Nuclear Heat (Firework Girls Book 4) Read online

  He gives me a tentative smile and I feel pulled back into his orbit. I scrunch up my face at him. He kind of chuckles.

  Emily must think he chuckled at something she said—she has this big, stupid smile on her face too—because she just pats his knee as if to say, “I know, it’s so funny!” and goes on with whatever she’s saying. I’m not even listening.

  I stick my tongue out at Jack and he grins.

  I feel better for a moment.

  Then Emily reaches up and grabs Jack’s hand that’s hanging by her shoulder. She laces her fingers through his and settles deeper against him.

  The back of my neck tingles as I remember Jack’s fingers rubbing me there. I grow still inside, just like I did when it happened. I remember being against his body, his face so close, that expression. What was it?

  Jack and I are still looking at each other, but neither one of us are smiling.

  My heart is beating faster, all light like wings.

  Chapter 10

  Jack

  Don’t think I don’t know what I just did. I brought Emily into strict Firework Girls territory.

  I’ve never once brought a girl I was dating into the Firework Girl Zone, wherever it was at the time. The girls would meet my current date at the bars, or the frat parties, or in the dorms, or on trips, or at the beach. But I never brought a girl I was dating into the inner circle, like I did tonight.

  I’m not sure why I did it. I missed my friends (Sam’s only a friend, only a friend, only a friend) and I wanted to see them. That’s not so weird, right? But hell if I was going to go over there without Emily. She’s my life raft right now.

  And isn’t this what people do when they’re advancing their relationships anyway? They introduce their girlfriends to friends and family. It’s totally normal.

  But all the work I did in Spain to distance myself emotionally from Sam?

  Shot to hell the second I laid eyes on her.

  Chapter 11

  Sam

  The girls love Emily. Fucking love her. After Jack and Emily left last night, Chloe could not stop talking about how nice she is and how great it is that Jack’s found a nice girl.

  Well, whatever. I’m not giving it a second thought.

  I didn’t sleep well last night for some reason, so I got up early and picked up several gallons of paint at Lowe’s and sent texts to people (yeah, Jack too) saying if they felt up for a painting party to come on over. If not, fine. I have so much pent up energy, I feel like I could paint this whole damn house myself and not get tired.

  I probably just need a good, solid orgasm or something, but I’m really not in the mood to go trolling for guys and I’m sick to death of these ugly green walls.

  Jack shows up first. Alone. Thank god. I don’t feel like dealing with Emily. I can’t put my finger on what it is I don’t like about her, but it bugs me that no one else can see it.

  Anyway, Jack’s in his old torn jeans and a faded, loose tee I haven’t seen since college. The word sexy crosses my mind when I see him, but I push that kind-of-alarming thought away. I really, really need a normal day with my friend and it’s bad enough that he’s been weird lately. I’m not going to be stupid too.

  “Is that your painting shirt?” I ask as he walks through the door, a couple six-packs in his hands. I’m up on the ladder, paint brush in hand, and already have paint on my shirt.

  “Yeah,” he says, giving me a big Jack grin that I don’t mind admitting I’ve missed. “You move all this yourself, Shorty?” he says, taking in the furniture I’ve pushed to the center of the room. I threw several plastic drop cloths over everything. I didn’t bother protecting the pink shag carpeting, as its days are numbered anyway.

  I nod. “What do you think of the color?” I say, gesturing to the wall. It’s a nice taupe, but the manufacturer unfortunately decided to call it ‘Beavertail.’ I almost eliminated it based on the stupid name of the color alone.

  He frowns at the furniture. “Is your stomach okay? You should’ve waited for me to help you.”

  “My stomach’s fine now and I didn’t know if you were coming.”

  “Why wouldn’t I come?” But the second he says it, he looks at me like he knows better. Things just haven’t been the same with us lately, there’s no getting around it. I wish I knew why. I miss him.

