Making a Play Page 3

  But that was part of the reason that it was only half of me that was happy they were back. Because the other half of me—the part that was still aching over the unrequited love of my own lifelong crush—was not looking forward to watching them adore each other for the next three months. Because that’s what Jessie and Jordan did—they openly, completely adored each other. They stared lovingly at each other when they thought no one was looking. They ate off each other’s plates. They finished each other’s sentences. Jordan couldn’t seem to go five seconds without his lips on some part of my sister—her forehead, her neck, her shoulder, her lips. Jessie was always touching him—his hand, his shoulder, his hip, his neck. It was like they were tethered together by an invisible wire. It was perfectly wonderful. I wouldn’t want them to be any other way.

  But it just reminded me I didn’t have that. I had never had that. But I wanted that. I had always wanted that—I mean, who didn’t? Well, Callie didn’t. But I wasn’t Callie and what is going to make it extra hard this summer is that I currently wanted that with someone who had not only sworn off women but still thought of me as a skinny, knock-kneed kid.

  The sun is streaming in through my windows because I forgot to close the damn curtains before I passed out. I squint at the clock. It’s almost noon. My hangover is starting to wake up too, but before I can pull a pillow over my head and drift back to sleep, I hear my name.

  “Rose!” It’s coming from the bottom of the stairs. “Get up already! I haven’t seen you in months!”

  I sigh, roll out of bed and stumble out of my room, thumping down the stairs. Jessie’s in the kitchen, pulling homemade scones out of the oven and putting a tray of bacon inside the warming rack. The house smells delicious.

  “When did you learn to cook?” I wonder aloud as I, still in my pajamas, walk toward her and the delicious scents. Jessie turns and smiles so large and bright it makes me want sunglasses. I squint and hug her. She hugs me back so hard I think she might crack a rib. Still, it makes the corners of my mouth turn up.

  “Since when do you sleep the day away?” she counters with her own question. “You’re usually such an early bird.”

  “That was before I started working at a bar,” I correct her as I pad over to the coffeepot sitting half full on the element. “Vampire hours are my life now.”

  Jordan walks into the kitchen, hanging up his cell phone. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and a baseball hat with his team’s logo and brown cargo shorts. His giant feet are bare. He stops when he sees me and smiles just as brightly as Jessie had, which is too brightly. Something is up with them. He walks over and hugs me, lifting me off my feet.

  “Rosie!” he declares in a booming voice. “You’re joining us for breakfast, right?”

  “Yes. If you stop yelling.”

  He laughs and lets me go. I rub my temples.

  “Did he wake up or do you have to drive over there?” Jessie asks him and I know without needing clarification that they’re talking about Luc. It’s a well-known fact that Luc sleeps like a dead person. When he was living with Jordan’s family as a kid, his alarm would beep at top volume on the nightstand right next to his head and Mrs. Garrison would still have to go in and shake him awake.

  “Fourth call woke him up,” Jordan replies, smiling. “He’s getting better. He’s coming over to join me for a run and I promised him some breakfast.”

  “I’m not so hungry. To be honest, I think I’ll just head back to bed,” I announce and hope they can’t hear the grumble in my stomach. Either she can, or she’s just not buying it, because Jessie raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you avoiding tall, dark and French?”

  “I’m not avoiding him,” I reply and sigh as I drop down into a chair at the kitchen table. “I just…”

  “Is this about that bikini model? Is he with her again?” She shifts her emerald eyes from me to her boyfriend for an answer.

  “Bikini model?” Jordan repeats with a crooked grin but adds, “Nessa is out of the picture permanently. He hasn’t mentioned anyone else to me… except Rosie.”

  “He’s mentioned me?” My heart skips. “What do you mean?”

  “Every time I called him from Seattle in the last couple weeks he mentioned you.” Jordan shrugs his wide shoulders and then does his best ridiculous French accent as he mimics his best friend. “Rosie is working so I’m going to go say hi. I’m going to run by your place and check on Rosie.”

