“You’re not going to answer the door?” Charlie asked.
“No.”
“What if it’s Jason?” Naomi asked.
Jason Young had known Jordan for eleven years. There was no way he was at her door knocking right now. He knew better.
They’d talk again eventually probably, but he’d know not to come after her right now.
“Room service has been here with coffee. There’s no one else I want to see.”
“You sure?” Naomi asked.
Something in her friend’s tone made Jordan perk up. It would be just like Naomi and Charlie to have gotten online while they talked and sent her a giant cookie bouquet. Or liquor.
Jordan picked up the computer and started for the door.
Oh, or a woman to do an in-suite spa treatment. Sure, she might be here for a massage or pedicure, but Jordan could pay extra for help with the back of her hair.
“You guys are the best,” she said as she carried Charlie and Naomi with her from the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the living room of the suite.
“Us? You don’t even —”
“Jordan!” A male voice yelled through the door. He pounded again. “Jordan! It’s me, let me in.”
Jordan froze with shock.
That was Fletcher’s voice.
Immediately her eyes filled with tears.
She hurried to the table by the window and set the computer down. “Be right back,” she told the girls.
“Jordan! Dammit! Let me in!”
She ran to the door, twisting the deadbolt, fumbling with the chain, and finally yanking it open.
Fletcher Landry was on the other side, his fist raised, ready to knock again.
He froze.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, his big arms wrapping around her. He stepped through the doorway with her, her feet dangling three inches off the floor. He kicked the door shut behind them and then just squeezed her.
There was nothing better in her life than Fletcher hugs. That had been true since she’d been six years old and had fallen on the playground at recess, scraping her knee, and he’d come over to check on her and hugged her. That was it. Fletcher Landry had been hugging her and making things better for the past twenty years and this moment was no different.
But, as she buried her face in his neck, she realized this was totally different.
He hadn’t had to come.
Things had been awkward between them for months. She’d cried the last time they’d been together. He’d asked her to choose between him and Jason.
And clearly, she’d made the wrong choice.
But still, he’d come. Now her best friend in the entire world and the person who could always make everything okay was here. As if by magic.
Of course, it wasn’t magic. Fletcher had, clearly, gotten on a plane immediately after finding out what happened and had flown to her.
He let go of her with one arm and reached behind him to re-lock the door and replace the chain. Then he walked to the sofa in the living room of the suite.
He sank down onto one of the cushions, taking her with him. He pulled her into his lap and continued to hug her tightly. Jordan curled into him, her arms around his neck. He was warm and solid and familiar.
So familiar.
They sat together on the couch, hugging, for several minutes.
Eventually, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him.
He met her gaze, but didn’t say anything.
He didn’t really need to say anything.
“Thank you,” she told him. She didn’t need to say anything either, she knew, but she wanted to.
He just gave her a single nod.
She pulled back slightly, studying him. His jaw was tight and though he was holding her and hugging her, his eyes were stormy.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He gave a soft snort. “I think that’s my line.”
She shook her head. “Well, obviously I’m not okay. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. But you look…” She narrowed her eyes. “Really pissed.”
“Accurate.”
Yeah, that made sense. Fletcher wasn’t a huge fan of Jason’s. In spite of her best efforts and desires over the years, Jason and Fletcher had never been friends. They tolerated one another. Mostly because she insisted on it. But there was a tension between the two and always had been.
Jason had, at times, been jealous of Fletcher. At least in the beginning. When they were fifteen and had first started dating, everything about relationships had been new to both of them. Her being close to Fletcher had made Jason suspicious. But after some time, he’d realized that she and Fletcher truly were just best buddies.
It probably helped that Fletcher had been a playboy from a young age. He was a Landry and the Landry males were well known for being too charming for their own good. They all had more than their share of female attention and they all wallowed in it. Fletcher had been no exception. He’d dated extensively through high school and had been very familiar with backseats and lost panties long before Jason even got lucky with his longtime girlfriend.
For some reason, thinking about that now, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was in Fletcher’s lap.
She’d sat in Fletcher’s lap lots of times. Usually when there had been too many people packed into someone’s pickup heading down to the bayou for a bonfire.
Was that the safest situation? Of course not. Would they have been pulled over and ticketed by the cop if he’d seen them? Probably. But if they were ever short on seats, whether in the pickup or on someone’s couch for movie nights, she’d always plopped down on Fletcher. Sometimes not even just because they were short of seats. She’d sat on his lap and shared blankets around bonfires and ballgames a number of times.
But it had been a while.
And for some reason, at this moment, she was aware that he was bigger and harder than she remembered from past lap-sitting situations.
Of course he was. He was twenty-six now. This was definitely not the same body she’d cuddled up with in high school on the pontoon boat when the sun dropped and things got chilly on the bayou.
This was, however, the body she’d pressed up against in that motel in Galveston…
She’d been thinking about Galveston on and off ever since it had happened. Suddenly kissing her best friend had been pretty unforgettable. But she’d especially been thinking about it since the night of the weddings in Autre when Fletcher had asked her to stay. With him. He’d specifically said “with me”. She hadn’t been able to forget that.
And now, in his arms again, all of that, and everything from Galveston, came flooding back. It wasn’t just him in general that was big and hard. There was a specific part of him pressing into her right butt cheek at the moment that definitely could be described as big and hard.
She wiggled.
His hand clamped down to keep her from moving. And that was when she became aware that one of his big, hot hands was resting on her hip.
Her mostly bare hip.
Because she was wearing the t-shirt she slept in and panties. And nothing else.
She’d changed back into the shirt to dye her hair, not wanting to risk staining anything else in the limited wardrobe she had with her.
And she hadn’t covered up to answer the door.