by Zoe York
He’d never wanted a woman more than he wanted Lily, and that was terrifying in itself.
Today he’d felt great, with so little pain in his joints. He almost felt whole, complete. Strong. He wanted to indulge physically like he had on the hike. It had been fun, and he’d been sure that the pain he’d felt the next day had been related to sleeping on the couch more than walking in the mountains.
But he also knew from past experience that a good day was often followed by a sucker punch of a crappy day.
“Lily, tomorrow’s probably going to be a bad—”
She silenced him with a finger against his lips.
Lily shifted, and he struggled not to twitch or show how affected he was by how her warmth was pressing into him, inviting him, coaxing him to allow nature and physical need to take over in a culmination of everything their species had been wired to complete. He was going to have to readjust himself given the sudden lack of space in his undergarments, but was afraid any movement might override his waning restraint.
“How about it, husband? We could have a marriage that fits every bill,” she whispered, her lips grazing his.
His hands locked on her hips, his mouth hot on hers. She tasted like everything he ever wanted. She pressed directly over his hardness and he lost control, his hands moving to her hair, their kisses bruising. She ground her hips once and it felt good, so right. His fingers slipped up the skirt of her dress, her skin smooth and tempting.
She shuddered in pleasure and he realized what they were doing—where it was heading. He abruptly pushed her farther back on his thighs.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Lily blindly get her hopes up, only to dash them when he ended up back in a wheelchair or worse. She deserved so much better, so much more than a husband who would tie her down, unable to do all the things her young and healthy body could.
He cared too much about her to become her burden, because she was the kind of woman who would stay, feel as though she couldn’t just leave.
The look of hurt in Lily’s eyes was so intense he froze, uncertain. He was already letting her down, hurting her feelings. He’d already screwed up.
“Lily…I don’t…I don’t do one-night stands.” Which was the truth. If he slept with her, he wanted it to be because they both thought they had something that would last.
“We’re married.”
“But we’re not in love, Lil. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
I’m trying not to hurt you. I’m trying not to use you just because you’re here.
She blinked, her cheeks flushing. She stood, suddenly looking so vulnerable, he felt a pain in his chest for putting the hurt in her expression. The rejection.
“I’m sorry.” He caught her hand as she backed away, and she looked at him with eyes burning with shame.
“Will you ever see me as more than Tagalong Lily?”
Little did she know that was the least of his problems.
Lily had sent her evening crew home early, saying it was a special treat, and promising to clean up for them. She slammed things around the restaurant kitchen, furious at herself for trying to woo Ethan and failing. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and stared at the stained ceiling. Of course he had rejected her. He didn’t see her as a woman and never would. It didn’t matter what she wore or what she did. It didn’t matter that their kisses were hot enough to melt the polar icecaps.
He didn’t do one-night stands.
Why did he have to be such a gentleman?
He didn’t want her. She needed to focus her mind elsewhere. If they couldn’t consummate their marriage there had to be another way. Sweat equity. Common law marriage. Anything. Something to make sure her interests remained secured.
Lily put a stock pot away and groaned in frustration. Why wouldn’t Ethan take advantage of what she was offering when it was so obvious they had something delicious burning between them?
She heard something bang in the back of the building and froze, uncertain. This time it wasn’t just the old building shifting or the neighbor doing renovations in the store next door. She felt the back pocket of her jeans for her phone, wanting to check the back hall camera from its app. It was trained on the fridge, but showed part of the hallway, too. Maybe enough to give her forewarning if someone was inside the building with her.
Her cell wasn’t in her pocket. Hours ago she’d ditched the dress and tossed on something more fitting for working out her frustration in the restaurant, and she wasn’t sure if she’d even grabbed her phone in her desperation to put distance between her and Ethan.
She heard another thud in the back hall. Was it her sous-chef, Quinlan, coming to pick up something he’d forgotten in his eagerness to run to the field to catch the last of tonight’s football game between a rival town?
Lily grabbed a knife as she walked around the prep island. She picked up a second knife, gripping one in each hand.
“Who’s there?” she called.
She wished Ethan was here, his bulk at her side, ready to protect her. She eased around the island, keeping her back to the wall as she angled a look through the kitchen doorway and into the small hall that led to the walk-in fridge and back door.
She raised her voice. “I said who’s there?”
Moments later, a scrawny black cat rounded the corner, meowing plaintively. Lily tipped her head back against the wall, her heart racing.
She placed the knives on a nearby counter and let out a breath, leaning over. The cat wound itself around her legs.
“How did you get in here?” She patted the tomcat’s bony head. “You hungry?” Lily went to the fridge and took out a carton of cream. She filled a small bowl and set it on the floor.
“You shouldn’t be in here.” She crossed her arms, watching the cat lap up the unexpected feast. “Furry animal and all that. We’ll make an exception, since the kitchen is currently closed, but don’t let an inspector see you in here or they’ll shut me down.”
The cat finished his drink and looked up at her expectantly.
