by Jill Shalvis
“What if it’s not?”
She met his warm gaze. “Not what?”
“Payback,” he said.
Their legs were entwined. At some point in the night, the sleeping bag had fallen away so that there was no barrier between them. He was warm and hard.
Everywhere.
She felt herself soften as the heat of arousal built within her. Worse, her fingers itched with the need to touch him.
“Amy.” Matt’s voice was pure sin, not a warning so much as a statement, and her hands reacted without permission, migrating to his chest.
“Mm,” rumbled from his chest as he slid a hand into her hair, tilting her head up to his. He searched her gaze. “You’re all the way awake, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just making sure,” he said, then rolled her beneath him.
Chapter 5
Other things are just food. But chocolate is chocolate.
Matt had given distance his best shot but it hadn’t worked out. As he pressed Amy into the sleeping bag, her teeth bit into that plump curve of her lower lip again. Her breathing went erratic, and her pulse raced at the base of her throat. Her gaze darkened with the same thing turning him inside out.
She wanted him.
That was only fair since he’d wanted her for months. Ever since he’d first caught sight of her in the diner working her ass off, the tough, wounded, beautiful woman with the heartbreaking smile that didn’t quite meet her amazing eyes.
At the moment, she looked softer than usual. Her long, side-swept bangs were sticking up a little in one spot, falling across her forehead in another. Her mascara had smudged. She’d been driving him bat-shit crazy all night, her and those mile-long legs, which were tangled up in his. He’d always been a confirmed ass man, but Amy seemed to be expanding his horizons.
She was still wearing his sweatshirt and now it smelled like her. He wanted to shove it up to her chin and nuzzle every inch of her. And then kiss. And lick… All the erotic possibilities played in his mind, and he lowered his head until his mouth was only a breath from hers, giving her a moment to think about what was going to happen between them.
She stared up at him, her fingers in his hair. “Yes,” she breathed, barely audible.
He kissed her then, and the soft, little sound that escaped her went straight through him like fire. Her hands tightened on him as if to hold him to her. Not that he was going anywhere. Hell, no. For months, he’d wondered how she’d taste, if the reality would be as good as the dreams. They were.
She tasted like heaven.
This was made all the sweeter by having her amazing body shrink-wrapped up against his, a situation that was blowing brain cells left and right. Hoping he had enough to spare, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth wider on hers.
She made the sound again, a small murmur deep in her throat that held as much surprise as arousal. He could feel her heart pounding. No, wait, that was his, because for the first time in all these months, she’d let him in. Not only had she let him in but she’d melted against him, completely surrendering, pressing her warm body to his. Sliding her fingers in his hair, she murmured his name against his mouth, squirming closer, then closer still.
And just like that, he was in deep, deeper than he’d been in some time. Warning bells clanged in his brain, but anticipation and erotic thrill overrode them. Slanting his mouth more fully over hers, he took everything she gave, wanting more still. So goddamn much more. He wanted all of her, panting his name, naked and writhing beneath him. Reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt, he went still when from outside the tent, he heard something—pine needles crunching. Someone was out there, walking around, and he lifted his head.
“What?” Amy whispered, hands still in his hair, her mouth wet from his. “A bear?”
He shook his head. Whatever was out there, it was definitely of the human variety. “Wait here.” Rising off her in one fluid move, he adjusted himself as he left, not particularly wanting to meet an intruder with a boner in his pants the size of… well, the tent he’d just vacated.
The morning was so foggy he couldn’t see much more than a few feet in front of himself but he carefully searched the clearing.
Empty of any mysterious intruders.
But someone had been here, he could see the footsteps in the morning dew. He checked out his truck, but everything seemed the same, with the exception of the flashlight he’d left on his rear fender. That was gone.
“Find anything?”
