“I’m game as long as you are.”
“Great.” He bent to pick up her baseball cap, brushed it off and handed it to her. “I’m starving.”
Two hours, one beer and more pieces of pizza than she wanted to admit later, Ivy yawned, unable to delay the inevitable any longer. She tapped Cade, who was sitting next to her, on the shoulder. “Can we leave soon? I’ve got to be at the nursery at the butt crack of dawn, and it’s way past my bedtime.”
Plus, she’d had about as much of Sasha and her high-pitched, fake laugh as she could take. Cade’s ex had kept her distance, but that annoying laugh traveled across the room like a bullet to the brain.
And then there were the well-meaning but double-edged compliments from classmates she hadn’t seen since graduation.
“Oh, my God, Ivy, is that you?”
“What happened to you?”
“You’re so much thinner.”
And her personal favorite: “Are you sick?” Like that was the only conceivable way Jabba the Mutt could drop a few pounds.
Cade pulled out his wallet. “No problem. I’m ready to head out, too.”
He threw a handful of bills on the table and stood. “This ought to cover my share.”
Trey snatched it up. “If it doesn’t, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Thanks for everything,” Cade said to Ivy once they’d gotten into his SUV. “I owe you.”
“We’re even, remember?” She ran a finger along the brim of the ball cap, now laying in her lap. “The dare.”
“Right. The dare.” He turned onto the narrow road that circled Leffert’s Pond and led to Holly and Nick’s place. “Anyway, you were great tonight.”
Ivy stared silently out the window, her heart knocking against her ribs. He had no idea how great tonight could be, if only she could work up the nerve. After a few minutes, she turned to Cade, his profile handsome even in the eerie half light of the car’s dashboard. She wished she had her Nikon so she could capture him. “So, that kiss...”
“Yeah, that was something.” He shot her a quick, embarrassed smile and her heart skittered even faster. “I bet I won’t be hearing from Sasha again after that performance.”
Screech. Just like that, her heart skidded to a stop, her hopes dashed.
Performance? Who did he think was performing? Her? Him? Both of them?
She scrunched up the baseball cap in her hands. “That’s not the word I’d use to describe it.”
“Why not?”
“For your information, Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For-My-Turnouts Hardesty, I was not ‘performing.’” She made air quotes around the last word. “And neither were you, if the hard-on jabbing against me was anything to go by.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a guy. It’s a natural reaction when a woman plasters herself against you and kisses you like a porn star.”
“A woman?” She leaned against the car door, increasing the distance between them. “Any woman?”
Cade didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled into the driveway, jamming the gearshift into Park but not turning off the engine.
Ivy got the message, loud and clear. As far as he was concerned the night—and their conversation—was over. The second she got out of the car he’d make his escape. But she wasn’t giving up that easy.
She settled into her seat and crossed her arms. “So you’re telling me you’re not the least bit attracted to me?”
“We’ve known each other for ages. I’m your brother’s best friend.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He ran a hand through his honey-blond hair, something she’d longed to do for what seemed like an eternity.
“It’s a damn good thing Gabe’s in New York. If he caught us, he’d have beaten the shit out of me.” Cade smirked. “Or tried.”
Ivy glared at him. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m all grown up. Gabe has nothing to do with this. With us.”
“There is no us.” He said the last word like it was one of the little brown nuggets the Canadian geese left on the lakeshore.
“Don’t get all commitment-phobic on me. I’m not talking me in a white gown and you in your dress blues. I’m blowing this Popsicle stand as soon as Dad’s back on his feet. But in the meantime we’re clearly hot for each other. We’ve got an itch. Who says we can’t scratch it?”
“Me.” He reached across her for the door handle.
She stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Think of it as added insurance against another messy confrontation with Sasha.”
“There’s a big difference between making her think we’re an item and ruining our friendship by jumping in the sack together.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Our friendship? We’ve barely spoken to each other in years.”
Her own fault, she knew, for staying away so long, but still an indisputable fact. Her grip on his arm tightened, the soft hairs tickling her palm. She wondered if the hair on his chest was as silky. Or the treasure trail leading down to his waistband...and below.
Cade jerked back as if he could read the direction of her thoughts.
“Friends don’t have to talk on the phone every day to stay close,” he insisted, his voice sincere. “And that’s what we are, right? Friends.”
Great. Friend-zoned again. The curse of the full-figured gal. Guys took one look at her and immediately put her on the do-not-date list.
“Fine, friend.” The last word dripped with sarcasm and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She blinked to keep them at bay. She’d been fifty times a fool thinking a little makeup and some revealing clothes would make Cade see her as a desirable woman and not the fat chick always snapping pictures for the high school yearbook. Okay, so his dick had noticed. But not his head. Or his heart.
The parts that mattered to her.
No, no, no. This wasn’t about heads or hearts. She was leaving in a few weeks. He was staying. All it was about—all it ever could be about—was down-and-dirty, no-strings-attached, good-enough-to-last-the-rest-of-your-lifetime sex.
Too bad he didn’t see it that way.
With jerky movements, she unbuttoned the borrowed jersey. “See you around. Good luck with Sasha. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who takes ‘no’ lying down.”
“Ivy, wait...”
But she’d waited long enough for Cade Hardesty. Sixteen years, to be exact, since grade school, when she’d started to notice things about her brother’s best buddy. Like his full, firm, oh-so-kissable lips and his solid-looking chest with the dusting of hair she saw when he took his shirt off in the summer and God, oh, God, the vee at his hips pointing to nirvana that made her brain freeze.
Her palms sweaty, she took off his shirt, balled it up and threw it at him, leaving her half-naked in her sports bra. But he sure as hell didn’t care, and neither did she. “Here. I’d offer to wash it, but I’m sure you’ll find some other friend to help you out.”
Before he could respond, she’d gotten out of the SUV, slammed the door shut and was heading up the stone walkway to the front door. She fumbled for her keys and heard gravel spin out from under his tires as he backed out of the driveway then sped off down the street.
She almost laughed at the irony of it. She’d