Something Sparked-nook (3 page)

Scott’s inebriated state became even more obvious as he clumsily stumbled, unable to break free of Luc’s grip.

“
Now
,” Diego stressed.

Scott gave her a sideways glance and spat out the least sincere “sorry” in the history of the world. Then Luc dragged him to the door.

Macie followed, yelling, “Don’t even try to show your ugly face in here again!”

“Jesus, Nettie. I’m so sorry,” Jeremiah said. “Met up with Scott at the last bar. We started reminiscing about school days and he seemed okay. I never would have invited him here with us if I’d known he would—”

“It’s okay, Jeremiah. It’s not your fault. He never was a very nice guy.”

Jeremiah seemed relieved by her easy forgiveness. “Fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess. His uncle is a Grade-A son of a bitch too.”

She nodded but didn’t reply. She needed to get the hell out of here.

Diego and Luc were settling up their tab with Macie.

“Hold up, Jeannette,” Diego said, raising his hand. “We’ll walk out with you.”

She didn’t want to wait, but didn’t know how to say no thanks after they’d just defended her. She paused as Macie gave them their change, then said goodbye.

Her car was at the end of the block, so she sped up her pace. If she could just get there, they wouldn’t have time to—

“You okay?” Diego asked.

Shit. So much for that.

Jeannette nodded. “I’m fine.”

Luc reached for her hand, pulling her to a stop. She jerked when his hand touched hers, tugging it out of his clasp. Regardless, he’d managed to turn her to face him. “Are you crying?”

His question must’ve caught Diego’s attention as the other man stepped in front of her. They were huge guys, both well over six feet tall. The height difference was rarely apparent, as her usual association with them was at the restaurant and they were sitting while she stood. Now she felt like David facing two Goliaths.

It also didn’t help that their chosen career path required they be physically strong. Their workouts at the gym added width to the height. They had broad shoulders, huge pecs and firm biceps.

In the past, big guys had always scared her, gave off this air of danger. But as she’d gotten to know Luc and Diego better, it wasn’t fear that kept her eyes averted. It was the funny feeling in her stomach she got whenever she looked at them. Attraction wasn’t normal…or particularly comfortable for her.

Diego had black hair and eyes that betrayed his Latino heritage. She’d never asked about his family, never wanted to invite that sort of closeness, but she’d heard him mention that his mother was originally from Brazil, while his father was born and bred in Jersey. Luc bore a slight resemblance to his best friend, but his hair was dark brown compared to the black of Diego’s.

Luc’s hazel eyes were framed by thick lashes that accentuated his emotions, making his laugh lines more prominent, his scowls darker, and his sadness deeper. She felt as if she could read everything he felt simply by gazing into his beautiful eyes.

Beautiful? Jesus. Get a grip, Jeannette. They’re just eyes.

Then she recalled Luc’s question and realized they were still waiting for an answer. “No, I’m not crying. It’s the pollen in the air. I have allergies.” Sometimes she was amazed at her ability to spin lies so quickly. If anyone ever asked her to list her talents, lying would be second only to cooking.

Diego frowned. “I don’t think we’ve hit that season yet. It’s only early March and still pretty chilly.”

She shrugged but didn’t respond. She’d learned that silence was also an effective way of avoiding the truth.

Diego ran one finger along her cheek. It was a friendly gesture, but it sent a spark of electricity gliding along her skin. “Don’t let that guy get to you, Jeannette. He’s a drunk prick.”

“I know that.”

“And as for those other goofballs,” Luc added, “they’re harmless, if a bit stupid.”

She grinned. “I know that too.” Jeremiah had always been the class clown, but underneath it all, he was a decent person who wouldn’t hurt her feelings for anything.

“I really am fine,” she repeated, because it was the only thing she could think of to say. In polite society, most people accepted those words at face value and walked on.

Diego didn’t seem to have a working knowledge of the concept. “Are you sure? You’ve been pretty quiet lately.”

She snorted, the sound pure derision. “How the hell can you tell that? I’m always quiet.”

Both men were taken aback by her sudden burst of anger.

