Last First Kiss: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Page 5

  “Does he know you want to be a writer?”

  I lift a shoulder, then let it drop back down. “I guess, yeah. We don’t talk much about the future.”

  Jesse’s jaw goes slack. He swallows a bite of food and wipes his lips before replying. “Then what do you do together?”

  A sheepish grin hits my lips. “You really want the answer to that?”

  Jesse winces and turns away. “No, probably not.”

  I down another fry as Jesse chews thoughtfully before speaking again.

  “What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve been together for almost a year, but we’ve never really had the ‘where is this relationship going’ conversation, you know?” For some reason, talking about Asher when I’m with Jesse almost feels wrong. Like I’m doing him dirty simply by being with another guy. It’s dumb, though, because Asher’s great. When I told him about Jesse, he was totally cool with it. Even asked when they could get a chance to meet. I don’t know why I’m so wracked with these left-field feelings of guilt just being here.

  I stuff another fry in my mouth, then another, and before I know it, the bowl is empty. “I ate all your fries. I’m sorry.”

  Jesse wipes his mouth and balls his napkin into his fist before throwing it on his empty plate. “It’s okay. They were your fries.”

  I side-eye him warily. “But I said I didn’t want anything.”

  He cocks his head, his face brightening with a knowing look. “Your mouth said nothing, but your eyes said french fries.”

  Another smoldering grin, another violent rap in the chest. Shit. Jesse’s the worst kind of heartbreaker. He’s adorable, and not only does he know it, but he also uses everything in his arsenal to make sure I know it, too.

  He kicks his leg over the side of the bench and rises, bringing his tray with him before dumping it into a nearby trash can. I fall in step. Together we weave through the crowd of wandering townspeople, smiling and nodding at folks we know. Just like old times.

  “Wren!” My name passing on the breeze steals my attention. I crane my neck in the direction of the sound. Candice waves manically from the florist booth.

  “Candice! I haven’t seen you in forever! You’re working at Grow-rite now?” I enthuse, leaning over the counter to embrace my old friend. Candice and I were in AP Bio together. She was blond then with cavernous dimples that sucked in her cheeks when she smiled.

  “Holy crap, Jesse Dylan!” Candice’s full, burgundy lips split in a wide grin that shows off the sizeable gap between her two front teeth. “Get in here!” She throws her arms open and pulls Jesse in for a tight hug. “Shit. Seeing you two together again is, like, so insane! What are you doing now?”

  “Livin’ the dream,” Jesse drawls.

  I reach over and touch the delicate greenery on the small tree sitting at the edge of the counter. “This is beautiful.”

  “You wanna win a bonsai tree?” Candice waves her arm over the shelf behind her. Colorful containers with tiny trees line the rows of plywood two by two, and underneath, a small pile of cans sits perfectly aligned in a triangle. “It’s five bucks for three tosses.”

  “Yeah, I’ll try.” Jesse pulls a wad of bills from his pocket and chucks a five on the counter while Candice sets three balls beside it. He lifts one and shakes it around in his hand a bit before twisting his arm back and lobbing it toward the target.

  Miss.

  He curses under his breath and tries again.

  Miss.

  “What the hell?” he breathes.

  Last ball. He plucks it between his fingers and eyes the pile of cans, his lids narrowing and lips twisting with concentration. His arm springs back, and he hurls it across the booth.

  Miss.

  Candy and I erupt in a fit of giggles. “Think you need to retire that Baseball Hall of Fame hat,” I jest between bouts of laughter.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he curses, dropping another five next to three new balls. I could go on and detail every ball he ended up throwing, but that may take a while. Suffice to say, thirty dollars later, I’m saying goodbye to Candice with a brand-new bonsai tree tucked close to my breast.

  He never got the cans down, but she eventually just took pity on him. I don’t bother to point out the price tag on the faux jade ceramic says twenty-five, though I might save that little piece of information for later.

  “Baseball’s not really your game, is it?”

  Another warm wind lifts the ends of hair that whorl out from under Jesse’s cap. They kiss the tips of his ears and furl under his lobes in golden strands.

