His Best Friend's Sister: A Secret Baby Romance Read online

  “Need a hug?” I heard myself ask before I could stop the words from getting to my lips. She nodded and folded into my outstretched arms, which were also operating seemingly of their own accord. But as soon as she was against my chest, any argument I had with independent body parts went away quickly. Except for one, but that one had some pretty tight jeans holding it down at the moment.

  We stood there, holding each other and gently swaying for some time. It felt good, too good. Good enough that it was overriding every warning sign my body could toss out. Slowly, she leaned back, and our eyes met, and it felt like time stopped. Nothing else existed except for her eyes, her lips. Those lips I had touched once before and had been pining for all night.

  I began to lean forward, and she responded. Our bodies were drawing closer, a kiss imminent and welcome. A sober kiss.

  But the door swung open and Matt walked out. We broke our embrace, and she took a step back, pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I could see the expression on Matt’s face was one of both confusion and curiosity.

  “Just coming out here to check on you,” he said. “Jordan said you were out here getting fresh air after the new cook tried to set the kitchen on fire. You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Becca already came out to check on me, too.”

  “That’s right, I did,” she said. “And you’re fine. So, I’ll just… head inside.”

  She walked past Matt, excusing herself and heading back toward the bathrooms while Matt held the door open. His eyebrow was arched, and I didn’t like the look on his face. I grabbed my glass and followed her in, letting Matt shut the door behind me.

  12

  Becca

  “What about this one? How do I look in this?” I asked.

  I did a couple of spins, holding my arms out to the side so Melissa could get the full view of the outfit I chose. She was lying on her back on my bed, her head dangling over the end.

  “That one looks good, too,” she said.

  I let out an exasperated sound. “You’re looking at me upside down. Come on, this is serious.”

  Melissa flipped back over onto her stomach and scrutinized the navy-blue pantsuit and matching pumps I thought made me look professional.

  The way her expression twisted up in her head tilted to the side told me she wasn’t quite as on board as I was.

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  I looked down at my clothes, then back at her. “What’s wrong with it? I think it looks really put together and adult.”

  “Maybe if you were a really put-together adult in a late-nineties movie about the ravages of corporate America,” she said.

  “Wow. Harsh.” I sighed and kicked off my shoes, heading over to the closet to find the next potential option.

  “Becca listen to me. You’re going for an interview. You want to look nice, but you don’t have to stress this much. Just be yourself,” Melissa said.

  “Did Mr. Rogers teach you that?” I asked.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “He was a good one,” I said.

  “Thank God for YouTube,” she said. “Now, let’s find you something that makes you look like an actual person rather than a Women’s Network movie lead about to either be a mistress or a corpse. Come on.”

  Two hours later, I was in my Melissa-approved interview outfit, my hair and makeup done and feeling a somewhat stomach-turning combination of excited, nervous, optimistic, and scared out of my mind.

  I walked into the therapist’s office for my interview. I expected a receptionist to be the one to greet me and tell me to sit and wait, but a pretty woman with a bright smile I recognized from my research immediately came out from the back of the office and extended a hand toward me.

  “Delia Flores,” she said. “You must be Becca.”

  I nodded, taking her hand and shaking it. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too. Do you want to come back and we’ll talk?” She pointed behind her toward an office. I was glad Melissa talked me out of the stuffy suit and I’d chosen a dress instead. It fit the atmosphere and the personality of the woman I was hoping would choose me to work with her.

  We sat down, and she started asking questions. It didn’t feel like an interview. Instead, it was more like we had just met while riding the subway or waiting in line at the grocery store and gotten into a conversation. As it continued, the questions got more personal, and she veered into issues that had to do with the position. But even those felt comfortable without pressure.

  The interview went so well, I didn’t even want it to end. I wanted to get coffee and spend the afternoon chatting and getting to know each other. She was so nice, I almost forgot I was supposed to be professional. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she was still smiling by the time she stood up and reached for my hand again, so I figured that probably wasn’t bad.

  “I’ll be in touch,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming in.”

  “Thank you for having me. It was great.” I cringed inwardly and left.

  As soon as I got in the car, I called Melissa.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Well, I ended it like we were on a first date.”

  “You kissed her?” Melissa asked.

  “No,” I said with exasperation. “I just thanked her for having me and told her it was great.”

  “That’s awkward.”

  “I know. But she didn’t cringe. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

  “Did she give you any indication?” Melissa asked.

  “No. She said she would be in touch. I’m guessing there are plenty of other people applying for that position. Hopefully it doesn’t take too long to hear.”

  “Well, keep me updated. I’ve got to get back to work,” Melissa said.

  A while later, the route to bring me back home took me right past Tyler’s bar. I slid into the first spot I saw and got out. They were just opening up as I walked up to the door. Getting some food and maybe a drink sounded good right then. I definitely didn’t want to head home yet. It had been a stressful day, and just thinking about the interview brought all the nerves back.

