Last First Kiss: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Page 3

  “Some best friend you are,” I hiss, slipping past her to the back of the desk. The manager does a double take when he sees me coming and furrows his thick brows. “Stavros, go tell that guy to leave.”

  “He paying customer,” he warbles in his thick Greek accent. “He come every day. Loyal.” He lifts his wrinkly finger and points it at me.

  I open my mouth to snap back about Stavros’s lack of loyalty to me, but Jesse turns on his stool and locks eyes with me from across the room. It steals the voice right from my throat and leaves me exposed.

  His lips curve in the shadow of a smile as he lifts his hand in a simple wave. I breeze past him on my way to the kitchen and slam through the double doors without another glance. Once safely inside, my heart rams against my rib cage, but I can’t hide in here forever. It’s clear he’s not giving up. He’s just going to keep coming back until he wears me down. This isn’t a game, though; this is my job, and I can’t have this constant reminder of my past—one that makes me tingle from head to toe—sitting there taunting me as I sling hash to local patrons.

  My feet propel me forward. I whirl around the kitchen, washing up and clocking out, then grab my bag before pushing through the heavy set of double doors again, this time stopping right next to his stool. “One milkshake. You’re buying,” I grumble, turning on my heel. Looking back for one brief second, I add, “And maybe a donut, too.”

  “A donut?” he exclaims, following my footsteps through the deserted diner. “Let’s not get carried away now, Bird.”

  “Just for that, I want two donuts.”

  I offer him a smug grin as he falls in step with me on our way through the vestibule and holds open the door. “Why stop at two? Make it an even dozen.”

  “You certainly drive a hard bargain, Mr. Dylan.”

  He waggles his light brows, matching my wry smirk with one of his own. “That’s what they tell me.”

  “Oh, yeah? All the babes you wish were beating down your door?”

  Just like that, we’ve fallen into our old routine of snarky comebacks and insults. We haven’t even left the parking lot, and I already feel like a teenager again.

  “I’ll have you know, many women find me rakishly handsome.”

  I follow him to a dirty, red Ford Ranger and stand aside as he unlocks the passenger door and yanks it open. “These people wouldn’t happen to be your mom and grandma, would they?”

  “They’re definitely on the list.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” I ask, leaning against the bed of the old truck as he clears away the buckets of crap on the seat and throws them in the back.

  “Some. I have chest hair now.”

  I roll my eyes, squeezing past him to pull myself into the cab. My gaze immediately gravitates to the box of orange Tic Tacs sitting in the ashtray. Saliva pools on my tongue. Memories of the tangy flavor teasing me. Same old Jess, I think to myself as he rounds the hood and jumps into the driver’s seat.

  The scents of leather and tools, paint and spice assault my senses in a dizzying array of deliciousness. I roll down the window, trying to escape it, but the warmth of Jesse’s thigh creeps across the bench seat, pulling me in.

  The Violent Femmes riot through the speakers as he turns the key, and he reaches for the knob.

  “Leave it on,” I request, touching his forearm. He stills for a moment, letting my fingertips burn into his skin before pulling away.

  We make small talk all the way to Swirls, and I’m thankful for the distraction. Not that it’s a long ride. Creek Falls is only five square miles from end to end. It’s just so much all at once. It feels as though my entire past is coming at me from every direction. Memories ping-pong around my head as one song fades to the next—thoughts of sitting on my bed watching him sketch and “Add It Up” playing on a loop as we sing along. It seems like a lifetime ago, but I remember it all as if it were yesterday. It’s strange how the smallest thing can bring it all back.

  A taste, a smell . . . a single song.

  A few moments later, milkshakes melt in our hands, and Jesse has a box of donuts tucked under his arm. I know where this is going. I hear the swings creaking in the breeze, the laughter of children echoing just behind the ice cream shop. This isn’t a coincidence. This was a plan. He’s taking me back to the scene of the crime.

