“You win, I tell you why I almost flattened you and Nicholas because of a costume. I win, you tell me about the douchebag.”
“You didn’t almost flatten anybody, GI Joe. You were cowering in your shorts.”
He lifted a brow.
A that’s what you think, pompous, I’m trying to save face by making you think there’s a story brow.
And I can pretend longer than you can that that kiss didn’t happen brow.
Maybe if they both pretended, it really wouldn’t have happened.
“Are we playing for real?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not rusty at pool.”
So he said.
* * *
He watched Skye study her shot from every angle. They were down to three balls left on the table—two of his and the eight-ball.
Gone was the amenable woman who had giggled with his nephew over losing a game of pool two hours ago, gone was the woman who had kissed him back as though he were her oxygen—which he needed to stop thinking about—and in her place was the sexiest competitor he’d ever had.
He’d never played pool with just Skye before. Sure, he’d played against her, but never when there weren’t at least three other guys standing around watching. Before last night, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been alone with her at all.
Her green eyes lit with a laser focus while she prowled around the pool table with an innate feline grace. And she was making him wish he’d put on another pair of jeans.
Not that denim would’ve been comfortable in his current state but at least it would’ve hidden his reaction to her better.
He shouldn’t have come down here.
But he couldn’t stay away.
“Prepare to spill your guts, Owens.” She stretched out over the table, her breasts brushing the pool table, her curvy ass framed in worn denim, her limbs impossibly long and sexy. She’d pulled her thick dark hair back in a complicated knot thing, and he had an overwhelming desire to yank it out and sink his hands into the silky locks.
He shifted onto a stool—a clean stool—and settled his arms on his thighs to block her view of the tent in his pants.
Kissing her had to be the stupidest move he’d made in his entire life.
Now, not only could he still taste her cherry lip balm, but he was back to remembering how he’d found her last night.
While she was soaking in the bathtub.
Miles and miles of bare Skye skin, those beautiful breasts, her wide, emerald eyes…
The crack of the stick against the ball pulled him back to the present.
The cue ball flew across the table, knocking the eight ball at exactly the right angle to transfer just enough force to it to propel it into the corner pocket.
Skye’s cheeks flushed as she thumped the end of her cue on the carpet. “I win.”
“Didn’t hear you call the pocket.”
“Get your hearing checked,” she said with a cheeky grin.
Had she called the pocket?
He’d been so distracted by the sight of her stretched across the table, she could’ve said damn near anything, and he wouldn’t have heard her.
“So?” She gripped the top of her pool stick with both hands, hips swaying, and he had to swallow hard. Because watching her hold the stick like that made him think of poles, and dancing, and Skye’s bare legs wrapped around—
“Why did you scream like a girl?” she said. “And don’t give me some half-assed story, or I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re terrified of scary movies.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
He didn’t stand a chance with her. She was smart, she was gorgeous, she was worldly, and she’d probably never see him as anything beyond one of her brother’s friends.
She’d already obviously forgotten that he’d had his tongue in her mouth just an hour ago.
So what did it matter if he completely blew it with her by telling her the truth?
She was still waiting for an answer, still swaying with the pool cue, her hips moving in a hypnotic rhythm while green sparks lit her eyes.
“I don’t like scary movies,” he said quietly.
Her smile started to morph into a smirk. But the pool stick stopped, and a frown creased her forehead. “Seriously?”
It had been almost a quarter of century, but he still found it easier to tell the story to the carpet. “We moved to Copper Valley when my mom left my father. He drank a lot. Fought a lot. Wanted me to be tough. I was about six when he made me watch Friday the 13th. And then he hid a Jason mask in my bed.”
Her lips parted. “That’s horrible,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “As soon as Mom could afford to leave him, she did. Haven’t seen him since. Beck and the guys—they were the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“You guys all went to see Scream together. You snuck out to see Scream together.”
“Peer pressure.” Even though it had been a few years after his mom had moved them, he’d hated every minute of the movie. That creepy feeling on his back, the sense that some big, bad unknown might’ve been lurking with them in the dark theater, the anger at himself for being such a wuss. He’d never told the guys about his father. He hadn’t wanted to give them any reason to suddenly think he was any weaker than he already looked after they’d had to save him from Bucky McMalley at lunch his second week at his new school. “I got jumpier than everyone else during the movie, so a bunch of them thought it would be fun to get costumes and wake me up one night and scare the piss out of me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Was Beck in on it?”
“You ever know him to not be?”
“That—that’s just mean.”
“They didn’t know. And I got ’em all back.” He chuckled to himself. “Actually, I threatened to copy pictures of Beck in his underwear and plaster them all over the school if he told anyone. Ironic, now that I think about it.”
She sighed. “Can we please go one hour without talking about my brother’s underwear?”
He spread his arms. “His underwear has given us this. Who are we to complain?”
