and she was just feeling this way because she hadn't had sex in so long, then the thought of making a baby with Griffin should be way more appealing to her than it was.

Shit
.

With a final steadying breath, she tucked the salad bowl in the crook of her arm, grabbed her purse and the bottle of red she'd bought, and headed down to her car. She'd be fine by the time she got to the hotel.

And she was, right up until Jack opened the back passenger door and waved Pete in.

“Hey, Snip. You look great.” His cheeks pinked a little when he said it, which only…no, it didn't…yes, it did…made him that much cuter and made her smile self-consciously as all sorts of things started fluttering inside her.

“Thanks. You, uh, don't look half bad yourself.”

Jeans and a blue button-down; nothing fancy, and yet at the same time…yeah. Before she got caught staring, she twisted around and smiled at Pete.

“And you,” she said, giving him a long chin rub. “You're the most handsome guy in the whole world, aren't you?”

That earned her an extra-hard tail flap and a couple slurpy licks across her hand.

“Does this thing go back any farther?” Almost folded in half, Jack continued to play with the seat controls long after he must have figured out the answer to his own question.

“You could switch with Pete,” she said, laughing quietly. “Maybe sit sideways.”

“Nice, thanks,” he snorted. “If this airbag goes off, it's going to shove my knees right into my face.”

“Jayne's place is right up the road, and I'm not planning on crashing between here and there, but we can take your Jeep if you want.”

“No, this is great. I always wondered what it'd feel like to be a pretzel.”

Maya threw the car into gear and glanced at Pete in her rearview mirror. “He's getting kind of whiny in his old age, isn't he?”

She'd have sworn the dog smiled back.

“How was it after I left the other night?” She turned right out of the parking lot and headed for Jayne's.

“Fine.”

“Don't B.S. me, Jack. He wasn't very happy when I left.”

“A couple beers and half my dinner and he was fine.” His warm grin almost made her believe him. “Don't worry about it.”

“I don't,” she said. “Well, I mean I don't worry about him but I worry about you and how all this affects you.”

“It doesn't.” With his face turned, looking out the side window, she couldn't tell if he was still smiling or not. It sure didn't sound like it. “I'm good.”

He tried to shift in his seat but there wasn't room so he settled back to his original position and sighed.

“There's something you should probably know,” he said. “And you should know before we get to Jayne's in case you want to turn around and pry me out of your sardine can.”

Maya's foot instinctually lifted off the gas pedal a little as she turned to look at him.

“What?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I'm going to be his best man again.”

A couple seconds ticked by as she waited for him to say something else.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“I don't think I ever believed they'd actually get married, and after the last couple of years…Well, shit, I never would've thought I'd be the one up there with him again.”

“Of course it'd be you.” Maya laughed lightly as she eased the car around a small curve in the road. “Genie would have a stroke if he asked anyone else.”

“That's pretty much what Will said, too.”

She pulled the car up in front of Jayne's, shut it off, and then turned to face him. “Why were you worried about telling me that? Did you think I'd freak out or something?”

It took him a second to look at her, and when he did, it seemed to take some effort. “I don't know. It's all a little weird and I'm still trying to figure out how it all works.”

“You mean how Will wants it to work.”

She shoved her car door open and stepped out, her unexpected anger lightening a little as she watched Jack fight to unfold himself on the other side. By the time he'd tripped and twisted himself upright, she had to clamp her lips between her teeth to stop from laughing.

“Jeezus,” he muttered. “You couldn't find a smaller car?”

“I'm sorry,” she snickered. “I wasn't really thinking I'd be driving Gulliver around much when I bought it.”

He was still shaking his head until he looked over at her and saw her laughing; that made him grin again.

“Anyway.” She chuckled. “I get that Dickhead makes it difficult for you, but that's because
he's a dickhead
. I never once expected you to turn your back on him; he's part of your life and that's great, really it is. And if you want to be his best man and stand up there with him and his stupid skank, that's your business, I have no opinion either way.”

The more she said, the wider he grinned, which sent her reaching back inside the car for the salad. It was right there between the front seats, but she took a couple extra seconds to try and shake past the gooeyness his grin caused inside her. Stepping back, she tucked her hair back behind her ear and pointed toward his side of the car.

“Can you grab the wine?”

He was still grinning a second later when his head popped back out of the car. “I forgot how much you like to pretend you're tough.”

“What are you talking about, pretend? I
am
tough.”

He let Pete out and they followed her toward the front door.

“Tough girls don't cry at Tim Hortons commercials,” he said, then tipped his head toward Carter's motorcycle parked on the driveway. “Nick's?”

“Carter's, and I don't do that!” Maya straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin a little, and grinned as she knocked. “Not at
all
of them.”

“All of what?” Jayne asked, stepping back to let them in, then immediately stooping to give Pete some love.

