The Closer You Come

CHAPTER THREE

TWO WEEKS AFTER “The Dunking,” the state of Brook Lynn’s life should have improved by leaps and bounds. What was the saying? When you were at the bottom of a pit, you had nowhere to go but up.

Somehow she’d managed to burrow deeper.

After she’d gotten Jessie Kay home from the party, the implants had basically short-circuited, causing massive headaches, uncontrollable dizziness and extreme nausea. She’d had to have them replaced the very next day with a surgery that accumulated thousands of dollars in medical bills. Insurance had refused to pay, citing the devices were still experimental. A ridiculous excuse. But Jase hadn’t yet contacted her to settle their debt—thank God he’d insisted on paying his part—and she desperately needed the money.

The new implants required three days of complete bed rest to heal and attach to her canals properly. Three days without pay. As soon as she’d recovered, Jessie Kay had taken off for who-knew-where, looking for a man to console her after Jase’s rejection. For two days after that, Brook Lynn had been forced to work double shifts.

Jessie Kay had come back, only to take off again and return last night. Now Brook Lynn called her sister’s cell to tell her to keep her butt home and rested for tomorrow, but she went straight to voice mail. Dang it! The girl was off carousing again, wasn’t she?

Argh! Her sister sometimes reminded her of a mouse in a wheel, spinning, spinning, but never going anywhere. Of course, the same could be said of herself, she realized with a sigh, simply in a different way. Jessie Kay chased guys. Brook Lynn chased Jessie Kay.

Perhaps it was time for a change.

Perhaps? Why was that even a question?

As she began cleaning Two Farms for closing, she thought back to the “fun list” she and Kenna had created a few weeks ago. Fun—something neither of them had ever really experienced. The list of activities was supposed to spice up their lives. The plan? Try every flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, text I hid the body to a random number. Be Cinderella for a day, and eat a real Krabby Patty. Get a tattoo, TP someone’s house, solve a case with Sherlock and Watson. Ask out a boy. Throw a drink in someone’s face, gulp blue Gatorade out of a Windex bottle. Jump into a body of water with all of their clothes on. Spy on someone. Oh, and speak with a fake accent for an entire day.

The last was the only thing Brook Lynn had done. Meanwhile, Kenna the overachiever had done everything. Dane had made it his mission to ensure she checked off every item on the list.

Brook Lynn simply hadn’t had time for the others. Or, to be honest, the inclination. But...maybe she needed to start despite her lack of enthusiasm. Just pick something and go, go, go. Like...asking out a boy...even seducing one.

An image of Jase flashed through her mind. What he might have looked like minutes before she’d entered his bedroom. Naked, flat on his back and hard as a rock.

No! Oh, no. Jase? She recoiled...even as she shivered. The man had used and discarded her sister, leaving no doubt he would use and discard Brook Lynn. If he even wanted her. So, ask him out? No. Nope. Never. The guy she picked would give her what she hadn’t had since the death of her mother: security.

A long-term commitment with a nice man with a nice income and the unending patience required to deal with Jessie Kay without sleeping with her, flirting with her or hurting her feelings seemed like just the ticket.

Attainable. Surely.

He had to live in Strawberry Valley, be over twenty but under forty, and he had to have had steady employment for at least a year. He had to be stable, reliable and in no way a fixer-upper. So, of all the eligible men in town, that left...

A few too many, surprisingly enough. To narrow the playing field, she decided he could have zero history with Jessie Kay. Well, well. That left only one name. Brad Lintz, the supersweet owner of Lintz Automotive. He came into Rhinestone Cowgirl every so often to buy a present for his mother, sisters, an aunt, a handful of nieces, whoever happened to have a birthday, and he always said something to make Brook Lynn laugh. Once or twice she’d even suspected he wanted to ask her out.

Brook Lynn...would you do me the honor of...would you, uh...show me that necklace again?

Could she put on her big-girl panties and actually make the first move? She never had before. Part of her had always feared the slightest hint of aggression would lead the man to assume she would settle for as little as Jessie Kay did: a single night of sexual pleasure. And she wasn’t casting stones. She understood her sister. Despite what everyone thought, sex wasn’t a frivolous, sterile transaction for Jessie Kay. It was a means of finding the acceptance and affection she craved, if only for a short while. A craving that only grew every time she woke up in bed with a guy, expecting more from him, and he made her feel as if she’d committed the cardinal sin of moving too fast. Too fast, after he’d slept with her.

None of the guys heard her crying in her bedroom the next day.

Brook Lynn, too, had often wondered if a moment of comfort would be better than no comfort at all. But then she would remember doing what felt good today often led to regrets tomorrow.

Of course, on the other end of the spectrum, doing what scared her today often led to happiness tomorrow. So... Yes. For a chance at improving her life and finally having fun, she could put on her big-girl panties.

She would go see her doctor tomorrow after her shift at the RC, get on birth control—just in case—and then go to Brad’s shop. Her stomach began to twist into a thousand tiny knots of nervousness already.

“My office, Brook Lynn.” Her boss’s voice echoed through the empty restaurant, startling her from her thoughts. “Now.”

