Touch & Go (13 page)

The next few days were brutal. The last-minute pre-wedding preparations meant no chance of Ava hiding out in her apartment, feigning a
Contagion
“patient zero” scenario in order to lick her wounds in solitude. Though now that she thought about it, the last time she'd had the flu, Sam essentially moved into her place—cheerfully recounting the fourth quarter of the Bears' game while he held her hair out of the toilet bowl.

There was no escaping the man.

Something that had never bothered her before, as it had pretty much been her life goal to get closer to him. But now, she was wishing for space where it had never existed before. The boundaries between them had always been a series of blurred lines with just a few rules keeping them out of trouble. Rules they'd completely blown to bits in recent times, and now Ava was faced with restoring.

And all while she smiled through shoveling sand into paper candle bags, tying little satchels of birdseed, and nesting the itty-bitty melty and delicious cookies Maggie made a few hundred of into their two-inch-square boxes stuffed with crinkled white filler paper. With Sam sitting across her table doing the same.

Looking cool and comfortable, his crooked grin as tempting and easy as ever, Sam joked with Tyler about their stint on the wedding chain-gang, flashing her a look here and there to check in, to make sure they were good, because things had changed and he cared.

She wanted to scream.

Tyler tossed his birdseed baggie onto the table and marked another tally on his sheet. “I need to switch. Ave, how 'bout I take those cookies off your hands for a while. I keep thinking I'm going to toss a handful of this pigeon feed back without thinking about it.”

“Nuh-uh. Not so fast, Mister.” Ava swatted at Tyler's hand and then for good measure stuck her foot out to block him. “Maggie said you were not to be trusted with these. So pick your poison, sand or seed, but keep your hands off the cookies.”

Sam let out a laugh. “Sounds like the gavel has landed, my man. But tell you what. Sandbox is all yours if you want to trade.”

Tyler grunted, picking up another disk of silver tulle and length of satin ribbon.

Stretching back in his chair, long legs sprawled in front of him, Sam clasped his hands behind his head so his black T-shirt pulled taut across the broad terrain of his chest while teasing the fringe edge of his jeans.

Another millimeter and she'd see skin. Bands of abdominal muscles divided by that fine line of golden hair bisecting his body in a trail she'd happily followed more than once.

And just perfect, the fantasies were piling up at her feet as she stared. One tawdry scenario after another, each facilitating a return to the time when she'd had free license to push that black cotton out of her way and get her mouth—

No!

Ava fumbled the box in her hand, scattering her mini cookies across the table.

“Sorry, and to think Maggie trusted me,” she laughed, stepping over to the sink, where she poured herself a glass of water. Taking a cool sip, she let it wash down her throat, wishing it would wash away all the things in her heart that didn't belong there. “I need a break. Gimme a couple of minutes to check in at work and I'll be back.”

Tyler waved her away, snagging a cookie while she watched. “Sure. But whatever happens out here, it's on your head.”

Sam clucked his tongue. “I don't know, Ty. Maggie's going to be your wife tomorrow. Pretty sure whatever happens with those cookies, the buck stops with you.”

Ava left the guys trading jabs and speculation, and headed deeper into her apartment. Into her bedroom, where she pulled out her computer and opened it on her bed. She remembered the last time she'd tried to use checking in at work as an excuse for escaping to her bedroom—only then she'd wanted to be alone with Sam, while now she wanted space from him.

Just for a few minutes.

Just long enough to reinforce her defenses.

Crossing to the window, she pulled out the elastic from the low ponytail she'd been wearing all day and finger-combed her hair, staring out into the sliver of night she could see between the buildings.

Maggie would be home from the gallery in a half-hour. She'd eyeball their work and help finish the last birdseed bags and cookie boxes. They'd hang out. And then tomorrow Maggie would marry Tyler, taking the next step in their life together.

It was everything Ava had wanted for her when they'd agreed to their dating pact almost two years before, and she couldn't be happier her friend found the love she'd been too afraid to risk her heart on until Tyler. But there was a part of Ava that wished Maggie hadn't been the only one to find her happily ever after.

Though even as the thought skirted through her mind, she had to acknowledge the truth. Being open to the possibilities the way she would have needed to be in order to find a love of her own would have meant letting go of the hope that someday, somehow, something fundamental would change with Sam.

And yeah, okay, so
some
things had changed. But not the way she'd hoped. Not the way she needed them to. Not enough.

They'd had sex.

Heck, she'd even go so far as to say they'd made love. There was no other way to describe the tenderness and affection infusing so many of those late nights after they'd already tended to the sharp edge of need driving their earlier encounters. In those hours when their kisses turned slow and deep and spoke of a connection twenty years in the making.

