Best Man with Benefits Read online

  “What are you doing?” I hissed the minute he’d disappeared.

  “Having fun. Heard of it?” Jacob hadn’t released me. “And I figure that this asshole will be more susceptible to our charms if we work together. He’s clearly a skeptic.”

  “I think it would be fine if we acted, you know, like two people who are out buying rings for the bride and the groom.”

  “Because the rings were stolen the week before the wedding?” Jacob asked. “That sounds believable.”

  I wasn’t buying it. Yet, I didn’t slip out of his grasp. It felt good, to have his arm around me again. What is wrong with you?

  “Charlie would freak out if he saw us like this,” I whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, why play around like this? Why even bother?”

  “You always overthink things?”

  I shook my head. “When it comes to you, I can’t think at all. It’s annoying.”

  “Ditto.”

  “So, we’re going to keep doing it?”

  Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but Pierre had materialized again, carrying a tray of rings. “Here they are,” he said. “Tell me what you think. We can have them fitted right away.”

  “Oh, no, there’s no need for that,” Jacob said.

  I gave him a questioning look. The rings would have to be fitted.

  “I already have our sizes,” he replied.

  “You do?” I whispered, as we stepped forward.

  “Yeah, honey. Remember? I was the one who took care of the initial set of rings.” Jacob cast a smile in my direction. “I’ve got it under control. These two.” He pointed to them. He’d seen the rings, and I hadn’t, so he knew which ones were closest to the originals.

  “Do you approve, madame?” Pierre asked me, pointedly.

  “I do,” I said.

  “Wait for the wedding.” Jacob winked at me. “Pierre, would you mind having these engraved?”

  “Of course, no problem, sir. I can have them ready for you in two days.”

  “I want them in an hour,” Jacob said. “It’s incredibly important that I have them as soon as possible. Money isn’t an issue.”

  “Monsieur, this will not be possible. The engraver—”

  “An hour.” Jacob removed a pen from his pocket along with a business card, then scribbled something on it. He pressed it across the desk. “That’s for you if you get it done sooner than that.”

  Pierre let out a scandalized gasp. “I will have it done in time.”

  “Good.” Jacob gave Pierre the ring sizes, and they had them, thankfully, along with the messages for the engravings. The Frenchman had been transformed by whatever number had been on the card. He was obsequious, bowing and scraping, offering coffee and sugary tarts now.

  “Merci,” Jacob said, in his American drawl. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

  “An hour?” I asked, as Jacob guided me toward the exit. “What are we going to do for an hour?” A highlight reel of our bodies sweaty and heaving played through my mind. “I don’t want to go back to the hotel.”

  “We’re not going to go back to the hotel,” he said, as we stepped out onto the street.

  “Then where?”

  “A little place nearby. A café on the corner with seats outside. It’s cute. You’ll love it. Come on.” Jacob took my hand, and once again it was too natural. It was as if this was how it had always been. How it was meant to be.

  I couldn’t hate him as I’d done after our one night all those years ago. He was the same, but there were differences. The tattoos were there, but the badass, bad-boy bullshit was gone. He was in control, and he wanted to help Charlie. That counted for a lot in my books.

  In no time we arrived at a café, a French name I couldn’t pronounce scrawled across the green overhang that sheltered the tables outside it. A collection of wicker, fabric-upholstered chairs ranged between those tables, most occupied by people sipping coffee or reading books or newspapers or having enthusiastic conversation.

  Jacob pulled out a chair for me, and I sat. He took a spot opposite.

  “Well, this is new,” I said. “For us. No yelling. And we’re out in the sunshine.”

  “A miracle,” Jacob replied, as a waiter brought us menus. “Two coffees please, straight from the pot. Are you hungry?” He directed that last question at me.

  “Uh, not really. Not after brunch. I had pancakes.”

  “That beats my omelet,” he said and tucked his hands behind his head. A picture of the relaxed man, even though neither of us should have been at this point.

  His hotel room trashed, the rings stolen, our weird-ass non-relationship. Not love-hate, but somewhere in-between.

  The waiter interrupted my thoughts by delivering us two coffees, complete with quaint cookies tucked against their sides, on saucers. I sipped and let the coffee aroma and feeling wash over me. “I needed this,” I said. “So badly.”

  “Yeah, you and me both.”

  “What a day. The rings, the panic, the police.”

  “It’s a miracle Charlie didn’t find out,” Jacob replied.

  “Yeah.” I trailed off. Cars passed by in the street, people too, and I lost myself in the ebb and flow of it. It was different here. The smells, the sounds of people talking in a language I didn’t understand but wanted to learn now. It was easy to forget that this wasn’t part of a bigger plan for me. The Paris trip was borrowed time.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend some of it with Jacob. Do you hear yourself?

  “You good?” Jacob asked, now drinking from his cup. “Lost in thought?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Listen, thanks for today.”

  “What about today?”

  “For what you’re doing for Charlie. He’s always been the most important person in my life, and it’s good to know you have his back. You’re not as much of an asshole as I thought you were.”

  He pressed one of those massive, pleasure-bringing hands to his chest. “I’m honored. The highest compliment that has ever been bestowed upon me.”

