Chapter Two
Jill may have been a little rusty when it came to girls’ night out, but last time she checked, it didn’t involve middle-aged men with comb-overs and peanut breath ranting about alien invasions. Especially not when Kate ran up to her hotel room to grab a tube of lip gloss (obviously, her best friend was shirking her duties as wing-woman) and not helping fight off Dwight Reynolds Xavier Trout the third. There was not enough alcohol in the world right now. Because she was learning the hard way that “girls’ night out” was really code for speed dating WTFery.
One more mention of colonization on the moon, and she’d jam her damn steak knife into her skull. It’d be far less painful than this conversation.
“And did you know that when we start colonization, I will be one of the first ones up there.”
Her fingers inched toward the cutlery. This was it—death by horrible small talk. And with her stint as a bartender a few years back, that was saying a lot.
“I’ve already bought a share in the company, so I’ll be an automatic contender to go on the first flight.”
Her moral compass must have taken a nose dive if this seemed like a sweet deal. Sure, Dwight, go on that scouting mission. Let’s hope it doesn’t have a return ticket. That was pretty negative, even for her cynical self. No wonder she sucked at dating.
“Will you excuse me, please?” She scooted away from the table without waiting for his reply. In fact, he hadn’t stopped talking, even when she edged around the other couples along the rows of speed daters. This was stupid. And if Kate ever mentioned a girls’ night out again, Jill would squash that suggestion like a cockroach in a millisecond.
Obviously, she hadn’t been in her right mind if she let her best friend and her deceased grandmother, of all people, rope her into this.
Instead of making her way to the bathroom, she ducked into an empty hallway at the Sea Glass Inn and pulled out her cell. She contemplated calling her mom, but really, at twenty-nine, that was beyond lame even for her. Her mom promised Emily would be fine. Jill didn’t doubt her seven-year-old daughter was in good hands, but…hell, she’d rather sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” in an empty hallway than go back in there to Dwight or the other seven men who were as interesting as reading a nutrition label.
Leaning against the wall, she texted Kate: SOS ABORT MISSION. Their other best friend, Mia, was joining them after she got off her shift at Rick’s Pancake House. In Mia’s words, “There’s not a chance in hell I’m passing up free wine and cheesy pick-up lines.” She wasn’t going to get in the way of her friends’ fun. With a hotel room all to herself, bundling up in blankets and binging on Cake Wars called to her on a visceral level.
She cursed under her breath, wondering how she let herself get roped into this in the first place. Of course, her grandmother would put her up to something like this.
C’mon, Jill. You’re only going to be young for so long. Then you’ll start to get saggy tits and no one’s going to want that.
Yeah, no one ever accused Grammy of being tactful, but she was endearing, in a Betty White kind of way. Twenty-nine didn’t constitute enough years for boob-saggage, but who knew what the thirties held for her.
Jill stared at her messaging app, willing her friend to respond. Five minutes remained of her speed-dating time with Dwight, and there was a better chance of finding prince charming in the utility closet than of her going back to that table.
Jill: Where the hell are you? Does it take twenty minutes to find lip gloss, or did you fall into someone’s mouth? Meeting men who want to take me to outer space is not my idea of a first date.
Kate: C’mon, give him a chance. Mr. Moon Man must have something going for him. You promised you’d let go tonight and have fun.
Jill: The only thing he has going for him is a first-class ticket to space. Not exactly what I need atm.
Kate: I swear I saw a bulge in those polyester pants. Seriously, girl, you’re just rusty.
Maybe he has a major hard-on for women who let him rant about the solar system.
She sighed. Yes, she was rusty, but dammit, she wasn’t desperate.
Jill: STANDARDS.
She added the middle-finger emoji.
Kate: Fine, when Mia comes, we’ll find you someone else, but you promised not to bail on this weekend until you’ve found someone to bring back to your hotel room.
Ah, yes, the other condition of this trip from hell. At this rate, she should sign up for a convent.
Truth time: she was way out of practice. She hadn’t dated a guy since her ex, Jake, left her and Emily high and dry. Bastard. She swallowed hard and crossed herself. She really shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, not when he passed in a motorcycle accident last year. Her life may have been a crumbling mess, but at least she still had her daughter and food on the table.
Someone once told her that the twenties were a learning experience, and once you hit thirty, that’s when people started getting their shit together.
“Please let that be true,” she whispered. Because her twenties were a goddamn dumpster fire that could really benefit from a fire extinguisher and trash service.
Just last month, she’d taken a second job as a receptionist at a radiology center just to make sure the electricity stayed on and organic fruit, which the school insisted on—more like guilt-tripped to the nth degree—stayed on the table. Whole Foods owned half of her paycheck and possibly her soul.
Damn. She did need a break from reality. Yes, just one night to let it all go, and then she could worry about all her responsibilities once the sun rose.