“Not too much at a time,” she told it. “We don’t want to give you a tummy ache, and who knows when was the last time you had food in your stomach.”
She picked up the cat, which nuzzled under her chin. At least someone didn’t mind giving her some affection tonight.
“The restaurant is no place for a kitty.” She began making her way to the kitchen doorway, regretting that she had to send the animal away. “Time to go back outside. But if you come again tomorrow I’ll have some scraps saved for you.”
She got as far as the back hallway before she noticed the door to the alley was wide open. She was certain she’d locked it behind her, an old safety habit left over from living and working in the city. Then again, how else could the cat have gotten in?
She had to be losing it. Or getting used to the security of Blueberry Springs.
“Did you open the door?” she asked the purring puss. She slowly approached the doorway, feeling as though a boogeyman was going to jump out at her. Light spilled from the outdoor light, the steps darkening as they went down into the abyss of the small lot that opened into the alley. She eased closer, holding the squirming cat close, seeing more and more of the empty parking lot with each step. Nothing lurking in the shadows. Just her old car sitting there, reliably rusted.
Feeling silly, she deposited the cat on the back step, then closed the door and latched it securely. Grasping the handle, she gave it a shake to test it. There was no way it could have popped open on its own. She must have failed to fasten it properly.
The restaurant was quiet behind her. No humming of the various appliances keeping food chilled or frozen. No heater or air conditioning kicking in. No creaking as an early autumn wind drifted down from the surrounding mountains.
She checked the walk-in fridge’s switch out of habit, finding it in the off position. She flicked it back on, feeling spooked.
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms to ward
off her sudden chill, she eased her way back toward the kitchen. The whole place felt too quiet, the renewed hum of the fridge much too loud.
What if someone had come inside and was waiting for her?
Feeling wigged out, Lily turned and fled down the hallway, flinging the alley door open and racing outside. She locked the restaurant door as fast as possible, then scrambled to her car.
The cat was perched on the hood, back leg in the air as it washed itself. He paused to give her a look as if to say, “What are you freaking out about?”
Lily clung to the steering wheel, trying to calm her nerves. If the cat wasn’t scared, she shouldn’t be. Right?
Nevertheless, she started the engine, no longer wanting to be in the quiet building alone. The ebony cat stood up, walked to the windshield and peered in at her with its clear green eyes. It meowed once.
Ethan had said bad luck had been following him. But what about her? She’d had her fair share, too, and was beginning to think that the quirky things happening in the restaurant were more than simple bad luck. There was someone with an ax to grind.
Chapter 10
Ethan had blown it. He’d known it the moment he’d pushed Lily away, before she’d gone storming off to the restaurant with hurt feelings. He’d paced and fretted for hours, worrying about her. Blueberry Springs was a good little town, but he didn’t like the idea of her going out alone late at night. Especially when it was his foolishness that had sent her off.
It didn’t help that she’d left her phone at home, so he couldn’t check in or see whether she was indeed still at the restaurant or safe at Mandy’s. Sure, he could call the restaurant, but what were the chances she’d pick up?
Around midnight he’d finally given in and checked the security footage from the restaurant cameras, seeing nothing. The fridge was on, nothing interesting happening in the slice of back hallway it caught in its frame. Same with the office other than Lily arriving earlier in the evening. She could have left through the front door. Or still be there. He should have put a camera in the kitchen, as that was undoubtedly where she’d be.
He felt like a snoop trying to appease his guilt by checking to ensure she was safe. But he knew if he went to her to beg forgiveness he’d likely end up making sweet love to her on her office desk. And that would come with its own set of problems.
He resumed pacing, but by two was so exhausted from worry he stretched out on his bed to wait for her. What felt like moments later the sun was streaming through his open bedroom blinds. Morning. The sounds of his wife making breakfast in the kitchen had woken him.
He tossed on a shirt and hustled out of the bedroom, eager to verify that Lily was indeed all right.
He halted in the doorway. She was intact, cooking as though everything was fine in her world. Except there was a skinny black cat standing on his kitchen counter.
“Why is there a mangy feline on my food preparation surface?”
Lily turned her back to him. “It’s not like you actually prep any food there. And he’s mine.”
“Yeah? What’s its name?”
“Igor.”
“Igor?” He couldn’t help smirking.
“Yes. He’s a stray in need of a home.” She gave him a prim look. “Are you allergic?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither is Gramps.”
Ethan checked the time. His grandfather was usually up by now.
“He went out for a walk with Trish,” Lily said, as though reading his mind. “She’s taking him to the barber’s afterward.” She turned the heat off under a pan, then dumped the contents onto a plate. “Does the back door to the restaurant ever open on its own?”
Ethan’s senses went on high alert. “No. Why?”
“It opened last night and Igor came marching in.”
“Any signs of forced entry?” He took the cup of coffee she held out for him.
She shook her head. She had to be worried if she was speaking to him again.
“But the fridge was off again.”