  “Fine, fine, I take it back.”

  “Nah, I’m kidding. I do appreciate the sentiment. I know how close you guys are. Shit, I always wondered why you two are as close as you are, if I’m honest.”

  I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip. I’d never discussed this stuff with anyone before, and it was strangely unthinkable to do it with Jake. The one who’d never opened up to me. “We went through a lot.”

  Jacob didn’t push. I appreciated that.

  “When we were younger, our parents fought a lot. I know you know what that’s like, but it was tough on us. They didn’t separate, they stayed together, and they, uh, well, they kind of forgot about us. That’s the best way to put it.” I rolled my eyes heavenward, even as tears pricked their corners. “Dumb right? Poor me. I had everything I needed, rich parents and a good home. Good school. Friends, if I could make ’em. But yeah, some of my earliest memories were from that time, and of them fighting. And it sucked.”

  “That’s tough.”

  I sipped my coffee then set the cup down on the white tablecloth. A gentle breeze brushed the flowers in the vase atop it, and their petal-heads bobbed at me, as if encouraging me to continue. “Yeah, I remember the one time my mom tried to force me to go shopping with her. I had to be about seven or eight, and it was after one of those huge screaming matches between my folks. I refused to go. I ran away and hid under the house.”

  “Under the house?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “Not my best decision, but hey, I was a kid. So no one could find me. The cops came, people were freaking out. They sent out search parties.” Vague memories of raised voices chased my thoughts. “He found me. Charlie. He knew where I was when he got back from school that afternoon. He climbed right on under the house and hugged me, and then we talked. We wound up playing some stupid game, can’t remember which, and eventually, I came out from under there. My mom never tried taking me shopping again.”
>
  “Sounds like your mom was a dick,” he said. “No offense.”

  “Oh, trust me, none taken. I don’t even talk to them anymore. Either of them.” I shook my head. “Anyway, my memories of childhood are pretty much that. A balance of Charlie being there for me, protecting me, giving me advice, and of my parents fighting or me being left alone at home with a nanny for company.” I laughed at myself again. “Sounds like I’m saying I had it rough. There are plenty of kids out there who had it way worse than we did. In fact, we’re lucky we were only moderately screwed up by our parents.”

  “Charlie’s normal,” Jacob replied.

  “Hmm, I would hit you, but I bet that’s frowned upon in fancy French cafés.”

  “Thank god for that.” He was so damn genuine, even when he teased me.

  No wonder I’d fallen for him as a teen. “Now that we’ve enjoyed my sob story...”

  “Well, you know my parents were pretty terrible too. At least they split up though.” Jacob shrugged, as if there wasn’t more to his history than that. No shared anecdotes forthcoming.

  That was so Jacob. Unwilling to show weakness, or unwilling to discuss reality. I struggled believing he’d truly had a crush on me, though the attraction had always been there. It was like I knew him, but I didn’t. Or rather, I’d grown to know an image of him that I’d colored in with expectations. It wasn’t fair to either of us.

  “You’re staring at me,” he said. “I would say take a picture, but I’m not photogenic.”

  “There’s a load of hot steaming crap,” I said, a little too loudly. The elderly women at the table over murmured under their breaths.

  Jacob chuckled. “I can’t take you anywhere.” He checked his watch. “Only another forty-five minutes. What do you say we order lunch, anyway? I’m sure there’s something on the menu we’ll like. We’ll steer clear of escargot.” He waved a hand in the air for the waiter.

  The guy was over at our table in a flash, smiling jovially. “How may I help?” he asked, Frenching it up with the accent once again.

  “What are your specials today?”

  “We have a delicious confit duck with plum sauce, as well as a brined pork trotter, scallops, and—”

  “I’m sorry, did you say trotter?” I asked.

  Jacob seemed about ready to bust out laughing again.

  “Oui, madame. The trotters.” And the waiter mimicked walking fingers in the air. “Would you like it?”

  “Just two duck specials,” Jacob said. “I think the madame’s gentle constitution wouldn’t handle too much trotting. Trotters might give her the trot.”

  “Comedy genius,” I hissed, as the waiter hurried off to put in our orders.

  “Careful.” Jacob lifted his coffee, devouring me with a stare. “Or I’ll call him back and change the order.”

  “You’re a devil of a man,” I whispered back.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Fourteen

  Jacob

  It was past six p.m. by the time we got back to the hotel. We were due at dinner in two hours, and I wasn’t into it. It had been a whole day with Chloe, and I was pretty fucking amped to continue with that theme.

  “Come back to my room,” I said, smiling at her. “We’re not done talking.”

  “Is that so?” Chloe asked, as we stepped into the elevator together.

  “That’s so. I won’t bite, promise. Unless you want me to.”

  The doors slid closed and provided me with a warped reflection of us, standing side-by-side. I was so much taller than her, but we matched. Her petite and curvy at my side. I’d rip that cute dress off her body, take her as mine again.

  Lose control? Forget who you are? Forget what’s at stake? How close she is to danger because of you?

