Ava

I let myself into the back of Jackson Brews and go straight to the walk-in cooler in search of Jake’s famous “goat balls.” I had no appetite at Dad’s, but now I’m hungry and stressed, and I want comfort food. I find the breaded bites of fresh goat cheese on a sheet tray at the back of the cooler, slide it out, then head to the deep fryer.

Jake pushes into the kitchen just as I’m dunking the bites in the bubbling oil. He looks at the sheet tray then at me. “Rough night?”

I wrap my arms around my middle. “Nothing a little fried cheese and honey can’t fix.”

“I’ve got barbecue bacon donut burgers on the menu tonight.” Jake leans against the counter. “Want me to put one together for you?”

I open my mouth to say no, but then shrug. “That actually sounds amazing.”

He throws a patty on the grill next to me and studies me as it fries. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About how my dad is a dick and probably an alcoholic, or about how I’m thirty years old and still can’t reconcile my desperate need for approval from a selfish prick?” I pull the basket out of the frying oil and shake it.

Jake’s expression softens. “Both? Either?”

“No thanks. Maybe another time. Tonight, I just want to eat my feelings, if that’s okay.”

He hesitates a beat then nods. “Plate of feelings, coming right up.”

Jake has many specialties, but this Saturday night menu item is a local favorite—a bacon cheeseburger with frizzled onions and barbecue sauce, served on fresh glazed donuts from Ooh La La! Tourists always say it sounds gross, but then they order it anyway, too curious to pass, and always clean their plate.

I put my goat balls in a wax-paper-lined basket and drizzle them with locally sourced honey—the closest thing this whole kitchen has to “health food.” Next to me, Jake puts together my burger, and my panic dissipates in the shadow of his calm. He grounds me. Always has. Even when he was a ten-year-old boy who made fun of my pigtails, he always knew what to say—or not say—when I was upset.

The day my Dad moved out, I held my chin high all evening. I had to put on a strong face for my mom, who was devastated. She went to bed early that night, emotionally exhausted. After she fell asleep, I snuck outside and climbed into the tree fort in Jake’s backyard. I was crying when Jake found me there, but he didn’t say anything about my tears. He sat cross-legged on the plywood floor beside me and handed me a box of those things that snap when you throw them at the ground. We didn’t say a word to each other, just sat in the fort and tossed them at the floor.

He knew exactly what I needed then, and has so many times after.

“Cindy’s got the front covered,” he says when he plates my burger. “Want to eat this in my office?”

I nod, grateful that he understands I’m not up for chatting it up with the barflies tonight. “I’m going to grab a water from the cooler. Want one?”

“Sure.”

I get the bottles, and Jake carries my burger to his office. The space is utilitarian—a couple of desks, a computer for bookkeeping, and two tall filing cabinets. Jake keeps it meticulously organized, and the surfaces are clean and clear of the miscellany that clutters my home office.

I pull a chair up to his desk, and he sits on the opposite side, propping his chin on his fists and watching me.

“Do you want to share this with me?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I already ate.”

I look down at my food, then up at him. “Why are you staring? Did you poison the food or something?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s just that you rarely eat my cooking anymore. I thought maybe you’d grown an aversion.”

I snort. “I wasn’t blessed with your wicked-fast metabolism, so I can’t eat your food very often.” I lift the donut burger to my lips and take a bite. My eyes close as I chew and swallow. It’s the perfect combination of sweet and salty. “Dear God, Ellie’s right.”

Jake frowns as he brings his water bottle to his lips. “About what?”

I grin. “She says you put the come in comfort food.”

He chokes on his water. “Really now?”

“It’s orgasmic,” I say around another bite. Because so good. Swallowing, I nod. “I think she’s right. In fact, we don’t need to be awkward about having sex together, because you’ve already cooked for me. There’s no sex act in existence that’s better than your calorie-laden pub food.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s not a challenge. It’s a fact.” I shrug. “I’m sorry if that hurts your ego, but the food is just that good.” Leaning across the desk, I hold the burger up to his mouth. “Tell me you don’t think so.”

He holds my gaze as he takes a bite, catching my fingers lightly between his teeth before he pulls back.