Mr. Calbert sounded gruffer than usual. Was he going to yell at her for Jessie Kay’s absence or the plates Brook Lynn had broken or the orders she had screwed up—or all three? Yeah, probably that last one. The knots in her stomach tightened. But at least the new implants were doing their job, leveling out the noises around her while allowing her to distinguish certain nuances.

“On my way,” she called. She trudged into the break room to grab her purse from her locker.

Heart hammering, she entered Mr. Calbert’s office. He was in his midfifties with thinning hair, glasses as thick as her wrist and a build that suggested he enjoyed tasting the foods he served.

His office was small, crammed with file cabinets and a desk too big for the space. He was already seated, drumming his nails impatiently. When she eased into the chair across from him, he got straight to the point.

“Your sister was a no-show. Again.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” When Brook Lynn had seen Jessie Kay this morning, she’d been hunched over a toilet, vomiting her guts out from too much to drink, her mascara running down her bright red cheeks.

You going to be okay for work? Brook Lynn had asked.

I’ll be there. Jeez! I’m not a total slag.

Mr. Calbert shuffled papers around, saying, “Why do you put up with that girl?”

Because Jessie Kay had done whatever was necessary to keep Brook Lynn fed after Uncle Kurt had taken off. Because she’d comforted Brook Lynn when they’d lost everything. Because her sister was all she had left.

“That has no bearing on our conversation,” she said, raising her chin.

“Actually, it has everything to do with our conversation.” He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead in his palms. That did not bode well. “Look. I like you. I do. I think you’re a good girl with bad problems, and that’s what makes this so difficult, but this is a business, and it has to be done.”

Dread slithered through her, a boa with every intention of choking her out. She could guess where this was leading and vehemently shook her head. “Don’t do this, Mr. Calbert. Please. I need the money.”

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes bleak. “I’m sorry, Brook Lynn. I loved your parents. They were nice people, and I respected them, but I can’t rely on you anymore. You’re too tired to work as much as you do, but I can’t cut your hours because you always beg me for more. You break things—”

“I’ll pay for them.”

“—and you get a ton of orders wrong.”

“I apologized to everyone.”

“You put peanuts instead of croutons on Mr. Crawford’s salad, and he had an allergic reaction. I have to pay his medical bill and for his mental anguish!”

“Anyone could have made that mistake.” But okay, all right. Yes, her mind had been zapped by all the extra hours and tasks she’d taken on. “At least now Mr. Crawford knows his EpiPen is working properly,” she tried.

Mr. Calbert shook his head. “I need to be able to rely on my staff.”

“But—”

“I can’t rely on you or your sister. You and Jessie Kay are fired, Brook Lynn. Effective immediately.”

* * *

JASE HAD JUST finished off his third beer of the evening, knowing it wouldn’t be his last. He had seriously dark emotions to drown, and by hell, he was going to drown them. If he failed, he’d get in his car and head into town to see her.

The new bane of his existence, Miss Brook Lynn Dillon. He hadn’t been this obsessed with a woman since Daphne.

Daphne. Yeah. He’d think about her. Unlike Brook Lynn, the thought of her actually mellowed him.

He let his mind drift to the night he and Daphne had met. They’d both been sixteen, and while he’d earned money repairing and washing cars, she’d worked at a fast-food joint. He’d gone in for a burrito and had come out with her phone number. They’d spent the next two years together, inseparable, and had been saving to rent an apartment together.

She’d represented the future. Stability. And unlike most of the foster families he’d lived with, he’d wanted her to stick.

“Want a beer?” Beck asked West.

They were congregated in the game room, their sanctuary. Beck and Jase were playing pool, while West watched. Or, more accurately, thought about something; the guy had been lost in his head for the past half hour.

“No,” West finally replied, and Beck breathed a sigh of relief.

Jase observed the entire exchange with a frown. Beck had been testing West’s resolve to remain sober more and more lately, and he couldn’t figure out why. But then, the two had a history he knew nothing about. So many years’ worth of memories made without him.

He never had a problem convincing himself he was fine with it—until moments like this.

“You aren’t an alcoholic, West,” Jase pointed out.

“But I am a recovering drug addict,” West said. “Alcohol is my gateway.”

West had gotten high for the first time nine years ago, and he’d stayed high for the next three.

Dark eyes grim...haunted, his friend admitted, “I wasn’t even feeling the temptation...until recently.”

“What changed?” Jase asked.

“What else? The time of year.”

Lightbulb. The oncoming anniversary of Tessa’s death.

Tessa had been West’s first and only girlfriend. The two had met mere days after Jase first encountered West and Beck. She’d lived down the street, and while Jase and Beck had grown to love her like a sister, West...he had grown to love her intimately, desperately. The pair had been halves that depended on each other, rather than wholes that complemented each other, and West had never recovered from her loss.

I’m never going to end up like that.

Brook Lynn’s image drifted through his head, taunting him. He gripped the edge of the table, nearly snapping the wood.