  I frown at that for a moment but it makes my hangover headache worse. “As usual, he thinks he has to look out for me. I need Advil.”

  Jessie walks over to the small cabinet between the fridge and stove and pulls out the Advil bottle. She hands it to me, and that’s when I see it. I must have really been hung over to have missed something so big, shiny and freaking gorgeous.

  I grab her left wrist and pull her hand back toward me. My breath catches in my throat. My heart is so full of joy I think it might burst. I feel tears prick my eyes. I look up from the ring to Jordan, who is pouring himself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the kitchen table. His eye catches mine and somehow that bright smile gets brighter. I let go of my sister’s hand, run over to him and jump on him, squealing so loud it hurts my own head.

  “Oh, Jordy! I knew you had it in you! I don’t care what Callie thought. I always believed in you!”

  “Thanks, Rosie,” he replies with a chuckle.

  “What about me?” Jessie demands. “I’m your damn flesh and blood. Congratulate me!”

  I let go of my future brother-in-law and bound over to Jessie. I grab her pretty little face in my hands and hold it. Our eyes lock and we both tear up.

  “I’m so glad you didn’t screw this up,” I joke and she gives me a big belly laugh. “You need to tell Callie!”

  “She knows,” Jordan pipes up as he gulps his orange juice. “We called her last night.”

  “And turns out Jordan had called her the day before and asked her permission,” Jessie informs me.

  I try to imagine that conversation. Jordan asking Callie for permission to marry Jessie. We didn’t have a dad or a mom and even though Callie was younger than Jessie, this made complete sense. Jessie had always acted like my mom but Callie had always acted like my dad. She was the stern, unwavering, overprotective one. On top of that, she was Jordan Garrison’s biggest—maybe only—critic. It was sweet that he wanted her blessing and brave that he dared to ask for it.

  “Callie gave permission?”

  Jordan nods emphatically. “Of course she threatened to rip my balls off if Jessie was ever unhappy at any point for the rest of her life, but she said yes.”

  I hug Jessie as hard as I hugged Jordan moments earlier. “Seriously, Jessie, I’m so happy for you!”

  I have never meant anything more in my life. We Caplan sisters had not had an easy road. We deserved to be happy. And if I couldn’t be, I was glad that she could be. There’s a tap at the kitchen door and then it opens and I see Luc walk in. His eyes find me immediately. He sees my tears and his face turns white.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, crossing the distance to me in two long strides.

  I nod, smiling, and point at Jessie’s hand because I’m scared my voice will crack if I speak. Luc’s coffee-colored eyes land on Jessie’s ring and then shift to Jordan as his mouth parts in a smile.

  “You didn’t chicken out. I’m happy for you,” he proclaims and pulls his friend into a rough hug.

  “You knew?!” I exclaim. “But you said they were just having sex!”

  “Oh, we did that too,” Jordan assures me and I wrinkle my nose as Jessie smacks his shoulder and he bends to kiss the top of her head.

  I step back and bump into Luc. His hands move to my hips instinctually to steady me. I’m suddenly aware that I’m still in my sleepwear—a pair of tiny gray shorts and a thin black-and-gray-striped tank top.

  “Have you told your parents yet?” Luc wants to know, looking to Jordan. Donna and Wyatt Garrison were the best human beings o
n earth. They’d basically raised Luc and had been there for Callie, Jessie and me our whole lives, on top of raising three boys of their own.

  He shakes his head. “Telling them tonight at dinner.”

  “It’s gonna be a flood of happy tears. This is like winning the lottery for Donna.”

  Jordan smiles softly. “It’s that way for me, too.”

  The room is suddenly filled with so much emotion I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s wonderful, but overwhelming just the same. I move out from under Luc’s damn hands.

  “I’m going to throw some real clothes on,” I say in a cheery tone and make my way through the living room and up the stairs.

  I close my bedroom door and lean against it, closing my eyes and allowing myself one small millisecond to feel sorry for myself—but that’s it. This is not a time to dwell on myself because Jessie and Jordan deserve to be happy and I truly am happy for them. All I can hope is that one day someone will love me the way Jordan loves my sister. And that when that person isn’t Luc, I also hope I can find a way to be okay with that.

