Page 2 of Jilted

Chapter Two

“ A my? Are you ready?” Brett shouted as he walked into her house without knocking.

That wasn’t unusual for him. They both did it to the other. If, or when, they ever settled down, that kind of behavior would have to stop. Until then, he enjoyed the easy, relaxed nature of their friendship.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Amy walked out of her room dressed in a knee length purple dress that was cut low in the front.

The plunging neckline drew his gaze to her breasts.

He’d seen her in a fair share of skimpy dance costumes that showed off her cleavage and her curves, but none of them had ever fazed him like seeing her in this dress did.

Maybe because she wasn’t in costume – she was just Amy— a sexy, gorgeous version of Amy that had him momentarily rethinking the whole platonic friendship thing.

It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had wandered down this forbidden path, but it was the first time his thoughts and feelings had been this strong.

“What?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her stomach and hips. “Do I look bad? Is this dress too much? Should I go change?”

“No,” he blurted out a little too quickly. “No, you look great.”

“Then why are you staring at me like that?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

Brett shook the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. Amy was his friend, his best friend, and sure, she was attractive as hell, but he was pretty sure she would laugh in his face if he ever told her how he really felt.

“I feel underdressed now,” he said, waving his hands down the length of his body.

He’d dressed in a pair of navy-blue slacks, a black silk, button up shirt, and a cerulean-blue tie.

Gregorio’s was one of the fanciest Italian restaurants in the city, and there was a certain level of dress expected.

He had no idea what kind of dress was normal or expected at the club.

There were no doubts that Amy would fit right in, but he was starting to question his own wardrobe choice.

“You look fine, Brett. If anything, I’m overdressed.”

He smiled as an inappropriate comeback about helping her become undressed popped into his mind. Brett shook the thoughts away. “Okay, so I’m underdressed, you’re overdressed, and we’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”

Amy laughed. She grabbed a shawl from the foyer closet, draped it around her shoulders, and said, “Let’s get going then. I’m starving.”

“Me too.” Brett held out his arm, which Amy took, looping hers through his. He was looking forward to spending the evening with her.

Once outside, Brett opened the car door for her and helped her into the seat.

As he made his way to the driver’s side, he blew out a breath and tried to calm himself.

His hands were shaking – friggin’ shaking!

He flexed his fingers several times before grabbing the door handle and getting in the car.

The scent of Amy’s perfume assaulted his senses. Get a grip, Hudson!

They were silent for a long while, which was unusual for them. It wasn’t awkward, just a little weird. He kept glancing at her, hoping she didn’t notice how strange he was acting. But damn...had Amy always been so hot?

His gaze dropped to her legs, and he devoured them with his eyes.

Most men were either ass men or breast men.

Brett was a leg man. And Amy had a great pair of legs.

Long, slender, muscular. When he watched her dance, which he did a lot more than he cared to admit, he always focused on her legs.

The way she moved, it was always so graceful, elegant. ..sexy.

“Brett?”

The sound of her voice snapped him from his thoughts. “What?”

She laughed. “You’re a million miles away. What’s up?”

He looked over at her and smiled. “Nothing, guess I’m just thinking about the show and everything I have to do.”

“No.” She turned in her seat and pointed at him. “No worrying about the show or the studio or anything else. We’re here to have fun tonight. Got it?”

Brett laughed. “Yes, ma’am. Fun. Got it.”

He pulled up in front of the restaurant and put the car in park. Getting out, he handed his keys to the valet, then walked around to Amy’s side and opened her door. He took her hand and helped her out of the car.

“Thank you,” she said as he escorted her inside.

Brett couldn’t help but feel like he was on a date with Amy and that was just too weird. He had to shake this off or the night would be a bust. They were seated at a table in the back of the restaurant. Their waiter poured them a complimentary glass of white wine and left them to look at the menu.

“God, I’m so hungry I could eat a hippo on steroids,” Amy said.

He laughed at her and all the awkward tension he felt disappeared. Just like that, Amy was simply Amy again, his best friend.

“Go crazy, you’re paying.” He winked at her over the menu, knowing full well that there was no way in hell he was letting her foot the bill for tonight.

Their waiter returned several moments later. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes.” Amy smiled. “I’ll have the lobster Alfredo with a salad, light on the dressing please.” She closed the menu and set it on the table. “Oh, and we’d like a bottle of Dom Perignon, too, please.”

“And for you, sir?”

“I think I’m going to go with the steak Florentine,” Brett said.

“Salad for you as well?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, please. No onion, extra dressing.” The waiter nodded then left. Brett raised a brow at Amy. “Big spender tonight I see.”

Dom Perignon was Amy’s favorite champagne. It was also very pricey.

“It’s not every day your best friend lands a job on the most popular television show. If this isn’t a reason to spend frivolously, then what is?”

Brett shrugged and smiled. “You don’t always need a reason to splurge, you know.”

“No, but when you do, it makes it that much more fun.”

Her big hazel eyes twinkled, and he was suddenly very warm. He grabbed his glass of ice water and took a long drink. It was going to be a long night.

Brett stood at the crowded bar and waited, impatiently, for the bartender to acknowledge him.

Amy was on the dance floor with a couple of women she’d met at the club tonight.

