Rebound Envy: A Novella (Rebound Series Book 2)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Titles

  Sneak Peek!

  Rebound Envy

  Book 2 in the Rebound Series

  Jerica MacMillan

  Copyright © 2016 by Jerica MacMillan

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To Leslie, for all your help and encouragement.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I pull the phone away from my ear so my eardrum doesn't burst from Jenna's squeal. When the noise has subsided, I bring it back to hear her say, "So you'll be my maid of honor again, right?"

  I smile. "Of course. I'd be happy to. I already know all the job details anyway."

  Jenna sighs happily. Once, not too long ago, any reference to the fact that she almost got married before would've sent her back into her grief. Now, newly engaged to Brian, I can make passing references to her last engagement that ended with the tragic death of her fiancé in a car accident, and all she does is sigh happily. It's a big improvement over where she was six months ago. I'm so glad.

  "Can we get together this weekend to start planning? We don't want a long engagement, so we'll need to look for venues that don't have to be booked a year or more in advance."

  "Do you want to meet here or at your apartment?"

  "You have more room to spread out. Let's meet at your place."

  "Sounds good. Congratulations again, Jenna."

  "Thanks, Amy. I'm so glad you're helping me with this again. Love you!"

  "Love you, too. See you Saturday."

  I toss my phone next to me on the couch and flop back against the cushions. I'm happy for Jenna. I am. She's been through a lot in the last couple years—losing her fiancé, grieving, getting back out there with a little prodding from me, finding Brian. I'm glad she's found Brian. He's good for her—great, even. I don't begrudge her finding happiness again. She's my best friend, has been for years, of course I want her to be happy.

  I just want a little happiness for me, too. This is my second time as a maid of honor. With the same bride. I think when they say, "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride," they usually mean a bridesmaid for different brides. Not me. I get to add a whole new twist to the cliché.

  Will she let me wear the dress from her first wedding. Does it even fit? Why in hell do I still have the stupid thing stuffed in the back of my closet, anyway? At least I know Jenna won't make me wear something hideous. When we were planning her wedding to Tom, the dresses she picked out were beautiful and flattering.

  I bet it's going to be completely different this time. I wouldn't want to reuse anything from the wedding I planned but didn't get to go through with because my fiancé died. I doubt Jenna will, either.

  Right, enough of the pity party. We'll start planning this weekend. In the meantime, I have to get through this pile of essays on The Scarlet Letter. I hated this book when I had to read it. I feel bad inflicting it on my students, but it's on the required reading list for the district. I always try to get through it as quickly as possible. Hawthorne was rather long on description and short on plot in my opinion.

  Reading eleventh grade analyses of a book I can't stand isn't my favorite way to spend an evening, but I promised I'd get them back their papers tomorrow.

  Wine. I definitely need a glass of wine to get through this.

  * * *

  My eyes automatically go to the bar as I walk through the front door of The Barrel Room. A middle aged woman with dark hair and glasses is behind the bar pouring wine for a couple. Adam's usually tending bar when I'm here, so I'm relieved that he isn't tonight.

  A hand lands on the small of my back, and I stop my almost unconscious search for Adam to look at the owner of the hand. Scott Wilson. His short, medium brown hair is tousled to look like he just woke up and ran his hands through it, but probably took a fair amount of hair product and time to get just right. He sports a deliberate beard of stubble that I'm sure takes as long to groom every morning as shaving would. It frames a wide mouth with full lips that look like they're made for kissing. Warm brown eyes meet mine beneath manicured eyebrows.

  He gestures toward the bar with his free hand. "Shall we?"

  I smile and nod, allowing him to usher me to the bar with the slight pressure of his hand on my back. I open my mouth to order, but before I can Scott speaks up. "Two glasses of champagne, please."

  The woman behind the bar places two flutes on the counter and fills them before moving on to another group of people. Scott passes one to me before claiming his own.

  I take a sip, trying not to wrinkle my nose. I suppose champagne is appropriate for the occasion—Jenna and Brian's engagement party—but I had my heart set on a Syrah. Brian and Adam stock some of the best domestic wines available, and their selection of Syrahs can't be beat.

  We move away from the bar, and my eyes are scanning the room again.

  Scott draws my attention with a touch on my arm. "Have you known Jenna long?"

  I turn to him. "What? Oh, yes. Jenna and I got put together in the same room our freshman year of college and we've been best friends ever since."

  He raises his eyebrows, finishing the sip of champagne. "That's impressive. Most random roommate pairings don't work out that well."

  "We got lucky, I guess." I say it with a smile, but my eyes keep sliding away from his, continuing to scan the room.

  "Are you looking for someone?"

  I force my eyes back to Scott's face. It's a beautiful face. Nearly perfect in its symmetry with those high cheekbones, straight nose, and sensuous lips. He looks like he could be on display in an art museum. I don't know why I can't focus on him. "Sorry. Not really. Just seeing who's here that I might know." Lies. I'm looking for Adam. But what guy wants to hear his date is looking around for another guy?

