Authors: Julie Lessman
“Thanks, buddy.” Chase slapped Jack on the back after the last box thudded to the nursery floor, and turning out the lights, he led him back down the steps to where they came in. Chase nodded toward the sanctuary. “Mind giving me a few minutes before you leave?”
Yes.
Jack glanced at his watch again. “Sure,” he said in a clipped tone, trailing Preacher Boy as he slid into one of the last pews, moving in to give Jack plenty of room.
Perched on the edge of the seat, Chase stared straight ahead, elbows on knees and chin resting on clasped hands. His usual warm and out-going air was suddenly as quiet and serious as the large, wooden-beamed church lit by the dimmest of lights. “I appreciate your time, Jack,” he said quietly, eyes meeting Jack’s for the first time. “I imagine as a doctor, people hit you up all the time for your opinion, so I apologize for doing the same.”
One arm over the back of the pew, Jack lifted a shoulder in feigned nonchalance, shades of the caring minister he had once hoped to be rising to the surface. “No more than a pastor, I suppose,” he said with a penetrating stare, a strange longing flooding his soul over a career choice that might have been. “What’s on your mind?”
Chase exhaled loudly and sat back. “It’s my little sister, Chloe—stepsister, really, since my mom remarried after she and my dad divorced.” A faint smile tipped his lips as he stared into the sanctuary, as if seeing something other than gray padded pews and a platform with screens and wall sculptures. “She’s only five, but man, what a pistol,” he whispered, cramping Jack’s gut when he glanced over with a sheen of tears in his eyes. “She lives with my mom and her dad in a small town in Missouri, and the local doc—a G.P. with a family practice—is concerned she might have something called retinoblastoma.” He paused. “You know what that is, right?”
Jack nodded, the very word like a punch in his gut. “Cancerous tumor of the eye,” he said quietly, his mind instantly reverting to medical mode. “What are her symptoms, Chase?”
His chest expanded and contracted with great effort. “She was having trouble seeing in school according to my mom—double vision mostly—right about the same time she started complaining her eyes hurt. The local eye doc fit her for glasses, but that didn’t seem to help, but when her eyes started to cross, we all got pretty worried. The doctor apparently consulted with a colleague in San Diego who concurs that Chloe might have this cancer.”
A nerve in Chase’s jaw flickered as he blinked several times, as if to clear moisture. “He said she needs a full eye exam, including a CT scan or MRI and maybe an ultrasound. The problem is, that kind of medical help is three hours away and they don’t have insurance since my stepfather was recently laid off.” He straightened then, shoulders squaring along with his jaw, reminding Jack of the Navy Seal Matt said he once used to be. “So I guess I’m asking straight out, Jack—do you know anything I can do to get Chloe the help that she needs?”
Jack pulled his business card out of his wallet and handed it over. “Absolutely, Chase, and the timing is perfect because a rep from the National Cancer Institute was in last week. So shoot me an email and I’ll send you information about St. Jude’s Research Hospital in St. Louis. It’s the only pediatric specialty cancer center the National Cancer Institute funds, so it’s totally committed to caring for and supporting children with cancer regardless of a family’s financial or healthcare resources. They also provide free lodging to patient families who live more than thirty-five miles from the hospital, so all you need is a doctor’s referral, which I can provide, and we’ll get the paperwork started. How does that sound?”
The muscles in Chase’s throat convulsed several times before he was able to speak. “Like the miracle I’ve been praying for, Doc,” he said in a hoarse voice, extending his hand to shake Jack’s with a firm grip that seemed to bond the two men together. “Thank you, Jack. You don’t know what this means to me.”
Jack rose, any animosity he might have had for Chase Griffin siphoning right out at the look of sheer gratitude on the man’s face. “Oh, I think I do. I spent three years in a pedes internship and residency, remember? Seeing kids and families get the help that they need is one of the greatest joys I’ve ever known. Trust me—it’s my pleasure.”
“Even so, I’d like to pay you back, if I could,” he said carefully, probing Jack with an intense look that signaled the tables were turning once again, making Chase the “healer” instead of Jack. He stood to his feet, the gloss of moisture in his eyes suddenly gone, replaced by the calm confidence of a pastor. “And I have a feeling that maybe I can.”
Jack waved him away. “No payment necessary, Rev; helping Chloe is payment enough.”
Chase dipped his head, eyes in a squint as he studied Jack with more than a little curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
Chase scratched behind his ear, as if in deep thought. “I guess I’m wondering why you’ve stayed away from volleyball this last month. I mean you’re clearly
one
of the best on the team,” he said with a glint of tease in his eyes, “and it’s no secret you’re a competitor to the core.” He butted against the back of the pew, eyeing Jack with a casual fold of arms. “And I know you’re not all that big on church, but volleyball and pizza in a gym hardly qualify for that.”