  In fact, it’s probably our recent time apart that’s making him look all sexy right now, right? Makes sense. But I’m not going to think about that. I wave the paintbrush in the air, showing him the new color on the bristles. “Well?”

  “Nice,” he says nodding and heading for the kitchen. “That the beaver one?”

  “Yeah,” I say, as he disappears. I return to the wall in front of me and drop a thick line of color.

  “I wondered which one you’d picked,” he hollers. I take a deep breath, trying to get this weird unsettled feeling inside me to go away. “Want a beer?” he asks.

  “Okay.”

  He comes in and hands one up to me. “Look at that, Shorty. You’re actually taller than me.” He gives me a big grin.

  I roll my eyes and try not to encourage him with a smile, but I can’t help it. “Shut up, Jack.”

  It’s not long before things feel almost normal again. God, it’s so nice. We’re laughing and joking and being silly and it’s about damned time. I get Jack all to myself for two whole hours before other people start to show up to help. Isabella and Shane. A little later, Ashley and Erik. When we’re done with the living room and almost done with the dining room, Chloe and Grayson show up even though she made the drive up from Swan Pointe just yesterday. I hadn’t even included her in the texts this morning because I figured she wouldn’t want to make the trip again. Turns out Ashley texted her.

  Chloe says the drive up here is nothing, compared to all the global travelling they do, and is being her usual, bubbly self. By the time we’re done for the day and waiting for pizza to arrive, she says she and Grayson have finally set a date to get married.

  Everyone congratulates them and I’m proud of her for taking a step I know was scary. They’ve set the date for next spring, which Isabella declares gives them plenty of time to do all the crap people do for weddings. We’ve uncovered the furniture and pushed it back just enough to climb on, so we’re all kind of cramped together. All the guys except Jack use the close quarters as an excuse to hang in the kitchen, but I think they’re just trying to escape the wedding talk. The girls and Jack and I are sitting in a loose circle, with Jack opposite me in the chair.

  Chloe’s talking wedding venues and glowing and I’m genuinely happy for her, but then she goes and throws out this zinger:

  “So is Jack going to be the next one to get married?” she says, teasing him.

  And Jack? Well, he doesn’t shudder or protest or anything.

  Something inside me is suddenly cold.

  He gets a really weird look, then laughs, shrugging it off, but it’s not a normal Jack laugh.

  “I really like her,” Chloe says.

  This again.

  “Yeah, she’s great,” Jack says. Something in me twinges. “Really great.”

  It could be my imagination, but it seems he’s back to not looking at me. All of a sudden I’m sick of whatever the hell’s going on with him. Why can’t he just be normal Jack? What’s with all the weird vibes I’ve been getting from him for weeks and his strange behavior? Like the Spain thing. Something about that doesn’t sit right with me.

  Ashley’s giving me a weird look. Come to think of it, she kept looking at me like this last night when Chloe and Isabella couldn’t stop talking about the fabulous Emily.

  Whatever. I don’t have room in my brain to think about Ashley because Jack keeps talking. “She’s got her stuff together, you know? She’s got a good job. She’s smart. She even has a five-year plan.”

  “Are you part of the plan?” Chloe says with a wink.

  Shut up, Chloe.

  Jack shrugs but he’s not smiling. God, I can’t read
his expression at all. I’m so sick of this. “Maybe,” he says. “I’d be lucky, right? She’s really great.”

  “You said that already,” I say. “Are you falling in love with this girl or shopping for a new car?”

  Well, that got him to look at me. I look right back.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks. He’s trying to play it cool. He’s even giving me the benefit of the doubt and wearing a half grin, but I can see his irritation just under the surface. It only eggs me on.

  “You’re being so fucking analytical about it.” His grin disappears in an instant. “It doesn’t sound like there’s any actual passion. Where’s the spark?”

  “Uh...” Chloe says hesitantly. They’re all looking back and forth between Jack and I like they’re watching a fucking tennis match. I don’t care.

