How Forever Feels (10 page)

“There she is.” Standing next to Jack, who apparently hadn't run screaming down the road after all, Nick waved her over, a small smile on his face. “Truth: How's this guy with a hammer?”

“Jack? I, uh, well…” Oh, stop it. Just act like nothing happened and you'll both be fine. And for God's sake, stop fidgeting; it's just Jack.

“I don't know,” she said. “I've only ever seen him hang a couple pictures.”

“Did he leave any gouges in the wall?” Nick was busy filling his plate, so he didn't see the flash of panic that blew across Jack's face.

“Not a one.” Shaking her head slowly, she turned her face to Jack. “But truthfully…”

She trailed off just as Jack started to groan. So he did remember.

“Come on, Snip, be nice.”

Maya lifted her hands palms up, in a “what can you do” kind of gesture. “It might have been because his thumb kept getting in the way of the wall.”

Jack's eyes warmed in a silent laugh. “I only hit it a couple times.”

“A
couple
?” she repeated. “I stopped counting at four.”

“Four?” Nick choked. “How many pictures was he hanging?”

“Two.” Her earlier embarrassment waning, thanks in large part to Jack himself, Maya forced herself to keep looking at him as she tipped her head toward Nick and added, “And honestly, he only ever got one hung; I had to take over the second picture before he did any real damage.”

Jack winced behind a laugh. “Hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“What?” Nick asked as he lifted a napkin and turned back toward them. “Hitting your thumb that many times or having to let Maya finish the job for you?”

“Both.”

Nick's laugh boomed through the room. “I bet. Well, what if I told you I have a nail gun you can use instead?”

“Nail gun?” Maya asked, handing Jack a plate. “What's going on?”

“Brett starts his four-on tomorrow,” Nick said. “So he'll be out until at least Friday, but Jack says he's looking to get away from his desk for a while, so I thought I'd recruit him.”

“That's a great idea,” she said, nodding even when Jack just shrugged.

“We'll see,” he mumbled. “It's possible the only thing I'm going to do is put them behind.”

“Nah, you'll be fine. It's not like I'm going to give you anything big to do.” Grinning, Nick tipped his chin toward Brett. “And if that guy can figure it out, anyone can.”

“He better not be talking about me,” Brett said, never looking up as he dropped a handful of chips onto his plate. “The only thing I had trouble figuring out is how to cut that frickin' molding.”

When Jack's eyes widened, Nick just shook his head. “We've got a ways to go before we get to the molding; mostly I'm looking for someone to do grunt work. Get your dinner and we'll talk.”

By that time everyone else had taken their plates outside, leaving Jack and Maya alone in the kitchen, and he was almost done loading up before she managed to stop chewing her lip long enough to say another word.

“Listen, Jack, um, what Jayne and I were talking about earlier…” She hesitated a second—not even a second, really—but it was long enough for her to realize this wasn't going to end well, not when it took him such an excruciatingly long time to blink.

“Yeah, um…” His voice low, his eyes trained on the pickle slice on his plate, he licked his bottom lip slowly, then sighed. “Can we just leave it? I don't really want…what I mean is, something like that's…”

Oh God.

“Yeah. No. Sure.”
What the hell was she trying to say?
“No problem.”

Except that now, of course, it was a huge problem, and the fact that he wouldn't look at her only proved that. Even when he turned his head her way, he kept his eyes averted.

“I'm going to go talk to Nick. See you out there?”

“Yeah, sure.” If she nodded any faster, she'd no doubt give herself a concussion. “I'll be out in a sec.”

It wasn't a sec. It wasn't a minute either, and every time Jayne came inside to see what she was doing, she made damn good and sure it was something of utmost importance.

Like refilling the chip bowl or making sure Pete didn't nip anything off the table. Or making sure the fridge had been restocked from the cases Brett and Carter brought with them. Or refilling her wine glass. Frickin' hell, if she didn't need to drive home, she'd pop the cork on that new bottle over there and just start chugging.

She should be happy Jack had stopped her when he did; otherwise, she no doubt would have made the whole thing exponentially more awkward. But he was obviously employing the same plan she'd tried to earlier: act like nothing happened and they'd both be fine.

“You staying in here all night?”