A flash of heat whips through my belly, and I can’t take my eyes off him as he chews—the way his jaw works and the movement in his throat as he swallows.

I’m totally lusting after my best friend.

He flipped some switch in me last night, and now I’m seeing him with different eyes. That makes me nervous as hell. I never want Jake to fully understand how bad I am at sex, but if we keep heading down this road, he’s going to. It’s not that I don’t know what to do. I have the mechanics down, thank you very much. I just struggle to stay out of my own head. I can’t give myself fully to the moment—as I demonstrated so awkwardly last night.

I’m still holding the burger between us when he dips his head again, but instead of having another bite, he takes the burger from my hand and puts it on the plate. He holds my hand in his and draws my index finger into his mouth.

I gasp as he swirls his tongue around it and sucks hard. “Jake.”

“Yeah?” He moves on to the next finger, and I hear my ragged inhale, because hell, that’s hot. My insides are melting, and all my blood is in the fast lane to a single destination between my legs. I shift in my seat and squeeze my thighs together. “You have donut glaze all over your fingers,” he says, as if this explains what he’s doing to me. As if it’s completely normal. As if he sucks sugar off my fingers all the time.

“Levi and Colton are racing in Detroit next weekend,” he says. “Do you want to go with me? Watch the race? Go to dinner? Stay in the city overnight?”

“Yeah.” I nod. But I’m not thinking about the race. I’m thinking about the scrape of his teeth on my fingertips. I’m thinking about a hotel room with Jake. I’m thinking of the words he whispered like an oath before leaving my house last night.

When I’m finally inside you, it’ll be because you want me there, because you’re begging to have me there.

I’ll never again be able to take a bite of a burger without thinking about sex. “Will we . . . share a room?” Will we have sex? Will I kill the mood by panicking again?

“Is that okay with you?” He turns my hand and nibbles on my knuckles, the scrape of teeth followed by the hot tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, sure, why not? I mean, it’s not a big deal, and it might be convenient to be in the same room when we . . . I mean, if we . . . I mean, it works, right? I just need to figure out what to pack and stuff. I never know what to wear to those things.” Dear Lord, make me stop talking.

He looks me over, a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth as he drags his gaze down the length of me, as if he has x-ray vision and can see me through the desk and my clothes. “Why don’t you wear those shorts you wear to garden?”

“My old cutoffs?”

He lifts his eyes to mine and gives a cocky nod. “Yeah. I really like those.”

My cheeks heat. Jake and I don’t say stuff like that to each other. There aren’t moments in our relationship when he flirts with me or speaks in innuendo. That’s not the kind of relationship we have. Then again, he’s never sucked on my fingers before tonight either, and I’m not complaining about that, am I? “I’m not wearing my cutoffs in public.”

Smiling, he opens my palm and presses a kiss right in the center—first lips, then the briefest touch of his tongue. My back arches. I want to catapult myself out of this seat and onto his lap. I want to claim all the dirty promises he’s making with his lips and tongue.

“So those are only for me to enjoy when we’re alone together?” he asks.

I blink at him. Straddling his lap would be heaven. I want the hard length of him pressed between my legs and his mouth . . . What has gotten into me? “What?”

“The cutoffs?” He shakes his head slowly. “You’re so fucking cute when you blush. You know that?” He puts my hand down and stands. “But Cindy’s going to kill me if I leave her out there alone much longer.” He winks at me, then turns the knob to open the office door.

Another woman might let him leave then touch herself to relieve this pulsing ache between her legs. Another woman might tell him not to go and climb him like a tree. Another woman might not instantly ruin the moment with worry.

I bolt up from my chair and chase him out of the office. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He stops and turns in the middle of the kitchen. “Do what?”

I bite my lip and look away. “I don’t know. Flirt with me, I guess. Seduce me with . . .” I swallow, a delicious chill running up my spine with the thought of his hot mouth on my skin. Are knuckles an erogenous zone? Because I’m pretty sure Jake just made them into one. “With your mouth. You don’t have to. You’re doing me a favor. It’s not like I expect you to . . .”

“Because you have lube?”

My jaw drops, and I swing my gaze back to him and glare. “Oh my God, if you say that word one more time, I’ll kill you.”