Jack strove for an air of nonchalance despite the uptick of his pulse. “No real reason, just busy I guess.”
“Really?” Chase angled to face Jack head-on, one thigh balanced flat on the back of the pew. “’Cause I kind of get the feeling you might be avoiding Lacey and me.”
Heat circled Jack’s collar like a ring of fire. “Not sure why you would think that.”
“Probably since you tend to get moody whenever I’m around her,” he said, gaze focused on Jack like a laser. “And if that’s true, I think you should know we’re only friends.”
Jack blinked, Chase’s statement catching him off-guard. “What?”
“Yeah, for a couple of weeks now, as a matter of fact.” He rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand, as if talking about it didn’t set all that well. “She told me she had feelings for some other guy and hoped we could be friends. It wasn’t my idea, of course, because frankly I like Lacey a lot and was hoping to pursue something more.”
A tic twittered in Jack’s cheek against his will.
“Personally,” Chase continued in a matter-of-fact tone that seemed at odds with a knowing look in his eyes, “I think the ‘other guy’ is you.”
Jack’s body flashed cold and then hot, sweat slicking both his palms and the back of his neck. His voice came out as a croak. “What?”
“Yeah, she pretty much implied that, in my opinion, so I guess the one thing I want to know is …” He pierced Jack with a stony look straight out of the Navy Seal handbook. “What are you going to do about it, O’Bryen?”
Jack slowly sank down into the pew, barely aware how he got there, mind racing as fast as his pulse. Lacey was still in love with him? He swallowed hard. The little brat never let on once in the last month she’d hung out with his sisters and him—on the dock, at the camp, at his house for games of basketball and wiffle ball. His eyelids drifted closed, seeing every nuance of her face across the patio table during dinners with his family, hearing the music of her laughter when she’d finger-flick food at him behind his mom’s back. The familiar scent of peach in her hair when’d held her from behind, teaching her how to swing a golf club in his backyard.
Sensing Chase waiting on his answer, Jack expelled a heavy breath, head bowed while he kneaded his temples with forefinger and thumb. “There’s nothing I can do about it, Chase. Lacey’s made it pretty clear she wants a guy who feels the way she does about God, and the truth is, I don’t.” He sagged back against the seat, eyes wandering into a distant stare. “At least not anymore.” A harsh laugh tumbled from his throat. “The old ‘unequally yoked’ glitch back to bite me in the butt. God knows how I wrestled with it myself back when Lacey veered off the path her senior year.” A sad smile lined his lips as he saw her in his mind’s eye, the pixie vamp who’d tease him with kisses and more, tempting him with moonlight skinny-dipping that’d taken every ounce of willpower he had. But he loved her then—body and soul—and he loved her now, enough to be friends, at least, despite the dull ache in his chest.
He looked up at Chase, an unlikely confessor given Jack’s aversion to him before. “Kind of ironic to love her like I do, you know? Only to be tripped up by a precept that means absolutely nothing to me anymore. And now everything to her.” His chest expanded and depleted with a noisy blast of air. “No, as much as either of us may harbor feelings from the past, it appears we’ll have to settle for being only friends.”
Lips tight, Chase nodded. “Well, I have to admit—you and she sure carry it off well,” he continued, drawing Jack’s gaze once again, “but I have a gut feeling you’re both pretty miserable with the way that it is. So as an occasionally annoying pastor wired to ‘fix’ things in people, I’m going to ask you one more time, O’Bryen—what are you going to do about it?”
“I just told you—”
“
No,
” he emphasized, cutting him off, “what are you going to do about God, Jack? After all, if He’s the obstacle between you and Lacey and you
claim
to love her like you do—”
“I
do
love her,” he shot back, prickles of their prior enmity niggling once again.
A trace of humor glinted in Chase’s eyes despite the stern set of his jaw. “Then I’d say it’s about time you man up, Dr. Jock, and get back in the game.”
“Meaning what?” The clip of Jack’s tone was as frosty as his eyes.
Chase straightened to his full six-foot-two height before strolling toward the other end of the pew. “Meaning you need to unload that bag of garbage you’ve been carrying around since your father had an affair.”
“He was a freakin’ pastor!” Jack shouted, fury scalding his face.
Chase paused in the aisle, hands slung low on his hips. “Yeah, I know. Those sorry excuses for human beings who have blood in their veins just like you.”
Shooting to his feet, Jack bolted from the pew. “I don’t have to take this crap.”
