The Best Man in Texas (4 page)

“So how long did you date the reverse snob?” he asked, jerking his head up. “Was it serious?”

She was silent for a minute, and he wondered if she’d even heard the question. Or might at least be pretending not to have heard.

Then she admitted over her shoulder, “Next to Giff, the most serious relationship I’ve ever had. And one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made in my life.”

He was intrigued, but figured he’d already pried enough. Her past affairs were really none of his business. Besides, they were coming up on a group of people that he realized actually represented a disorganized line on the sidewalk. Clusters of three and four people stood talking and laughing in the mottled illumination of streetlights and neon signs.

“I take it we’re here?” he asked her.

She turned and nodded, looking so happy that Jake felt bad for his buddy. Giff was missing out. From the flush in her cheeks and sparkle in her blue eyes to the hint of cleavage revealed by her red shirt, Brooke was undeniably sexy tonight. Which was completely wasted on him.

“Thanks for being such a good sport,” he told her. “About having to come with me. I know plenty of women who would be ticked if their boyfriends stood them up because of work.”

Brooke looked genuinely shocked. “I have nothing but respect for how hard Giff works. I know he inherited
money from his dad. Some people would have used that as an excuse to be lazy, but Giff would never do that. He’s the kind of man who will always provide for his family.”

While Jake could admit he’d jumped to conclusions about Brooke possibly being social-climbing opportunist infatuated with Giff’s bank account, he couldn’t help noticing how fervent she sounded when she talked about Giff supporting a family. He supposed it was normal for a potential mother to want her future children to be well taken care of, but her tone seemed bizarrely intent. How much insecurity had she experienced during her own childhood?

They blended into the free-form line, awaiting their turn to show ID and give their tickets to the broad-shouldered men at the door. His first glance at the interior bore out her earlier description that it was a hole-in-the-wall. The club—and he used the term generously—might only be a few miles away from the more popular bars over on Westheimer, like the Bull & Bear, Catbirds or Privé, but it was worlds removed from them in terms of atmosphere and polish.

This place was characterized by dim lighting, a concrete floor and extremely limited seating. There were some stools at the bar and a few tall tables scattered throughout. Since a lot of people were crowded onto the dance floor or in line for a drink, he and Brooke were able to snag a two-person table to the left of the stage. An opening act was already playing. The music wasn’t remarkable, but the drums provided a strong rhythm for those dancing.

Jake spoke loudly over the beat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Whatever light beer they’ve got on draft is fine.” She gave him a wide smile, surprising him with a previously hidden dimple. “I tried a glass of wine here once and won’t be making that mistake again. I wouldn’t
cook
with that stuff.”

By the time he’d returned with their beers, the opening band had finished its set and people in the crowd were beginning to chant for the headliners. The room was dark for a second, then a lone spotlight came up on a tall woman—her height boosted by the wickedly heeled boots she wore—with waist-length red hair. He wondered if she was the Red in the group’s name. She filled the club with the sound of an electronic violin and was joined by a guitarist, keyboardist and lead singer. Their lyrics were strangely melancholy, considering the funky toe-tapping quality of the music.

Brooke, clearly familiar with the band’s work, was singing along, wriggling and swaying in her chair.

He leaned close to make himself heard, wondering if it would be inappropriate to tell her she smelled really good. “I guess if Giff were here, the two of you would be dancing?”

Angling her head, she looked at him, her blue eyes unreadable. Then she laughed. “Not likely. Giff doesn’t dance.”

Jake had a memory of Giff’s high school girlfriend trying to cajole him out onto the floor at their senior prom. “What about you, Brooke? You dance?”

The answer was obviously yes. Even seated, she was all but shimmying to the music.

“I…used to. But not in years,” she added, sounding nervous. “I’m way out of practice.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” He held out a hand. “No time like the present, right?”