Luckily, she'd just reached for the roll of foil when Jack stepped back inside so she had an excuse at the ready.

“I'll be right out; I'm just going to wrap the platter to keep the rest of the burgers warm and to keep Pete's nose out of them.” Her beaming smile was wasted on him, because he'd already turned a warning look on his dog, who was sitting so obediently by the corner of the table, his tail swishing back and forth across the floor.

“Out.”

With a mournful look even Duke couldn't match, Pete headed outside, followed slowly by Duke himself. Maya hoped Jack would follow both of them, but he didn't. Instead, he tugged the long piece of foil out of her hands, wrapped it around the platter, and half-pushed, half-nudged her out the door.

Boy, he was much better at this “act like nothing happened” thing than she was, but that had to be because he wasn't the one who'd just humiliated himself, and if she thought about it—which she didn't want to, but did anyway—it was highly unlikely it had been over two years since Jack had been naked with someone.

Jack naked. Oh sweet Jesus.

In her fog, she caught the toe of her shoe on the edge of the doorframe, causing her to pitch forward as she stepped outside. It wasn't like she was going to fall on her face or anything, and in fact she'd almost righted herself when Jack's hands wrapped around her waist.

“You okay?” Regan was out of her chair in a flash, pushing Maya down in her place. “Carter.”

“I'm fine.”

Carter set his plate aside, squatted down beside her chair, and pressed his fingers against her wrist.

“Wh-what are you doing? Stop it.” Maya tried to shake him off, but he held on tighter.

“Your pulse is racing, and you're looking a little pale. What's up?”

“Nothing, I'm fine.” And aside from the fact that everyone was staring at her, she really was fine. “I tripped, that's it, and not even the great Dr. Carter Scott can prescribe anything for clumsiness.”

“Oooh, I like that.” He grinned. “The Great Dr. Carter Scott. I wonder what Jules and Rossick would think if I had that added to the sign down at the clinic.”

“I know exactly what Jules'll think,” Regan snorted. “And I can guarantee the word ‘great' won't be one that comes out of her mouth.”

Still squatting, Carter slowly released Maya's arm and looked at her with his doctor eyes, the ones that looked for symptoms his patients neglected to mention. “You sure you're okay? You're really pale.”

“I'm sure, thank you.”

It didn't matter how many times she said it, though, the whole lot of them kept an eye on her the rest of the evening, not letting her back into the kitchen to tidy up or anything.

“Jeez,” she muttered. “If I knew it was this easy to get out of work, I would've started tripping a long time ago.”

Afterward, with everyone lounging in their chairs, hands folded over their stomachs, Brett turned to Ellie.

“What d'you say? Can we put off the rest of the game until next time?”

“Yeah.” Ellie might have answered first, but Jack and Carter echoed her response.

“Come on then, Ponch,” she said. “Take me home so we can get down to it.”

A quick glance at Jack and it was clear he was thinking that all they ever talked about around here was sex.

“Hey, Ellie.” Maya laughed. “For Jack's sake, would you mind clarifying what ‘getting down to it' means to you?”

“Oh no,” Jack choked, hands raised. “That's okay, I—”

“It means we're going to go work out plays for the next game so we can kick your ass, new guy. Why, what did you think it meant?”

“I…hey…” Jack sputtered over a laugh. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” With her fingers twined through Brett's, Ellie pulled him to his feet and laughed. “I'm pretty sure there'll be some whatever-ing, too.”

And just like that, Brett's mouth curved up into the slow easy grin he saved just for her.

Carter and Regan headed out, too, and had already climbed on Carter's bike by the time Maya and Jack stepped outside. With a wave, she headed for her car, but Jack hung back a bit, admiring the bike and discussing whatever it was guys discussed about motorcycles.

It was big, black, and loud, and for some reason Regan loved riding on the back of it, that's all Maya knew about it, and that's all she needed to know, but Jack stood on the driveway watching and grinning until they'd roared off down the road.

Guys were weird.

By the time he folded himself into her car, she'd already loaded Pete and had the engine running.

“Got a bit of a crush, do ya?”

“What? Oh, the bike. Yeah.” His crooked smile widened a little. “She's a beauty.”

“If you say so. Did you get things sorted out with Nick for tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

It didn't take long to tell her what the plan was, and by that time she'd already pulled up at the front of his hotel.