“Sure you do, Jack,” Chase called, a note of levity in his tone while Jack stalked toward the door. “Unless Lacey’s not worth it …?”
Jack ground to a stop at the door, sucker-punched by a preacher with a smirk in his voice. He hung his head, nerves screaming to cut loose with a fist. He slammed a palm to the wooden door, the sound echoing through the church like Chase’s words in his mind.
“Unless Lacey’s not worth it …?”
He spun on his heel, bludgeoning a finger in the air while he glared. “Fifteen freakin’ minutes, Preacher Boy, and I’m outta here, ya got that?”
Chase grinned, rankling Jack even more. “Yeah, I got that, Jock Boy.” He ambled toward the door as if they had all the time in the world. “So, tell me, Doc, how do you like your coffee?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Rev, I’m not gonna be here that long.”
Chase hesitated with a palm to the door, the grin fading into a solemn smile that somehow stemmed the tide of Jack’s temper. “Sure you are,” he said softly, too soft for a bruiser of a man who used to kick butt in the Navy. “I’ll make it black and strong because something tells me we’re gonna need it.” He gave the door two sharp taps of his palm before offering Jack an understanding smile that completely disarmed the rest of his anger.
“Because between you and me, looks to be a pretty long night.”
Lacey did her best not to cry, but once Chase pronounced them man and wife and introduced Mr. and Mrs. Matt and Nicki Ball to the crowd, there was no stopping the waterworks. Nicki looked beautiful, of course, and Lacey couldn’t be happier for her and Matt. They both glowed more than the twinkle lights strung around the gazebo in the pink haze of dusk, and there was no question that theirs was a match made in heaven.
Swiping the moisture from her face, she peeked at Jack out of the corner of her eye, standing with the groomsmen on the other side of the gazebo steps. His heart-melting grin caused her stomach to tilt, those blue eyes agleam with quiet laughter over something Nate whispered in his ear. A wistful sigh drifted from Lacey’s lips. Talk about eye candy! In black tails and tie, he made her mouth go dry, surging her pulse as much as a year’s supply of Lindt truffles.
His gaze converged with hers, and a slow grin eased across lips she’d once kissed more times than she could count. Hair in a messy updo of tangled curls, she was certain everyone could see the blood crawling up her neck at the memory, and when he sent her a wink, she thought she just might faint. Heart thudding, she jerked her gaze to the gazebo where Matt and Nicki were doing some serious kissing of their own, rallying the intimate crowd of one hundred with cheers, catcalls, and deafening applause. Lacey whooped and clapped with the rest of them, her joy genuine despite the tears that slipped from her eyes. A marriage made in heaven, indeed. She forced a bright smile to hide the ache in her heart. Something she and Jack might have had once.
But not anymore.
The string quartet crescendoed into the wedding march, and Nicki and Matt stepped from the gazebo in a spray of bubbles and rice. Face flushed with joy, the bride clung to Matt’s arm while he beamed like the sun that was sinking over the Skidaway. Every tree, trellis, and shrub twinkled with little white lights that lent a fairy-tale shimmer against a watercolor sky, while lace and linen tables sparkled with candlelight and china.
“Oh, Nick, I’m so happy for you two!” Lacey flung her arms around her cousin, no stopping the tears as they both laughed and cried together. She pulled away to hold Nicki at arm’s length, scanning her cream off-the-shoulder gown. Its clean and simple lines were adorned by a scattering of seed pearls on the fitted bodice while the tulle skirt flowed to a white rayon runner emblazoned with
And the two shall become one.
“Even after crying through the entire ceremony, you still look gorgeous!”
“Thanks, Lace. I couldn’t have done this without you, Cuz.” She skimmed a finger along the short off-the-shoulder sleeve of Lacey’s lavender chiffon dress. “And you look beautiful, too, not only managing to find a dress that looks great on you, but on both Sarah and Kelly too.”
Lacey looked around, admiring Sarah and Kelly as they chatted with the groomsmen—or in Kelly’s case, flirted with Jack a little too much. “They do look pretty, as do the groomsmen in those tuxes Matt picked out—hubba-hubba!” Her heart did an annoying flip when Jack glanced her way, but she quickly pivoted to scan Mamaw’s yard, its transformation into a romantic and intimate reception nothing short of stunning. Guests milled and mingled around lace and linen-clad rounds tucked here and there among lush gardens and trees. Off to the right of the gazebo the string quartet played at the edge of a cozy dance floor surrounded by potted plants and ferns, their lilting dinner music soon to be switched out by a DJ just setting up. “I’ll tell you what, Nick, Uncle Cam spared no expense, that’s for darn sure.”