“Jeannette…” Diego reached for her hand but pulled up short as she visibly stiffened. Their gazes connected for a moment, his black eyes going dark with something that looked too much like recognition. She broke the link quickly, looking down at the sidewalk.

He knows.

Fear accompanied that thought before she dismissed it. She was being silly. Paranoid.

“I’m sorry,” she spat out, desperate to escape. Her bad mood certainly wasn’t their fault and she felt terrible taking it out on them. But part of her
was
angry. At them and herself. As always, she’d been the victim in her own life story, letting others defend her, save her.

She was tired of being so weak, but when faced with standing up, she’d always found it easier to retreat.

Speaking of which, she needed to get out of here. “I’m just feeling out of sorts. I’ll sleep it off and hopefully tomorrow I’ll wake up on the right side of the bed.”

“Or,” Luc said, leaning closer, “you could consider going out with us tonight. Line dancing at Cruisers? And if it goes well, you could wake up in the wrong bed instead.”

“You’re relentless.” There was no heat behind her complaint.

She’d always been annoyed by their constant flirting, but lately she was starting to like it. It made her feel good. Which was bad.

Most of the guys in town were born and bred in Maris, which meant they didn’t bother to flirt with her. They all remembered the awkward, shy girl she’d been growing up, the buckteeth it had taken four years of braces to correct and the big-framed glasses she was forever pushing up. The boys from town knew that, besides Billy Mathers, she’d never dated anyone and didn’t want to.

She’d even caught wind once that there was a small contingency in town that thought she might be a lesbian. She hadn’t bothered to correct the misconception; she’d figured it would keep would-be suitors away—if there had been any.

Luc and Diego were the exception. They didn’t have the same background information that her family and most everyone else in town did. They flirted with her, asked her out regularly and actually looked at her as if she were pretty, and not some shapeless plain Jane who wore her dirty-blonde hair in an out-of-date hairstyle and whose boring brown eyes were still hidden behind glasses.

“You realize we’re going to keep asking until you give in.” Luc was one of those dangerously handsome guys who used his looks to his advantage. It was no wonder every woman in town—including her aunts—had fallen under his spell. He’d flash those puppy-dog eyes and dimples until women were tripping over their own feet to get closer.

God. She really
was
feeling vulnerable. Because, for the first time ever, she was tempted to throw caution to the wind and say yes. Which would be utter insanity.

“What’s holding you back?” Diego asked.

It was the first time they’d ever questioned her reasons for rejecting them. “Maybe the fact that you’re just kidding?”

Luc reared back as if she’d struck him. “Kidding? This isn’t a joke, Jeannette. Our invitation is sincere.”

She wasn’t sure how to reply to that. “Really?”

Diego threw his hands up, his eyes flying heavenward in exasperation. “Yes, really. Why in the hell would you think we were kidding?”

She shrugged, uncertain how she could explain that they were breaking an unwritten Maris code. The one that stated Jeannette Sparks was shy and standoffish and not on the market. She’d had her name jotted down in the Spinster for Life column since high school. If that had actually been a Who’s Who category, she would have won it by a unanimous vote.

Finally, stupidly, she said, “Because no one ever asks me out.”

“Why not?” Diego obviously had no intention of letting this go.

Her exhaustion gave way to an annoyance that quickly sparked to anger. “Because I don’t want them to.”

Diego opened his mouth, clearly planning to repeat the same question, and she snapped. “Why can’t you guys just fall in line like everyone else around here and accept that this is who I am?”

Diego looked over his shoulder and she felt a brief moment of victory. He was looking for an escape.

Or that was what she thought—before he grabbed her hand and began tugging her away from her car.

She dug her feet in. “I’m parked right there,” she said, pointing at her VW bug.

Luc followed behind, adding his own strength to Diego’s, with his hand on her back. They propelled her across the street and into the park at the end of the block. They didn’t stop dragging her until they’d found a quiet bench.

“Sit down.”

She’d only heard Diego use that demanding tone a handful of times, most recently with Scott in the restaurant, but he’d never spoken like that to Jeannette. She should have been afraid, but that wasn’t the response her body had. Again, she felt that annoying tingle between her legs. She pressed them together as she dropped to the bench heavily. Her anger evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.