Jill: Fine. I will find a guy.
Kate: Very next guy you see.
Jill: What if he’s a biker with spider neck tats?
Kate: Even better. A pierced peen would do, as well.
Jill: Seriously, you’re sick in the head.
Kate: What is that? Oh yeah, the thing formerly known as your vag is calling. It says you need a hefty dose of vitamin D, stat.
Jill rolled her eyes. So she had severe vitamin deficiency. Since when was lack of a love life a crime?
Jill: Ignoring that. This is giving me a headache. What room are you in?
Kate: You know what gets rid of headaches…? ;-)
Jill: ROOM NUMBER
Kate: 1162. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Jill shrugged off the comment and made her way to the elevators, avoiding Dwight’s line of sight, and pushed the button for the eleventh floor.
When she came up on the room Kate had texted her, Jill paused before knocking on the door. Drilling came from the other side of the wall, and she was certain Kate didn’t even own any power tools. Either that, or her one glass of wine had gone straight to her head.
Jill gave a tentative knock, but the drilling continued, most likely blocking out the sound of her knock.
She pounded harder and yelled, “Kate, seriously, let me in before you hurt someone.”
A moment later, the door swung open, and it was definitely not Kate or Mia in the doorway.
“Jill?” The way the man said her voice, low and deep, it made every muscle in her body clench.
A man stood there, sweat beading at his forehead and slicking down the front of his gray T-shirt. She knew him, yet she couldn’t put her finger on how. Odd, since there was no way she’d forget a guy that hot.
He smiled, and something in the glint of his blue eyes flooded her brain with all her teenage memories, ones of summers by the pool and way too many embarrassing secrets that she’d die if anyone else knew. Sweet Jesus. No way her former next-door neighbor had filled out this much.
“Aaron?”
He gave one quick nod and ran a hand through his damp blond hair. Bless him, he’d grown a good foot since high school, and added on another Aaron in the shoulders department.
“Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in…”
“Eleven years?”
“Yeah.” Ever since he joined the military straight out of high school. He’d shipped off to basic training, and she never saw him again. He’d written to her occasionally at the beginning, but then letters stopped coming by the time he was sent on his first deployment.
He pulled her into a hug, and she did her best not to creepily inhale the scent of sawdust and soap.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. His eyes swept over her, keeping to polite areas.
“My friend sent me the wrong room number.”
“You mean Kate?”
“Yeah…how did you know?” Oh, this didn’t bode well. Not at all.
“I saw her twenty minutes ago.”
Wait a minute… You’ll thank me for this. Kate’s text was making a lot more sense.
“Did you give her this room number?”
“Yeah. She mentioned you’d be here with Mia, and I told her we should all meet up later.” His brows furrowed. “Why?”
That new pair of leggings Kate wanted to borrow? Yeah, so not happening now.
She cleared her throat and looked around the room, which was in serious disarray. “Nothing. So, what are you doing in here, anyway?”
“Doing some modifications to the room.”
She peered around him to the plastic-lined wood floor and dust particles floating in the air. Of all the places. She never expected to run into him again, especially not here.
“Do you…work at the hotel?”
“No, I’m back in town. Just got out of the army and I’m picking up the slack for my dad. Sea Glass Inn contracted his company.” He gave a tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
Her mama’s neighbor, Aaron’s dad, had been sick for the past few months. According to the gossip mill—aka her mother—his rheumatoid arthritis was kicking in full-force.
She pointedly kept her gaze nailed to a spot on the floor, definitely not checking out the places where his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his chest. Nope. Wasn’t checking him out whatsoever.
Lying to herself was never her strong suit—same with denying instant gratification when it came to checking out eye candy, for that matter. She took another peek and sucked a quick breath through her teeth. Wow. The army had been very good to Aaron. Very, very good. His Steve Rodgers-esque transformation deserved a standing ovation.
He caught her eye and gave her a knowing look.
Way to be subtle, Jill.
That free wine downstairs was calling her name. At least she could douse her embarrassment with a glass of merlot—right after the ass-chewing she was about to dish out to Kate.
“Well, I’m sorry about interrupting your work. I’ll just be going now. It was nice seeing you.” She turned to the hallway, feeling dumb for not having anything better to say to someone who was once her closest friend.
“Jill?”
She whirled back around. “Yeah.”
He let out a low chuckle, one that made her nipples pucker in response. She crossed her arms over her chest, cursing that her thin excuse for a bra did nothing to hide this. “I’d really like to buy you a drink when I finish up.”
She swallowed hard. The smart thing to do was to politely pass, but before she could do anything sensible, the words, “I’d like that,” came out of her mouth.
