Once in a Lifetime(19)

Liar, liar.

On the way home, she stopped and picked up some color samples from the hardware store for the paint she couldn’t possibly have been able to afford if not for her incredibly generous uncle. She’d spoken to him yesterday via Skype from his cruise and got a lump in her throat just thinking about it. He knew his wife had loved the bookstore, and he loved Aubrey enough to give her a shot at it.

It meant the world to her, but she wasn’t going to spend more than was absolutely, strictly necessary. And she’d repay every penny.

The moment she parked next to Ben’s truck at the bookstore, she nearly chickened out and retreated to her loft apartment for the night instead. But she wasn’t a chicken, she told herself, and she forced herself to enter via the front door.

“How much do I owe you?” she heard Ben ask.

She moved in far enough to see him. He had his back to her. He held a bag of something delicious-smelling in one hand and was shoving his other hand in his pocket.

Another guy stood in front of him in a bike helmet, army fatigues, and a black T-shirt that read EAT ME DELIVERS. Aubrey recognized him as the man who’d been at AA the other night.



Ryan.

Ryan shook his head vehemently at Ben. “Nothing, man. You owe the diner nothing. It’s on me.” He paused, and his voice was filled with emotion. “It’s good to see you home. Safe. Everyone’s so happy to have you back.” Then he stepped close to Ben and enveloped him in one of those masculine, back-slapping hugs, holding Ben for a long beat, as though he was incredibly precious to him.

Ben let out a breath and hugged him back, and Aubrey felt another lump in her throat, this one the size of a regulation football. Uncomfortable with the emotion, she let her heels click on the floor, and both men turned to face her.

Ben met her gaze, his giving nothing away.

Ryan looked at her as well, and it was clear from the way he gave one slow, surprised blink that he remembered her from the AA meeting. She braced herself for questions, but he didn’t say a word. He merely turned back to Ben, clapped him on the shoulder once more, nodded at Aubrey, and then was gone.

“You know Ryan?” Ben asked into the silence.

“No.”

“Sure? It seemed like you two might know each other.”

“No,” Aubrey said again, and bent to pet Gus, who’d come close to wrapping himself around her ankles.

Meow, he said a little forcefully and accusatorily.

She was late with his dinner.

Aubrey fed him and glanced at Ben. He was back in his tool belt, which was made of leather and crinkled all male-like when he moved. Plus, it forced his jeans a little low on his hips. She couldn’t stop staring, because there was something about the way he wore his clothes that suggested he’d look even better without them.

And then she noticed…he had cat hair all over his jeans. That shouldn’t make her melt, right? Swallowing hard, she forced herself to turn away. But her eyes had a mind of their own and needed one more peek, and she pivoted back.

And bumped right into him.

Chest to chest.

Thigh to thigh.

And everything in between. He’d moved silently, coming right up on her. “Did you talk to Mrs. Cappernackle?” he asked. “Did you apologize for whatever it is you did?”

She went still, then forced herself to relax. “You think you know something,” she said. “But you don’t.” She turned to leave, but he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. Once again he was close. Too close. So damn close. “At all,” she added, hearing with some alarm that her voice had softened. Everything had softened, at just his proximity. “Ever,” she whispered, and found her gaze locked on his mouth.

He had a really great mouth.

“I don’t want to talk, either,” that mouth said very seriously. And then he lowered his head. They shared a breath for a beat, just long enough for her to know what was going to happen and feel the anticipation wash over her.

Then he kissed her, deep and slow and utterly mesmerizing. His hands were firm on her back. Needing an anchor, she reached out and grasped his shirt and leaned into him. He was warm and solid, so very solid, emitting the kind of strength that she herself was a pint low on today. Leaning in more, she felt his body respond.

Someone moaned. I did, she realized, swamped with the sensation of being wanted, even just physically. She took in the delicious taste of him, the feel of him, the sound of his very male groan when she stroked her tongue to his.

Things got a little hazy then. A lot hazy. She felt his hands move over her, melting her bones away. She touched him, too. Her hands wandered all over his body—and good Lord, what a body.

She had no idea how long they kissed—and kissed—but she didn’t think about stopping until she ran out of air. Breathing hard, she slowly opened her eyes and stared directly into his.

They’d heated. Darkened. And something else. He wasn’t looking so relaxed now. In fact, he was looking the opposite of relaxed. He looked…feral.

And she was his prey.

It made her quiver in arousal, which was crazy, but she couldn’t look away. He was still holding her. In fact, he was holding her up. And having his hands on her was doing a number on her heart rate. “I have paint samples,” she said inanely.