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She drew her brows together and pursed her lips, dropping her voice an octave. “Boy make fire. Boy get new name. Boy now Sparky.”
Dean rolled his eyes toward the rapidly dimming sky and plopped into the seat beside her. “You are such a dweeb, you know that, right?”
Jillian folded her hands across her abdomen and laid back in the chair. “You’re the one who has a dweeb for a best friend. Don’t you think that makes you the real loser here?”
Before he could respond, Connor appeared bearing a tray laden with hot dogs, buns, condiments, and, most importantly, all the ingredients for s’mores. Closely behind him, Michael and Tracy Carlisle followed with paper plates, glasses, and pitchers of lemonade and iced tea.
They ate and talked and laughed. It was easy, fun, and relaxing. And something Jillian could never get enough of. She knew that long before she was ready she’d return to her very privileged and very fortunate life, but one that lacked the connection and affection the Carlisles exuded effortlessly.
“Hey.”
Dean’s voice unceremoniously broke the spell she’d fallen under staring at the flames dancing in the fire pit and listening to the chatter around her. She turned her head toward him and blinked several times to bring his face into focus.
“You weren’t serious about that whole Sparky thing, right?”
She grinned over at him. “Oh, I am beyond serious. For now and forever more you shall be my Sparky, maker of fire and chief Neanderthal.”
He threw one of the marshmallows in her direction and she laughed, batting it away before it collided with her cheek. They both fell back into a comfortable silence, occasionally responding to something his parents said or, more often, Dean sending a well directed barb back in Connor’s direction, usually resulting in both boys earning a scolding from their parents.
Jillian’s eyes grew heavy as her full stomach and the hypnotizing flames lulled her into a blissful state of comfort. Voices of people she’d grown to love fell into nothing more than distant murmurs as sleep stole her away.
Deep down in a corner of her heart she never showed, she wished this crazy family that was sometimes a little too loud, always offered joking insults that were often accompanied with reckless dares, and that showed each member endless amounts of love and acceptance was hers.
Chapter Eleven
Dean
Present Day
“It’s not funny.” Jillian planted her hands on her hips and frowned.
Dean grabbed his midsection and doubled over, her irritation with him only fueling the waves of laughter rolling through him. “No, no, no.” He tried to stand and wipe the tears from his eyes. “You’re right, it isn’t funny. It’s damn hysterical.”
She sighed, but the corners of her lips twitched with a repressed smile. “We’re on a tight timeline here, Sparky. If it takes all day then it takes all day, but I have to pick colors and place settings and bridesmaid dresses andmydress…” Her gaze dropped to her feet. She crossed the small living room, angled one leg beneath her, and sat down on the couch. “It doesn’t really matter anyway. I should just agree to whatever Mother thinks is best.”
Once more, a sharp stab of pain pricked the edge of his heart. She had no earthly clue how genuine his vows were going to be. The confession of his true feelings danced on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down again. He hadn’t a clue what the right time would look like or exactly what he was waiting for, but he had to hope in some magical sign. One that certainly wasn’t presenting itself right now.
He took a seat beside her and searched for words that would be neutral, but as honest as possible. This was definitely not the moment he was waiting for. “Hey, it matters. It is irrelevant that this may be an unconventional wedding, what you want matters.”
She turned slightly and buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist and making his heart stop beating at the same time. “I’m so sorry, Dean. This is wholly unfair to you and I have zero right to bitch about something as stupid as a wedding dress for a fake wedding that—”
Dean pushed her away slightly. “Hey, first of all, you never call me Dean and I’m not entirely certain I like it.” He ran a thumb beneath her left lower lid to catch the tear that spilled over the edge. “And second of all, regardless of what has led us to get married, you deserve to be happy and enjoy the day.”
“So I should just pretend this is my actual wedding and not a day where I am manipulating my best friend into bailing my entire family out.” Her eyes widened until they were saucers and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
Her entire family? Questions that he’d shoved to the back of his mind since she first made the insane proposition flooded forward again, but the look on her face made it pretty damn clear she wasn’t letting anything slip. “Not ready to let that horse out of the barn yet, are you?”
“You’ve been working with Wyatt too long,” she murmured from behind the fingers still pressed to her lips.
Dean rolled his eyes and released the hold he had on her bicep. “You know I won’t push. Hell, you know I am the least pushy of all the Carlisle boys. Probably why everyone loves me the best.” He threw her a wink that earned him a hefty sigh. “But it’d be nice if you could remember that I’m your best friend and would never spill any secrets. I never once breathed a word when you made out with—”
She put both hands against his mouth with a force that sent him backwards until he was laying on the cushions and she was straddling his midsection. Not a bad position to be in from his perspective, but still surprising. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Dean Carlisle.”
“I said I didn’t tell anyone about that.” His words came out jumbled even to his own ears as he spoke them against her palms.
For just a little longer than three beats of his racing heart, she sat still and stared down at him. Her firm grip eased and his breath hitched in his chest.
Now? Was thisthemoment?As soon as the question surfaced in his mind, she hopped off him, breaking the spell he hoped she felt as strongly as he did.