She had a real knack for making friends wherever she went, which had paid off tonight because he’d spent more time waiting in line at the bar than he had dancing with her.

He looked around the club and let his gaze settle on Amy.

Damn that woman knew how to move. He smiled as he watched her, but it quickly faded when he saw the group of men to her right.

They were watching her, smiling, nodding, and acting like they were trying to get their long-haired friend to go talk to her.

Sure enough, moments later, the hippie looking friend approached Amy.

Oh, hell no! Brett and Amy had one rule that they never broke: no picking up dates while they were out together. He’d be damned if he let some guy try to pick her up tonight. Leaving his place at the bar, Brett made his way toward Amy, reaching her the same time the other guy did.

Brett pulled Amy to him and started dancing with her. He gave the guy a dirty look that said, “Back off, she’s taken.”

Amy leaned forward and put her mouth near his ear. “I thought you were getting drinks.”

“Line was too long.” He spun her around and then pulled her to him again. Dancing with her like this, for fun, was so much better than dancing in a choreographed routine.

“Well, I need some water.” Amy fanned her face with her hand and motioned for him to follow her.

He did, and they stood at the bar. Only this time, it didn’t take so long to get a drink. They made their way toward an empty table in the corner.

“Phew.” Amy plopped down in the seat and laughed. “Man, it’s hot in here.” She reached into her glass of water and grabbed a piece of ice, which she proceeded to rub around her neck and down her chest.

Brett’s throat went dry watching her, watching the way she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, the way her lips were slightly parted as if suspended on a sigh of satisfaction. It stirred feelings in him that he shouldn’t be feeling for his best friend.

He motioned for the waitress walking around with a tray of shots and bought four of them. Maybe if he consumed more alcohol, he wouldn’t notice Amy so much, or at least if he did, he could pass it off on being drunk and not have to worry about the repercussions of ogling his best friend.

“Would you look at them?” Amy nodded to her right.

Brett followed the direction of her gaze to see a couple on the dance floor making out. The man had his hand on the woman’s ass, her skirt bunched beneath his fingers. Her leg was bent at his waist, making it clear that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

He downed one of his shots. “More power to ‘em,” Brett finally said, drinking a second shot. It had been months since his last breakup and just as long since he’d had sex.

“Why can’t we find significant others who are that hot for us?

” Amy swirled her drink and then took a sip.

“I mean, really, why are guys so intimidated by a strong, independent woman? Just because I have my life together and I know what I want doesn’t mean I don’t want a man to love me and take care of me. ”

Brett nodded. He’d heard this same thing from her every single time she broke up with a guy.

And he knew how she felt. Every woman he’d ever been serious about always left him for one reason or another.

Usually, it was because of Amy. Women were threatened by his close friendship with her.

But he always refused to give her up despite repeated requests from his girlfriends.

No way in hell. Amy had always been there, and she always would be.

Plus, other than a sister and a brother she didn’t speak to, Amy didn’t have any family.

He was her family, and there was no way he could ever turn his back on her.

Amy meant too much to him to just dump her because some woman he was dating wanted him too.

Nope. Brett was resolved to the fact that either he would be single for the rest of his life, or he’d just have to wait a long time to find that special woman who would accept his friendship with Amy.

“It’s because you go for the wrong type of guy,” Brett said matter-of-factly, pouring a third shot down his throat. “Those muscle-bound jocks are all bark and no bite. They look good on the outside, but they’re a mess on the inside.”

Amy threw a piece of ice at him and laughed. “And the goody two shoes, schoolteacher types you date are much better?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “Which is why we’re both still single.”

She sighed. “Yeah, so much for my dream of having kids.”

“You’re young. I’m sure you’ll find someone.” He drank his last shot and chased it with his beer.

“I’m thirty, Brett. By the time I find a man, date him, and get married, I’ll be an old hag with no viable eggs.”

The thought of Amy finding a man to marry and have kids with didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t stomach the thought of losing her.

“I’ll tell you what.” He leaned across the table and pointed at her. “Three years from now, if neither of us are married, I’ll marry you and give you as many babies as you want.” Brett’s words were slurred. Yup. He was definitely drunk. He wouldn’t have made that proposition otherwise.

“Yeah right.” Amy rolled her eyes. “You and me? That would be like fucking my brother. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He flinched at her words. “You think of me as your brother?” That bothered him a lot more than it should, especially considering he’d never once thought of her as a sister.

She shrugged. “We’re best friends. How else would I think of you?” Amy glanced away and then set her gaze on him again. “Why? How do you think of me?”

Oh shit! He hadn’t expected the conversation to backfire on him like that. What was he supposed to tell her? That he thought of her as a best friend that he wanted to fuck? No, he definitely couldn’t tell her that.

“As a friend, I guess. I don’t know. It’s not like I sit around and think about how I should think of you. You’re Amy.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Maybe a little.” He grinned. “So, do we have a deal or what?”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re probably not going to remember this tomorrow anyway.”

“Yes, I will,” he insisted. “It’s not every day I throw out marriage proposals y’know?”

“Okay then, you’ve got a deal.” She smiled.

“You gotta shake on it.” Brett extended his hand to her. She took it and gave it a firm shake. He smiled. Amy would always be around.