This is bad.
Dancing with her fiancé’s best friend shouldn’t feel so good, Brooke admonished herself. But maybe it had nothing to do with the guy in front of her; maybe it was just the uninhibited thrill of dancing again. Her old boyfriend Sean had told her once that he’d known they’d be incredible together in bed after seeing her on a dance floor.
The way you moved,
he’d said. No one had ever said anything so erotic to her.

She frowned, dismissing the memory. No amount of “incredible” had made that relationship worth saving. He’d been erratic and moody, as undependable in the long run as she’d found him sexy in the short term.

The opportunity to cut loose on a dance floor tonight, combined with her enjoyment of the band really did make this the best present Meg had ever given her.
I have to remember to call and thank her.
Or not. Brooke could just imagine trying to explain to her sister—who found a way to make even the most innocent situations sound suggestive—that she’d spent her Friday night dancing with Giff’s hunky friend.

It wasn’t as if this kind of music lent itself to ballroom
dancing; Jake didn’t have an arm around her waist and shoulder. They were only dancing “together” in a loose interpretation of the word. Then again, given the limited space in the club and the active enthusiasm of the crowd around her, she’d found herself jostled against him more than enough times to appreciate his fireman’s muscles beneath the button-down shirt he wore.

After half an hour, she realized she was getting too breathless to sing along and that her calves and thighs were getting the slightest bit sore.
Not twenty anymore.

“I think I need to sit for a minute,” she admitted.

“Want anything else to drink?”

She nodded vehemently. “Bottle of water. Please.”

No sooner had she returned to their table than the band slowed down for one of the few ballads in their repertoire. Brooke felt a wave of relief that she and Jake hadn’t still been on the dance floor when the first notes of the love song had played. That would have been awkward.

Although, come to think of it, despite their rocky start to the evening, tonight had been far less awkward than she’d anticipated. He had a good sense of humor, seemed to be enjoying himself and was inarguably easy on the eyes—all in all, a fun companion. Her earlier irritation with Giff had long since faded, although it still puzzled her that someone who knew her so well would spring a surprise on her.

“Your water, ma’am.” Jake handed over the cold bottle with a flourish.

“You are officially my hero,” she said, twisting off
the cap. “I’ll be petitioning the city to put up a statue in your honor.”

“It wouldn’t be the first,” he drawled.

She laughed but realized that he probably
had
performed more than his fair share of heroics. “So, you’re a fireman.” A noble job, but she couldn’t imagine how scary it could be—both for the person doing it and their loved ones.

“And a paramedic. More and more first responders—the full-time guys called to emergencies, rather than part-time backups or community volunteers—function in dual roles these days.”

“You’ve probably saved lives.” It made the trivial aspects of her job—like reporting on the color of flowers in a bouquet—seem silly.

He fidgeted, looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him. Even more so than he’d been Wednesday when he realized she’d overheard his less than flattering opinion of her engagement. “Yeah, well, all part of the job. I’m not— I’ve seen guys risk their lives for other people lots of times, make sacrifices that I…”

Was he talking about his time in the military?

“I can’t quite envision you in the army,” she said. Being a soldier was the epitome of structure. “Isn’t that an odd fit for someone who prefers the freedom to go wherever the spirit moves him?”

He rolled his bottled soft drink between his palms, not meeting her eyes. “Joining the service provided me with a lot. Financial help with college, but also less tangible benefits.”

“Such as?” she prompted.

“My childhood was turbulent. In contrast, there were some aspects of rigid military structure that appealed to me.”

Brooke blinked. She hadn’t been expecting to find much common ground with Jake McBride, but it sounded as if they’d both had unpredictable upbringings. “We used to move around a lot. My parents changed jobs constantly. Well, Dad, anyway. Mom had a few temp positions and some failed creative endeavors. Nothing you could call steady.” Steadiness had never been a priority in the Nichols household.

“My mother worked two jobs,” Jake said. “Partly because we needed the money, but partly, I think, because it got her out of the house and away from my father. He was a cop once, a long time ago, and I remember wanting to be just like him. Then he got injured on the job—shot—and wound up drinking through most of his disability pay.”

