by Jill Shalvis
“Well, you are not going to catch him with your sweet tongue, that is certain,” Maria said, not very kindly.
“I’m not going to catch a man at all, thank you very much.”
Well, wasn’t that interesting? He’d pegged her for a definite need-a-man-in-her-life type.
She looked at him again, quickly, but there was no mistaking the flash of uncertainty in those baby blues.
A distinctively uneasy feeling went through him. That had definitely been vulnerability he’d seen in her expression. But Holly Stone was never vulnerable.
Was she?
And if he’d been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about?
“You are not interested in marriage?” Maria was scandalized and she stared at Riley in shock when she handed him his plate. “She’s not interested in marriage.”
“Let’s just say marriage isn’t interested in me,” Holly said, staring down at the bubbling pot on the stove. “Now, can you teach me to make this gravy as good as you, or what?”
The look on Maria’s face was priceless. She didn’t know whether to hold on to her resentment of the younger woman or be flattered. Watching her torn emotions, enjoying her speechlessness, Riley let out his first grin of the day.
“What’s so funny?” Maria demanded.
If she knew, she’d take away his food. “Nothing.”
“It is something.”
He bit his lip, but the laugh escaped anyway. “I was just wondering if I could learn that trick sometime, the trick of making you silent.”
Maria glared at him and reached for the plate she’d just handed him. “You give me that, you should go hungry.”
“You said I shouldn’t,” he said, holding tight to his food. “Remember? You were worried about me, I need my food, you said, I need the nutrition.”
“You. You are a snake.”
“A hungry snake.”
Maria let him keep his food. She looked at Holly. “Okay, maybe if you like my cooking so much, I can teach you,” she said gruffly. “My gravy is the best in the world. You can pour it over biscuits. Handmade biscuits, not some store bought ones that land like concrete in your stomach.”
Holly smiled. Not that fake one, but a real, down-to-earth smile that transformed her into…a human being.
A beautiful one.
One Riley couldn’t take his eyes from, even though he wasn’t the recipient of that smile. No doubt, she was still screaming “city” with every step she took, but somehow, over the past few days, it had stopped amusing him and started to actually get to him.
Any man would feel that way, he assured himself. She wore a short denim skirt that showed off the longest, greatest set of legs he’d ever seen, and a sun-yellow tank blouse that hugged the nicest, curviest set of—
“Are you going to stare at her all day or are you going to eat?” Maria wanted to know. “Because that dish, it’s got to—”
“Soak.” Riley cleared his throat and concentrated on his food. “I know.”
Holly was looking at him, shock on her face, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that he could like the mere sight of her. It was the second time he realized she wasn’t quite as confident as she wanted the world to believe. Her eyes were big, and strangely unguarded. Her hands clenched together and that lower lip, the carefully glossed lower lip he’d dreamed about, was being dragged against her teeth.
It reminded him of the day before, when she’d looked so uncharacteristically flustered, so absolutely…adorable. That, he realized, that had been when he’d stopped being amused by her looks, and instead, had become intrigued by Holly-the-person. He suspected she hid a lot inside, certainly most of her emotions. His sudden yearning to know what they were, and why she kept them so protected startled him.
So did the simultaneous urge to surge up, grab her, toss her on his table and follow her down. He wanted to kiss that bottom lip, wanted to nibble off every bit of the remaining gloss, then work his way over her jaw to her neck. And when he was done there, he’d work his way down, down, down—
“Your mind is in the gutter,” Maria said, shaking her wooden spoon beneath his nose. “Eat.”
He was still looking at Holly when he brought another bite up to his lips.
Holly was looking at him, too, she could do little else. For the first time in…well, forever, her thoughts were not her own to control. She couldn’t stop looking at him. Dammit, he needed to comb his tousled hair. He needed to shave. He really needed to put on a shirt—it should be illegal to look that good without one. And she couldn’t stop wondering exactly what he was thinking…
She needed a lobotomy.
That explained it. Honestly. Because there was no reason to wonder what he was thinking. No reason at all. He meant nothing to her. More important, she meant nothing to him. In light of that, she gave Maria a shaky grin. “I’ll write down the recipe as you give it to me. Soon as I give back—” she dug into her purse “—the sheriff’s wallet.”
“The sheriff’s wallet?”
“My wallet?” Riley asked at the same time as Maria, rising. “How did you get that?”
Maria grabbed Riley’s plate and put it in the sink. “Do you need a witness when you arrest her for theft, Sheriff?”