He gave her another grin. Something about his mannerisms had changed over the years. He stood taller, his shoulders squared. Confident, she realized. This man in front of her wasn’t the lanky kid who was happier sitting on the sidelines. No, a man like this demanded the attention of anyone in a two-mile radius. “Let me take care of this one thing and then I’ll clean up. I’m staying overnight and was planning on finishing up in the morning. No use heading home in this weather.” He jutted his chin toward the window.
The storm of the decade had moved south. They’d called it the Snowpocalypse in New York. It’d dropped massive amounts of snow in the New England area last week and had been working its way down to South Carolina. The most snow Jill had ever seen in her lifetime was a mere two inches, so tonight they’d probably just get crappy, rainy conditions.
“Okay, sure. Let me just text my friend.”
Jill: FYI, you’re an asshole for giving me the wrong room number.
Kate: I take it you’ve seen Aaron?
Jill: Yes.
Kate: Remember our agreement. And he doesn’t even have neck tats. ;-)
Jill: Screw you. And that’s awfully presumptuous to think he’d be interested, too.
At least she didn’t think that was the case. They’d always been friends, nothing more.
Kate: I will climb that man like a tree if you deem him not your type.
Her first thought was to text: Back off, B. I will shank you. But she refrained because, first off, she could barely stomach squashing bugs. Second, this was her best friend. She also ignored the hot slice of jealousy that zipped up her spine at the thought of Kate scaling Aaron. What a ridiculous reaction. Nobody laid claim to this man, and she’d certainly never thought about him in that way before, so why did it matter?
Jill: You do you, Kate.
Kate: I’ll do someone.
With it, she sent an obscene gif of someone dry humping a chair.
Jill rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the smile that twitched at her lips.
Kate: Also, Mia texted she’s here.
Good. Jill felt a little guilty for bailing on her friend, but the mission of the night was to find a guy for her, so this seemed like a solid start.
Jill: Later.
Kate: Get some!
Way to be delusional, Kate. There was no chance in hell she was hooking up with her old neighbor.
“Why don’t you sit down while I finish hammering this frame into the wall?” Aaron motioned to the tufted loveseat in the corner of the room.
Jill nodded, brushed off a few specks of debris, and sat.
“How long are you back in town?” she asked while crossing her legs. The fabric of her dress inched up her thighs, and Aaron quickly looked away as she pulled down the hem. But not before she noted the bob of his throat, the widening of his pupils.
Aaron pulled a nail out from where he’d been holding it between his lips and placed it in the corner of the doorframe. “I’m not sure.” The edge of his shirt lifted, exposing the band of his boxers and a small strip of skin as he hammered the nail into the wood. Jill’s mouth went dry. “Have a job lined up when I return to D.C., but they’re flexible with the start date. So I’m helping Dad for a bit.”
He moved a few inches down the frame, and the muscles in his bicep flexed as he banged the next nail into the wall. This was dirty and wrong, and she definitely should not be staring at him like he was a freaking carton of her favorite ice cream.
Of course, at that moment, Aaron turned to face Jill, whose gaze was planted firmly on his ass.
“Nail gun’s out of juice, so had to do it the old-fashioned way.” He jutted his chin to his tool, charging across the room. When Jill didn’t say anything, he cleared his throat and said, “Guess this is good for tonight. Let me just change my shirt and wash up a bit, and I’ll be good to go.”
Jill pulled out her phone because it was a heck of a lot better to pretend she was playing a game on there than to stare at someone taking off his clothes. Okay, who was she kidding, her eyes were about to pop out of her head for how hard they were straining to catch a side glance as Aaron pulled his dusty shirt over his head.
Ridges of muscles formed on his stomach, and his forearms flexed as he rooted around in a black duffel bag and grabbed a fresh black shirt from the bottom. Jill swallowed hard. Holy crap. Was it even legal to have that many defined muscles? He probably needed a concealed-carry license with all that he was packing.
Nope. Not happening. Maybe she’d lost a few brain cells from all the sawdust she’d inhaled, because she would not think about Aaron in that way. She’d been in the room exactly ten seconds and was wise enough not to get all insta-lusty. That was how her daughter Emily had come into existence. She’d seen Jake from across the bar, loved the tattoos on his biceps, ended up in bed with him, and boom, nine months later she was a single mom while he rode out of town, not even sticking around long enough for the epidural to wear off.
Her radar was totally on point when it came to picking guys. Obviously.
Aaron pulled a plaid flannel over his shoulders and made quick work of the buttons. “You haven’t changed a bit since high school.”
“You’ve been inhaling the paint fumes for too long, my friend.”
“You’re just as gorgeous as you were—even more so.” He cleared his throat and added, “And I didn’t paint today.”
Heat ran from her ears to her knees. “Well, thank you.”
“I’m ready to go if you are.”
Jill swallowed hard. Nothing more than two old friends catching up. Right?