  I walked in and found Tyler behind the bar getting set up for the night. He grinned at me as I climbed up onto one of the stools in front of him.

  “You look like a woman who’s had a day,” he said.

  “That I have,” I said. “I thought grabbing a bite to eat might make me feel better.”

  “Always a good idea in my opinion. What can I get for you?”

  “Burger and fries,” I said. “Extra cheese.”

  Tyler smiled. “Be right back.”

  He went into the kitchen, and I looked around. The rest of the bar was empty, so I pulled out my phone. I scrolled through a few things before getting sucked down the rabbit hole and wandering away into bizarre trivia. I was knee-deep in facts I would never need to know when Tyler came back out of the kitchen with my food.

  He set a plate with a massive burger and a mound of fries in front of me. It looked amazing, and I was already diving into the fries before he could even turn around and get me a drink. He started me off with a root beer. The reminder of my childhood favorite drink brought an unexpected spike of emotion.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I swallowed hard and forced away the feelings, making myself smile so he didn’t know about the swirl of confusing emotions going through me.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for this.”

  “Absolutely. It’s one of my specialties. So, what are you doing here so early? We just opened,” Tyler said.

  “I was actually just driving by and decided to stop.”

  “Are you telling me you were in the neighborhood?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  “Yes, but it’s actually true. I was at that interview in Lawrence,” I said.

  “How did it go?”

  “It went well,” I said, dipping
a fry into the ridiculously delicious green sauce I couldn’t recognize in a little bowl at the side of my plate.

  “It’s great that you’re going after it now. I hope you get it.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I do, too. It’ll be nice to feel like I have my own life again.”

  “You mean it’ll be nice to not have to live with your parents anymore?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say that,” I said, popping the fry in my mouth. “But yes.”

  He laughed. “How are those burger and fries treating you?”

  “They’re amazing,” I said. “Thanks again.”

  “Sure.”

  He looked like he was about to say something else when Ava came up and joined us.

  “Hey, Becca,” she said. “Good to see you again.”

  “You, too,” I said.

  The door opened and a few more customers streamed in. They sat down at a booth at the side of the restaurant, and Tyler walked out from behind the bar to talk to them.

  “So, how are you settling in?” Ava asked, taking a glass down from the rack above her head and using the soda spigot to fill it with lemon-lime soda.

  “Well,” I said with a slight groan and picked up my burger to take a bite.

  Ava laughed. “That sounded like you are thrilled with everything happening in your life.”

  I let out a sigh. “I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to come back and live with my parents. I can’t really imagine a whole lot of people at my age would be jumping up and down with glee to find themselves sleeping in their childhood bedroom again. Especially when their parents are conspiring to essentially kidnap them and keep them under lock and key forever.”

  She hitched one eyebrow as she took a sip of her drink and leaned with her hip against the bar. “They said that?”

  “More or less,” I said. “My mother especially. She said she never should have let me out of the house in the first place, and she never wanted me to leave again. That she wasn’t going to let me move out or have my own life because I was just going to get hurt and she needs to protect me.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That’s kind of a lot. Not that it’s exactly my place or anything, but do they not realize how completely insane they sound?”

  That brought a much-needed smile to my lips and made me laugh. “That’s the thing. No, they don’t. They both think it’s completely normal to want their full-grown daughter to stay with them for the rest of her life just because of a broken heart. The whole thing really got to Nick. He said I should just move in with him. And honestly, I’m thinking about it.”

  “That might be a good idea,” she said. “It sounds like you need some space. And not just because your parents don’t want you to grow up. After what you went through with your ex, you need some time to figure yourself out and decide what you want next.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for talking with me. I feel better.”

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  The bar was starting to fill up, and Ava had to go help the guys take orders and bring out food. I finished up my dinner, tucked some cash under the edge of the plate, and left. I felt a sense of peace finally knowing I’d made my decision about leaving my parents’ house.

  13

  Tyler

  “Again?” I asked.

  “Yeah, again, unless you have a better idea,” Nick said on the other end of the phone call.

  “Didn’t I beat your ass enough last time?” I snickered.

  “No, apparently not,” he said. “But this time, I’m going to mop the floor with you.”

  Not bothering with getting really dressed up or anything, I threw on sneakers and a flannel shirt and headed out into the evening. The place we were meeting, a little geek shop called One Eyed Jacques, had a large conference room where tournaments of all types were held. Briefly we had both dabbled in the expensive card-collecting games, but they were beyond us and our more casual approach to gaming. Instead, we stuck with occasional poker tournaments, and now, board game tournaments.

  Arriving at the shop, I noticed that the door was closed and there was a bouncer directing people to the back. This was common for the poker nights but was the first time I had noticed it happening for anything else. Curious, I walked around to the back entrance and showed my ID to the guy manning the door, and when I walked through, it was into utter madness.