“That must have been hard on all of you.”

“I survived,” Jake said, but his grim tone made it clear he hadn’t survived unscathed.

As she finished her water, Brooke studied him discreetly. It didn’t look as if he wanted to go into more detail about his past, but she found herself so curious about him. How had he moved from wanting the discipline of the army to becoming the man Giff described as Mr. Spontaneity? Had it been difficult, befriending the wealthy Giff, with his doting parents, when Jake himself came from a family that was struggling to make ends meet while coping with a bitter ex-cop’s drinking problem?

She settled on a neutral question. “Do your mother and father still live in the area?”

“Yeah.” He crumpled his empty plastic bottle. “I’m done with my drink, if you want to dance some more.”

“Sure, okay.” She followed him out to the throng of people, trying to pick up the gyrating pulse of the music. At first she had trouble recapturing the fluid grace she’d felt earlier. Mostly she moved her torso in a slightly off-tempo sway and mumbled an apology whenever she bumped someone.

Eventually, however, her panacea kicked in—music had always worked as a temporary cure for what ailed her, including sudden clumsiness with a man who’d revealed more about himself than he’d intended. By the time the Funk took the stage for their encore, she was caught back up in the song, momentarily forgetting everything else around her.

When the band bid the audience a final goodbye, she turned to Jake with a smile. “Thanks for bringing me. I needed this tonight.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “I enjoyed myself.”

Even though the May temperature was warm, the night air was refreshing after the sweaty confines of the club. Brooke closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She realized that Jake was humming one of the band’s songs under his breath.

“So you really liked the music?” she asked.

“Absolutely. And I appreciate your not laughing at me on the dance floor.”

Laugh? She’d been awed that a man with his muscular
build moved with such silky grace. Rather than admit that, she said, “It’s been a long time since I went dancing. You forget that it’s real exercise. I worked up an appetite.”

“I could go for a bite to eat,” he agreed. “You know of any places around here?”

“There’s a little Italian diner that stays open late on the weekends. It’s too far to walk, but it’s on our way to the freeway.”

During the ride, they discussed music he liked, including a couple of Danish bands some of his well-traveled army buddies had played for him. The short drive passed quickly, and Brooke was so engrossed in their conversation that she almost forgot to watch for their turn. As they entered the restaurant, Brooke thought about all of the wedding dresses she would be trying on tomorrow. She should probably get a Greek salad with grilled chicken and light dressing. But as soon as the smell of pepperoni and melted cheese wafted over her, she knew she was a goner.

Succumbing to temptation, she asked for a calzone. Jake ordered a bowl of tortellini after she’d assured him everything here was great.

“I’m going to regret this,” she said after their waiter walked away. “A calzone is not exactly health food.”

“Live a little,” Jake chided.

“Easy for you to say. You won’t be spending tomorrow trying to zip yourself into white satin and taffeta. Grace and I are going wedding dress shopping,” she clarified. Her mouth quirked in teasing smile. “At least,
I assume my date with Grace still stands and that I won’t open my door to find you again?”

“No, I’ll be sleeping in, then reporting back to the station. A shame really, because there are worse ways to spend a day than telling a beautiful woman what makes her look good.” As if realizing how flirtatious that had sounded, he straightened abruptly. “So…shopping with Grace? Not your own mom?”

“Tomorrow is just the initial search. When I have it narrowed down to a few specific options, I’ll bring along my mom and sister.” Was there a diplomatic way to admit that she tolerated them best in small doses? “And it gives me a chance to bond with my future mother-in-law.”

“Grace is a wonderful woman. She was a second mother to me,” he said fondly. “I hated being so far away when she was sick.”

“Is that why you decided to leave the Army?” Brooke asked. “To be closer to loved ones?”

“My term was up. I was ready to come home. Besides… You know how I said that I was initially drawn to the disciplined lifestyle?”

She nodded in complete understanding. Routine was soothing. There was a lot to be said for waking up in the morning and knowing what the day ahead held in store.

