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It sounded ridiculous, this need to have a man’s arms to hold her. Hairy, tanned, muscle-corded arms…
She was ensorcelled by Tad’s forearms again.
Could she help it if they were the model for the forearms she imagined cradling her as she slept? That when she thought of a line of ropy muscle and brawny sinew banded beneath her breasts while she stood at the sink washing out Evan’s milk bottles, these were the ones that shot to the top of the list? Maybe it wasn’t the sexiest fantasy—a man taking you while you tried to scrub that tough stain off the pot—but boy, a nice set of forearms could spice up the dreariest of tasks.
But did they have to be her friend’s arms?
In the kitchen, they had joked around and it was good to be back to the easy vibe between them. Their friendship was precious, and that she felt comfortable teasing him about his vigorous love life again was a good sign. They were firmly ensconced in the F-zone—the friend zone—once more, and all was right with the world. And the occasional hormonal brain fart where she started fantasizing about his forearms, of all things, was just that. Occasional and hormonal.
He crinkled his eyes in a “You okay?” kind of way, and she battled to lose whatever frowny/befuddled/horny look she wore. Really, she needed to get a shot of Botox so her expressions around Tad could become unreadable.
Her efforts to blank her features failed miserably. Tad stood and held out his arms, concern bracketing his mouth.
“Let me take him, honey. You relax and have a drink.” He scooped Evan up and settled him into those strong, fantasy-inducing forearms. Thick as oak branches, they held her son safe and summoned up different, yet just as dangerous, fantasies.
“What’s that?” Tad was saying to Evan, listening intently as if his baby babble was as important as a State of the Union speech. “Wine? Cheese? Oh, a cracker. I hear you, buddy.”
Tad sent a questioning look Jules’s way. When she nodded her approval, he picked up one of the crackers from the cheese platter and placed it in Evan’s chubby little fist.Sigh.The sight of the two of them together busted her heart wide open.
Coming back to earth, she plastered on a smile for her family. Less than ten minutes in, and Jack and Shane were ribbing each other about who had the better palate. You could set a clock by the rhythm of their playful teasing.
“Your taste buds are ruined from all that sugar,” Jack said. “You probably can’t even detect salt anymore.”
“Taste buds deteriorate with age,” Shane shot back, instantly defensive of his pastry chef credentials. Jack was nine years older than Shane and they had only recently connected, but the bond between them had been instantaneous. It was as though they understood the meaning of family on some cellular level. Each passing day only strengthened the brothers’ relationship and while Jules was crazy about Shane, she couldn’t help a pinch of envy at how natural it was between them. Especially when she and Jack always seemed to be teetering on the edge of a sibling meltdown.
“Jealousy is so unattractive, little bruv. Don’t forget whose name is in bigger letters on the book cover,” Jack said, referring to their joint collaboration on a cookbook that had shot straight to number one on theNew York Timesbestseller list when it was released last year.
“Big-headed limey prick,” Shane muttered affectionately as he threw a thumbnail-sized wedge of gouda at Jack. Her brother caught it easily and popped it in his mouth with a grin.
“Now, now, you’re both pretty,” Lili said, snagging Jules’s eye with amenheadshake. Like a magpie distracted by something shiny, Jack ran a hand through his wife’s hair, a look of boundless love for her softening his rugged features.
Jules checked her sigh. Her brothers—and their wives—were such talented buggers that it was bloody difficult to feel anything less than a complete loser around them. Coming from a family of rock stars sharpened her feelings of inadequacy to barbed points.
There had been a moment back in the kitchen as Tad recounted Long Face’s departure story when she thought:I can do that!
Common sense had punched it back down where it belonged. She was an amateur among gilded professionals. Her small-time efforts making pizzas, preserving lemons, and futzing about in her organic vegetable garden were hardly the stellar credits needed to work in a real restaurant kitchen. Shane and Jack had been cooking since before they could walk. They had years of training under their belts. With her dyslexia, she could barely read the recipes, and then there was the hassle of finding childcare for Evan.
No, she was lucky. Filled with needs and desires, but incredibly lucky.
“So, we have some good news,” Cara said, all efficiency. She wasn’t one for lazy afternoons of shooting the shit with the clan, preferring to keep everyone on task. “Shane and I got the Daniels wedding in May next year.”
Everyone made noises of congratulations and raised their glasses. DeLuca Doyle Special Events had become the hottest party planning company in Chicago since its inception just over eight months ago. Getting the wedding of the mayor’s son was huge, but then Cara never did anything by half.
“By that time, the babies should be a few months old,” Jules said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice at the idea of Cara as Supermom. She’d always had a bit of a girl crush on the slender blonde who exuded sophistication and frightening competence. “How are you going to manage?”
Cara gave one of her knowing smiles. “This event will be big enough that we won’t need to take on as many clients for the next year, but we’ll probably hire someone to help with the business.”
“Yeah, we will.” Shane’s expression was filled with loving concern. Cara was a whirling dervish when it came to work and pregnancy hadn’t slowed her down, much to Shane’s chagrin.
Jules adored how they complimented each other. Having a partner like that at her side, who loved her despite her many faults and adored her son as his own, was a dream Jules could barely fathom in her current situation.
Her son had no shortage of strong male role models, but she had to admit a small part of her longed for the dream of co-parenting. Discussing how your child was doing in school, whether he had an aptitude for footie or baseball, does he have a crush on that girl in eighth-grade English. The idea of having to do this alone had been the one thing that terrified her from the beginning. It was why she had sought out Jack after her ratfink ex, Simon, left her low and dry.
Her gaze slid to Tad and Evan, deep in serious conversation about the color differences between gouda and cheddar. They had a special bond, those two. Pity the man never once looked at her with a fraction of that adoration.
All this talent and go-getting and love… Tears pricked at the backs of her eyelids. The good-natured poking ebbed and flowed around her, threatening to pull her under if she stayed here one more second. Quietly, she slipped away to the restroom.
No one noticed.