“Jack thinks I cry at all the Timmy's commercials.”

“You do.” Jayne looked straight past her to where Jack stood and nodded. “She does.”

“I know.” His laugh, low and quiet, settled over Maya's shoulders like a blanket. “Should I put Pete out back?”

“Duke's in the living room, let's give them time to figure each other out first.”

“Their basset,” Maya explained. “He's a day older than dirt, that one, but so, so cute.”

“Everyone's in the kitchen,” Jayne said. “Go on in, I just have to switch the music over—I've had enough of this hillbilly crap Nick likes.”

“This from the woman who took him to his first Garth Brooks concert.”

“Garth is the exception.”

“Uh-huh.” Maya led Jack through to the kitchen, where Nick greeted them with a frosty beer for Jack and a big glass of red wine for her.

“Jayne's changing the music, isn't she?” he asked, grinning slowly. “I think I'm wearing her down; she made it through a whole Toby Keith album the other day.”

No sooner did he say it than the country song coming through the overhead speakers cut out and was immediately replaced by Queen's “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“It's no George Strait,” Nick said, “but it'll do. Good to see you again, Jack. Do you know everyone?”

“I think—” Jack started to nod, then stopped when his gaze landed on Carter, whose arm was draped around Regan's shoulders. With a quick grin at Maya, Jack reached his hand toward Carter and nodded. “You must be Carter. Jack Rhodes.”

“Hey.” The second they'd finished shaking hands, Carter's arm went straight back around Regan. “Red here tells me you work on the Apollo games.”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded. “I do some of the script-writing for them.”

“That's awesome.” Nudging Maya with his elbow, Carter wagged his eyebrow at her. “About time you brought someone decent into the group.”

Laughing, she nudged him back. “I do what I can for you, Carter.”

“There's appies”—two words out of Jayne's mouth had the guys bolting for the back door—“out on the deck.”

“Wow.” Jack stood at the deck rail and stared out at the backyard, his eyes wide.

“Not bad, eh?” Maya laughed. “If you were Contractor Extraordinaire Nicholas Edward Scott, who knew everyone in town, you too could have all this.”

Covering close to an acre, the fenced yard backed onto the berm of trees leading to the sixteenth hole of the golf course, which you could still see, because Nick had lowered the fence. On the north side of the yard, about three quarters of the way down, stood a huge old maple tree, its long crooked branches perfect for climbing—that's what Jayne had said—but other than that, the only other things in the yard were a wooden toolshed and a few potted plants Jayne kept on the patio.

“I've been trying to convince Jayne to put in a vegetable garden,” Maya said. “God knows she has the space.”

“Not a gardener?” Jack murmured, still staring at the huge space.

“Not even a little bit.” Maya laughed. “In fact, I think she has black thumbs, but if you ever need to know which gardening book is the best for this area, she's your girl.”

Carter stepped up and pressed a football against Jack's chest. “Tell me you play.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” He lifted his hand and pointed at Jack's head. “Dibs on Jack. Who d'you got, Brett?”

Brett didn't miss a beat. “Ell.”

“Excellent choice, Ponch.” In perfect sync, Ellie and Brett knocked their fists together and grinned, making Carter moan.

“Oh come on,” he whined. “Pick someone else. Anyone else.”

“Wait.” Jack frowned. “What's wrong with Ellie playing?”

“Nothing, if you don't mind getting your ass handed to you by a chick.”

“Aw, poor Carter,” Ellie cooed, patting Carter's cheek and blinking innocently at him. “Once a loser, always a loser.”

“Oooh, sweetheart, you're so lucky your man packs a gun or I'd…” Carter's dark eyes crinkled deeper as he smiled. “Come on, Jack. You and me. Let's do this.”

“You got it.” Jack set his beer down and hustled after Carter. “What are the rules?”

A collective snort sounded from everyone around him.

“The only rule you need to know,” Carter said. “Is that when you play with Ellie, there are no rules. Hit fast and hit hard.”

“Hold up.” Jack stopped near the center of their makeshift field and frowned. “You don't really expect me to tackle her.”

“Damn right I do!” Carter laughed. “And don't let the fact that Brett keeps a nine-mil and a Taser in his work locker slow you down one bit.”

Maya knew there was no way Jack would tackle Ellie, but that didn't stop everyone from hanging over the railing and calling out instructions to him. Brett hiked the ball to Ellie then took off for Carter and Jack's goal line. Carter charged toward Brett, but all Jack did was stand there staring at Ellie, his hands raised in a dumbfounded “seriously?!” kind of gesture, while she ran right past him and spiked the ball at the line.

By the time Carter untangled himself from Brett, Ellie was already doing her touchdown dance, which looked a lot like the Fat Monica dance from
Friends
.

“Jack, buddy,” Carter cried. “What the hell was that? Why didn't you tackle her?”

“I'm not tackling a girl!”