  I open my closet and grab my favorite oversized shirt. It’s a simple, solid dusty pink, and falls just below my butt. I pull on a pair of gray cotton leggings and grab the hairbrush from my dresser. As I’m pulling my hair into a low ponytail, there’s a knock at my door.

  “Come in!”

  The door swings open and Luc fills the opening with his hulking frame. It isn’t just that he is tall, which he is at six feet, but he is wide. His shoulders are broad, his biceps large and his torso thick with muscle layered on top of muscle. Being only five foot four with a slight—some might say scrawny—frame, I am ridiculously aware of his size and not only notice stupid stuff like how he fills a doorframe, but get turned on by it.

  “Are you okay, Fleur? Jessie said you didn’t feel well.”

  I smile at him a little sheepishly. “I’m fine. Stop babying me again.”

  Luc walks in, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he passes. “Sorry, but I’ll always have your back. Like it or not.”

  He throws himself flat on his back on my bed. Not Callie’s bed, which is closer and pristinely made, because she’s still working in Los Angeles, but on my bed with its rumpled sheets that are probably still warm from my body heat. His hands grope above his head for my pillow and shove it under his wild, tousled hair. His shirt lifts with the motion, revealing a strip of skin just above his hip. I can see the very edge of the large, intricate fleur-de-lis tattoo he got on his torso a few years ago. It’s this amazing design, up his left side, with thick lines, and inside the fleur-de-lis is a hockey scene—four boys playing hockey on a frozen backyard rink. It’s supposed to be Jordan, Cole, Devin and him. He’s never told me that, but I know. And there’s script too, across the middle. Plus que me propre vie. It means “more than my own life.” I wasn’t sure, when I first looked up the translation, if he meant he loved hockey or the Garrisons more than his own life. Now I think he probably means both.

  “So Jessie and Jordan figure it all out despite their stupidity,” he says with a smile. I have to laugh, even though he technically just called my sister stupid. I know he’s right. The two of them had done almost everything in their power to ruin their chances and yet… here they were. In love and engaged.

  “It just further proves my theory that fate and true love will triumph over all,” I say happily as I adjust my ponytail.

  He rolls his eyes but grins despite himself. “You’re such a romantic. As always.”

  “Yes, and you have always been a dirty birdie who can’t even spell romance let alone recognize its beauty,” I counter as I reach for the Chapstick on my nightstand and roll it over my dry lips.

  “R-O-M-A-N-C-E,” he spells out with a cocky grin. “Although I do believe that S-E-X is an easier, more fun word to spell.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes and spell something. “D-I-R-T-B-A-L-L.”

  “You know what’s even more fun to spell?” He is already laughing at himself before he starts to spell. “D-O-G-G-Y S-T-Y—”

  “Luc Richard!” I feel my face heat. He laughs loudly now and looks impressed that he got such a strong reaction. I shake my head and reach for his hand to pull him up.

  “Come on,” I urge. “Let’s go celebrate with them.”

  He gives me his hand but instead of letting me pull him up, he pulls me down. There’s no fighting it; Luc could bring down a brick wall if he wanted to. I topple onto the bed, half of my body landing on his. Before I can roll away he’s got one of his thick, muscular arms wrapped around my back and he’s holding me there. God, I hate him.

  “You’re happy for them, right?” he asks quietly, his eyes still staring up at my ceiling.

  “Of course,” I reply honestly, the side of my face pressed to his shoulder. “I know Jessie and Jordan are amazing together even if you don’t.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Rosie. I know they’re right together. I witnessed the wreck that was Jordan without her,” he counters softly but firmly. He sighs and says nothing for the longest minute. I should get up. I should roll away. But I can’t. I’m too weak. I want him to touch me even if it’s platonic to him. I’ll take whatever I can get. I’m pathetic.

  “If you’re swearing off women, then why are you still hanging out with me?” I can’t help but ask but I instantly regret it, even before he answers. Because I know what he’s going to say before he says it.