  Jack’s eyes are hard like flint. “Oh, there’s a spark, don’t you worry.”

  Grrrr. I just want to pound him. Don’t ask me why. “Who the hell says I’m worried? You know, Jack, you should marry her. What the hell? With your spark and her five-year plan, you should just run right out and get her a ring.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  The others gape at him in shock, while my chest feels like it’s been caught in a vise.

  Wait a minute. What did he just say?

  “What?” he asks defensively, looking around at everyone’s stunned expressions. “No one thinks Jack’s marrying material, huh?”

  “No one said that,” Chloe says, taken aback.

  “Jack just said it himself,” I say, just to dig at him.

  It worked.

  “You’re such a pain in the ass, Sam.”

  “Right back at you.”

  “What the hell did I do?”

  “Forget it,” I say, getting up and heading for the kitchen. The men are cautiously drifting in from the kitchen though, drawn by our raised voices and blocking my way.

  “You know what?” Jack says, and I turn back enough to see him getting up too. I stop and fold my arms over my chest. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  He stomps out the front door and slams it behind him. Three faces swing on me. Chloe and Isabella are gaping at me. Ashley’s still giving me that weird look. Why is she looking at me like that?

  “What the hell was that?” Isabella says.

  Ashley says, “Sam, Jack was just—”

  “Jack can kiss my ass,” I say, heading down the hall toward my room. I hear Jack’s truck tearing away, but I don’t care. I don’t need him.

  I don’t.

  Everyone leaves me alone, and it’s just as well. After storming around my bedroom for a while, I slowly start to cool down. After that, it doesn’t take long for me to feel horrible. What the hell’s the matter with me? Jack didn’t deserve any of that.

  I should go apologize to my poor guests, if they haven’t slunk off by now, but first thing’s first.

  I send Jack a text: I’m sorry. Really.

  After a minute he texts back. Okay.

  I sigh. This isn’t a texting sort of conversation. I want to apologize properly. If I call, will you answer?

  Two minutes go by before my phone buzzes. Okay.

  I call immediately.

  He answers with a quiet, “Hey.”

  “Hey. Jack, I really am sorry. I don’t know why I was being such a pain in the ass, but it was over the line.”

  He sighs.

  I take a resolute breath and say what I know he needs to hear. “I think it’s great,” I say, pinching my eyes shut and concentrating really hard on making my voice sound sincere. “You and Emily. Really. It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t you. It was just...”

  I’m rambling. I don’t know what it was. I’m just a pain in the ass. Like he said.

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy. I just... I guess I just don’t know Emily yet. But I’m sure I’ll like her. I mean, you like her, right?”

  I wonder if he’s going to say he loves her and hope he doesn’t.

  “Yeah.”

  I’m gripping the phone and my heart is running ahead of time. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m scared he’s going to stay mad at me. Not that I don’t deserve it.

  “Are we still friends?” I ask. “Do you forgive me?”

  There’s a bit of a pause. “I suppose,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

  I unclench a bit. He forgives me.

  “But try to keep your head out of your ass in the future.”

  I press my lips together. This is the revenge part of him accepting my apology.

  “Uh-huh,” I say, taking my lickings.

  “And next time you’re on the rag, steer clear of me until you’re done, okay?”

  Boy, he’s really going for the jugular. Jack knows perfectly well how much I hate it when asshole guys blame stuff on a woman’s period.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And Sam?”

  “Yeah?” I ask, waiting for the last bomb to drop.

  This time the pause goes on so long, I’d think he hung up if I couldn’t hear the connection. “We’ll always be friends.”

  This pains me more than it seems it should.

  “I...” I begin. I really hurt. I don’t know why. “I guess it has kind of felt like... I’ve been losing my friend. I guess I was being selfish.”

  He doesn’t answer. He’s so quiet.

  “I really am sorry I was such an ass.”

  “Well,” he says in his teasing voice, “who can blame you? Who’d want to lose a fantastic friend like me?”