Still, Sam hadn't fallen
in love
with her. He hadn't realized he wanted her forever. He hadn't figured anything out other than screwing his best friend felt every bit as good as screwing the near strangers who were his usual fare. Better, even, based on the whole trust-and-comfort thing they had going.

But it wasn't enough. And unless Ava found a way to get over Sam, nothing in her life ever would be. She'd spend the rest of her dateable days measuring one good guy after another against the man she couldn't have, and she'd forever find them lacking. It had been that way in high school. In college. Law school. After.

Every time she'd tried to move on, push her heart in a healthier direction, it was the same.

She'd wait for that fluttery excitement that happened every time Sam entered a room, or the skip of her heart when he smiled at her—hoping one of these guys would inspire a similar reaction. But they never did.

She'd tell herself maybe she just needed to give it time. Just give it a chance. Only then Sam would come home from his after-school job, or drop by with a twelve-pack of ramen at the dorm, or show up at the bar ready to hang out—and she wouldn't be able to ignore the simple truth. No man could measure up to him.

A throat cleared behind her and she turned to find Sam in her doorway, one fist squared against the frame.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes serious.

No sign of the easy and casual he'd had going back in the kitchen. But maybe she wasn't the only one who knew how to snow a crowd.

“With me? Oh yeah, fine,” she answered, pushing all her best
pleasant
to the surface, because what else could she do? She'd been the one to end things, and she'd done it with the promise their friendship wouldn't suffer.

“You shot out of the kitchen pretty quick.” He walked into the room, closing the distance between them until only a few inches of space remained. “I need you to be honest with me, Ave. You don't seem fine.”

She half winced at his call for the truth. It was so important to him, and aside from the one underlying lie that was as much a foundation of their lives as all the years, she always did her best to be honest.

Taking a bracing breath, she stepped back and waved a hand in his direction. “I've got to get used to
this
not being my personal playground is all.”

Sam's brow arched and he stepped into the new distance she'd only just opened between them.

Awareness fired to life within her, flipping all of her senses online.

She swallowed nervously, because then he was giving her that crooked grin and the concern in his eyes had been replaced by something brighter, hotter.

Another step in. “So what are you saying? Having a little trouble keeping the thoughts pure?”

Another step back. “Sam,” she warned, her hands coming up in some sort of defensive stance that only made her palms itch with the need for him to close the rest of the distance and press that hot, hard body into them. “It's only been a few days. I'll get it together.”

His river-washed gaze dropped to her mouth, that crooked grin going criminal. “Yeah, you will. But until then, it's not the worst thing to know I'm not alone in this…
suffering.
”

“Suffering?” she whispered, hating the breathless quality of her voice all the more when she read the satisfaction in Sam's face. In his posture. In his very breath.

“Seeing things I
want
and knowing better than to
take
them.”

This was so not what she needed to hear right then. Just like the heat of Sam's body moving into her space was about the last thing on earth she needed to feel. Not when she was trying so hard to rebuild her defenses.

But Sam knew only half the story, and if a few physical urges had been the extent of it, then she would have been able to take this little game of boundary pushing he was playing exactly as he intended it.

In fun.

As teasing.

Only the idea of Sam wanting her had her all but trembling with need. Which was so completely stupid because she knew,
knew,
all he really wanted was sex. A physical release that was just a step up from what his right hand had to offer. And what she wanted was
everything.

Yeah, she wanted what his exactly-the-right-amount-of-tight black T-shirt and worn-in-all-the-perfect-places jeans kept hinting at. She wanted those eyes. His smile. Sam moving inside her until the world outside shattered and there was nothing but that instant when they existed alone together.

But she wanted so much more than that too. She wanted Sam's good-morning kiss and his last thoughts at night. She wanted his heart to beat for her the way hers beat for him. She wanted their lives to fit together like the last pieces of a puzzle finally sliding into place.

Damn it,
she wanted him to love her the way she loved him, and despite having had twenty years to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't going to happen, every new minute that it didn't was like a knife sinking farther into her heart.

“Shit, Ava.” Sam gripped her shoulders, getting down into her face so she could see he'd left the fun and games behind. “I'm sorry. I was just joking around, being an ass. But I can see how serious you are. I guess it's just taking a little getting used to.”

She didn't even want to think about what she looked like to prompt such an about-face, but at least Sam was on board and understood as well as he could, all things considered.

“A little time, Sam. That's all and we'll be right as rain.”

He dropped a kiss at her temple and backed out of her room. “I'm counting on it.”

Married.

Shit,
Sam couldn't quite wrap his head around it. But he'd been there. Watched the whole thing go down: from the little raven-haired tyrant dressed in a miniature version of Maggie's dress stomping down the aisle, paces ahead of her beaming pint-sized tuxedo-clad counterpart, Charlie; through the smacked look of awe and wonder on Tyler's face as Maggie met him at the altar, and the exchange of vows they'd written themselves; to the kiss that sealed the deal and nearly set the place on fire, but somehow ended with the two of them clinging to each other, laughing.