  The late afternoon sun glitters on the nearly motionless blue surface at Lakeside Park. A body of water dubbed Acid Brook from years of contaminants being hidden in our tiny town. It’s all cleaned up now, but the shame remains. A beautiful lake made for summer swimming now untouched by human hands.

  I find a spot at an old, gray picnic table and let the warm surface heat my palm, now frozen from the paper cup. Jesse sits across from me, his eyes sparkling like the sheen on the lake. “You still see the old gang around town?”

  “Not much.” I shrug. “You know how it is. High school, college . . . people lose touch after a while.”

  “So you’re in school?”

  The sweet taste of cookies and vanilla leaks across my tongue as I draw a strong pull from the straw. “No. I dropped out. School wasn’t for me.”

  Jesse’s gaze searches my face. He takes a quick sip of his chocolate shake. “But you’re, like, the smartest person I know.”

  “Boy, you gotta get out more.” Hiding behind a forced smile, I inwardly cringe. While all the other kids spent their nights partying in the woods, I was home studying for a future I thought I wanted. Years of honors classes and college readiness courses did not prepare me for life outside of Creek Falls. In this Podunk, nothing town, I may be brilliant, but out in the real world, I’m as average as they come.

  “You still writing?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Jesse’s hand falls over mine as he dips his head to catch my gaze. “What happened?”

  A burning tingle shoots up my forearm and spreads through my entire body, starting in the exact spot he touches me. Whether it’s from this untamed attraction to him, or the fact that I haven’t felt his touch in over five years, I can’t say, but it’s jarring, nonetheless.

  I swallow hard. “What makes you think something happened?”

  “I know you better than you think.” The razor-sharp edge falls from his pretty eyes, softening my hardened heart as he peers into my soul.

  I tear my gaze away and latch on to a kid sitting on the merry-go-round. His chubby fingers wrap tightly around the metal poles as another kid pushes it around at full speed. “College just turned out to be harder than I thought. Then I had this professor . . . ugh . . . I don’t even wanna talk about it.”

  “Bird,” he urges. “Tell me.”

  “The guy was totally harsh. I submitted a short story, and he gave me a C. A C! And worse than that, he used it as an example in front of the whole class of what not to do. He called it trite and ill thought-out. I was humiliated. When I went to tell him that, he told me if I couldn’t take the criticism, I’d never hack it as a writer, and I should switch majors.”

  “Wow.” He threads his fingers behind his head, raising his brows in shock.

  “He was right. I was reaching for a fantasy. I would have been one of those people with a college degree I could wipe my ass with, a mountain of debt, and no discerning skills. I figured, why bother?”

  “Because you’re better than that.”

  My eyes narrow to slits. “Five years is a long time, Jesse. You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

  He slices the air with his hand. “You’ve been like this since the sixth grade, Wren. Everything comes so easy to you that the second shit gets complicated, you give up. You could have stayed there and proved him wrong, but instead, you let one guy’s opinion run you off. You let him steal your dreams away. Never give someone that much power over you. You control your own destiny.”

  “Oh, yeah? Because your dream was hanging drywall? I don’t see your work hanging in any galleries, Jess.” The righteous indignation falls off his face. “Ooh, stin
gs when I turn it around, doesn’t it?”

  “I may not be succeeding with my art, but at least I didn’t give up on it.”

  “God, I forgot how annoying you are,” I gripe, taking another long sip.

  “I think the word you meant to say was handsome.” He lifts his brows, slipping a piece of donut into his mouth with that stupid, sexy grin that sends lightning bolts shooting up my thighs.

  Argh. He’s as irritating as he is hot.

  His expression falls serious as he chews thoughtfully before speaking again. “I don’t mean to come down on you so hard. I know it’s not my place.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.”

  Sadness peeks from behind the good-humored mask he wears to hide his true feelings. “I really wanted to go to art school. It just wasn’t in the cards.” Things have never been easy for Jesse. Through all the hardship and pain he’s endured, he still shines like the sun, but even the sun gets dragged into the shadows.