  Scott glances around, lifting his chin at someone he recognizes. He works with Jenna at a bookkeeping firm and some of their coworkers have been invited. It's kind of funny imagining this guy who looks like a male model working as an accountant.

  Jenna set us up tonight. I wanted a date for her engagement party and she knew Scott wasn't bringing anyone, so she arranged it. We met for coffee a couple days ago and he seemed nice enough, so here we are.

  Except this is where I always see Adam. That's the big reason I wanted a date for tonight. So that I could have an excuse to avoid him, ignore the attraction that's been there since we met, the flirtation that he won't act on. I'm tired of waiting for him to decide to follow through. I thought he was into me. We even went out twice, but it went nowhere.

  It's been a couple of months since our last date. It's past time to move on and get over the guy who so obviously doesn't want me.

  "Amy?"

  Scott's voice pull
s me out of my meandering thoughts. I focus my attention back on him. He's asked me something and I have no idea what. I take a drink out of my glass to cover my confusion, forgetting it's champagne, and nearly choke when the bubbles go up my nose.

  Scott pats me on the back while I cough and splutter. "You alright?"

  I nod, cough again, and clear my throat, trying to regain some level of composure. "Yes. I'm fine. Thanks. Sorry. You were saying?"

  "I was just wondering if you wanted to go congratulate the happy couple?" He gestures toward where Jenna and Brian are standing, surrounded by a crowd of people.

  "Good idea. Let's." I try to give him a warm smile, but I still feel ridiculous for my little coughing fit. He ushers me over to the edge of the crowd and we start to inch our way toward the center.

  Jenna turns and catches sight of me. "Amy! There you are!" The crowd parts for her, creating a path so she can get to me. She catches me by the hand and pulls me into the center of the crowd, drawing me into a hug.

  I hug her back and then turn to Brian. He leans down to kiss my cheek. "Congratulations, you two!" I wave at the crowded wine bar. "Nice turnout for your engagement party."

  Brian smiles at me. "Thanks." Scott reaches from behind me, having followed in the wake Jenna created. He shakes Brian's hand and offers his congratulations.

  Jenna takes the opportunity to pull me off to one side closer to her. "So how are things going with Scott?"

  I smile a little. "Fine. He seems nice."

  Jenna raises an eyebrow. "Nice? Amy, he's super hot. I thought you'd be a little more excited."

  My smile grows. "He is super hot. I'm kind of afraid to touch him, though. I don't want to get smudges on him."

  Jenna makes a sound in her throat. "He might look even better a little smudged up."

  My eyes widen in shock. "Jenna, you've gotten a lot dirtier since you met Brian."

  She laughs. "I'm happy. Really happy. I want you to be happy, too."

  I laugh with her. "I'm glad you're happy, on all counts. Thanks for introducing me to Scott. If I'd known you had man-candy like that in your office, I wouldn't have made you go out to meet guys, though."

  Jenna shrugs, dismissing my comment. "Then I wouldn't have met Brian, and then I wouldn't be this happy. Plus, Scott only started a couple months ago. There isn't any other man-candy in the office. My female coworkers will be jealous that you got him, though."

  Before I can say anything, Scott is next to me. He reaches around to shake Jenna's hand. "I know I've already told you, but congratulations again. And thanks for introducing Amy and me."

  Jenna smiles. "Thanks, Scott. I'm so glad you could both make it. I hope you have a nice time." She turns to me. "We'll chat more later. I have to finish making the rounds." We hug again and she rejoins Brian in the center of their group of well-wishers.

  Scott and I start to mingle with the crowd, finding a group of people containing some of his coworkers. He introduces me to the people he knows and we're both introduced to the rest. The conversation seems to flow between football, the recent holidays, and the weather. Scott and one of his other coworkers get into an intense discussion about something at work that I don't understand and can't make myself care enough to try.

  I lean in close to him so he can hear me over the ambient noise of conversation and background music. "My feet are killing me. I'm going to go find a seat."

  He glances at me and nods, then resumes his conversation.

  I make my way back to a couple of chairs in a corner. They're unoccupied and away from the main party. Normally I love parties. But tonight I have a date that doesn't hold my interest, despite his exquisite features. Part of me has been scanning the crowd for Adam all night. I can't even decide if I'm relieved that I haven't found him or annoyed.

  A glass of red wine appears on the low table in front of me, next to my half drunk flute of champagne. A low voice rumbles next to my ear. "We just got in a new Syrah last week. Try it. I think you'll like it."

  I turn in surprise to find Adam's face close to mine. His dark hair has gotten a little long since I last saw him, curling more than it does when it's shorter. I like it. I want to touch it, run my hands through it. There's no hair product there that will make me feel like I need to wash my hands afterward. Of course, I don't. We don't have that kind of relationship.

  "Hey, Adam. Thanks." I reach for the wine, glad to have something better to drink than the champagne. Especially since I am now faced with Adam. A strange mix of elation and dread fills me, causing my stomach to swirl and all of my saliva to dry up. He always makes me feel something. Avoiding him for almost two months hasn't changed that at all.