Yeah, that was the best part.

The way they laughed, neither one letting go.

They'd make it. Of any couple, he had the most faith in these two pulling off the whole forever-and-for-always business. Both of them had been through hell in their previous relationships that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Bad shit. The kind that scarred and changed people forever. But somehow Maggie and Tyler had come back stronger. Wiser. They'd found each other and together they'd learned to believe in love again.

And now they were married. For better or for worse. He just hoped to hell it was better. They deserved it.

Sam hooked a beer around the neck and tipped the bartender before looking back to the doorway where Maggie and Tyler headed up the reception line, greeting the guests as they arrived for the cocktails preceding the reception itself. Next in the lineup were Maggie's folks and then Tyler's. Proud parents, all of them. Still married themselves. He figured the both of them having grown up with decent role models for the marriage thing had to count some in regards to the newly formed Wellses' chances for success. And bringing up the rear, Tyler's younger brother, Mitch, and then Ava, looking anything but cold in her ice-blue, formfitting bridesmaid dress.

Mitch leaned in to whisper something in her ear, touching her elbow as he did it. The guy was decent enough, but the way he was chatting up Ava while they waited for the next guests to trickle down the feed? He had ideas all right, but so did every other single guy in the place. Sam included.

Which was why a few minutes' space wouldn't be the worst thing.

Before they cleared the receiving line, and the room's worth of distance that was between him and Ava was gone and he'd be back to reminding himself every other second not to touch her. Biting his tongue each time he started to lean down to whisper just exactly where he'd like to lick her.

Another look back at Ava in that dress and he swallowed hard. Turning, he searched the room for an acceptable place to land. A blonde, maybe. Or a redhead? Only the drill he'd been running half his life wasn't going to work tonight. The idea of distracting himself with some other girl when he could still practically feel Ava around him—yeah, no thanks. She deserved better than that, even if she was the one who'd called an end to the sexy times. Besides, he was pretty sure Anne Hathaway herself could strut up to him and it still wouldn't be distraction enough to make him forget the taste of his best friend on his tongue.

Not for a few more days, anyway.

Shit.

Maybe a few more weeks, whatever.

Who was he kidding? Anne had been his poor man's replacement for Ava from the start.

“Nine o'clock, fire-engine-red dress, C-cup,” Tony said under his breath, sidling up to Sam in a cloud of what was probably six times the recommended daily allowance of Axe body spray. “I'm getting a good vibe off her. Thinking this might be just the lucky lady to take a ride on the Tony Express tonight.”

Sam shook his head.

The
Tony Express
? His cousin was rocking back on his heels, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, all “ready to rock” style.

He thought about pulling the guy off to the side for a refresher course on the birds and the bees, complete with an explanation as to why comparing sex with him to an
express
anything might not be the way to go—

Only then he heard it. Above the tinkling sound of glasses toasting, the music, the celebratory chatter…Ava's laugh.

“Whoa, Tyler's little brother is putting the full-court press on your girl—and
getting somewhere?
” Tony whistled through his teeth. “Never thought I'd see the day.”

Sam's head swung around to the receiving line that seemed to have gotten a clog at the top. And sure enough, there was Mitch leaning into Ava's space, hand over his heart, his face torqued up as he spun some animated tale that brought him in closer with every word.

Another laugh bubbled up over the crowd—not some polite imitation, but the real deal. The one she gave to
him.
The one that was for her closest friends. And for some reason Sam knew had to be misplaced and total bullshit, it was
Mitch
who'd earned that laugh bugged the hell out of him.

Ava leaned back, her eyes flashing with humor as she covered her mouth.

Didn't matter.

“He's not getting anywhere. She's just laughing.”

“Dude.” This time it was Tony shaking his head. “Listen to her. That laugh's all about advertising the electrified fence is down. Like ‘Welcome aboard, friend.' She's letting him in. In fact, Mitch there might be getting all the way
in
tonight, if you know what I mean.”

“Don't talk about her like that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. But she's twenty-eight, not sixteen anymore, right?”

Right. But that didn't change the fact that Mitch wasn't getting all the way
anywhere
tonight. At least not with Ava.

The guy leaned in again, resting his fingers across the cut of Ava's waist. Sam's grip tightened on his beer.

Did she want this? So soon after they called an end to whatever it was they'd been doing? Was that
why
she'd called it off—because suddenly she was ready for more than the buddy-with-benefits package that was all Sam could offer her? Was she finally ready to stop shutting down all the guys with the potential to give her the future she deserved and actually open herself up to the possibilities?

Christ,
it's what he wanted for her.

It was.

She deserved what Maggie and Tyler had…but at that moment, it was making him nuts thinking about what it would actually mean for her to get it.