Who You Least Expect (3 page)

“If I were a weaker man, you’d hurt my feelings,” he said.

“Well, lucky for you, you aren’t a weaker man.”

He laughed and out of the corner of his eye noticed that one of the pool tables had emptied, so he stood and headed toward it.

“I told you I don’t play games,” she said, though she’d followed him.

“Humor me,” he responded.

“I’ll do my best,” she said as she reached for a stick. “Ladies first?”

“Always,” he said suggestively.

She let out a scoff that was more of a chuckle and then polished her stick as he set the balls.

“Why is it you don’t play games?” he asked.

She stalked around the table, face rigid with her intense expression, and examined the balls from every angle.

“Well,” she said after she’d taken her first shot, one that had landed five balls. “I’m a sore loser.”

As she spoke, she again moved around the table and then quickly made three more shots, sinking multiple balls with each, which only left the eight ball.

“And when I win,” she said as she leaned forward to line up her final shot, one that she sank with the same ease as she had the others, “I gloat.”

One eyebrow quirked, she handed him the pool stick, a victorious little smile playing on her face. He strode toward her, lifting a corner of his mouth when she didn’t even flinch.

“Trust me. There are some games that everyone can win,” he whispered huskily.

“You’ll have to try and convince me,” she replied, eyes alight.

••••

Blakely stood at her front door facing Cody. They’d played three more games of pool, two of which she’d won, a fact that she’d been happy to remind him of during the entire walk home. He’d taken her teasing in stride, his easy laugh confirming her initial impression that Cody didn’t take himself too seriously. The entire evening had been more pleasurable than any she could recall, made only more so by the relaxed conversation and the feel of Cody’s hands on her. It hadn’t been much, a brush of her hair, their fingers grazing one another’s as they’d talked, but the effect had been explosive. And now, her body screamed for his touch: her nipples had perked and pulled tight and her core throbbed with the need to play out her deepest, dirtiest fantasies with him.

In fact, she wanted him so badly, she almost had to bite her tongue to keep from repeating her offer. It probably wasn’t necessary anyway. She knew that her burning desire for him was apparent in the way she leaned toward him. And she knew she wasn’t alone. Cody’s eyes glittered with his own desire, intense and arousing.

“Good night, Cody.”

The words, the way she’d said them, were as much of an invitation as her earlier offer had been, and the heat that had his eyes going so dark they were almost black made her heart pound and her hips shift in anticipation of what was to come. He eased forward, obliterating their height difference, his lips so close to hers that with the slightest shift of her head, she would bring them together in the kiss she knew they both wanted. She was anxious, edgy for the kiss that she knew would relieve at least some of the tension that arced between them. He moved, his face now so close that she could feel the warm tickle of his breath, see his pulse beating at his neck.

“Good night, Ms. Bishop,” he said softly, the brush of his words against her lips making her choke out a sigh.

And then he was gone, the wide expanse of his shoulders and the play of muscle in his back as he retreated clear even in the dark of night. Unbidden, a smile formed on her lips, and she unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped inside the house, closing and relocking the door behind her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to end, but she was more turned on and exhilarated by a few hours of flirting with Cody than she’d ever been by sex with anyone else.

She smiled again at the realization as she walked to her bedroom. Maybe he was on to something with this whole challenge thing.

Chapter Three

Blakely sat at the table she’d spotted in the midst of the crowd that always seemed to be gathered at Love’s, grateful that she was able to get a spot.

“You ready to order, ma’am?” the waitress asked. The woman had arrived so fast that Blakely hadn’t even had a chance to open the menu. Good thing she already knew what she wanted.

“Yes. I’ll have a full stack. Thank you,” she responded.

The woman nodded and rushed away in a frantic huff, and as Blakely watched her leave, she caught sight of a figure approaching her. He was full grown now, a man and not the boy she’d known, relied on, and then casually tossed aside, but she still recognized him instantly. She waited for that warm feeling of security that he’d always brought, but if it was there, she couldn’t feel it through the thick cloud of nerves that shrouded her.

“I see Mr. Love is still as demanding as ever,” Mathias Poole said as he sat at the table.

“Some things never change, I guess,” she said, glancing through the huge plate glass window before turning her gaze to her old friend.

She immediately regretted doing so. He was older now, still breathtakingly handsome, but she didn’t pay attention to that. No, the betrayal in his eyes was all she saw, and a flush of well-deserved shame hit her hard.

“Your hair is longer than regulation,” she said, grasping for the first thing she could and gesturing toward his shaggy, almost shoulder-length brown locks.

“They cut me slack. You been keeping tabs on me, BB?”

She looked back out the window, knowing she’d again been busted. First Cody and now Matt. Maybe flustering Blakely Bishop was a skill they taught in SEAL school. If it wasn’t, she seriously needed to step up her game. Turning her gaze back to him, she took him, the expression on his face so different than what she’d seen in the past. They hadn’t spoken to each other since before he’d joined the Navy, but no matter how callous she might have seemed, or been, she’d always kept track of him, seeking what information she could about where he was and praying for his safe return. No matter what she’d done, or had failed to do, she’d always cared.

But habit kept her from speaking the truth, from telling him how sorry she was. Trying to maintain as much nonchalance as she possibly could, she shrugged. “It’s a small town. And besides,” she said, an idea coming to her, “you’re a friend of Joe’s, so Verna probably mentioned it.”

Her eyes had drifted partially closed, but she opened them and hazarded another glance at Matt and was not remotely surprised by how unconvinced he looked.

“Yeah, all perfectly reasonable, I suppose. Far more reasonable than the idea that you might have actually given a shit about me.

