Guilty Needs(12)

She paused in the middle of raising the glass to her lips. “An hour ago…” she repeated.

Then she shrugged and took a sip. “If you had let me know you were coming home, I could have bought some groceries and stuff for you.”

He shook his head and settled on one of the scoop chairs nestled up against the breakfast bar. “I can’t really say I’ve come home. But it’s time I figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Did the lawyer finally catch up with you?”

Colby blinked. “Lawyer?”

“Fred What his name? Whoever was taking care of things for Alyssa. He keeps calling me and reminding me…” her voice trailed off.

“About the will?” Colby asked.

She nodded, focused intently on her glass. As though sensing his scrutiny, she looked up and lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I know he’s got a job to do, but I really don’t want to keep hearing about her will, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Grimacing, Colby dragged a hand through his hair. The thick, black strands of it had gotten so long, they hung in his eyes. He desperately needed a haircut, but he just didn’t care enough to mess with it. “Shit. You know, I never even thought about that. I just wanted to get things settled with the house.”

He blew out a sigh and lifted his gaze, studied the kitchen. It was bright and cheerful, full of little touches that Alyssa claimed would make it a fun place to cook, though Colby had suspected she had more fun thinking about cooking than she would actually doing it. “I came back to sell the place. I just don’t think I can live here.”

She was quiet for a minute. She licked her lips and Colby found himself following the path she took, eying the plump, wet curve of her lip. When she finally spoke, he cursed silently and made himself focus on her words. “So where do you want to live?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

Finally, the somber look fell away from her lips and she drawled, “Well, it might be wise to think about that before you do much else.”

Colby shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve been doing all sorts of things the past year without thinking them through in advance. It’s actually not too bad.”

She lifted her brows. “Colby being impulsive. Now that’s a switch.”

He had another impulsive urge just then, to go around the bar and corner her against the counter, press his lips to hers. See if that body of hers felt as good as it had in his dreams. See if she tasted half as sweet. Instead, he pushed away from the counter and went to get a bottle of water from the fridge. Taking his time to open it, he said, “I’m sorry I just disappeared like that. I’m sorry you felt like you had to step in, the way you did.”

“Colby.”

He didn’t want to look at her.

Every time he did, those guilty needs of his reared their ugly heads and he wanted nothing more than to grab her and haul her close. Then do it. He hunched his shoulder defensively as the whisper sounded right in his ear. Turning away from it, he faced Bree and wondered if she’d heard.

No. The look on her face was one of calm patience, not confusion or fear.

Besides, he reminded himself, why would she hear it? The voice was just a guilt-induced hallucination. Just guilt—not actually the voice of his wife. No reason for anybody else to hear it.

“Colby, I did it because I wanted to, not because I felt like I had to.”

Then she lowered her glass and slipped out the back door. Moving to stand at the door, he watched as she jogged down the steps and drew a pair of gloves from her back pocket. Colby stared at the perfect, round curve under the faded denim and swore. Thunking his head against the glass door, he muttered under his breath, “You’re f*cked up, Hutchins. Seriously.”




Colby…

Shit, she couldn’t believe he was here. That he was back. Her heart had yet to settle back to normal and it was a miracle she hadn’t stuttered every time she had tried to speak to him.

Even now, she couldn’t get herself under control.

Of course, it didn’t help that she knew he was watching her. She could feel it, feel his eyes on her as she worked in the flowerbeds, pulling up stubborn weeds, thinning out the day lilies that were already blooming in a riot of yellows and pinks. She’d thought maybe she was just imagining the weight of his stare but as she finished up in one flower bed and moved to another, she saw him standing at the window.

Staring.

It was a weird look, intense, probing, as though he was trying to see clear through to her soul, but at the same time, it was almost like he didn’t really see her. Bree started to wave to him but then he turned on his heel and moved away from the window.

Finally, she thought. Maybe now she could focus on the job at hand instead of thinking about him, worrying about him…dreaming about him. All of that could happen later, when she was home, safe and alone. Where she didn’t have to worry somebody might look at her and see all the secrets she tried to keep hidden.

Bit by bit, she relaxed, losing herself in the pleasure of the job. Hers wasn’t an easy job—it was hard, manual labor, very often of the back-breaking kind. But she loved it. Loved planting things and watching them grow.

Sweat trickled down her forehead as she finished the particular flowerbed she had been working on. Absently, she swiped the back of one gloved hand across her brow, inadvertently leaving a streak of dirt. She blew out a satisfied sigh and then looked back at the flower beds she had yet to do.