Matt turned to Amy. She stood with her back to the tent, a Swiss Army Knife in hand, ready for action. Her hair was wild, her wrist bandaged, her stance making it clear that she was ready to rumble. She was still in his sweatshirt, and he’d never seen anything so sexy. Probably she could wear a potato sack and he’d think she looked sexy. Probably he needed to also get a grip. “Nice job on the waiting thing,” he said.
“I don’t do the waiting thing.”
Right. She could take care of herself. Message received loud and clear—except that it was his nature to do the taking care of, though really he should be over that by now. It’d been that exact characteristic that so completely detonated his life back in Chicago.
Which is why he was here. He needed to remember that. He was here for the quiet mountain life. It suited him. He liked being on his own, liked it a lot, and didn’t plan to change that status anytime soon.
And yet here he was, wanting Amy. Unable to stop himself, he lifted a hand, cupping her face, running the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. She might look damn tough and on top of her world, but she sure was soft to the touch.
And he wanted to eat her up for breakfast. It’d be off the charts, he had no doubt.
But she took a step back. Okay, he’d expected that. Hell, he’d expected that last night, and he moved to his truck, grabbing his last Dr. Pepper—grateful their thief hadn’t stolen that, too. He cracked it open and offered it to Amy first.
She went brows up. “Dr. Pepper for breakfast?”
“Breakfast of champions.”
She took a sip, then studied him, looking amused. “What are you going to do if I drink it all?”
“Cry.”
She laughed and lightened the tension considerably. Then he fell a little bit in love when she handed him back the rest of the soda.
“Not exactly what I’d have chosen for breakfast,” she said.
Yeah. Him either.
They left shortly after that. Amy had to get to work, and she knew that Matt did, too. He would have taken her to the diamond rocks first but it was too foggy.
Plus then there was the real reason she’d passed on his offer. She wanted to be alone when she went and searched for her grandparents’ initials.
And her hope…
An hour later, Matt had dropped her at her car, and she’d driven home. She took the longest shower known to man, not getting out until she ran out of hot water. When she’d dried off, she swiped the mist from the mirror and stared at herself. “You kissed him?”
Her reflection nodded, you ’ho.
Amy had no idea what she’d been thinking at all. Actually, she hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. She’d been feeling. Far too much.
At least there’d been no witnesses, she told herself. Well, except for their mysterious guest. With Amy’s luck, that mysterious guest had been Lucille, and Amy and Matt would end up on Facebook as engaged, or something equally horrifying. Wouldn’t that just make Mallory happy.
But would it make you happy?
The errant thought appalled her. She didn’t need a man complicating her life, and she didn’t need one to be happy either. Her life was complicated enough, thank you very much. She was very busy following her grandma’s footsteps to find… well, she wasn’t sure exactly, but hopefully she’d find herself.
Except, said a small voice, if you really were interested in finding yourself, you’d have let Matt take you to the rocks.
And really, what was s
he so afraid of? That she’d get to the end of Rose’s journey and Amy’s life would still be… meaningless? Because she didn’t need a journey to feel that way. Her life made her feel that way, and had since her grandma had died.
Amy hadn’t handled that scene too well. She was the first to admit it. By that time, her mom had pulled herself out of the gutter and had snagged a really great guy, the measurement of “great” being the size of his bank account, of course. Coming from the wrong side of the tracks to the only side that mattered, Amy had become the poster child for Poor Little Rich Girl, bumping up against a society she’d never been a part of and couldn’t possibly understand. She’d chafed at the rules and had behaved textbook predictably, acting out with all sorts of mayhem. And she’d been good at it.
Until the day she’d run into real trouble. Bad trouble. Holy-shit trouble, and for once, it hadn’t been her own doing. No, that honor had gone to her stepfather, who’d decided she needed to give him a little of what she was so freely giving to the boys her own age.
But he’d been no boy.
Amy had always been able to intimidate anyone who’d invaded her space without permission, but not him. Scared for the first time in her life, she’d tried to get help. But no one had believed her.
She’d been on her own.
She’d been on her own ever since, and it’d worked out just fine for her. She didn’t need anyone.