Neither man joined her. So now they were
really
looming over her.

Diego crossed his arms. “You want to explain that last comment?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

Luc took pity on her, sitting down beside her. “What is it you think we’re supposed to see?”

“Me. Nervous Nettie. The quiet Sparks girl. The awkward, shy one who doesn’t date and doesn’t have much personality. The woman most likely to grow up to be that horrible great aunt you have to invite to Christmas even though you’d rather not because she criticizes everyone and complains all the time and smells like mothballs.”

Diego scowled. “You’re joking about all of that, right?”

She shrugged. She wasn’t. Not at all.

Luc looked seriously shell-shocked by her admission. “You’re wrong, Jeannette. You’re not awkward. You’re pretty and sweet. And quiet isn’t a sin, you know. There are a lot of folks in this town who could stand to shut up a lot more.”

She laughed softly, and then she confessed something she’d never said aloud. “I don’t think it’s the town who hates me for who I am. It’s me. I
want
to be different. I’m tired of worrying about stupid stuff, pushing people away and being lonely as a result. I’m sick of letting other people fight my battles for me, like you guys just did, because I’m too weak to stand up for myself.”

Diego claimed the other side of her on the bench. “Then change.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. Because that’s so simple. I’ve lived in Maris my whole life and I can tell you right now, everyone has their own pigeonholes and no one escapes them, especially not Nervous Nettie.”

Diego twisted, resting his arm along the back on the bench. “Of course you can.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She considered Diego’s question and realized she didn’t have much of an answer. “Sometimes I can’t tell if people are reacting to my personality, or if my personality is driven by the way people treat me.”

Luc grasped her hand. Her heart and stomach fluttered in unison at the touch. Ordinarily she would have pulled away, but she forced herself to accept the friendly gesture.

“So you start small,” Luc suggested. “What’s the most out-of-character thing you could do? Something that would shock the town, but wouldn’t be impossible for you to carry out? Impromptu trip? New haircut? Wardrobe? Contacts?”

“A date with you guys.” The words fell out before she could reconsider them. She rushed to recover. “I’m kidding!”

Diego shook his head. “No, you aren’t. And you’re right. That would catch everyone’s attention. Shed a different light on you.”

“We’re doing it,” Luc said, with complete confidence.

Panic began to set in. “Wait. I don’t think—”

“Stop thinking. We’re picking you up Saturday night and we’re going dancing. Wear the tightest blue jeans you have, a silky blouse and leave your hair down.” Diego used that damn deep voice against her once more. It was distractingly hot.

Hot?
She didn’t think of guys as hot or sexy or…anything.

Her mouth had gone dry, making it difficult to respond. “Okay.”

Both men offered her breathtaking, blindingly beautiful smiles.

Luc leaned closer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Self-preservation kicked in. “Just dancing. Nothing else.”

Diego didn’t acknowledge her request. “We’re going with the flow, Jeannette. Nothing’s going to be taken off the table or planned ahead of time.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Diego said, grasping her other hand and helping her rise from the bench. “You want to change and we’re going to help. You can fight us in the attempt or you can accept that it’s going to happen.”

His comment sparked a realization. “Why do you guys call me Jeannette? No one else does.”

Diego shrugged. “Always got the impression you hate being called Nettie.”

She did, but no one had ever noticed that before. “I do.”

“So we’ll make that part of the change. The good people of Maris aren’t going to know what hit them when Jeannette Sparks comes to town.”

* * *

Diego waved as Jeannette pulled away from the curb and out into traffic. Luc watched his friend, not bothering to hide his grin.

Diego didn’t glance his way as he started walking toward the fire station. “Go ahead and say it. I can see you’re busting a gut. Get it over with.”

Luc laughed. “You’ve got it bad, brother.”

Diego stopped walking and pinned Luc with a pointed stare. “And you don’t?”

Luc lifted his shoulders casually. “I never pretended I don’t have the hots for Jeannette. And you’ve been giving me shit for it since day one. What did you call it? My little crush on the pretty cook?”