Nicki glanced at her father—home from his naval commission in time for the wedding—now chatting with Tess, Shannon and Cat at Mamaw’s table while Davey and Spence swooped Power Rangers through the air. Her smile tipped. “Yeah, the poor guy felt so guilty for being gone so long, he insisted on carte blanche, but having him home means more than anything.”
“Hey, they’re serving the head table, woman, and I’m hungry.” Matt slipped his arms around Nicki’s waist, making her squeal when he nibbled her neck.
“Me too,” Jack said into Lacey’s ear, sidling close to drape a hand over her shoulder.
Lacey jolted, the heat of his hand on her bare shoulder and the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin of her throat zinging sparks through her body. Her jaw tightened as Jack ushered her to the head round in the center of the yard, its satin tablecloth shimmering with candlelight and a spray of calla lilies.
Get a grip, Lacey
, she thought as Jack seated her,
this is your best friend, not a date.
Yeah, that was the problem.
This was Jack. The best friend who’d begun plaguing her dreams, stealing her sleep, invading her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, she silently groused, outwardly laughing as the guys heckled Matt. Blame it on the magical fairy-tale wedding or the fact that Jack looked like a Dolce and Gabbana ad in his tux, jaw shadowed with a bare rasp of beard. Or even the frequency with which she’d been hanging out at the O’Bryen’s of late, fishing on the dock, dinner with the family, horsing around like she was just one of the kids.
Only she wasn’t.
Tess wasn’t her mother, Shannon and Cat weren’t her sisters, and Jack was definitely
not
her brother. Not the way her heart had begun to race whenever he entered the room. For whatever the reason, she was beginning to feel things for Jack again that she had no right to feel. He was going with Jasmine, after all, and Lacey had no intention of falling for a man without faith.
Too late.
“Speech time, so wish me luck, Carmichael, and in case I haven’t mentioned it, you’re a knock-out in that dress.”
Halting mid chew, Lacey glanced up with prime rib bunching her cheeks, not sure if it was the horseradish sauce or the potent look in Jack’s eyes that sent a brain freeze crackling through her body. Either way, her hands were sweating and her throat closed up.
Rising, Jack ting-ting-tinged his champagne flute, drawing everyone’s attention as he raised his glass in Matt and Nicki’s direction. “I’d like to propose a toast to the man who’s been both best friend and brother as well as a cousin … and to the woman who
finally
took him off our hands.” Chuckles tittered through the crowd as Jack entertained with stories that elicited both laughter and tears, priming Lacey for her own toast where she literally broke down and cried.
The evening was a blur, from the flip of the garter—snagged by Jack in a good-natured scuffle with Chase—to the toss of the bouquet, handily won by Kelly after she bludgeoned Lacey’s toe. Pictures were taken and cakes were cut, and when the music started, Lacey felt ready to drop. Glancing up, she saw Jack laughing with the DJ and was grateful he wasn’t around to ask her to dance. Sagging into her satin-covered chair, she eased her heels off and massaged the foot that Kelly had trounced, not inclined to further punishment on the dance floor.
“On your feet, Carmichael—I’m in a tux, which is the only time I’m prone to dance, so take advantage.” Tugging her up, Jack didn’t even give her a chance to respond, simply dragged her barefoot across the grass to a dance floor already swarming with people. Ignoring her protests, he looped his arms around her waist and studied her in a squint. “Have you always been this much of a shrimp, Mike, or am I getting taller?”
“Only your ego,” she quipped, wishing her best friend didn’t look so darn sexy, jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled to reveal thick forearms, veined and scattered with hair.
“Hey, blame it on the tux, not me.” He gave her a slow grin that pooled heat in her belly when the music began to play. “Can I help it if girls think doctors in tuxes are hot?”
She looked away, annoyed by the fire flaming her cheeks. “Hotshot, you mean,” she countered, just aching to wipe the smirk off his face and not really sure why.
His low laughter rumbled beneath her ear when he tugged her to his chest, the strains of Randy Travis’s
Forever and Ever, Amen
finally registering in her brain.
Oh, goodie.
Jack’s favorite song to sing during their moonlight floats in his dad’s dory. With a confidence and skill that suddenly ticked her off in the face of her own unease, Jack melded them into the music as if he were on
Dancing with the Stars
, his moves fluid and totally in control. “Ah, jealous, are we?”