But once in a while, like now, she felt a little flicker of need. Just to be held. Touched.
Wanted.
Matt had amplified those feelings, in a big way. And if they hadn’t been interrupted this morning, she’d have acted on them. She had no idea where that would have left them.
Well satisfied, no doubt, as Matt had a magic mouth and magic hands. Her reflection sighed in remembered pleasure. She wanted more. That wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was how badly she also wanted to run her hands over Matt’s tough, sexy body. She’d felt him vibrating with that same need, every single muscle, and he had a lot of delicious muscles.
Mutual pleasure. They needed it. She wasn’t looking for more, and after what he’d told her about his ex and how he didn’t do love, neither was he.
Could it be that simple? No. Nothing was ever that simple. Which meant she needed to steer clear of one sexy Matthew Bowers. Very clear.
Matt wasn’t much for cooking. He could do it—his mom had made sure of it—he just preferred not to. But there were limited dining options in Lucky Harbor: the Love Shack, the only bar and grill in town, or Eat Me, the diner. The Love Shack had great beer on tap.
Eat Me had Amy.
The day after their overnight adventure, following a long ten hours on the job, Matt entered the diner. He sat at a booth, and Amy brought him a soda. He could have kissed her for that alone. She was wearing a black tee with a silver zipper running amuck in a zigzag between her breasts, the kind that could open from the top or the bottom. Her jeans were low riding and faded, with a hole on one thigh, the denim there held together by a few threads across her taut skin. She was wearing the Ace bandage on her wrist. “The usual?” she asked. “Burger, fries?”
“Yeah. How are the injuries?”
“Fine. The thigh’s a little sore but my wrist’s a lot better.”
“And the other injury?”
She raised a brow. “You are not asking me about my ass.”
He smiled.
“You aren’t smiling at the thought of my ass either,” she said.
“Not funny yet?”
She just looked at him.
“Okay,” he said, letting a smile break loose. “Not funny yet.”
Lucille walked by the booth and stopped, touching Amy’s wrist. “What happened, honey?”
“I fell hiking. It’s nothing.” Amy slid a long look at Matt, daring him to say a word.
Matt wasn’t a complete idiot. He wanted this woman, naked. So he held his silence.
Lucille hitched a thumb at him. “You fell in Ranger Hot Buns’s forest?”
This had Amy flashing a rare real smile. “What did you just call him?”
“Ranger Hot Buns,” Lucille said. “Are you telling me you haven’t seen the side poll on Facebook to rank the town’s current hotties?”
Christ. Matt slouched down into his seat.
“It’s doubled our traffic,” Lucille said. “Matt’s out in front of Dr. Josh Scott, but just by a nose. You need to come by and vote.”
“I’ll do that.” Amy’s tone said that she’d be voting for Josh.
Lucille walked away, and Amy slid him a speculative look. “I’ll go put in your order. Ranger Hot Buns.”
He snagged her by her good wrist before she walked away. At the contact, he felt a current of electricity go straight through him.
She looked down at his hand on her. Apparently he wasn’t the only one experiencing the shock of connection between them. She tugged free, stepping back, looking a little off her axis.
He knew the feeling. Their chemistry was off the charts.
She turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He wasn’t all that surprised when a few minutes later it was Jan, Eat Me’s owner, who served him his food. Jan was fifty-ish, with a perpetual frown on her face and a black cap of hair that made her resemble Lucy from the Peanuts comic strip. “Where did Amy go?” he asked.
“Break,” she said in her been-smoking-three-decades voice. “She took her break.”
That night, Amy was trying to lose herself in a Friends marathon on TV, complete with a huge bowl of popcorn and two Snickers bars, when her phone rang.
“Chocoholics meeting tomorrow night,” Grace said when Amy answered. “Mallory wanted me to call you and let you know. She’d have called herself but she was about to go jump Ty’s bones.”