“Thanks, Snip.” He pushed his door open, then twisted to his left to give her cheek a kiss.

God help her, she didn't mean to do it, but as his lips pressed against her cheek, her fingers reached up and whispered along his jaw line. A breath of a touch that couldn't have lasted more than a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to realize he'd gone almost rigid.

Panic flooded her senses until her brain finally kicked back into gear.
Don't just sit there; do something.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she said brightly, forcing her hand back to the steering wheel, where it belonged. “Remember to keep your thumbs out of the way.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.”

She couldn't see his face, because he'd turned away and was busy trying to untwist himself from the car. He let Pete out then leaned over so he had one hand on the open door, one on the roof, his face looking straight down at the ground.

“I'll, uh, see you…later.”

“Okay.” Ohmygod, she sounded like Mickey Mouse. “See ya.”

The second he closed the car door, she floored it out of the parking lot and didn't stop until she pulled into her spot behind the bookstore. Even then, she didn't get out right away; instead she dropped her forehead against the steering wheel and groaned.

“Might as well remove him from your contact list now, girl, 'cause he's never going to call you again.”

“Do the words ‘Billy Don't Be a Hero' mean anything to you?”

Ross Geller,
Friends,
“The One Where Monica Gets a Roommate”

“Fuck.”

How many times had he said that since Maya squealed out of the parking lot? And how many more times was it going to take before he managed to get a few things through his goddamn head?

Like she was Will's ex-wife.

And like how a couple hours ago he'd walked in on Snip telling Jayne how much Griffin Carr got her
girlie
parts
all worked up—he still couldn't believe she'd used those words. That was probably why things were so complicated between them; she hadn't seen him in a while and was starting to get a little needy.

Fuck
.

As much as Jack would like to believe otherwise, he knew Maya wouldn't stay celibate the rest of her life, and maybe movie-boy Griffin Carr would make her happy, but…
fuck
!

There was no way in hell he wanted to hear about how movie-boy was neglecting her girlie parts, because if Jack was in his position, there wouldn't be a single inch of her that would be neglected.

Maybe he shouldn't have shut Maya down when they were alone in the kitchen; maybe she just wanted a guy's opinion, but if that was the case, she needed to find a different guy, because he just couldn't do it.

With his clothes tossed on the chair, Jack flopped down on the bed in nothing but his boxer briefs, his hands folded behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling.

Short of an anvil careening out of the sky and crashing onto his head, what was it going to take to knock himself free of this? Of
her
? She was his best friend's ex-wife and she had a thing for another guy. Was he really going to push for a strike three before he accepted what he'd always known?

After Maya and Will hooked up, Jack had seen her all the time, and he'd managed to contain his feelings without too much trouble. Then they'd gone two years without any contact other than those emails she'd sent him. Avoiding her hadn't lessened what he felt for her, not even a little bit, but again, he'd contained it, managed it, because that's what he did.

It had been second nature to him for the last four years, so why the hell was it so hard now?

Sure, she'd pressed her hand against his face out there in her car, and sure, she'd never done that before, but did it mean anything? No. She'd done it because he'd been twisted awkwardly in the seat and she was just trying to…to what?

“Nothing,” he grunted, jerking the pillow out from under his hands and punching it up a little. She wasn't trying to do anything, and it didn't matter how hard he tried to come up with something, he always ended up at the same conclusion.

She was Will's ex-wife and family didn't mess with shit like that.

“Six weeks,” he muttered. “Make it work for asix weeks, then you can get the hell out of here and go back to Seattle, where you belong.”

Even Pete sighed at that.

The poor dog actually looked relieved the next morning when Jack finally rolled out of bed instead of flip-flopping another hundred times. When Jack didn't sleep well, Pete didn't sleep well, and as much as Jack wanted to blame it on the uncomfortable bed, the truth was, the hotel bed was better than the one he had at home.

So with Pete in tow, he pulled up to the Luna Building a good forty-five minutes early, not overly surprised to see Nick's black truck already there. Thick gray clouds crept low over the water, bringing sheets of rain with them, but not even rain like that could diminish the view from the huge window upstairs.

Nick didn't waste any time. “You sure you don't mind doing grunt work?”

