Once in a Lifetime(32)

“No, I’m not backing off on this,” he said, and then paused, clearly listening. Whatever he heard made him relax and let out a breath. “Say that to my face and we’ll see how pretty your fiancée thinks you still are afterward,” he growled, though now he sounded a whole lot less pissed off.

“At least contact the *,” he said. “Those girls deserve that—yeah, yeah, I look at them and see me. Jesus. Neither of us needs a shrink to know that. But they’re five, Luke. I was twelve, and already knew how it was. These girls, they’re…shit. They have no idea. They need him. Tell the * that. They need him.” He disconnected and shoved his phone in his pocket.

And didn’t move. Just stared out into the night…

Aubrey didn’t know what to do—an unusual feeling for her. She was intruding on a private moment, and yet this was her place. She dropped her purse to give him warning of her presence, and when he still didn’t move—not a single, tense, muscled inch—she realized he’d known she was there all along.

“If you’re looking for an argument,” came his disembodied voice in the low light, “forget it. I’m not in the mood.”

But that was a lie. He was absolutely in the mood for a fight, and that suited her just fine.

Because she was in the mood, too.





Chapter 11



What’s the problem?” Aubrey asked Ben.

“I said I wasn’t in the mood for you, Aubrey.”

Given the conversation she’d just overheard, she decided to cut him a break on the serious ’tude. “I can see that. Maybe you should cut out for the night.”

At that, he turned to her, his gaze narrowing as he took in her face. “What’s the matter?”

Unfortunately, she was still embarrassingly close to tears, so she didn’t dare go there. “Just go home, Ben.”

And to make sure he—or she—didn’t do anything stupid, she left first. She walked to the small back hallway, which opened to an even smaller office space and a very narrow set of stairs that led to her loft.

She took the stairs at a quick pace, closed the door behind her, and stood in the middle of the room. The only light came from the moonlight slanting in through the slats of the window blinds. She didn’t need to hit the light switch to see the four hundred square feet, which consisted of a love seat, a square table and two chairs, a kitchenette, and her one indulgence…a soft, plush bed piled with softer, plusher pillows.

She resisted, barely, the urge to throw herself facedown on it and assume her favorite thinking position.

Meow.

Oh, good. A purpose. Without so much as shedding her coat, she strode over to Gus, who was sitting by his empty bowl, staring at her accusatorily. She poured him a scoop and petted him while he ate.

“You ran away before you decided on colors.”

With a gasp, she whirled. Ben was standing right there. Of course he was. He was in faded, loose jeans and a T-shirt, snug across his chest and arms. He looked a little dusty, a little sweaty, and his eyes glittered with the same temper she felt coursing through her.

“You need a damn bell around your neck,” she said.

He didn’t smile. He simply held out two color samples. “Pick one.”

“There were more than two choices.”

“There’s only two good choices.”

She’d picked out five decent colors, but decided not to push him. “What was your phone call about?”

“What call?”

“The one that pissed you off when I walked in.”

He gave her an assessing look. “Why do you look like you’ve been crying?”

“What was your phone call about?”

“You first,” he said.

She crossed her arms.

He gave her a grim smile. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

She sighed. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “Listen, maybe I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe I can only guess it has something to do with your list. But have you considered that I might be worried about you?”

“Worried? Whatever for?”

“Maybe you’re involved in something bad or dangerous.”

She looked at him for a beat. His eyes were solemn, his mouth grim. He was serious. Dead serious.

He was worried about her. That had never crossed her mind. “I had dinner with my mother,” she said. See? She could share. She wasn’t always an island. “I ate enough comfort food for three people for a week. Then, for shits and giggles, and because I didn’t feel bad enough about myself, I drove by my father’s house and found him playing in the yard—in a suit, no less—with his new family and a puppy.” She closed her eyes and admitted the most painful part. “And the girls had a dollhouse on the porch.”

“A dollhouse.”

“Yeah, like…I don’t know.” She gestured with a hand to waist height. “About this big. I had one when I was little, but when my parents divorced, somehow it got in with my sister’s stuff. When I asked my dad for it back, he said it was Carla’s.” She laughed a little at herself. “It’s dumb how much I loved and missed that thing.”

“Why didn’t you ask your sister for it back?”