“Have you still not learned to not anger a woman holding a pool stick?”
The teasing in her voice, the light in her eyes, the hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth spread warmth through his chest. “Apparently not.”
“Do your military bosses know you’re afraid of scary movies?”
He flexed a bicep. “Baby, now scary movies are afraid of me.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was now an undeniable smile on her lips. Not just a hint, but a full, happy Skye smile. “You are such a dork.”
No sense denying it.
He was one of the guys who drove a desk for the Air Force. He sat behind a computer monitor all day, fighting the evil enemies known as budgets and contractors and aging aircraft. “Dweeb,” he said.
“Okay, fine, you’re a dweeb.”
“No, you’re a dweeb.”
She straightened to her full height. “Excuse you?”
“Okay, you’re a geek,” he said.
She grabbed a square of chalk and hurled it at him with a laugh.
He caught it one-handed. “Still got that arm.”
Her eyes narrowed as though she didn’t believe him.
He didn’t get it. Beck was cool, their parents were cool, everyone who knew her back home adored her. But she still made that face anytime he said something nice to her.
He’d blame her ex, but she’d always made that face whenever he’d gone out of his way to be nice to her.
“It’s a compliment,” he told her.
“Is it?”
He had the sense that they were headed into territory where he’d be over his head and three miles behind at the same time.
She turned from him and put her pool stick away. “Never mind. I need to clean the carpet. The noise won’t wake Nicholas up, will it?”
“Did I say something offensive?”
“No, you—” She s
traightened and looked right at him. “I’m just not used to you saying nice things to me.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Oh, come on, Wyatt. It’s always, No, Skye, you’re aiming at the wrong pool ball. You’re not flicking your wrist right when you shoot a free throw. Here, let me show you how to throw a dart. My way is always the best way.”
His jaw hung. Sure, he’d offered suggestions over the years, but he’d always done it to help. The guys got rough. She had to be extra tough, extra fast, extra good to keep up. He’d been the weakling before he met Beck and the rest of the guys. He’d never wanted Skye to feel the way he had. “I didn’t mean—”
Her cheeks were rosy. “Sure. I know. We were kids, you were scrawny, but you were still bigger and smarter and stronger than me. Whatever. But sometimes Good job is really all you have to say. Because Let me show you how you’re wrong doesn’t leave the best impression.”
“Skye, I—”
She flicked a hand. “It’s late. I need to get this cleaned up, and you have a little boy to entertain tomorrow.”
“But—”
“We’re good, okay? Let’s just—let’s just forget all this happened. And I promise I’m proficient with domestic appliances.” She pointedly tilted a brow at the door.
He slid off his stool.
One good thing about this conversation—that problem in his pants had disappeared.
He pinched his lips together and slunk across the room.
Did she really think he was that much of an ass?
He paused in the doorway. “For what it’s worth, I always knew you were good. I just liked the excuse to be close to you.”
But she didn’t feel the same.
She never had, and she never would.
Not if she couldn’t appreciate his way of showing her he cared.
* * *
How many times had Wyatt Owens left her speechless in the last day and a half?
Skye stared at the door long after he’d left, his words lingering in the air and bouncing through her head.
He’d been a bossy cow so he could get close to her?
He’d liked her?
She slid down the wall beside the grape mess.
Of course.
That’s what boys did, wasn’t it? They pulled pigtails and chased their crushes around the playground.
And they showed off.
Puffed out their chests, got manly, demonstrated how much more capable they were than any of the other cavemen loafing around.
And kissed their women senseless.
She buried her head in her hands.
She was so freaking blind.
And on top of it, she’d been cruel.
She’d shocked him.
He’d honestly had no idea he irritated her.
And until he’d walked out of the game room, defeat slumping his shoulders, his bare feet shuffling on the carpet, she hadn’t realized how much power she’d had to hurt him.
Just like his own father had hurt him.
She’d screwed up.
Horribly.
And she didn’t know how she was supposed to fix it.
Her phone buzzed.
Beck’s face appeared on the screen—just his face, since she’d switched out that picture of him in his tighty whities that he’d changed his photo to the last time she’d seen him.
She put the phone to her ear. “Where are you? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Paris, and who needs sleep?”
Even when she was irritated with him, and even when she didn’t deserve it, his cheerful voice always put her in a better mood. “Apparently not overpaid underwear models.”
He laughed. “Flying out in a couple hours. Heard I double booked you and Wyatt. Walls still standing?”
“Walls, yes. Carpet, no.”
“Tell Wyatt not to get his panties in a bunch. Kids make messes.”
She’d let Beck think Nicholas was the culprit. She’d already done enough to torture Wyatt tonight.
Which she would not be discussing with her brother. “We’re not worried. You make messes.”
“Touché, little sister.” He barked out a laugh. “Got a break in my schedule. Thinking about going home for a visit.”
