Anyone but Alex (The English Brothers Book 3) (11 page)

“Thanksgiv
ing on Thursday,” he said. “And I’m sitting next to you so I can hold your hand under the table.”

He chuckled lightly as she nodded
.

“My brothers are taking their fiancées to a Christmas Tree Farm on Saturday. They invited me
to join them, but I said no…”

“
Oh! Say yes.
Please
say yes. I’d love to go. My brothers and I cut down our own every year at a Christmas tree farm in south London, and I’d miss it if I skipped out this year.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Emily yes, as long as you
don’t
invite your brothers.”

“Deal.” She grinned over the rim of her beer glass.
“It’ll be nice to see Emily again. I remember her very well.”

“Were you two friends?”

She shrugged. “Not really. Emily went to Haverford Elementary and I went to Miss Thoroughgood’s, so I didn’t see her very much. But, you know, there was the odd Saturday afternoon when we’d ride bikes on Blueberry Lane or play Barbies under the weeping willow at Haverford Park. The Story girls were older and the Rousseau twins spent every summer in Paris, so there weren’t many other little girls to play with.”

“Sloane Ambler?” asked Alex, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Sloane.” Jessie’s nose twitched, and her eyes narrowed. “Ugh. My nemesis.”

“
I actually remember that—how much you two disliked each other. You were always bickering.”

“
We were years younger than you! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Dash Ambler was one of my best friends. I was over at Green Farms all the time, and…”

“And?”

He grimaced, then smiled sheepishly.
“God, I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I always sort of had my eye on you.”

“Are you kidding? You’re fulfilling every one of my pre-teen fantasies right now
by confessing that. I might faint.”

The waitress came back with their lunches, and Alex let go of
Jessie’s hand regretfully to dig into sausage and potatoes.

He flicked a glance at her and grinned. “Any other unfulfilled fantasies you want me to tackle?”

He’d meant the comment to come out lighter than it did, but as soon as the words left his mouth, the entire atmosphere between them changed, tightening, tensing, charging, catapulting them from memories of their shared childhood on Blueberry Lane to the present day where they’d just agreed to spend the next five weeks getting to know each other exclusively.

She raised her eyes, which were dark and deep
, and her voice was low and direct when she answered. “I can think of a few if you’re offering.”

Alex tried to ignore the downward rush of blood that made him instantly hard under the table
. Images of Jessica in his bed pervaded his brain and made it almost impossible to think of anything else. He forced his mind away from the image of her naked beneath him, and somehow managed to put together a coherent thought.

“I
shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have rules about you, Jess. I need to be a gentleman with you. For the first time I can remember, I want to be good, I want to treat you—I don’t know—differently, I guess. But I’m a
little
out of my comfort zone, and I’m a
lot
weak for you.”

Could she possibly understand? Could she understand how desperately he didn’t want to ruin whatever was growing between them? How important it was to set her apart from the other women he’d been with by treating her with care and respect? Did she have any idea how long it had been since he felt this way? He couldn’t bear to jeopardize it by thinking with his body instead of his head, even though it was new for him.

“You
are
good,” she finally murmured in defiance.

“No, I’m not. I’m
—”

“You
are
,” she repeated, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her lips for a gentle kiss. “You’ll see.”

“Jess, please
—”

“
But I understand. I’ll… I’ll behave myself.”

With an uncertain, lackluster smile, she
released his hand and turned her attention to her lunch. Alex watched her, wishing he knew how to do this better, wishing that he had more time than a miserly five weeks to get it right.

The rest of their lunch had included small
talk about their families and careers, how Jessie had turned out to be the least athletic of the “Wild Winslow’s” and how Alex had a real and true passion for the financial work at English & Sons, not just a familial obligation to the firm. When it was time to say goodbye, he pulled her into a cloak room behind a curtain, just inside the entrance of the pub and put his arms around her.

Jessie sighed, leaning against his chest and letting her eyes close slowly as she sensed his warring feelings—wanting to touch her, yet
desperate to shield her from any gossip that might materialize as a result of their agreement to spend time together.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him as he leaned his forehead down in
to the curve of her neck, as if resting there for a moment, gathering the courage to walk away from her. His hair tickled her skin, and he breathed deeply, his chest pushing into the place where her heart throbbed, strong and insistent, for
him
. She shushed her longings, amazed by how far they’d already come and determined to let Alex move at his own speed.

She was very touched by what he’d said about wanting to treat her differently;
but Jessie’s acquiescence to moving slowly had far more to do with her wanting to support him than actually believing that he’d ever hurt her.

Jessie was young, but in addition to her natural intuitiveness, living abroad had helped her refine her skills of reading people, understanding them; the psychology of the people around her wasn’t the challenge to Jessie that it was to most other people. She understood Alex—that he saw her differently than the other wo
men he’d enjoyed in his life. She understood she was somehow precious to him. But at the same time, she didn’t want for Alex to idealize her, which is why she’d shared that she wasn’t some lily white virgin to be placed on a pedestal. She was a woman fully-grown, and she knew what she wanted.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he muttered.

“Fine with me. We can set up house in this closet. You, me, lots of coats…”

He leaned back and opened his eyes. “What time are you coming over on Thursday?”

“Four o’clock, I think.”

