Hers for the Weekend. Tanya Michaels
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Piper blinked. “Oh. No. But are you sure? You sound like a man about to be martyred. You don’t have to do this.”
Which is why I offered, Josh thought. If she’d asked, he would have said no reflexively. Having no family of his own was almost tolerable as long as he wasn’t around someone else’s, reminded of everything lacking in his life. But she’d respected his space, reminding him again that she was the best friend he had. The reminder had relentlessly niggled at him, finally goading him into this decision.
His offer had nothing to do with the way he felt whenever he imagined some other man holding her or kissing her, whether the kisses were pretend or not.
“I never had a grandmother to take care of me,” he heard himself say. “But you have one you love very much, and this would make her happy. Besides,” he added with a smile, “I’ve never been one to turn down free food. What’s a road trip between pals? I mean, it’s not like anyone expects us to share a bedroom or anything.”
She jumped up from where she’d been sitting, chuckling nervously. “Perish the thought. If we shared a room, Dad would pull out his Winchester and march you down to the courthouse, where your options would be marriage to me or the hanging tree.”
“Hanging tree?”
“Sure, the big oak in the town square. They haven’t used it in about a hundred years, but they’d happily make an exception for an outsider.”
Josh peered up at her. “Gee, you make it sound like such a fun place, how could I not want to go?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He knew she’d never do that again if she realized it lured a man’s gaze to her mouth, to her full bottom lip and the sweet curve of her upper lip. Piper didn’t seek out men’s attention. She wore her hair back, mostly skipped makeup and probably didn’t even own a skirt, but her red-gold hair and turquoise eyes would attract a man even if she wore sackcloth. She applied the same determination at the gym as she did in all other areas of life, and the resulting figure would make any man’s mouth water.
Any man’s but mine.
With too few people in his life he cared about or trusted, Josh refused to throw away his friendship with Piper on sex. Not even hot and sweaty, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex with the most delicious woman he’d ever seen. Which would never happen, anyway, because Piper would flatten him with one of her Tae-Bo moves if he ever suggested they hit the sheets.
When he sighed, Piper sat next to him, frowning. “You regret volunteering already.”
“What? Oh, no. I was just…making a mental list of the stuff I should pack.”
“What about work?” she asked doubtfully.
“I’ll call in sick tomorrow and Friday. Don’t feel guilty, I haven’t taken a sick day all year and I’ll lose them if I don’t take them in the next two months.” And it wasn’t as though anyone from the office would guess he was with Piper. Though people knew they were friends, Josh’s active dating life was common knowledge.
“You’ll really do this?”
“You can count on me.” Words that were as ironic as they were true. He’d never encouraged a woman to depend on him because the last thing he wanted was to lead one on. Why pretend he might stick around when goodbye was inevitable?
He’d been left too many times, and it was safer if he did the leaving, early enough that no one truly got hurt.
“I know I can count on you. Thanks, Josh.” The poignant expression in her aquamarine gaze made him look away.
He stood. “If I’m going to pack, I should do laundry.”
“Need any quarters?” She sounded uncharacteristically shy. “I did mine last night and still have some change.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
She rose then, hesitating briefly before throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you.”
Awkwardly, he returned the embrace, immediately recalling the last time she’d been this close to him. A few months ago, at a baseball game. They’d both jumped up, cheering as the Astros battled their way from a tie to a win. At the end of the game, Piper had turned to impulsively hug him.
The clean citrusy fragrance of her shampoo was exactly as he remembered. And the underlying womanly scent of her was the same, too.
He released her abruptly.
Piper shuffled back, her expression apologetic. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate this. I owe you.”
“How about a lifetime supply of those chocolate chip pancakes you make?” He shrugged off her gratitude with a smile. “It’s not that big a deal, really. How bad can one family reunion be?”
“You don’t know my family.”
“I’m not worried,” he said. “And now you don’t have to worry about this anymore. This weekend, I’m all yours.”
SINCE ALL THE TREADMILLS were taken Thursday morning, Piper began a brisk lap around the indoor track surrounding the mirrored free-weight area. She supposed it was silly to be here so bright and early—okay, pitch-dark and early—on a vacation day, but she hadn’t been able to sleep much after Josh’s visit last night. Even after hours to get used to the idea, she was still surprised by his generosity.
On the surface, his favor might seem like a fairly simple thing. It was only a few days, after all, and a few harmless white lies to people who would never see him again. But Piper knew Josh better than that, realized what this would cost him. He’d heard her talk about her relatives enough to know what to expect—a convergence of people demanding to know his intentions and dragging out the details of the life story he hated discussing.
Knowing that she’d apparently underestimated him left her feeling both guilty and curious. If he was more capable of opening himself up to others than she’d given him credit for, was it possible that—
You’re getting way ahead of yourself.
This was one weekend, nothing more. And Josh’s relationship potential was none of her business, anyway, especially considering she didn’t want a relationship. What she wanted was to prove to the people of her hometown that there was more than one type of success in life. Not having a ring on your finger or a significant other to fill your Friday nights didn’t mean you were a failure.
As she finished her first quarter-mile, Piper spotted Gina Sanchez off to the side, stretching. A pretty woman with long black hair, a habitually wry smile and a collection of colorful T-shirts—including the one she currently wore that said Lawyers Do It Pro Bono—Gina was Piper’s closest female friend. They frequently worked out together and sometimes caught a movie or dinner, but Piper generally turned down her friend’s clubbing invitations to popular Houston hot spots.
Piper slowed her pace. “Morning.”
“What are you doing here?” Gina stepped onto the track. “I thought you were leaving to go see your folks today.”
“Not for another few hours.”
Her friend shook her head, sending her dark ponytail swinging. “Ever heard of the concept of sleeping in?”
“Well, in the town I’ll be visiting, the closest thing they have to a gym are the three machines in the high school weight room, only two of which ever work at the same time. And eating my mother’s cooking for the next few days, I’m sure to come back ten pounds heavier. I figured one last workout would be good for me.”
“You’re so disciplined.”
Piper raised her eyebrows. How was she any more disciplined than her friend, who attended the gym with the same regularity? “You’re here most mornings at six, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s because I want to look good so I can find Mr. Right.”
Piper