Tessa had dropped out of high school her senior year to waitress full-time and help her mom pay bills. Later, though, she’d passed her GED exam. Her deadbeat mom hadn’t cared enough to celebrate, so West had promised to throw her a party. He’d toked up instead. She’d left the apartment they’d all shared with a sad smile, saying it didn’t matter. But afterward Beck confessed he’d seen her crying as she’d driven away.

That night, she’d crashed her car into a lamppost.

Sweet, beautiful Tessa had died at the age of nineteen.

“I get it. The anniversary of Tessa’s death is three months away,” Jase said. According to some of the tales Beck had told him, West spiraled more and more, drinking, flaking on clients, even picking fights. Soon after, he picked a woman, showered her with affection and gifts and ended things in exactly two months, as if he was willing to give happiness a shot because it was what Tessa would have wanted, but he didn’t feel he deserved more than a taste.

“Yes,” West responded, head bowed, “and I’ll be fine this time. I will. I’m not going to limit what you can do because of a weakness I have.”

“For a smart man, you can be really stupid.” Jase clasped him by the nape and stared him down. “We help each other. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. What makes you think I’d want anything to do with something that bothers you?”

“You’ve lost so much already.”

Yes. More than either man knew. Jase had shared only a few of the atrocities he’d suffered—and committed—during the years of their separation. He could barely stand to think of them. “So have you,” he said. “A scholarship to MIT, and soon after that, Tessa.”

Pain flashed in dark eyes that had already witnessed the worst the world had to offer.

“You’ve been clean six years,” Jase said. “During that time, you’ve created and sold different computer programs and games I won’t pretend to understand, and you’ve made us richer than we ever dreamed by investing the profits for us. Cut yourself some slack.”

“Put that way, I am pretty awesome,” West said, the barest hint of a smile revealed.

“Though only a close second to me,” Beck said, thumping his chest like a gorilla.

The doorbell rang before Jase could pop them both in the back of the head.

Everyone displayed different variations of dread.

“Bet it’s one of Beck’s women, coming to request seconds,” West said.

Beck lined up his shot. “Too bad. The candy store is currently closed.”

West snorted. “If only it stayed closed for maintenance. These women are upsetting my schedule.”

Jase had noticed West’s time-management and schedule-building skills had only gotten sharper over the years, though he’d done his best to relax and pretend he could roll with spontaneity. In reality, he’d always lived by a regime, preferring to have every minute planned.

Another round of ringing echoed from the walls.

“Don’t everyone rush to the door at once,” Jase said.

Beck peered at West. “Do me a solid and get rid of her.”

“Happy to, but you’ll owe me.” West strode from the room.

“Like that’s anything new,” Beck called. The amused vibe vanished in a blink. He tossed Jase a look rife with concern. “He’ll come through this, but it’s going to be hard. I’m glad you’re here. It’s been rough going it alone with him these past few years.”

“Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do.”

“Just keep reminding him that you’re here.” As Jase got in position to drill the eight ball into the far right pocket, Beck switched gears, starting a joke. “So, an angel walked into a den of iniquity.”

The word angel made him think of Brook Lynn again, and certain parts of his body began to ache for contact. Every day since he’d met her, he’d gone into town to give her that bill she was so determined to pay and to reimburse her for the implants he’d ruined.

If he were honest, settling their debt had little to do with his frequent trips.

He’d wanted to talk to her, to find out what it would take to break through all of her stubbornness and prickly anger and make her smile. To prove she wasn’t as beautiful as he remembered...or as soft and warm. But every time he’d seen her, he’d realized she was more beautiful—and probably softer and warmer.

She worked at a jewelry shop Monday through Saturday, and while there, she wore her pale hair in some kind of intricate knot on top of her head, thick locks at her temples tumbling down to frame her exquisite face and, he was sure, to cover her ears. She usually had a pair of magnifying glasses over her eyes and a small pair of needle-nose pliers in hand. Once, as she had helped a guy with grease stains on his hands and overalls, she had talked with her hands, laughing happily at whatever he’d said to her.

Jase had experienced a wave of anger he hadn’t understood then—and didn’t understand now—and had left before Brook Lynn could spot him.

But he’d gone back again and again.

Most evenings, she worked at Two Farms, and because she was usually the last to leave, she often had to walk to her car alone. Anyone could hide in the shadows, jump out and perform a grab-and-stab. Or worse. And okay, yes, she got points for carrying what looked to be pepper spray, but she lost even more for not paying attention to her surroundings. She was like a Disney princess, practically dancing and singing, “I’m so ready to be disarmed and mugged!”

Did she not realize even small towns had crime?

Case in point: he could be cited for stalking. Hence the multiple beers and his desperation to stay inside the house tonight. He would not risk a legal battle for anyone.

He sank the ball and smirked at Beck. “You going to tell me the rest of the joke?”

“Not a joke. A fact.” His friend motioned to the entrance with a tilt of his chin then wiggled his brows.

Jase looked, and yep, he had to agree. An angel had walked into a den of iniquity. Beside West stood Brook Lynn Dillon.

Hauntingly beautiful. And completely off-limits.

The urge to touch her, to hold her, bombarded him all over again, and he had to grit his teeth against it.