“I grew up a lot during my time in the service. I realized that order can be a crutch. Don’t get me wrong—in the military there’s a reason for such structure. It’s the same for firefighters. Following procedure saves lives. I get that, and adhere to it at work. But in the everyday,
trying to pretend that life follows a safe, predefined pattern is just denial, if not outright cowardice.”

“Cowardice?” The burgeoning warmth she’d been feeling at finding common ground cooled abruptly. “You make it sound like a weakness to want an orderly life, but the truth is, that takes effort and planning. Lazy people who can’t be bothered to think ahead or stick to a plan try to gloss over their own character flaws by making themselves seem carefree!”

“Looks like I hit a nerve,” he observed cautiously.

Her cheeks heated. “I…I wasn’t trying to call you lazy. I grew up in a very ‘spontaneous’ household.”

“You?”

“I was the token which-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-others,” she mumbled.

“Ah.”

“It’s not like I’m insane. I don’t have my DVDs alphabetized or my socks inventoried or anything.”

“That thought never crossed my mind,” he assured her with a grin.

Maybe it was better if she shut up and just ate. Except that the waiter hadn’t brought their plates out yet. Given this example of her scintillating conversation with the opposite sex, it was amazing she’d ever got a guy like Giff to ask her out on a date, much less propose. Except it wasn’t like this with Giff. She didn’t stumble over her words or find herself bizarrely defensive. He was as comfortable as a favorite bathrobe, a perfect fit.

As if she’d mentally conjured their food through sheer desperation, the waiter appeared.

“Wow,” Jake said when he got his first look at the calzone. “That’s… Wow.”

“You’re the one who told me to live a little!” She could always work this off. If she hired a personal trainer and replaced her full-time job with forty-plus hours a week in the gym.

“Yeah, but that’s before I saw the thing. It’s big enough to have its own gravitational pull. It’s a
planet.
”

She mock-glared at him. “It is not.”

“Close enough.” He snapped his fingers. “It’s like Pluto. You know how it was a planet back when we were in school but got demoted? What is it now? The planet formerly known as Pluto.”

She stifled a giggle, not wanting to sound like a teenage girl. “I am officially ignoring you so I can eat.”

He dug into his own not-insubstantial bowl of tortellini, and she managed to finish three quarters of the calzone. When the waiter handed Jake the check, she shook her head.

“You should let me pay,” she insisted. “You bought drinks at the club. At least let’s go halves?”

“Nah, you can pick it up next time,” he told her.

Next time? The thought caused a flutter of apprehension. Despite having had more fun tonight than she could have anticipated, she wasn’t planning to make a habit of alone time with Jake McBride. It would be too… It just wasn’t a prudent idea.

“Maybe we could double-date sometime,” she suggested. “Me and Giff, you and…”

“I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“Not for a lack of female admirers, I’m sure.”
Certainly
she
would never consider a relationship with someone like Jake, with his frequent footloose jaunts and a career that involved leaping into dangerous situations. He was the Anti-Giff! But plenty of women would look past that, might even find it sexy.

When he raised a brow at her, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You own a mirror, don’t you?”

He laughed. “Thanks. I think.”

“So there’s really no one you’re interested in?” She told herself she was just exhibiting friendly curiosity. This was what Giff had wanted, right? For her to get to know Jake better? But she couldn’t deny that she wanted Jake to have a girlfriend. It would make things more…symmetrical if he were attached.

You could always introduce him to Meg. She’d eat him up with a spoon.
But no sooner had the thought occurred to her than her stomach clenched and she rejected the idea. Meg and Jake would practically be in-laws after the wedding, and when they broke up—which they would since Meg’s relationships never lasted—it might make holidays and family gatherings awkward.

“I have a really erratic schedule at the station,” he said. “I work multiple twenty-four-hour shifts in a row, plus swap shifts with other guys who have kids with baseball games and that sort of thing. Not all girlfriends want to put up with that. And I’m out of town a lot, so I haven’t really been going out of my way to meet someone in my spare time.”