  He takes the seat next to me, lounging back in the comfortable chair, his golden eyes studying me as I take a sip. He quirks a brow at me. "What do you think?"

  "It's really good. Thanks for getting it for me."

  He flicks a couple fingers at my champagne flute. "I saw your date got you that. While it's good champagne, I know you prefer reds over whites."

  I nod. "I do." There doesn't seem to be much else to say to that, even though he seems to be fishing for something.

  He glances over to where Scott is still talking and mingling. "I'm surprised you're over here by yourself. Usually you like to mix and mingle. Tired of your boyfriend already?"

  There's a little bite to his tone that I haven't heard from him before. "I've been mingling for a while already. My feet were hurting and I wanted to sit. Scott is enjoying himself and I saw no reason to drag him away." For some reason I've decided not to correct his assumption that Scott is more to me than a date for tonight.

  Adam raises his eyebrows. "He looks like he takes longer to get ready than my sister. And she's a beauty queen."

  I look at Scott's profile where he's standing in animated conversation. "He is very well groomed." I turn my gaze back to Adam. "I hadn't pegged you as the type to get jealous over another man's looks."

  He laughs, but it sounds ugly and forced. Not the carefree, flirtatious laugh I'm used to from him. "I wouldn't say I was jealous of his looks, Amy."

  I set the wine glass back on the table, not enjoying this exchange at all now. "Is there something you wanted, Adam? Or did you just come over to criticize my date?"

  He studies my face. "Date? Not boyfriend?"

  "I'm not sure why it matters." I stand and pick up the champagne flute. "You've been more than clear that you have no interest in either position."

  With that parting shot I leave, heading back to Scott.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I heard you're going out with Scott again tonight.

  It's a text from Jenna on Wednesday afternoon. We haven't had much chance to talk since her engagement party over the weekend. I'd just gotten home from school and pulled open the fridge to find a snack when my phone buzzed with the text alert.

  Yup. No need for more. Brevity is the soul of wit, after all.

  I grab a yogurt and a spoon. Scott's picking me up in a couple hours for dinner, but I need a little something to hold me over until then. It's been a long time since I scarfed down my food while patrolling the lunch room at eleven o'clock.

  Fine. You owe me details tomorrow.

  I smile. Deal. Call me after work.

  After my encounter with Adam I'd spent the rest of Jenna's engagement party with Scott. Every so often I'd felt Adam watching me, and I'd caught his eye once or twice. I'd always looked away, paying attention to my date, not to him.

  I couldn't tell you about any of the conversations I had the rest of the evening. I was so distracted and angry with Adam. What right did he have criticizing who I went out with? It's been months since the last time we went out and nothing ever happened. So I'm moving on.

  Scott is nice and really hot. He walked me to my door Saturday night, asked me out for tonight, and gave me a goodnight kiss. It was a nice kiss. His lips were soft and warm against mine. It wasn't all that exciting—closed mouth, no tongue—but I'm hoping tonight we
might progress further.

  He knocks on my door right at six o'clock. Scott is Mr. Punctuality. He's been exactly on time both at the coffee shop where we met and when he picked me up for the engagement party on Saturday.

  I grab my coat and my purse before answering the door. He brushes a kiss on my cheek in greeting. "Ready?"

  "I just need to put my coat on, and then we can go."

  He reaches for the black wool coat in my hand. "Allow me." He holds it open for me and I turn, slipping my arms into the sleeves.

  Turning to face him again, I belt my coat and smile. "Thank you." He's quite the gentleman. I don't think a date's ever held my coat for me before.

  The January air is chilly as we step out of my little house and head to Scott's car. True to form, he opens the car door for me and closes it after I get in.

  He slides in and starts the car. The heater's on, which feels nice after the chill in the air. He looks at me before putting the car in gear. "Italian okay?"

  "Italian's great."

  At the restaurant we're seated right away, thanks to Scott's reservation. When he takes off his jacket, my mouth runs dry. The man looks like he could've stepped out of a J. Crew ad, wearing a soft gray sweater over a button down shirt paired with navy pants. He catches me checking him out and gives me a knowing smile as he sits down.

  While I know I'm not unfortunate looking, next to him I feel frumpy and drab, despite my curve hugging sweater dress, leggings, and heeled ankle boots. He's just so perfect looking. It shouldn't even be allowed.

  "Beth will be your server tonight. She'll be with you in a moment," the hostess informs us before walking away. It's a nice restaurant—small and intimate, with white tablecloths and low lighting. There's soft music playing in the background, not quite overpowered by the low hum of conversation from the other diners. It's not too crowded on a Wednesday evening, which means we should be able to hear each other easily.

  The first part of the evening is taken up by looking over the menu and placing our orders. Once the waitress has come and gone, our ongoing silence is beginning to feel awkward. I cast about for some topic of conversation.