  I pull out a napkin and set a chocolate-frosted donut down on top of it, but suddenly, the idea of eating it turns my stomach. Even if I didn’t have a full ride to the college of my choice, my parents would have just paid for it anyway. I’m such an entitled asshole sometimes.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, picking at the sprinkles with my fingernail before glancing up through my lashes.

  “I’ve missed this.” He stuffs his mouth and pushes the sweet confection to his cheek. “This town, this park, the people. Cooperstown never felt like home the way Creek Falls does. Leaving here sucked.”

  “Imagine how it felt watching you go.” The hollowness in my voice matches the feeling in my chest, an empty black hole where my heart used to be. He took it with him when he left, and I never got it back.

  Jesse kicks his leg over the side of the bench and rises before moving over to sit next to me. Heat waxes in all my limbs, my body acutely aware of his closeness. His masculine scent filters into my nostrils. A mix of cotton and paint blending with a delicious spicy fragrance that turns my knees to jelly.

  When he leans in closer, all the hairs on the back of my neck rise to attention. “I thought about you a lot, you know.”

  “News to me.” In my head, the response sounded angry, but it floats off my lips in a rushed whisper, more of an admission than the insult I meant it to be.

  “Did you bring other boys from the neighborhood here?”

  I peer off into the distance, but his keen stare rolls across my skin, ruining my attempt at flippancy. “I never came back here after you left.”

  A humorless laugh blows from his nostrils. “This was the first place I came when I returned.”

  My eyes widen as my gaze snaps to his. “It was?”

  “Yeah.” He rests his arm across the old wooden edge, letting his fingers brush against my arm. Goose bumps dot my skin. “It reminded me of you. Everything about this town reminds me of you. Everywhere I go, there you are, your face assaulting my memories in an attack.”

  He shifts closer, our thighs touching. The sweet-sugary smell of leftover glaze clings to his lips. I turn my face toward him like a flower greeting the dawn. It’s instinctive. Short bursts of shallow breaths seep from my lungs as he leans in closer. My lips tingle with anticipation, but my brain goes into red alert, forcing my body to stop.

  “Is that why you didn’t come to see me sooner?”

  Jesse blinks his blue eyes, falling back enough that I can no longer feel his breath on my cheek. “Your anger feels like a punishment.”

  “I don’t want to punish you, Jess.”

  His chest rises as he takes a deep breath, then blows it out, staring wistfully at the geese swimming in the lake. “Leaving here was hard. I had trouble fitting in. Got into a lot of fights. The school labeled me a problem and threw me out in the middle of my senior year. I kind of drifted after that. Took up some work here and there, met a few good guys. Like you said . . . life happened.”

  “It wasn’t a girl?”

  He cocks his head, side-eyeing me under his lashes. “No. What about you? You have someone in your life?”

  “I do, actually.”

  “That’s great,” he says, but his voice comes out raw and rough, almost wounded.

  I offer a nervous nod. It’s not like I owe him anything, yet admitting I’m with someone new elicits strange feelings of regret. Like a kid who stole cookies before dinner and got caught with dirty lips. “Yeah. We’ve been together all year.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “No.”

  A sad smile sits on his lips as he slowly inches away from me. “Are you happy?”

  “I am.” I nibble on an unwanted edge of the donut to keep my nervous hands from fidgeting. The moment of pain that streaks across his eyes fills my chest with guilt. I spent so many years angry with him for leaving, it never occurred to me how hard it was for him to go. Without a word, Jesse pushes from the bench, but I lurch forward, taking his hand. “I’m sorry about the milkshake. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “It’s okay. It was kind of funny after the fact.”

  Jesse tucks the box of remaining donuts under his arm and throws what’s left of his shake in a nearby trash can as he moves toward the truck.

  “Your chariot awaits, little Bird.” He yanks the silver handle hard, the door opening with a groan. “I’ll take you back to your car,” he announces, climbing in next to me.

  “You can just take me home. I’ll get it later.”

  “You guys still over on West End?”

  “Yeah.”