The unsuppressed anger in his voice took her by surprise, and she again considered him. Like her, Matt had always valued his self-control and despised the lack of it in other people, something she suspected had nurtured their unlikely friendship, so the barely contained rage in his voice was a shock. But then again, she’d only known the boy he’d been, not the man he’d become, and however close they’d been as children, she couldn’t assume that what she’d known then was what he was now.

She searched his face with her gaze, noting the differences. The smooth, unlined skin of youth had given way, and his face was now slightly weathered, the faintest hint of golden-brown stubble covering his cheeks. And his eyes had changed. They’d always been haunted, couldn’t have been anything else, not with his life, but they had even more edge now, shadowed by years and experience that hadn’t been there before.

And if the look in his eyes was any indication, he hated her. And she didn’t blame him a bit.

“Here you are,” the waitress said.

Blakely jumped when the woman settled a plate in front of her and walked away. She gulped hard and looked away. Even though her appetite was gone, she took a bite anyway and the usually delicious light, fluffy pancakes felt like sawdust in her mouth.

“God, BB,” he said, and at the playfulness in his voice, she looked up, noting that the anger that had marked his expression just moments ago had faded. “No wonder you’ve been practically killing yourself to avoid being alone with me.”

“It’s just…after all this time, I didn’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘Hey, Matt. How have you been for the last two decades?’”

Maybe he hadn’t changed so much after all.

He smiled, the expression reminding her of the same look she’d seen a million times during their childhoods. “Now I’m still pissed and you still owe me an explanation, but I’m also damn happy to see you. I missed you, Blakely.”

“I missed you too, Mathias,” she said quietly.

And just like that, the tension that had sprung up dissipated. Mathias Poole could hold a grudge with the best of them, and she wouldn’t have blamed him one bit if he’d held one against her. She deserved it, but she hadn’t wanted to face the reality of it. And that reluctance had kept her away, but as she looked across the table at him now, she remembered something else about him, something that she’d let herself forget. She remembered his capacity for forgiveness, remembered how hard he always tried to understand. And when he turned up his lips in that smile she knew so well, the fear that had kept her from talking to him seemed insignificant, especially in the face of the easy camaraderie that came back as if it had never left.

“Hey, Matt. How have you been for the last two decades?” she said with a chuckle.

He laughed, the lines in his face new, but that sound and the pure joy he’d always radiated when he’d laughed as familiar as it had always been.

Her appetite came roaring back and she dug in with renewed vigor, and after ordering pancakes of his own, she and Matt talked like they always had, the time and distance receding. They had many things to discuss and she still needed to make amends for what she’d done, but in this moment, being with her friend was all that mattered.

Matt turned and smiled brightly, waving someone over. Before she’d even looked up, Cody was folding his large frame into the booth next to her, leaving her no choice but to move over. She did move, trying to leave a little space between them. It wouldn’t stop her from feeling the heat of his body, stop her from smelling his clean, manly scent, but she might maintain at least some of her equilibrium if they weren’t touching.

Or not.

She moved as far as she could, practically hugging the wall, but his hard thigh still brushed against her own, his biceps did the same, and the hair on his forearm teased her, the light rub of his arm against hers as he moved igniting a riot of sensations that weren’t appropriate for Love’s or anywhere else for that matter.

“Hey, man,” Matt said, nodding at Cody. And then he looked back to Blakely. “You remember Sommers, right, BB?”

“Of course she does,” Cody interjected, turning his gaze to Blakely, the look in his eyes light but still daring her to contradict him.

She returned his stare, trying to stay nonchalant, keep things casual. “Vaguely,” she said, to which Cody laughed.

“And how do you know ‘BB’?” Cody asked, turning his gaze away from her to look at Matt.

“Me and Ms. Bishop go way back, Sommers. Way, way back.”

Cody’s smile dropped, and he shifted, breaking the contact between them. Blakely was relieved, knowing that she’d have at least a shot at being focused if there was distance between them, but disappointed at the loss of his touch nonetheless. Still, it was for the best. Matt didn’t seem inclined to dig into the past at the moment, but the emotion of seeing him and finally talking to him had her off-kilter. And Cody, well, Cody had her twisted in knots, the sixty seconds that he’d been at the table more than long enough to spark her desire and leave her aching with need.

The pull of the divergent emotions had her head swimming.

“If you need a moment…” he said, his expression sober.

“We don’t,” Blake said.

“No, it’s cool. We were just catching up.”

“Okay,” Cody said, though he still looked wary.

••••

As he sat at the table, Blakely’s sweet perfume and soft body tantalizing him, Cody watched the exchange between Blakely and Matt, feeling the stir of something. However relaxed they might appear, and they did, Blakely looking genuinely pleased and the usually easygoing Poole his standard calm self, there was something else happening, some undercurrent that he didn’t fully understand. It was beyond obvious that the two of them were close, had an intimacy and familiarity that couldn’t be faked and that he couldn’t ignore.

And he didn’t like it, not one bit, which was disconcerting. Sure, he and Blakely had a connection, and while there was no way he’d disregard the chance to explore that connection and step aside for some random dipshit, he didn’t have any claim to her, and he was a live-and-let-live kind of guy. Still, the rapport between her and Poole bothered him. And as much as he wanted her, he wouldn’t cut in on a friend, especially not one as good as Poole. He needed to get this sorted out, and quickly, and intended to do just that.

“So you and—” Cody said.

“Mathias.” A man’s voice cut into the conversation.

Every head turned at the sound, and Cody glanced up at the tall older man who had to be Poole’s father. When he looked back at his friend, the other man’s eyes had gone hard, distant, and when he glanced over at Blakely, he noted that her expression had softened even more, and she looked at Matt with concern in her eyes.