“Nope. You need stuff toted, packed, cleaned up, shoveled, scrubbed…whatever…just give me a list.”

“Good 'cause we've got a big load of drywall coming in—should be here any time now—and we need to get it inside before it gets soaked. If we'd been able to start work in here a couple months back, we could have had it lifted in, but…” He thumbed over his shoulder to the giant window. “They don't open, the lumberyard only brings it as far as the door and the sheets are too long for the elevator.”

“No problem,” Jack said, hoping the manual labor would help him sweat Maya out of his system. “Where do you want it stacked? Over there?”

He was halfway out the door when Nick called after him.

“There's a couple tarps in the back of my truck.”

With tarps at the ready, Jack stood aside as the flatbed delivery truck backed up toward the building. Delmar and Kyle pulled in after it and hustled upstairs, only too happy to let Jack wrangle the boards alone in the rain. And he was just as happy to do it alone, too.

With the stack secured under one of the massive tented tarps from Nick's truck, Jack slid a couple boards off the top and packed them inside the door, where he stood them on end before returning to get a couple more.

Up and down the stairs he went not caring one little bit that it was repetitive or exhausting. Hell, he didn't even care when the truck showed up a second time. The only thing he cared about was that the monotony hadn't even taken a chip out of whatever was blocking him, and it hadn't done a damn thing to clear away the constant thoughts of Maya.

It didn't help that everything he looked at somehow reminded him of her, whether it was Nick who was married to her best friend, or Pete who'd stayed curled up beside her in the hotel room the other night when Will barged in. The worst, though, was the drywall itself.

He grinned every time he rounded the corner of the stairwell with more sheets, because all he could hear was Snip snort-laughing as they'd fought to get that stupid wardrobe up the stairs in the house.

By the time he got all the sheets stacked upstairs, it felt like he'd walked a hundred miles and his arms were screaming, but at least his mood had improved a little. And by the end of the day, he still hadn't come up with a single decent idea for the game, but he knew exactly what he needed to do to get a handle on the whole Maya thing again.

He needed to spend more time with Will and less time with her—simple as pie.

Except it wasn't simple, because Will was busy. After school he helped coach both of the senior volleyball teams, he volunteered at the youth center, played on a men's hockey team, and went to dance lessons with Stella on Tuesday nights. Will was only too happy to have Jack help with the coaching and at the youth center, but before Jack could set foot in either, he had to wait for his criminal record check to clear with the RCMP.

When all was said and done, Jack spent most of that week either in the hotel or running Pete along one of the trails this town seemed to have an abundance of. Between the grunt work he was doing for Nick and the runs with Pete, he got more exercise that week than he normally did going to the gym back home every day.

Maya texted him a couple times, but he made sure he always had an excuse for not getting together—at one point he'd been so desperate for an excuse he lied and told her he'd finally come up with an idea and he was busy working on that.

The mere fact he'd made it up to World Four on
Candy Crush
pretty much revealed where his time was actually being spent, and by Thursday night, he finally broke down and, having left his at home, bought himself another gaming console and a couple games, including
Apollo2
in the hopes that playing it again would twig something in his brain and get him moving on the next one.

When Jack set it all down at the counter, the kid running the cash register gave him a running commentary on everything that was wrong with the first two Apollo games, starting with the lame story lines, and how TMJ had better hope the release of the third one next month showed improvement or they'd be in big trouble.

“Good to know,” Jack said as he handed over his company credit card. “Thanks.”

The kid started to say something else, then stopped when he saw the name on the card.

“Dude, you're—”

“Yup.” He almost left it there. In fact, with his bag and credit card back in hand, he'd started to walk away, then he turned back and slipped the kid one of his business cards. “No one likes to be told they suck, but I'm open to constructive criticism if it helps make the games better, so if you have any of that, send it to me.”

“Dude.”

Jack didn't hang around to hear what, if anything, came after the last “dude.” Instead he drove straight to the hotel, set up the console, and spent the rest of the night looking at it through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old kid.

By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, he couldn't put it off anymore; he had to man up and go see Maya. Not just because it was the right thing to do, but because he missed her.

A lot
.

If he could just look at her, maybe have her smile at him…that's all he'd need.