She pressed a finger into her eye to stop it from twitching. “I’m sure all of Copper Valley will line up for a parade in your honor. The prodigal Boy Band Son comes home. Thanks for the warning.”
“We’ll grill out, shoot hoops, go swimming. Like old times.”
Twenty minutes ago, old times would have given her a very clear picture.
But after Wyatt’s confessions, some of her childhood memories had a new light.
And she had so much more understanding.
An overwhelming need to hug him.
Which wouldn’t be doing either of them any favors. He had his life moving all over the country for the military, and she was needed back home for her life.
And Wyatt didn’t deserve any more people in his life who would hurt him.
Was she attracted to him?
Undeniably. Surprisingly so.
But did they actually have a future?
No.
So why make things awkward among friends?
“I’m heading back to Sacramento to make sure the walls are still standing at the office there,” she said to Beck. “Thinking about transferring permanently.”
“Skye. Take a damn week off. You’re gonna kill yourself at this rate. And come home. You can take a weekend away. I’ll pay for your ticket.”
“Beck—”
“It’s not his town.”
It took a second for her to realize Beck was talking about Steven, not Wyatt. “He’s the freaking mayor. It is his town.”
“By two points in the last election, and I hear his job approval rating has gone down. Plus, you’ve got us. Team Skye for the win. You want a private jet, or will a first class ticket do?”
Steven’s approval rating was above average, and most of Copper Valley—including many of her friends—still adored him. “Have I ever told you you’re the best brother in the world?”
“Not nearly often enough.”
“Probably because I don’t like to lie.”
Beck laughed again. Despite herself, Skye smiled too. “I appreciate the thought, Beck, but I really am fine. I’m eating, I’m sleeping, and I won’t overwork myself again. The hardest part of getting the office up and running is done. In fact, I—”
“Don’t.”
She dug her toes into the carpet. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t leave Hope Falls. I didn’t want to mention this, because Wyatt swore me to secrecy, but I actually need a favor. He does too. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”
Her heart skittered in her chest. “Help with his nephew?” she said softly.
“What? No. Seriously, Skye? Even I’m not that obtuse.”
She hugged her knees. This was the Beck the world didn’t see. The one who was more than eye candy, the one who had a heart, the one who paid attention to the little things that mattered to the people he loved.
Like not sending one kid who might like her to substitute for another who hated her enough to convince his father not to marry her.
She’d refused to talk to them about it, but she’d heard their whispers. She knew they knew.
“It’s about the military,” Beck said.
She shot another glance at the door.
She and Wyatt might not have ever been the best of friends, but the last two days, there was something there.
And especially in light of realizing she’d misunderstood him her entire life, and in light of realizing what he’d lived through already, if she could help him, she would.
Chapter Six
Today was a new day.
A new day, a new beginning, and a new friendship.
Skye had never been fair to Wyatt. She’d blown him off as a pompous jerk who always had to be right.
She’d never c
onsidered that he’d simply been showing her affection and friendship in his own unique way, and that he needed friendship and affection and acceptance more than she did.
After having an engagement broken because her own affection for a difficult little boy hadn’t been returned, she knew she’d been wrong to dismiss Wyatt as a jerk without ever considering his side of the story.
But when she pulled herself out of bed to go offer an olive branch, the house was empty.
For the first time in six months—no, the first time in at least a year, she’d overslept.
Wyatt and Nicholas were already gone.
She knew they’d be back, though, so she sank into the overstuffed brown suede couch, coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other while she checked email.
For six months, she’d lived and breathed to the demands of her phone. There was always one more email, one more phone call, one more reminder popping up on her calendar of where she needed to be and what she needed to do.
And now, after being without her phone for a day and a half, with the added bonus of the distraction from Nicholas and Wyatt—but mostly Wyatt—there was a loose sense of freedom sinking into her bones. Tension was melting out of her muscles, and she found herself tossing aside the phone to pick up her old favorite Mae Daniels romance novel.
She also had an itch to get back outside with her digital SLR camera.
Snapping photos had been a minor obsession in her early twenties, but the last six months, she hadn’t been interested. Or the last two years, if she were being honest with herself. She’d gotten wrapped up in Steven’s life, in getting to know him and then in preparing for life as a mayor’s wife, in trying to convince his son that she wasn’t trying to replace his mother.
Her hobbies had fallen by the wayside. Then she’d let herself get obsessed with work, and she’d been afraid she wouldn’t remember what she liked to do with her free time.
But this morning, she simply felt peace.
A creepy sensation told her she was no longer alone.
She glanced up, prepared to swallow her pride and extend that olive branch, but it wasn’t Wyatt peeking in on her through the window.
It was Nicholas.
She smiled at him, then met him at the door and ushered him in. “Hey, bud. How was your morning?” The sky over the mountains was a brilliant blue, and the summer breeze carried a hint of flowers and fresh-cut grass. “You a coffee man? Got some leftover.”
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