  Scantily clad girls dressed as various board pieces walked around with trays of drinks, and people of all kinds manned tables all over the room and were either preparing to play, notebooks in hand, or were already deep in a game.

  I walked in, found Nick at the bar area, grabbing a couple of snacks that seemed to be catered in from one of the local sub shops, and shook my head at the scene behind me.

  “This is insane,” I said.

  “I know, right?” he said. “I love it. I tried to tell you, man, West Coast Regionals are nuts.”

  “Wait, have you been doing these things without me?” He shrugged and took a gulp of his drink.

  “Didn’t know if you would be interested,” he said.

  “And here I thought you couldn’t get any dorkier,” I said.

  “Shut up,” he retorted, slapping me in the chest. “We have table three for the next game. Games only tend to last about twenty-five minutes or so. Grab a sandwich and get a drink. You won’t have time for them once you sit down.”

  I shrugged and took a seat with a plate of turkey sandwiches and chips and a beer. Nick sat beside me, nursing what looked like a whiskey and Coke.

  “So,” Nick said, having to speak a little louder than usual to be heard over the din. “I think I met someone.”

  “What?” I looked at him with one eyebrow raised, sure I misheard him.

  “I said I think I met someone,” he said again.

  “Already?” I asked. He rolled his eyes and took a sip. “I mean, like if it’s just a casual thing…”

  “It’s not,” he interrupted.

  “Well, isn’t that a bit soon?”

  “It’s been a year,” he said. “And you were the one who said I should probably get back out there.”

  “That’s kind of what I mean,” I said. “You just got back out there. You should be going through women like tissue paper, not getting all hung up on one, right?”

  “I don’t operate like that,” he said. “You know that. I take things one woman at a time. Like you do.”

  I decided to drop it right there. He was right. I wasn’t the playboy type. When I met someone, which was extraordinarily rare, I tended to get involved quickly, and they usually were the ones to inform me that it was more than they were looking for. Of course, the last steady girl had been… a while ago.

  “Becca moved in,” Nick said, apropos of nothing. I did a double take and then took a bite of my sandwich. “She hated being at Mom and Dad’s. Had to get out of there before there was a big blowup.”

  “Yeah, she told me a little about that,” I said. “Has she heard back from the job interview?”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Nick turned slowly in his chair to look me in the eye, his drink stuck halfway to his mouth.

  “How did you know about that?” he asked.

  I shrugged, hoping I would look cool and disconnected. “She came into the bar after the interview. Said she had been really nervous about it and could use a drink. She mostly talked to Ava, and I just overheard.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. But it wasn’t entirely the truth, either.

  He continued to stare at me for a few uncomfortable seconds, but I ignored him, watching some of the lightning-fast rounds being played on the closest table. A rather revealing waitress walked by and offered me a replacement drink, which I took gratefully. I tossed the money for it on her tray, and she walked away, shaking her hips madly. Not that I cared. My mind was only on one set of hips. And I was trying desperately not to think about them with Nick right beside me, eyeing me like I’d just revealed state secrets.

  �
��So, table three?” I asked. “How do they determine who gets what piece?”

  He was still eyeing me, but I felt the tension slide away. I was trying to change the subject to get it away from the thoughts in my mind about his sister. Namely what I would do if I saw her in one of those tight-fitting and cleavage-enhancing costumes. About how close I had come to kissing her when we were on the back porch of the bar. About how if Matt hadn’t shown up, I would have, and I wasn’t entirely sure I would have stopped there. They would have found the two of us in the bushes somewhere, missing clothing.

  Also, I was getting worried Matt was now suspecting something going on between us and that he might spill the beans about it. The last thing I needed was for whatever was going on with Becca and me to get back to Nick before I had an answer for him.

  Even changing the subject felt weird. Moving on from talking about Becca to literally anything else felt like I was avoiding talking to her, and thus making it even more obvious. I had never avoided talking about anything in my life with Nick. He was the one person I could depend on to talk to no matter the subject. And I never got weird about women in general.

  Granted, I hadn’t really thought much about talking about my women problems with Nick in a while. Going through his divorce had meant that he was usually in a pretty low place, and I didn’t want to ever seem like I was rubbing my dating life in his nose. Or worse, making him pine for a woman I was very glad he was no longer with, just to get rid of the loneliness and heartbreak. Those first few weeks, I had to make sure he didn’t text her when we went out to drink, because it was his initial reaction. For months, I took possession of his phone after his third drink, just to make sure.

  I had to change the subject off women, though, and that was weird now, especially with him stating he was seeing someone. But talking about our dating life seemed like a dangerous game, and I might let something slip about how there was someone on my mind, too. Or he would see it and call it out. Becca was different. I had to keep her quiet until I figured out what it was I was going to do about it, and how in the world Nick was going to react to it if it was anything other than ignore it until I was dead.