  “You’re little Rosie,” he says simply. “You’re exempt.”

  Without looking at him, I know he’s smiling. I can hear it in his voice. He means this as a compliment. He doesn’t know his words make me feel like there’s a knife fileting my heart. I take a deep breath and regain as much of my composure as I can muster, then force a smile. “Let’s get back downstairs and eat. I’m starving.”

  “If you play your cards right, Claudette will take you to work later,” he says with one of his sexy smirks tugging at his lips.

  “Esmeralda doesn’t like it when I cheat on her with Claudette,” I say because it’s lighthearted and funny and will keep him from noticing my heart is splintering. I jump up and reach for his hand. This time he lets me pull him off the bed.

  “Tell Esmeralda to simmer down. Claudette isn’t trying to take her place.” He grabs my shoulders and grins his typical cocky, wild smile. “She just wants in on the Rosie action.”

  I laugh at that but it sounds tight and short, even to me. Luckily, as soon as we reach the kitchen, Luc is distracted by the food Jessie is placing on the table and I don’t have to explain why I just sounded like a strangled cat.

  Chapter 4

  Rose

  “When are you coming home?”

  “Hello to you, too, little sister.”

  “Seriously, Cal. Come home.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Everyone says Jordy and Jessie are having sex in every room in the house.”

  Callie’s laugh bubbles up through the phone and I smile. I’ve missed my middle sister. She’s supposed to be coming back home for at least a few weeks this summer but so far she’s still in Los Angeles, where she works as a wardrobe supervisor.

  “Also, why didn’t you tell me Jordan asked you permission to marry Jessie?” I demand.

  “Because your squeal of joy would have tipped Jessie off,” Callie explains.

  “She was in Seattle.”

  “She would have heard you from there,” Callie retorts, and I can’t help but smile at her snark as I lie on the porch swing Jordan had installed. I used to beg Grandma Lily to get one but she never did.

  “So have you caught them in the act yet? I’m hoping to catch them and maybe make some cash selling the pictures to TMZ Sports. I owe Big Bird since he walked in on me and Devin when we were kids,” Callie explains, calling Jordan by the nickname she invented for him because she says he’s big, tall and his hair is yellow like Big Bird. “He messed up what could have been completely hot, amazing sex.”

>   “Oh my God, please shut up,” I beg and my brain involuntarily pictures Callie and Devin naked together. I’m still traumatized by the fact that they fooled around as teenagers. I groan and my eyes snap shut.

  “Aw, does Rosie feel left out?” Callie coos sarcastically. “If you want to know what sex with a professional hockey player is like, there is still one left. You can find out.”

  “No, there isn’t,” I snap back quickly. “Luc is off the market.”

  “Why? Is he back with America’s Next Top Train Wreck?”

  “She’s Swedish, not American,” I correct because I’m an idiot who has read everything there is to read on Nessa Carlsson. “But no. He’s single but he’s become a monk. He’s sworn off all women.”

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” my sister asks me, finally dropping her teasing and snark.

  “No idea. But whatever.” I sit up and stare out at the yard in front of me. Jessie went to yoga and Jordan and Luc went off to the indoor rink to train. I’m alone except for the contractor, who is upstairs working on the renovations to the master bedroom, so I can talk freely. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t see me like he does real women.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he told me. I’m different. I’m little Rosie. I’m exempt from his carnal thoughts,” I explain and sigh in frustration.

  “I’m a little surprised,” Callie admits to me. “Luc’s never really done the abstinence thing. Before Nessa, Luc recruited bed buddies the way Uncle Sam recruited soldiers.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” I reply, trying to keep the melancholy out of my voice.

  “So then what are you going to do about it?”

  “What?”

  “Luc is a hot piece of ass,” Callie announces firmly. “Hot pieces of ass should not be celibate. It’s like a direct insult to women everywhere. He needs to be someone’s plaything. I think he should be yours.”

  “You’re insane. As usual.”

  “And you’re scared and timid, as usual.”