  A shy grin tugs at his lips. He looks at me through tawny lashes, dropping his gaze to my prize before bringing it up to meet mine again. “Got ya the tree, didn’t I?”

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” I feel the heat bloom on my cheeks as I look away.

  He shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his torn-up jeans. “You liked it. I wanted you to have it.”

  The effect of his words hits me hard. I pause for a beat, my heart stalling at his sweet words. “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Jesse

  WREN TRUDGES NEXT TO ME, the low-hung sun highlighting her profile as we meander Lakeside Avenue. She looks ahead, her eyes dancing over the people we meet. A small smile clings to her lips, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She fascinates me. Pulls me into her mystic, green gaze and holds me there without even realizing it.

  We wander to the end, then turn and venture back until we’re nearing the library table again. Enid’s in her chair, fast asleep. “I had fun today,” Wren says, setting her prize down on the table.

  That damned tree. The way she looked at it took my breath away as her fingers traced the delicate leaves and twisted stem. There was no way I was leaving that stand without it. She needed to have it.

  “Me too.” I follow behind and lean against a nearby tree. “I’ll stick around and help you haul all this back in. Fair’s almost over anyway.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Enid and I can manage.”

  She gestures to the old woman next to her. White hair laced in tight braids crowns her head as she lightly snores in broad daylight. This woman can barely manage to stay awake, let alone truck a buttload of books back into the library. Wren will end up doing all the work herself. But my offer is selfishness cloaked in good deeds. I’m not really this much of a nice guy. I’m just not ready to say goodbye to her yet.

  “To make honey, young bee need young flower, not old prune,” I quip, leaning across the table to reach for a stack of books.

  My chest brushes hers. A small encounter, but her body reacts, her nipples tightening under the light fabric of her top. She crosses her arms, hiding the proof, but it doesn’t conceal the faint pink hue darkening her freckles.

  “Did you just quote Mr. Miyagi?” Her cheerful tone feels rough around the edges. I slide between her and the table, our bodies flush for a single moment. Just enough that her pulse thrums in her neck, and heat flares behind her eyes.

  Saliva pools on my tongue. The effect I have on her is startling. “Man knows what he’s talking about.”

  “You’re a dork.”

  “It’s part of my charm, though,” I jab again, pinching her hip.

  She rolls her eyes and reaches for a cardboard box under the table. Together, we make quick work of packing up while Enid sits like a corpse. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional snort, I’d think she’d died right there. The crowd thins, and slowly but surely, tables begin to empty. I grab a box and haul it into the library with Wren on my heels, then go back for another until everything is put away and the street is quiet once again.

  “What are you doing now?” I ask in my attempt at nonchalance; meanwhile, my testosterone is pumping like a tidal wave.

  “Home, I guess?” She slides her fingers through the bottom of her light red bob and pulls it off her neck, twisting it into a small ponytail. The simple act pulls m
e in. There is something about that long, perfect neck I’d love to sink my teeth into. Leave my mark and let everyone know she’s mine.

  “Oh shit, it’s Dylan!” A deep baritone echoes over the distant squawking of geese in the park. When Wren’s eyes widen, I notice they’re a perfect match to the shiny, faux jade planter sitting in the crook of her arm. I turn, following her surprised gaze to find a familiar face coming toward me.

  “Mick?” I ask in disbelief.

  An absurdly large smile eats up the bottom half of Mick’s face. The guy’s all teeth, all the time. He slaps my back with a quick one-armed hug. “When the hell did you get back?”

  “Couple of months ago. Been laying low, ya know.”

  His Coke-bottle gaze lands on Wren, his grin actually growing wider if that’s even possible. “The crew’s waiting for me over at The High Hat. You guys gotta come. Ryan’ll shit when he sees you, dude.”

  “What do you think?” I ask Wren, adjusting my cap to shield my eyes from the sun, still bright in the sky despite the evening hour.

  “C’mon, smarty-pants.” Mick hooks a lanky arm loosely around Wren’s neck and drops a fat kiss on her head. “You’re with me.”