  “Okay,” I say rolling my eyes, but I’m smiling.

  “I mean, how could you possibly go on without me?”

  The smile slides off my face. My chest is aching again.

  “Okay,” I say, but I think I’m done talking now. “Goodbye, Jack.”

  “Goodbye, Sam.”

  That night, I have a dream.

  A dream about Jack.

  It starts on my couch. We’re watching a movie but I don’t recognize whatever’s on the screen. I’m against his chest and his arm is around me. His fingers are brushing the back of my neck, caressing it so softly. I rub my hand up his chest. It’s firm and warm. My body is tingling all over, just from touching his chest and him touching my neck.

  I turn my head to look up at him. His arm tightens around me. He looks me right in the eye as he leans in and puts his lips on mine. Warm and soft. My heart swoops up into my throat.

  Things change then.

  We’re kissing, really kissing, tongues eager. He’s on top of me and we’re in my bed. I’m fully dressed but he only has jeans on. My hands are all over his bare back and my legs are tight around his waist. The hard material of his jeans press into my legs and his hard cock digs into my crotch. And I’m so, so eager for him.

  Things change again.

  His cock’s in me and we’re both naked and sweating. He’s kissing me like he can’t get enough and squeezing my breasts and his cock is rubbing inside me.

  My body is climbing and climbing. It goes on and on. Jack inside me and my heart bursting open and my body aching for release. I get so close. Again and again I’m almost there as I feel him rubbing inside me, but I never go over.

  My agitation pulls me into a state of partial dreaming, partial awareness. Part of me knows it’s a dream, but part of me still thinks it’s real and so damned good. My body is squirming in bed. The part of me that knows it’s a dream understands that’s the reason why I haven’t been able to come. The dream hangs on, Jack still fucking me, and god he feels so amazing and I want him so much. The real me slides my hand under my panties, barely aware of what I’m doing. The second my finger touches my clit, I climax at last, contracting under the covers.

  After a few seconds, my body releases and I’m left with a pounding heart. As the dream slides away, I realize where I am and what’s just happened.

  Then it hits me.

  Oh my god, it all hits me. “Oh, god,” I say out loud.

  I love h
im.

  “Oh, shit.”

  I’m in love with him.

  The revelation is so powerful, I feel like it’s flat knocked me over. And I’m fucking still lying in bed.

  Suddenly, it all becomes horribly clear, what the unsettled feeling has been and why I’ve been so mad at him.

  “No, no, no.”

  This can’t happen. I can’t fall in love with Jack. I can’t fall in love with anybody. How the hell did this happen? God, it’s his stupid fault for making me trust him and being all funny and sexy and freaking Jack. That boy snuck right under my radar and now I’m sunk.

  Then I remember there’s an Emily. My heart hurts so much I think it’s going to stop beating. Now I know what I don’t like about her.

  Oh, god.

  For a moment I wonder if I can hatch some sort plot to get rid of her. But I can’t come up with a devious plot without my plotting partner, and my plotting partner is fucking Jack.

  “Shit.”

  And even if I did get rid of Emily... or she got hit by a bus... or something... what then? I don’t know the first thing about being in love. What? Do I, like, want to be in a relationship with Jack? What the hell would that even look like?

  I have no clue. But I know how it would end. Like every bad relationship my mother’s ever been in. Including, probably, her most current one.

  No, no, no. I could never let that happen to Jack and me. Because you can’t just go back to being friends after a tragedy like that. No, after relationships turn sour, you take to despising the person you use to love and the thought of despising Jack makes my heart hurt.

  It makes my entire body hurt.

  I realize every muscle in my body is clenched. I’m gripping the covers under my chin. I may as well be hiding from a boogeyman, the way I’m acting.

  It feels like something’s about to get me.

  I love Jack and that terrifies me. It kills me to think I can’t have him—what with the whole we’re-best-friends-and-he’s-got-stupid-Emily thing—but I’m terrified to want him, too.

  Except that I do.