Mistletoe and Margaritas Read Free Page B

her in a low voice to spit on it. Instead she’d shoved, Brendan winced and they all laughed about it at the reception.
    She had vague memories of being asked if she wanted it left on Brendan for burial, but she hadn’t been able to part with it. For a long time she’d worn it on a chain around her neck, but she wasn’t a necklace person and when the time came that she was annoyed by it more than comforted, she’d put it away.
    Now she dropped both rings into the box and, after sucking in a deep breath, closed the lid and waited to feel different. Maybe lighter or more free or…something.
    But all she felt was a little hollow. And she wasn’t suddenly hit with an urge to sign up for an online dating service. All she could do was hope that one small step would be enough to satisfy her subconscious and put an end to the deliciously naughty dreams about Justin.
    A few minutes later, her phone rang and she almost spilled her second cup of coffee down the front of her T-shirt. To make matters worse, Justin’s name was flashing at her from the caller ID window. Praying her voice sounded close to normal, she answered. “Hello?”
    “You awake?”
    “No. I answer the phone in my sleep.”
    “Smartass. Just wanted to see if you’d be up to leaving earlier than we’d planned. If you’re awake.”
    “I’ve been up since five-thirty, thank you very much.”
    He laughed. “You? Did the smoke alarms go off or what?”
    “Very funny.” She couldn’t very well tell him she’d been awakened by exceptionally good sex with him. “We don’t have to be at my parents’ until two.”
    “I’m going to buy breakfast. I don’t know how long it’ll take to get my tires changed, and I still need to pick up a gift for Nicole.”
    “She’s turning three and my parents probably bought out the toy store. You don’t need to bring a gift.”
    “Can’t go to a birthday party without a gift. Then I feel guilty taking a second piece of cake.”
    Claire laughed, letting his easygoing normalcy chase away the last of the lingering weirdness. “Fine. What time do you want to leave?”
    “I’ll pick you up at eight?”
    “Sounds good.” She hung up the phone, feeling better. It was just a stupid dream.
     
    Justin noticed it right away—the soft ring of pale skin where the gold band had been—and his heart turned over in his chest like a sluggish engine on a sub-zero morning.
    He knew he should say something—like maybe hello —but he was frozen, watching that tan-free ring of skin as she zipped her coat, and the only coherent thought in his head was what the hell does it mean?
    Five years ago, he’d watched Brendan slip that wedding band onto Claire’s finger and he’d never seen her without it since. It had served as an unmistakable, highly visible reminder she was Brendan’s wife and now it was gone.
    “You feel okay?”
    No, he didn’t. His pulse was racing. His palms were sweaty. And the chronic ache that was his constant companion had flared into a throbbing pain.
    She was ready to move on.
    “Justin? Hello?”
    “Yeah. Sure. You ready?”
    Without waiting for an answer, he turned and went back down the stairs, needing to put some distance between them. It didn’t do any good, of course, since she was going with him and a few minutes later Claire and her naked ring finger were sitting next to him in the suddenly claustrophobic cab of his truck.
    Having a girl for a best friend was challenging enough. They didn’t have the upper-body strength to help a guy change out an engine. They cried during movies. They needed blenders and umbrellas for their drinks instead of just a cold bottle of beer. Hell, he’d even bought a box of tampons once. Claire had been sick and thank God she’d texted him a picture of the right box or he’d still be standing in the girl aisle because, holy crap, women had options.
    But having the girl you were half—or more—in love with as a best friend was a special kind of hell.