Yeah, or she was avoiding Amy after the whole sending-Matt-to-the-woods stunt… “I don’t know,” Amy said. “Jan says we can’t meet at the diner over chocolate cake anymore.” A couple weeks back, the Chocoholics had accidentally destroyed the interior of Eat Me when their chocolate cake had gone up in flames thanks to some trick candles.
“Brownies,” Grace said without pause. “We’ll meet over brownies.”
Brownies worked.
“Mallory says to prepare yourself,” Grace warned her. “Apparently now that her life is in order, we’re moving onto yours. She says we’re going to be giving you good girl lessons.” She laughed. “I’m sorry.”
“And this is funny why?”
“Well not funny exactly,” Grace said, still sounding amused. “A challenge, maybe.”
“Hey, I would make a good good girl.” If she wanted…
Grace snorted. “Okay. See you tomorrow night, good girl.”
“Maybe I’m busy.”
“Are you?”
Amy hesitated. She wanted to be busy getting back up the mountain to Sierra Meadows, but she wasn’t crazy enough to do it at night. She’d wait for her next day off.
“Amy?”
“I’m free. I just really think our time would be better spent fixing your life first. I can totally wait.”
Grace had worked as a financial wizard back East until several months ago. Looking for some happiness, she’d stuck around town, but the employment opportunities here were pretty limited. “Nice try but you’re up,” Grace said. “Oh, and bee-tee-dub, Facebook says you were getting cozy on the mountain with Ranger Hot Buns.”
“Bee-tee-what?”
“B T W. By the way. Jeez, don’t you ever surf the ’net?”
Amy sighed. “Brownies. Tomorrow night.”
“We’ll expect the Ranger Hot Buns story.”
Amy hung up and then got a text from Mallory: Good girl lesson #4: Omitting juicy details to your BFFs is a sin. You slept with him????????
Amy rolled her eyes and typed a response: Haven’t you heard—good girls don’t tell all. Especially to nosy friends who sneakily set their supposed BFFs up when they don’t want to be set up. Amy sent the text off, knowing Mal
lory would stew over that all night. It was a small consolation, because half an hour later, there came a knock at her door. Amy’s entire body went on high alert, especially her nipples, so she knew exactly who it was.
Matt Bowers.
Aka Ranger Hot Buns.
She’d known he’d show up sooner than later. The question was, did she want him to?
He knocked again, a sturdy, confident sort of knock. She looked through the peephole. Yep, one sexy-as-hell, uniformed forest ranger stood at her door, armed, locked, and loaded.
And hot.
Looking her right in the eye, he raised a brow.
Still silent, she bit her lip in rare indecision. Obey the hormones? Or ignore the need humming through her…
“All night,” Matt said. “I can do this all night.”
Blowing out a breath, she opened the door.
He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, perfectly at ease as he took in her appearance. “Pretty,” he said.
She was in her oldest T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs. She looked like a garage sale special, and the worst part was… he most definitely did not. He was looking waaaaay too good. “I’m a mess.”
“Maybe. But you’re a pretty one.”
She narrowed her eyes, and he laughed. “You know, most women like it when a man calls them pretty.”
“I’m not most women.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Why are you here, Matt?”
“Get to it?” he asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. Get to it.”
“All right. Direct. I like that. But you might not. It’s about the kiss.”
Her stomach suddenly had butterflies. “What about it?”
“You’ve been acting weird ever since.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Liar.” He leaned against the doorjamb, settling in, making himself comfortable. “So it’s been making me wonder. “Did I have bad breath?”
Was he kidding? He’d tasted like heaven. “No.”
“Did I kiss like a jackass? A Saint Bernard?”
She actually felt a smile threaten. How did he always do that, make her want to smile? Make her… want him, desperately. It was a conundrum, a big one. She really hadn’t had a single intention of getting tangled up in a man, but this man had come from nowhere and blindsided her, and now she could think of little else. “No,” she said. “You didn’t kiss like a jackass or a Saint Bernard.”