“Have you checked the camera footage?” He already knew there’d been nothing before he’d gone to bed.
She shook her head.
“What time did it happen?”
“Around one-thirty.”
Something didn’t feel right. And it wasn’t just her reaction or her reaching out to him after the way he’d hurt her feelings last night. He’d be wise to have Logan Stone come check out the building and see what security enhancements could be added.
Ethan hesitated as he reached for his tablet to check the video feed from Benny’s, noticing that his back barely twinged as he did so. First thing in the morning he usually had to stretch a bit before his joints and muscles moved smoothly. He rolled his shoulder, savoring the lack of pain and stiffness. That was new. Another good day instead of a crash.
But could he rely on it? Count on his body to not defeat him?
Feeling good made him worry that the next dip in health was going to be longer, more severe and more crippling. He hated using a cane. Absolutely hated it. And it would cause Lily to fuss over him, pity him, when her attention and energy would be better spent elsewhere.
“Some people say thank you,” Lily teased lightly.
“For what?” he snapped, lost in his worries.
“The coffee.”
He blinked at her, then realized he was indeed holding the mug she’d poured for him. “Right. Thanks.”
She glanced down, suddenly aghast. “What happened to your legs?”
Pants. He’d pulled a Gramps and forgotten his pants. Boxers weren’t enough to cover the angry scars left from the accident and resulting surgeries. Nineteen operations in total. Some more successful than others.
He turned back to his room, shaking his head at himself for forgetting. He yanked on a pair of jeans, taking extra time before returning to the kitchen, where Lily was waiting, a plate of eggs and sliced fruit in front of her on the counter. She was nibbling on toast and he wasn’t sure whether the plated meal was his or hers, seeing as she often snitched food off the plate she prepared for him. He’d even seen her sit across from his grandpa and steal the odd scoop of his mound of mashed potatoes. The first time he’d seen it he’d expected Gramps to stick a fork through the back of her hand, but instead his expression had simply softened, and at his next available chance he’d scooted the plate ever so casually a little closer to her.
“Well?” she demanded. Man, she had that wife thing down pat.
“Well what?” Ethan grumbled, standing across from her. The cat—Igor—had come over and was weaving his way around Ethan’s ankles, purring and acting like one more thing Ethan would miss when Lily left him next year.
“Are those from the accident?”
“What’s it to you?” He pulled the plate toward him, planning to eat while standing. “Is this for me?”
She nodded, then stole a slice of orange, as well as a wedge of peeled kiwi, setting them on the counter in front of her. “I’m your wife and I should know where every scar is located.”
“Yeah? You want to see them all?” he challenged, ignoring the food.
“Yes.”
“Fine.” He whipped up his shirt, revealing one of the angriest scars—from the wound that had put him in a medically-induced coma for two weeks. The one next to it had been created as the surgeons went in to repair the internal injuries from his car’s bent metal, which had not only ripped him open but skewered him as well. “How’s that for the appetite?”
“Oh, Ethan.” Her expression softened from annoyance at his reluctance to share to one of sympathy, understanding. He waited for the pity. He waited some more.
She came around the counter, moving closer and he forced himself to stand his ground. Her hands slid under the cotton hem as he dropped his shirt, her palms flat against his skin, his scars, his old wounds. “It must have hurt so much.”
He felt his walls begin to crumble.
She rested her head against his chest and he
didn’t know what to do. Comfort her? Appreciate the fact that she hadn’t cringed in disgust?
“I had no idea you’d been hurt so badly.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t do well with pity.” He tried to gently nudge her off him. “So you want to learn how to run the catering business today?”
She kept her arms wrapped around him. “Are you scarred everywhere? Is this why you limp and don’t lift big stuff?”
It felt as though her image of him was shifting, but he wasn’t sure if she thought he was strong for enduring so much, or if she thought he was broken and fascinating.
He found himself lifting his shirt again, showing her the surgery scars, pointing them out, giving them a name and their results. “Reattached ligament. Gave me back 50 percent movement in my arm.” He continued on, pointing to places his pants covered. She took inventory, nodding, her eyes sympathetic the entire time.
When he finished, feeling somehow lighter for sharing, she wrapped her arms around his neck, snugging her body against his.
“You’re amazing.”
“Excuse me?” He slipped his hands around her small waist, liking the way she felt against him.
“To have endured all of that. I think I would have given up.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be unable to move. To not be able to make love to a woman.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit. He closed his eyes, shutting off that part of him. When he opened them again Lily, his wife, was watching him with a look of caring and compassion. She gently placed a kiss on his jaw. He didn’t flinch, simply allowed her to administer her chosen form of remedy for his brokenness.
She kissed him on the mouth, slow and sweet.
“And can you make love to a woman now?” she asked gently.
“Yes.” He was getting caught up in her kisses, the power of holding her, in having the strength to do so, in the fact that they both desired each other. She now knew his biggest faults and still seemed to think the world of him. He couldn’t imagine a better aphrodisiac.