  It was selfish to want her. Fact was, Pritchard had followed me to France. Everyone at this wedding was in danger. My brow creased, and I brought my phone out of my pocket. I unlocked it and checked for messages or missed calls, but there was nothing.

  Why hadn’t Smith contacted me? Why was I left in the dark here when it felt like, well, shit, like a noose was about to close around my neck.

  “Looks to me like you’ve got enough on your mind,” Chloe said.

  I shrugged and tucked the phone away. “Just business stuff.” Technically that was true. But technically, that was a lie. Fuck it, I couldn’t tell her shit without compromising what had to happen now. The plan. Fuck, the plan. “We’ll talk. We haven’t worked anything out, you know.”

  “Yeah,” she said, as the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor of the hotel. “But maybe that’s because we’re trying too hard.”

  I stepped out onto the taupe carpeting. Chandeliers cast light over the decorative wallpaper, the rich wood doors. “Then we’ll talk about something else. Fuck it, we’ll order pizza.”

  “I can’t have pizza. I think Addison will lose her shit if I miss another one of the scheduled events. I’m the maid of honor.”

  “Then coffee. We’ll order room service.”

  Chloe chewed on the corner of her lip.

  “Come on,” I said and offered her a wink. “We’ll keep a zone of space between us.”

  “At least two feet.” Chloe walked out of the elevator and the doors closed behind her with some finality.

  “Deal.”

  We walked back to my room together, and I half-expected to find the door open, the place trashed again. But it was shut up tight, and I swiped my key card to gain entry. Everything was in its place. I walked over to the safe, entered the code, then placed the engraved rings inside.

  “There,” I said. “Safe.”

  “Thank god for that.” Chloe shook her head. “I’m glad today is almost over. It was so crazy.”

  “Crazy, huh? I had fun.”

  “Me too. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

  “Ouch,” I said. “I’m hurt.”

  “No you’re not.” She cuffed me on the shoulder.

  “You know, you crossed the two-feet zone of separation. There should be a punishment for that.”

  Chloe took a few steps back and folded her arms, guarding herself from me. From my eyes. From my desire for her. Yeah, it was back. I wanted her like I’d never wanted anyone before, and I couldn’t have her.

  There was something about that. A challenge—not being able to take what I wanted, even though the person I wanted needed me as badly.

  A silence, laden with that intention, separated us.

  I broke it by walking over to the door and shutting it. It locked automatically. “There,” I said. “Now you can stop worrying that one of the others will see us.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because I’m concerned about it too. Charlie.”

  “He really doesn’t trust you.”

  “No, he does. He trusts me. He also thinks he knows me,” I said. “You heard that commitment talk this morning.” She’d heard it and flipped out over it. She didn’t know what she wanted. Do you?

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s why.” And there was more to it than that. The promise. Fuck, that damn promise that I’d broken twice now and desperately wanted to break again.

  Chloe walked through the suite, past the teal sofa, and toward the thick decorative curtains that were parted in front of a glass door to the balcony. “It’s beautiful here,” she said. “Paris. The Eiffel Tower. I thought if I ever came here it would be because I’d made it. Instead, I’m here trying to resist—” she cut off.

  “Resist me?” I walked up, once again admiring my reflection next to hers. I didn’t put my hands on her shoulders, though I wanted to.

  Chloe bowed her head and didn’t look at us, laid over the view of the city’s sparkling lights.

  “So you’re allergic to commitment,” she said. “You haven’t dated recently?”

  A leaden weight in my stomach. I was so close to telling her what was going on. I couldn’t lie, though. It was one thing to omit the truth
because it would protect her, and another entirely to lie outright. I was an asshole, but I was an honest asshole.

  “I did,” I said.

  Chloe’s head snapped up, and she stared at my reflection. “Then why…?”

  “It didn’t work out. She wasn’t right for me. I tried, Chloe. I wanted to make things work with someone, but it was another realization that relationships aren’t for me. I’m too busy.”

  She swallowed, audibly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s the same for me. I made the mistake of going through with one when I should have been focusing on my goals, and look where that landed me.”

  “In a room in Paris with me. The dickhead who took your virginity and left you in the lurch.”

  “Eloquently put.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” I said. “It was an inevitability.”

  “We both know that’s crap.”

  “I apologized. I do still hate what I did, but I recognize that it’s a part of myself I can’t overcome. I am too damn afraid of fucking up everything. I’m afraid of the fact that I might end up in a relationship, married, with a kid, and do what my parents did.”

  “You realize you’re in control of your own life, your own body and mind?” Chloe flicked her eyes upward, met my reflection again.

  I was an inch from her, screw the two-feet rule, and so tempted to rest my hands on her shoulders. That touch alone would be enough.

  “You’re not your parents, and you can’t use that as an excuse,” she continued.

  “I’m not trying to. I’m acknowledging the level to which I am fucked up.” I chuckled softly, directing my breath toward her neck. Goose bumps prickled her flesh. “Are you trying to convince me that I should be in a relationship? Is that what you want? To see me happy with someone else.”

  “No,” she said softly. “That’s not what I want.”

  “You know we could never be together. It’s impossible. Your brother, our combined past, your dreams, my business. How would that work?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t say I wanted that.”