He stalks toward me, something different in his eyes. Something darker and more intent than the playful Jake who sucked my fingers, and I back up until my legs hit the cold stainless steel of the walk-in cooler. He puts a hand on either side of my head and leans in, his body close to mine. Our gazes tangle for long, silent beats before he finally speaks. “I don’t have to seduce you, or you don’t want me to?”

I lick my lips. My heart is pounding, my body asking for so much more than I should ever want from Jake. “I don’t think we need to over-complicate this.”

His gaze drops to my lips. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I’m close to you?”

I swallow. “A little.”

“Why is that, Ava?” He dips his head, and his mouth is so close to mine that speaking or moving at all feels intimate. “I know you feel this. I see it in your eyes.” He tilts his head to the side and runs the bridge of his nose along the column of my neck. “In the flush of your skin,” he whispers in my ear. “I hear it in the hitch of your breath. And before you threw the brakes on your own pleasure last night, I could feel it in the arch of your back, and the way your hips moved under me like you wanted to rub against me.”

My eyes float closed. His voice is low and husky, and I want more of his words so much right now. “We’re friends, Jake.”

“We’ve always been friends. That’s never going to change. But for the next few months, I’m going to be more than that, so it’s time for you to get used to the idea. I’m going to do things to you that are a hell of a lot more pleasurable than a fucking burger can ever be. Don’t fight it.” He nips at my neck and sucks. When I release a soft cry, he groans into my ear. “Christ. You’re going to be my undoing, Ava.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, and I’m in no position to ask. If I weren’t leaning against the cooler, I’m pretty sure I’d be in a puddle on the floor.

He backs up, and there’s so much heat in his eyes that I don’t know if I should shut this down before we do something we regret or drag him back into his office and shut the door. I’m walking on a dangerous precipice, and I’m terrified. I like the earth steady and solid beneath my feet, but Jake’s offering the wind in my hair, the thrill of the fall.

His tongue touches his bottom lip as he gives me a final once-over. Then he disappears through the swinging door. My heart is hammering, and my skin is tingling, and I’m not even sure what the hell just happened.

Jake

I push out of the kitchen and head straight to the taps. I need a drink, and water isn’t going to cut it. Jesus. I could get off on nothing more than the little sounds Ava made when I sucked on her fingers, and my dick aches from the way her eyes went dark and her lips parted. I’ve never been short on fantasies when it came to Ava, but that little interlude just added a few dozen images to the list. And then she fucking ruined it by chasing after me to tell me I didn’t need to seduce her. As if I’m just the stud who can show up a couple of times a week, get off inside her, and walk away.

Fuck that.

I pour myself a snifter of our imperial stout and drain half of it before turning back to the bar to play catch-up. My steps falter as I spot a beautiful blonde. She hops off her stool immediately when she sees me. “Jake! Oh my God! It’s so good to see you!”

“Molly.” I swallow, take a breath, and paste on a smile. Fuck, I’m rock hard in my jeans from touching Ava and then her stepsister suddenly appears, like fate is trying to remind me that I fucked up once, and that I lost the right to ever make Ava mine. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” She stops, squeezes her eyes shut, and shakes her head. “That’s bullshit. Sorry. You deserve better than that. I’m not good. My stepdad’s an ass, my mom is a doormat, and my life’s a mess.”

“Sounds like not much has changed since last time we talked.” I grimace the second the words leave my mouth. I really, really don’t want to talk about last time. In fact, I’d rather we pretended last time didn’t exist. “How long has it been?” I ask softly, but I know the answer. The last time I saw Molly McKinley was the night I found out Ava was engaged. The night I made the most epic mistake of my life.

“Almost five years.”

“That’s a while. I must have scared you off.” I try to smile, but guilt makes my expression waver.

“I’ve come home a couple of times but never stayed long.” She grabs her pint glass off the bar and hoists it in the air. “But now that I know the beer is as good as I remembered, I’ll be sure to swing by next time I’m forced to visit.” She looks me over slowly, and when she lifts her gaze back to meet mine, her pink lips are stretched into a smile. “I wonder if anything else is as good as I remember . . .”