Beth Andrews - What Happens Between Friends

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Friends… with benefits?For Sadie Nixon, life is one big adventure with something new around the corner. And anytime she needs a break, she can always rely on James Montesano - the best guy she knows. This time when she arrives in Shady Grove, however, something is different. There’s a little extra between her and James that has them crossing the line of friendship into one steamy, no-holds-barred night.After, no matter how hard she tries, Sadie can’t erase the memories of James that way. He’s so hot, so tempting… But his life is here and hers isn’t. She needs his friendship but she doesn’t do commitment.So where does that leave them? Suddenly what happens between friends is more complicated than ever!

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As soon as Bree was out of earshot, Maddie turned to him. “James, I—”

“It’s fine, Maddie. I’m glad Bree is spending more time with her father.”

He almost meant it, too.

Sure, he wanted what was best for his niece, and Neil was showing that he could step up and be the kind of attentive, loving father Bree needed. But it changed things.

It changed how much time Bree spent with James, how involved he was in her life.

Not that he could complain about it or even let it get him angry or upset. A good guy, wasn’t that what Sadie had labeled him? She wasn’t the only one. Usually, he took it as a compliment; he liked being the kind of man people could turn to, someone they could trust. But there were times when doing the right thing was annoying as hell.

The good not only died young, but they also didn’t get so much as a day off from other people’s expectations. Not even on their freaking birthday.

“Thanks,” Maddie whispered. “Really. I know not everyone agrees with me and Neil getting back together, so your support means a lot to me.”

“I’ve always got your back,” he told her. “No matter what.”

It was what big brothers did. Even if he wasn’t sure support was the right word for how he felt about her reuniting with her high school boyfriend, the man who’d gotten her pregnant at sixteen and left to pursue a professional hockey career.

But, unlike Leo—who’d never liked Neil—James was keeping his opinions to himself. He would sit back and let events unfold, as he always did. And if things went bad, he would be there to pick up the pieces.

“I appreciate that,” Maddie said, giving him another hug.

He sat in the chair, Zoe by his side as they watched Maddie drive down the long, winding driveway and across the street to her own house.

The door opened, but he didn’t turn, didn’t need to see who was there. He easily recognized the sound of her step, the light, citrusy scent of her perfume.

“I hope you’re not still pouting,” Sadie said, sitting at the end of his chair.

“I don’t pout.”

“No? Well, your bottom lip said otherwise.” She took the water from him, sipped. Laid her hand on his knee. “It’s only a game, James.”

Swinging his legs around so they sat side by side, so her hand fell away from his leg, he grabbed his water. “I realize that.”

Though having her wipe the pool table with him was humiliating.

But he hadn’t pouted, damn it.

“It really shouldn’t bother you so much to lose to me. You know no one beats me at eight ball.”

“That’s why no one else will play you,” he reminded her. Not once they learned she’d spent a couple of months in Vegas making her living as a pool shark.

She sighed, as if the entire world was against poor, little ol’ her. “I know. It’s not fun. I’m just glad I can always count on you.”

That went without saying.

Sadie braced her weight on her arms behind her and tipped her face up. Eyes shut, she inhaled deeply, her full breasts rising and falling under her silky tank top.

His throat dried. His fingers twitched with the need to stroke the long line of her throat, to flick over the pulse beating at the base of her neck. Even when she was still, there was an energy about her, like an electrical current, one pulsating with life.

It called to him, had always called to him, pulling him in, daring him to touch, to feel that zing coursing through his blood, just once.

Tearing his gaze from her, he held his water between his knees, stared at the floor. But he could feel her next to him, the brush of her leg against his outer thigh, the shifting of the seat when she stretched, arching her back. Could hear her soft breathing, the low, melodic tune she hummed softly.

He’d sought her out tonight. He hadn’t wanted to, but it seemed no matter where he was, what he was doing, who he was talking to, he couldn’t stop from seeking out the sound of her laugh, the sight of her light brown hair. She was like a butterfly in her bright, colorful clothes, in how she fluttered from a conversation with his grandfather about how to make a foolproof marinara sauce to entertaining a group with tales about tending bar in the French Quarter to coaxing his seven-year-old nephew to dance.

She captivated him. He wondered if he would ever get free.

“You ready to go?” he asked, his voice gruff.

She sat up. “Sure.”

They walked down the driveway and rounded the front of the house.

“It’s good to be home,” Sadie said as they crossed toward the garage, her tone soft. Hesitant. “But the best part about being home is being with you. I just...I wanted you to know that,” she said quietly.

She sped up, leaving him to gape at her as she went into the garage for the stray dog.

He wasn’t sure what that had been about, wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

It’s good to be home.

He’d never heard her admit that before. Never would have believed that she could actually mean it. But even it was true, it was only temporary. Everything with her was temporary. Her jobs, her relationships, her goals and dreams—they changed based on her whims, on where she was living and who her friends were at any given moment. She may be glad to be in Shady Grove, but she wouldn’t stay.

Her leaving was the only reliable thing about her.

* * *

SADIE PADDED INTO James’s kitchen, Elvis at her heels, the wood floor cool under her bare feet. She flipped on the pendent lights over the center island and crossed to the refrigerator.

Good Lord, even the inside of his fridge was immaculate and so organized it could be in an appliance commercial, with a place for everything and everything in its damned place. Well, she thought, helping herself to a Golden Delicious apple, at least she didn’t have to worry about catching some deadly disease by eating his food.

Unlike when she spent the night with Doug, her last boyfriend.

She was glad to be rid of him and all those penicillin samples he grew in his refrigerator.

She just wished she’d been the one to end things.

Washing the apple, she looked out the window at James’s side yard. When she’d first seen his house, she’d been surprised. Not by the workmanship; she’d expect nothing less than the best from him and Montesano Construction. No, what had shocked her was that instead of a traditional, two-story house with an attached garage—and the same boring floor plan as half the houses in town—he’d gone with a log home design.

Guess even lifelong friends could surprise each other every now and again.

And, yes, he’d explained how his house combined contemporary design with waterfront, coastal and cottage elements and blah, blah, blah. Biting into the apple, she leaned against the counter. All she knew was that it was gorgeous, with vaulted ceilings, dozens of tall, narrow windows and a stone fireplace. A house that reflected well James’s love for rich woods, deep colors and simple furnishings.

The first floor consisted of a master suite, a small bathroom and laundry room and a country-style kitchen that opened into a huge great room. Upstairs, a loft overlooked the great room with a bedroom on each side, along with another bathroom. In the kitchen, he’d chosen wide, rough-hewn pine beams for the ceiling, narrower boards for the floor. Whitewashed, glass-front cupboards and slate-gray counters.

He had a good eye, she thought as she opened an upper cabinet and took out a jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers. At least architecturally. When it came to interior design, he still had a lot to learn.

It was like you were in a plywood box—wood, wood and more wood.

If this was her place, she’d switch things up. Add some color and visual interest with a tile design on the center island, fill the cupboards with thick, white ceramic dishware. She munched on a cracker, her eyes narrowed as she studied the room. A throw rug under the high-back wooden stools and a window treatment for softness, both with hints of burgundy...maybe even yellow for warmth.

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