  The energy in the cab has shifted substantially from the excited reverie of the drive over. Even the upbeat music does little to relax the tension emanating off Jesse’s lifted shoulders as he grips the wheel, meandering down suburban streets.

  My childhood home comes into view as he takes a corner and rolls onto my street, the high roof standing taller than those around it, but my stomach sinks as the truck gets closer. The realization hits hard and fast, knocking the breath from my lungs as he swings into my driveway.

  I’m not ready to say goodbye again.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jesse

  “DAMN, man. Would you get a load of this pile of bricks?” Mark follows up his yearning statement with a long-drawn-out whistle. “We should buy this house!”

  I chuckle at my co-worker as I lower the hatch on my truck bed and reach for my tools. “Yeah. All we gotta do is get an advance on our next fifteen hundred paychecks for the down payment.”

  “Shiiiit!” The whites of his eyes widen around his muddy irises. “Ya think?”

  “I doubt you could even afford the pool house, dude,” I reply with a grunt as I pull the metal box from the bed and slam the hatch shut.

  A stately For Sale sign sits before the enormous brick structure standing tall against the lush green landscape. Every tree and plant were well-thought-out and meticulously placed, dotting the yard with bold splashes of color. I can’t imagine why someone would sell a house this gorgeous, but we weren’t hired to gawk at the scenery.

  With Mark at my heels, I step onto the paved stone walkway and follow the path that curves a line toward the back of the house, still grinning at the idea of him living in a million-dollar house. Mark wouldn’t even know what to do in a place like this. He’d probably have one whole room for his pornography and another for smoking meats.

  The sound of rushing water carries on the midmorning breeze. A stone Jacuzzi dumps into the kidney-shaped pool, the lights inside rotating colors from red to blue to purple, then back. Mark sucks in a sharp breath behind me, the word “dang” falling out in a hushed whisper.

  “Yo!” Our foreman, Tom, pokes his head out from the doorway of the pool house, urging us over with the wave of his burly arm. We pick up the pace. Heavy boots scrape on the stone with each labored step.

  The newly designed pool house plans boast a thousand square feet of open space with a large full bath and kitchen nicer than the one in my house, but none of that finishing
work can be done without us. Stacks of delivered sheetrock sit just outside the dwelling. I drop my tools and head back out, intent on getting the walls up before the late spring heat bears down and makes it impossible to breathe.

  The scream of power tools drills into my skull. The crew moves around, weaving through the space. We’re a well-oiled machine, feeding off each other and working quickly. This is how we win bids on jobs like this. We work fast, and we work clean. We offer no bullshit and get the job done.

  A few hours are all it takes to hang the walls in the lounge area. Mark and I wander back out to grab a few more pieces of drywall, but Mark stops short, his stubby arms wrenching my bicep.

  A woman emerges from the house wearing nothing but a short silk robe. Her hair shines in the sun and falls around her shoulders in a cascade of white-blond waves. Legs for days and tits to match, she saunters next to the pool, a salacious grin curving her candy-apple mouth.

  “Mornin’, miss!” Mark shouts as she approaches. Her lips curl in a seductive smirk, but she walks by as if we’re furniture. Another set of priceless statues littering her spectacular patio. “Shame you’re sellin’ a place this pretty,” he continues, trying to bait any conversation he can from the girl.

  “That’s Daddy’s business.” She dips her toe in the pool and kicks the water. “He’ll find me another one.” The smooth silk caresses her shoulders as she frees it from the bind cinching her narrow waist. The robe falls open and flutters to her feet like gossamer wings carried on the breeze as her naked body stands before us.

  “Dude, c’mon,” I urge, pulling Mark away. She’s as gorgeous as the house, but I guarantee she costs a lot more, and I don’t need a complaint for leering on my record. I turn away as she dives in, blinking the sight of her incredible body from my mind.

  Hey, I may be hung up on Wren, but I’m still a guy, and this chick definitely wants to be noticed.

  Mark and I lift another pile of boards and carry them past, pretending not to look as she climbs up the steps and fixes her robe before settling into a lounge chair nearby.