  Wren’s laughter reverberates down the empty street The High Hat sits at the opposite end, wedged between The Grind and a tattoo shop that’s been there forever. Displaced anger churns as we pass the red painted brick. This was Dave’s old stomping ground. The only place within walking distance that willingly served him booze, no matter how hammered he got.

  The darkness inside envelops us as we saunter through the door, the smell of stale beer twisting with the nose-numbing stink of cigarette smoke. A few sporadic tables litter the shabby floors. By day, it’s set up as a bar and grill, but as soon as night falls, the place heats up with live music and dancing.

  “Hey, hey! Look who I found wandering the streets!” Mick shouts as the door closes behind us with a thud.

  “Jesse Dylan’s back from the dead!” Ryan exclaims, jumping off his barstool. “What the hell are you doing here?” He grabs me in the same awkward one-armed hug Mick did just a few minutes ago, then does the same to Wren.

  “Hey, Ryan. Been a long time.” She stands on her tiptoes to embrace him.

  A pfft sound leaves his lips. “Too long. Come and meet Leigh.” He jerks his head toward the bar and takes a small step, waiting for us to follow. “Leigh, this is Jesse and Wren. Guys, this is my fiancée.”

  The pretty brunette extends a hand as we exchange hellos. Tall and thin, she’s a better-looking version of Ryan with a brilliant smile that lights up the dim surroundings.

  “Fiancée? You crazy bastard. You’re getting married?” My eyes go wide. Ryan’s the same age as I am, and I can barely take care of myself, let alone a wife.

  Ryan comes around and pulls Leigh against his hip. “Yep. The minute I saw this one walk into independent study, I knew she was it. The woman I’d spend the rest of my life with.”

  Leigh smiles sweetly. “Don’t mind him. He’s had a few beers already.” But I can see in her eyes that she feels the same for him.

  “Better you than me. No chick’s ever gonna lock this down,” I joke, waving my hand across my torso.

  Wren rolls her eyes. “Wow. Could you be a little douchier if you tried?”

  Mick falls between us, draping his arms over my shoulders and Wren’s. “You guys . . . still bickering over nonsense all these years later. I love it!”

  “She loves to abuse me, Mick, what can I say?”

  “Someone’s gotta keep Jesse’s feet grounded, or else his big head will just blow him away,” Wren retorts with a wry grin.

  When the bartender comes down to our side, Ryan orders us a round of drinks. It’s not long before old stories are being flung like confetti. Tiny pieces of my life with these guys pirouette through the air, reminding me how much I’ve missed them. I didn’t just leave Wren; I left them all.

  “Look at us rehashing all our old crap. We’re so rude. Leigh, I’m sorry,” Wren says after a while.

  Leigh just shakes her head. “I’m used to this, believe me. I’ve heard all these stories so many times I feel like I was there.”

  “I’m going to the jukebox. You wanna come?” Leigh nods and follows Wren to the back of the bar.

  “I’m sorry I never called you guys after I left.” I drain my glass and set it down on the bar. “Hard, ya know?”

  “It’s cool,” Ryan says. “We missed you, bro, but we understood.” Ryan and Mick were around while my father was alive. Right alongside me, they lived through dealing with his death and my mother’s slow descent into a bottle. The day she told me she was marrying Dave, I ran to Mick’s to cool off. These guys are more than my friends; they’re my brothers.

  “She didn’t take it so well.” Mick tilts his chin in Wren’s direction. “She pretty much stopped hanging with all of us after you left.” He shrugs, his sober expression morphing into another Cheshire cat grin. “But you’re back now.”

  The sound of someone clearing their throat floats over my shoulder. “Gonna walk right past without saying hello, huh, Jess?”

  I swivel toward the familiar voice. “Kimmy!” The knockout blonde stands before me on skyscraper heels that give her legs for days, but my eyes go directly into the vast canyon of cleavage pushed to her throat.

  “I didn’t see you,” I say, my voice tethered in tentative awkwardness. The scent of roses saturates my nostrils as I lean in to give her a hug.