The rain that had finally let up the day before had started again, light and misty, but at any given moment, those dark clouds over the sound were going to open up, and as thick as they were, it'd be a while before they moved on.

Jack didn't give himself time to overthink what he might say to her; he just pushed open the door to her shop, walked in, and then exhaled his relief when he saw she wasn't alone.

“Jack!” Her blue eyes rounded as she pressed one hand flat against her stomach and reached up to tuck her hair back behind her ear with the other. “Hi.”

Having grown up on the West Coast, he'd seen plenty of people in plaid flannel shirts before; hell, he owned three or four of them himself, but he'd never seen anyone look as good as she did standing there in that pink one, especially with it open like that over a black tank top. Okay, he couldn't be sure it was a tank top, but in his mind, that's what it was. That's what he hoped it was.

Clearing his throat past the sudden tightness, he made a point of giving the ceramic mushroom table a good wide berth.

“Hey Snip. Regan.”

“Hiya, Jack.” Regan didn't move from her stool at the end of Maya's work table, just flicked her gaze back and forth between Snip and him. “What's up?”

“Nothing.” Jack shook his head and tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Just thought I'd stop in and say hi.”

“I hear you've been busy this week.”

Did he imagine it or did Snip just flinch?

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Doing some stuff with Nick, getting down to work on the game…you know.”

Regan nodded, but it was one of those nods where she wasn't really paying attention to what he said; she was just trying to hurry along his answer so she could say something else.

“We were just talking about Thanksgiving. Do you still celebrate the Canadian one or are you all Americanized now and only do it in November?”

“Are you kidding? I do both.”

That made Maya smile. Finally.

“Jack'll celebrate anything if it means a big turkey dinner.”

“That's a true story,” he said, forcing his grin away from Maya and over to Regan. “I've even been known to baste a bird myself on occasion.”

“So do you have plans?” Regan asked. “It's next weekend.”

“Oh, I…I usually overnight at Genie's from Saturday to Sunday. She puts out a great big spread on Saturday night with all the trimmings and everyone…”

He trailed off with a short shrug at Maya; he didn't need to explain it to her.

“No lie, Regan.” Snip's smile faded a little. “When it comes to Thanksgiving and Christmas, that woman makes Martha Stewart look like an amateur. She makes this bean casserole…”

Jack could already taste it. “The one with the fried onions.”

They both smiled.

“Swell,” Regan said, her voice flat. “Well, here's the deal, Jack. Thanksgiving dinner's at our place on Sunday night and you're welcome to join us. Carter invited Jules and Rossick from the clinic, Nick'll probably invite Delmar and Sharice, and there's usually one or two cops kicking around with nowhere to go, so it'll be a full house. And before you ask, yes, there'll be football, both on the TV and out in the yard—weather permitting of course.”

No mention of Griffin Carr.
No, idiot, because it was a hell of a long way to come for turkey dinner.

He shot a quick look at Maya for any hint of what she might want him to say but her expression was unreadable.

“Sure,” Jack said. “Sounds great, thanks.”

He could always cancel, right? Wasn't like they'd miss him with the number of people they were expecting.

“Good, Ellie's chomping at the bit for another chance to beat you.” Regan cast a quick glance at the clock on the wall and squeaked. “Ooh, gotta run. I've got a cut and color in fifteen.”

“But—” Maya took a step toward her, but Regan was already around the counter and heading for the door.

“See you later.”

Silence blew in as she blew out, making Jack wish he was back in his hotel room staring at his ink blotch.

Don't be such a dipshit. It's Snip—just talk to her.

“Sorry I wasn't around this week much.”

“Don't worry about it.” With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed it and went back to work on a tiny bouquet she had on her table. “How's the writing going?”

“Honestly?” He took a couple steps toward her and shrugged. “Shitty.”

“But you said—”

“Yeah, that didn't work.” Guilt streaked through him like a meteor hell-bent across the sky. “Back to the drawing board.”

“That's sucky.” Maya stepped back a bit, eyeballed a hollowed-out pumpkin on the table next to her, then took a utility knife to a piece of thick green foam. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know yet.” Focused more on the pumpkin than the conversation, he watched as her slim fingers worked smaller pieces of foam around the first and then gently pushed the small bouquet in, one piece at a time. “That's…”