“And you believed her?” Reese asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Jason asked.
Reese shook her head. “You’ve always been an idiot when it comes to women. Since high school, you’ve chosen the easy one instead of someone you could build your life with.”
Jason groaned. “Hey, now, I just got here. Why are we picking on me already?”
“I’m just worried about my best friend, that’s all,” Reese said. “She’s not as tough as she seems.”
“I disagree, but I have no intention of setting false expectations, therefore no one gets hurt,” Jason said, feeling defensive.
Roan glanced at the clock over the sink. “I need to get cleaned up, or we’re going to be late.”
“Yes, I should change out of my dance clothes and take a shower,” Reese said. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge to drink. We’re supposed to meet Mauve at 6, so I’ll hustle.”
“I’ll do the same,” Roan said.
Leaning against the counter, Jason watched them leave the kitchen, chatting about details with the boys—already downstairs from their showers—and ordering pizza.
Domesticated. A twinge of jealousy crept up his spine. This was a good life his brother had built here. One that he would never have. He wasn’t made for it. He shouldn’t have to remind himself of that. He had the life he’d dreamt of since he was a kid performing on the high school stage. Whatever this thing was with Mauve, maybe he should end it before one of them got hurt. Or both.
And yet, he immediately dismissed the idea. He just wanted to see her, touch her, spend time talking all night like they had in L.A. Even though it was probably a really, truly terrible idea.
The Moose wasbusy for a weeknight. Twinkle lights lined the roofline and a wreath the size of a tractor tire hung over the entrance. Someone had wrapped a scarf around the neck of the life size sculpture of a moose. Jason patted the cold metal as he passed by. Roan and Reese walked in ahead of him, holding hands, and for a moment he was back in high school watching them fall in love. Decades had passed since then, but whatever bond they’d had as kids had resurfaced the moment Roan had moved home to Sugarville Grove. Some love stories didn’t end, just went on hiatus.
A hostess greeted them and pointed toward a booth in the back.
Mauve was already seated, her coat draped over the back of the booth, a glass of red wine in front of her. Her honey-blonde hair was down around her shoulders, and she wore a dark green sweater. She was looking at her phone, a slight smile on her face, and he realized with a jolt that she was probably rereading one of his texts.
His legs wobbled, and he actually stopped in the middle of the restaurant, staring at her.
Then she looked up.
Their eyes met, and the casual greeting and easy humor he’d rehearsed in his head on the drive over vanished. She was exquisite. How was he supposed to sit next to her all night and not touch her?
Mauve stood to greet them. Reese reached the table first, pulling her into a quick hug. Roan slid into the booth, with Reese following.
Jason held out his arms and then Mauve was against him, smelling like vanilla mixed with freesia, her body warm as she circled her arms around his neck. He loved the way she smelled. He’d not washed the pillowcase from his guest room for weeks after she left just so he could bury his nose into the silky fabric and have Mauve back with him for just a second.
“I missed you,” Jason said into her ear.
“Missed you too.” She exhaled, her ribs expanding against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.’
Despite his reluctance to do so, he let her go and stepped back, his pulse racing. How was it suddenly hard to get a breath into his chest?
They sat side by side on the booth, only an inch between them.
“Are you tired after the red-eye?” Mauve asked.
That was Mauve. Always asking how he was, how he was feeling. Could she do anything for him? All of which melted his heart. And his resolve.
“Nah, I got a good nap in. Slept better than I have in weeks. I always forget how tranquil this place is.”
Mauve nodded, looking into his eyes. “I was thinking that same thing this morning. Like the quiet is a noise. Even though that’s impossible, of course.”
“But I know exactly what you mean,” Jason said.
The server appeared, and Jason ordered a beer, grateful for the interruption. Under the table, his hands were unsteady. He pressed them flat against his thighs.