  “Well, I saw you.” Kim’s blue gaze flits down my body and back up again. Her fuck me look is on point. I could probably take her in the back room right now, but it was never like that with her and me, no matter how thick she laid it on. She shifts her stance, jutting a hip as she reaches out and touches my bicep. “You’re kinda hard not to notice.”

  “Yeah, likewise.” My gaze quickly shifts to the edge of the room and back again. Once upon a time, Wren and Kimmy were pretty good friends, then out of nowhere, the two of them were like oil and water, and I never knew quite why. In the interest of harmony, I pray Wren takes her sweet-ass time at the jukebox.

  “Ryan, Mick,” Kim says with a curt wave of her fingers.

  “Hey, Kim. Long time, no see.” Mick waggles his brows, and Ryan punches him in the shoulder.

  She picks up a bleached curl and rolls it around her sparkly fingernail. “So, what are you doing back in town?”

  “Same old. You?” I press my back against the bar, resting my elbows on the edge.

  Her kohl-rimmed gaze wicks across my chest as she stops her incessant hair twirling and shucks the tendril away.

  “Just finished up college. Going for my teaching degree in special education in the fall.”

  Jesus, if I had teachers who looked like her, I’d probably have attended class more often.

  “That’s great, Kim. Good for you.”

  “Thanks. Well, if you ever wanna break from the same old, you should gimme a call. We’ll catch up,” she purrs, gliding her fingertips down the length of my arm.

  “Definitely.”

  Cocking her head, she peers at the three of us lined up in a row. “See ya, guys.” She turns on her enormous heel and saunters away, shaking her ass to make sure we watch.

  Wren strolls back up just in time. “Was that Kim Duggar?”

  “It was,” I reply without another word.

  But Mick fills in the gaps in the sudden silence. “Man, she was all over you, Jess! Go back and hit that!”

  Daggers shoot from my eyes as I glare at Mick. The guy means well, but he never did know when to shut the fuck up. “You still have a problem with her?”

  A crease forms between Wren’s brows. She hikes her purse higher up her shoulder, then crosses her arms over her chest. “I never had a problem with her. She just wasn’t someone I chose to hang out with.”

  I laugh. “Uh-huh.”

  “Rawr! Hiss!” Mick interjects, which earns him a dirty look from Wren this time.

 
“There’s a pool table back there. You guys wanna play?” Leigh asks.

  Mick and Ryan both nod.

  “Rack ’em up. I’ll get us another round,” I offer.

  Wren slides onto a barstool and crosses her legs. “She’s so nice. I can’t believe Ry’s getting married.”

  “I know, right?”

  She finishes her drink and sets it down. “When did we become adults?”

  I try to come up with a witty retort, but I’m too busy not noticing the way her skirt rises when she sits. I’m still immature as fuck, but Wren turns me back into that sixteen-year-old boy with no control over his prepubescent urges. All I can think about are those supple legs and how glorious they would feel wrapped around my waist. “Speak for yourself. I’m not there yet.”

  She laughs. I match her wide grin with one of my own, but the shrill ring of her phone cuts through our moment of wayward bliss. She swings her purse off her shoulder and drops it on her lap as she digs the little pink phone from the pocket.

  “Hey . . . I’m with Jesse and some friends . . . It just ended . . . No . . . Oh . . . Um, yeah . . .”

  Tension seeps from her body and claws up her face as she squeezes the phone to her ear.

  “We’re at The High Hat. Okay. I’ll see you in a few.” Her lips quirk. She flips the phone closed and picks at the seam with her fingernail. “Asher’s coming by,” she mutters after a few torturous seconds.

  Those three little words are a sucker punch to the gut. I’d rather have a prostate exam by Wolverine than spend an evening with Wren and her boyfriend. My mind rotates through all the possible excuses I can make to get the hell out of this situation, but fuck that. I’m not going to let some random guy run me off. I already did that once.

  “Oh, great. Can’t wait to meet him,” I lie, sucking back a large gulp of beer to quench my dry throat as my brain and my heart declare war on one another. In my heart, Wren is mine. Even when I was too young and stupid to make it official, she was always mine. Even as I was walking away, she lingered in my chest, holding me captive with her gorgeous green gaze.