He nodded. “Bump into me at the bagel shop in Haverford on Thursday morning. I’ll be there at eight.”

“A secret assignation.” She grinned. “Okay. But I can’t promise I’ll be alone.”

“I don’t care.
We can act like strangers if you want. I just want to see you. I’ll be dying by Thursday morning.”

The words slid off his tongue, warm as honey, and Jess
gasped lightly, flicking her glance to his lips and licking her own, wishing she could taste him.

“Stop,” he said in a low, breathless voice, dropping his forehead to her shoulder again.

“Then don’t say things like that.”

He released her suddenly, taking a step away
. She saw the frustration on his face, the internal battle. “Thursday.”

Jessie nodded
, and he turned on his heel. From behind the curtain, she heard the door of the pub slam in his wake and her whole body relaxed, slumping against the wall behind her. In the quiet of the little room, her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her purse, swiping at the screen to read the new message.

I miss you already. –A

___

You could have kissed me good-bye. –J

___

No, I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have been able to stop.

___

Maybe I don’t want you to stop.

___

You’re killing me, Jess.

___

Hurting you isn’t what I have in mind
, Alex.

___

Jessie slipped out of the pub, and the car that Alex had arranged was waiting at the curb. The driver rushed around to get the door for Jessie, and she stepped inside, ducking to  avoid the light rain.

As soon as she was settled
with her seatbelt buckled, she eagerly looked at her phone.

But I am terrified I will hurt you.

Her heart dropped, and she took a shaky breath as she read the words over and over. Did he mean that he cared for her but feared his reputation would tarnish hers? Or did he mean that the idea of spending time with her frightened him because he was afraid she’d get attached and he’d end up letting her down?

She started typing
a response, but she couldn’t seem to get the words right—to reassure him, to comfort him, to let him know that she wasn’t afraid. In the end, she didn’t write back at all, returning her phone to her bag, and watching Philadelphia whiz by as they headed for the Main Line.

***

“I’ll take two poppy seed, two cinnamon, two sesame seed and—What kind does Dad like?” Alex asked Weston.

“The smelly kind,” said Wes, without looking up from his phone.

“Oh, yeah. And an anything bagel, please.” He turned to Wes again. “What do you think the Edwards like?”

“Are they coming for breakfast?” asked Wes.

“No. I thought I’d drop off a bag at the gatehouse.”

“Hold on,” said Wes. “I’m searching ‘pregnant person bagel.’ Maybe they crave a certain kind.”

Good idea
, though Alex, rubbing his chest as it tightened uncomfortably.

Every year, on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving,
Eleanora English ordered pizza for dinner. She said it was something her mother had done every year of her childhood and though it felt strange to see the pizza delivery man approach their mansion every year, every English brother loved the tradition as much as their mother.

Last night, as they
washed down pepperoni and sausage pizza with cold Sam Adams, Daisy and Fitz had made their announcement. Daisy was seven weeks pregnant, and Fitz beamed at his family as he shared that they’d just heard their baby’s heartbeat on Tuesday. A brand new Edwards-English baby was on the way, arriving sometime in early-Summer.

As the conversation dissolved into tears and laughter and congratulations, Alex had swallowed uncomfortably, the ache that had been absent since his lunch with Jessie reasserting itself. Fitz was going to be a father
. It was almost unbelievable.

“Okay. Don’t get Daisy poppy
seeds. They’ll show up like drugs when she pees in a cup.”

“Way more info than I needed,
Wes.”

Alex turned back to the young woman behind the counter who look
ed like she was about to faint as she looked back and forth between two of the handsome, legendary English brothers. Alex winked at her and grinned when she gasped softly.

“And another dozen
mixed, please, but no poppy seeds.”

“O-Okay,”
murmured the teenager, staring at him, unmoving.

“Whenever you have a sec.”

“Oh, right!” she turned her back to him and started counting out the bagels as Alex flicked his eyes to the door. Still no Jess. He sighed loudly.

“What?” asked Weston.

“Nothing.”

“Surprised you came home last night. Was sure you’d have a
hot date.”

“I like pizza before Thanksgiving.”

Weston shrugged. “Can you believe Fitz and Daisy? Are
you
ready to be an uncle? I’m not.”

Alex clenched his jaw. He was happy for Fitz and Daisy, really he was. It just felt like everything was changing too quickly.

“I don’t know,” said Alex honestly, paying the bagel clerk and waiting for his change.

“You
want kids, Al? Someday?”

Alex’s chest throbbed as he
took his change and thanked the clerk, but as he turned to leave he was distracted by the little bell over the front door of the bakery. His eyes cut to the entrance, and his whole body felt the sudden impact of sharing the small shop with Jessica.

His chest relaxed, as though on her command.
He felt the smile on his lips as he watched it echo across hers, tilting her beautiful red lips up in a sweet hello. He knew how those lips felt between his, and his body suddenly hardened in remembrance, his heart beating faster as her grin swelled, reading his mind.

“Hey,
Jessie. Preston,” said Weston, taking a step toward their neighbors. “Brooks, it’s been a long time. It’s good to see you.”

Alex’s eyes left Jessie’s face in a rush,
suddenly noticing Brooks and Preston Winslow standing behind their little sister, their expressions grim and focused solely on Alex. It seemed that Cameron had given his older brothers a warning about Alex’s interest in Jessie.