Page 7 of Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin

Mike came out from behind the bar, brought me a highball glass filled with something clear over ice. I took a big swig. Gin and tonic. “Thanks,” I said, hoping it would cool me off.

“Let me introduce you to everyone.” Mike turned to the five men watching the sports recap show with varying degrees of interest. Jack was watching me intently, not the big screen. I couldn't read the look on his face. He was very good at giving nothing away. I couldn't tell if he was angry, horny, sad or concussed. I silently reminded myself never to play poker with him.

“That's Joe,” Mike pointed to the skinny blond guy the furthest from me and worked his way around. “He's a radiologist at the hospital. You know the others—Tom, Colin, Arty and Rob.”

I nodded and gave a little finger wave. I knew them all reasonably well between high school, being friends with one of their sisters, or intramural softball.

“Hey, V! Laid any pipe lately?”

I rolled my eyes at Rob's comment and gave a sickly smile. I'd given up commenting back on the plumber jokes years ago.

“Jack, you remember Veronica, don't you?” Mike asked.

Jack, eyes still on me, put his beer on the coffee table and stood up. Walked up to me. Well-worn jeans, soft and supple in all the right places, rode low on his hips. He wore a black T-shirtwhich showed off his very appealing tan and broad shoulders. He'd put on thirty pounds or so since high school, filled out. Again, in all the right places and with pure muscle. The man didn’t have an ounce of flab on him, and I would volunteer to confirm that. His hair—since he wasn’t wearing a hat and I could see all of it now—was dark and had a little wave to it, curling down over his forehead and ears. It was longer than I remembered, long enough to run my fingers through, get a little hold on it and pull his head in for a kiss or keep it right between my parted thighs as he?—

Oh shit. I was in big trouble if I was fantasizing about him going down on me.

I flushed and glanced up at him, glad he couldn’t read my thoughts. He was taller standing up and conscious. I had to tilt my head to look him in the eye. “Miller,” he replied neutrally.

Oh yeah. Forgot about that one. He'd always called me by my last name. I gave myself a mental head smack. Now I knew why. He didn't know which Miller I was. Using our last name would cover both me and Violet and he wouldn't be wrong. Pretty slick. I had thought it was a cute nickname, a weird endearment. I was such a putz.

“I ran into Jack at the hospital earlier. Broken foot,” Mike told me jovially.

Obviously, the broken foot wasn't Jack's but some other unfortunate person. Mike gave him a slap on the back. I saw Jack wince slightly from probably a head ache, his mouth a grim line. Pain medicine must not be working well enough.

Guilt riddled me. Just a little bit. Or maybe it was the sip of G & T talking. “How are you feeling?” I asked. I couldn't come up with anything else. Nothing witty from me. Just being in the same room as Jack made me nervous, flustered. Mad. Horny.

“Wonderful,” he said sarcastically, if the tone of his voice was any indication. “Remember the explanation I had to give to the ER docs?”

I nodded, worried my lower lip and wondered where this was going.

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

“They loved it. If it weren't for confidentiality laws, it would be around town by tomorrow.” He was cranky. Angry.

Mike just watched the two of us. “You knew he got hurt?” he asked, baffled.

I nodded again. “I drove him to the ER.” If Jack wasn't going to bring up the whole sex-paddle-to-the-head scenario, I wasn't either.

“Oh,” Mike replied as if that answered everything, although he looked as if he had no clue. “Why?”

“Didn't Jack tell you?” I glanced over at him. “We're going to be roommates.”

“At Violet's?” Mike asked, still obviously confused.

I nodded.

Mike wiggled his eyebrows, grinned, and turned to Jack. “That's going to be...cozy. Just the two of you in that tiny house.”

“Want to put me up here?” Jack asked. He could've been fishing for a room, or he could have just been trying to irritate Mike. It was hard to tell which.

Mike smiled, held up his hands in front of him. “Nope. Wouldn't want to cramp your style.”

I rolled my eyes. Mike and I had kissed once. In ninth grade. His braces had nicked my lip and it had been a slobbery mess. We’d both agreed right then and there in his parents' basement that had been a one-time deal. From then on, he was like a big brother. A big doofus of one.

“Besides, my parents are coming Monday morning,” Mike continued. “Why can't you stay at your uncle's?” Before Jackcould answer, Mike kept right on talking. “Right, the remodel. I heard about that. Look, can we get this started?” He rubbed his hands together. “This is going to be great! I'm so glad I ran into you and you could join us, buddy.” He got a beer from the bar and sat down in his recliner, positioned just right for TV watching.

Mike was a little too enthusiastic, like a cheerleader who had too much sugar and didn't have any focus.