“Ha! You keep thinking that, Dr. Romeo.” A smile shadowed her lips as she closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth of his hold with a quiet sigh. Well, if nothing else, she could enjoy this one dance with a man who spiked her pulse before she shot down anymore slow dances the rest of the night. He started humming the song in her ear, voice husky and low, and her eyelids could do nothing but sink under his spell. The heat of his body and scent of Obsession cologne disarmed her completely, confirming that Jack O’Bryen was quickly becoming an obsession in which she could no longer indulge.
Not as a boyfriend
nor
as a best friend.
His low baritone hushed to a whisper when the husky lyrics blew warm in her ear, a man pledging his love forever and ever, until the day that he died ...
Against her will, hot tears pricked, and Lacey pushed away from his chest with a plastic smile, determined to break the spell of a “best man” who was anything but “best” for her. “Not too close, O’Bryen. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not risk Jasmine slashing my tires.” The distance she put between them helped to clear the fog from her mind, and lips in a slant, she scanned the backyard. “Speaking of the little missus, what time is she coming tonight?”
“She’s not.”
Lacey’s gaze snapped to his, mouth sagging open. “Are you serious? Why on earth not?” She tried to deflect her shock with a casual air, brushing imaginary lint off his gray satin vest before teasing with a slide of her palm down a shirtsleeve taut with muscle. “Goodness, if I had a boyfriend who looked like you in a tux, Brye, I think I’d be here to protect my interest.”
He didn’t let go when the song came to an end, his hands all but burning through the chiffon when they firmly anchored to the small of her back. “Because a best man has an obligation to the maid of honor, Miss Carmichael.” The tease in his tone quickly faded to soft when his gaze flicked to her lips and back. “Especially when
his
interests are at stake …”
Blood shot to her cheeks, all but asphyxiating her as she stumbled back, her knees as weak as her smile. “I need air,” she rasped, not sure she knew what he was talking about, but not willing to stay and find out. A gulp wobbled her throat. “And something
really
cold to drink …”
She whirled around to bolt away, only to bounce against his chest when he tugged her back, locking her in a powerful hold. “There’s air all around you, Lace,” he whispered, so close she could smell the Godiva chocolate on his breath from the wedding favors strewn on the table. “But a walk to the dock would be nice. I’ll grab a couple of waters on the way.”
She tried to squirm free as politely as possible, pulse pounding harder than the bass of the Third Day song the D.J. was now blasting into the night. “Jack, my feet are killing me, so I’m afraid I need to pass on both walks and dances—”
His sober look stopped her dead in her tracks. “We need to talk, Lace,” he said quietly, “and for me, it’s pretty serious.”
She stared, dread crawling in her stomach at his solemn look. She swallowed hard. “All right—you get the waters, and I’ll grab my shoes.”
Her mind and her stomach were awhirl as she snatched up her heels at the table, grateful that the wedding party was out on the dance floor and not likely to notice where she and Jack went. What could he possibly want? And what on earth could be wrong? In a slow blink of those deadly blue eyes, it seemed as if he’d morphed into the Jack of old—serious and intense, with that fierce gleam in his gaze that told her he cared way too much. A tremble rippled through her as she put on her shoes, well aware that
that
Jack was far more dangerous to her state of mind than the man about town.
Especially now.
“How are your feet?” he asked as she carefully picked her way through the grass in Mamaw’s front yard where a vermillion sun leaked ribbons of gold over the roof of the community dock at the end of the street.
She gave a slight shrug, taking the bottled water he handed her while avoiding his eyes. “Nothing three hours in a hot soak won’t cure.” Praying she wouldn’t trip in her heels, Lacey winced as she limped along toward the dock a block away. Mid-wince, she gasped when Jack halted to swoop her up in his arms, swirling heat in her stomach. “What on earth are you doing, O’Bryen?” she squeaked, grateful it was getting dark so no one would spot her in his arms.
He stopped midway, enough dusky light in his face to see the jut of his brow. “You’re going to break your neck in those stupid heels, Lace, and frankly, I don’t want to ruin Matt’s wedding with a trip to the emergency room, all right?”
She squirmed in his arms, attempting to get down. “I’ll take them off, then.”
“Nope.” He continued to stride toward the deserted dock, now washed in shadows of purple and pink. “You’re a tenderfoot, remember?”
“Fine.” She unleashed a loud bluster of air, not at all comfortable with the tingles from the constant bump of her body against his. Neither spoke while he carried her to the far edge of the dock, the sounds of the night cocooning them in a familiar setting far more magical than any fairy-tale wedding. The strains of music seemed to melt into the background, giving way to the croak of tree frogs and the distant hoot of an owl. Lazy squeaks from the dock sounded as they shifted on the water, their moonlit shadows appearing to roll along with the river. An eerie beauty that had always both seduced and soothed.