“Uh, no. I can handle it, thanks, Maria. Great food.”
“As always.”
“As always,” he repeated dutifully.
She actually gave him a small smile before turning to Holly. “If you’re not in jail, I will come to the café later.”
If she was in jail, it’d be for ogling charges. Ogling-the-sheriff charges.
“I will show you some things in that kitchen,” Maria added, grabbing her purse and keys. “Things other than low-fat crapola. Though I hear the spaghetti sauce smelled good. Too bad no one got a chance to taste it before you almost blew them all up.”
Holly let that go for the more important fact. “You’ll come help me?” She could have hugged the ornery, older woman, if she’d been the hugging type. “Thank you!”
Maria nodded her head once, regally, and left her alone with Riley.
Alone. Please don’t make an idiot of yourself in front of him this time, she told herself.
It would be harder than she thought. According to what Maria had told her, Riley had been up since before dawn working outside. He didn’t look it, didn’t look anything but…fabulous.
And utterly, absolutely at home in his own skin, which by the way, was fabulous, too. “About your wallet,” she said, forcing her gaze up to meet his. “It must have happened during the gas leak.”
“What must have happened?”
“Well, later, in my apartment, I found the dog chewing on something and—”
“Wait.” Riley shook his head but took the wallet, which he set on the counter without even looking at it. “Dog? The same one from yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Let me get this straight. You claim you don’t like animals. You also claim you don’t even particularly like people, and you certainly don’t like being out of the big city. And yet here you are, in Little Paradise, running a café where you have to interact with people all day, and you’ve adopted both a dog and a cat.”
“They adopted me.”
“Really?” he murmured, smiling that warm, just-for-her smile. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s true.”
“You could lock them out.”
“Yes, but— Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t have the heart. It would ruin her tough reputation. She needed that reputation, she used it like a cloak. “About your wallet—”
“You’re here to help your parents, right? And yet they appear to—no offense—not be too concerned about you and your needs. You don’t have any friends here, and you’re out of your element. Some pretty big odds, Holly.”
“Look, I don’t want to discuss this. I just wanted to give you back your wallet.” She tried to turn away, but he gently and very firmly set
his hands on her shoulders.
“Know what I think?” he wondered.
“Ask me if I care.”
He smiled gently. “I think all your confidence and wisecracking is a front. I think in spite of your bravado, in spite of your best manipulations, everything is starting to slip through your fingers. I think you’re learning something about yourself here in the center of exactly nowhere, something that has nothing to do with trying to please your parents.”
“I didn’t know you were a shrink.”
He smiled. “See? That’s exactly the fake bravado I’d expect from you. But this isn’t the big city, Holly. This is a small town, where people have known each other forever, and they care. They’d care about you, too, if you let them.”
“Are you kidding?” She laughed to hide her wistfulness. “I wasn’t born and raised here. People will never trust me.”
“You’re wrong.”
She wanted to be; with all her heart she suddenly wanted to be.
“Just let them in,” he said, his voice suggesting that he cared, too. “That’s all it would take.”
She thought he was going to add, Let me in, and in that moment, she might have, but she found her inner strength. She leaned on no one but herself, ever. She gestured to his wallet. “Aren’t you even going to open it?”
He was disappointed in her change of conversation, and let it show. “No.”
“What if I stole your cash?”
“Did you?”
“Well, no.” She amused him with that, and she schooled her features into an even mask of indifference. She was good at it by now, but Riley surprised her by being good at seeing right through her.
He came closer.
She was leaning against the counter and didn’t have anywhere to back up to, so as he moved toward her all she could do was lift her chin and stare him down.
It didn’t work.
She was used to being as tall or taller than most men, but not this man, so the height intimidation didn’t work on him, either.
Still smiling a little, totally at ease, enjoying himself, he tipped his head to the side, so that in spite of her attempting not to look right at him, she was.
“You still have the dog,” he said gently.
Not a question, but a statement, one that implied he thought all sorts of things. First, that she even wanted the damn dog, and second, that maybe she was too soft to get rid of it.
“You really should check your wallet,” she said between her teeth. “Because someone might have stolen something from it—a credit card, your license, anything.”
“You’re in Little Paradise, remember?”
Oh yes, how could she forget one of their most basic differences? He trusted everyone—except for her—and she trusted no one. “You still should check.”
“Okay, just for you…” He relented with a smile that was far too innocent for her taste. He reached for it, bringing his torso inches within hers, and oh my, no expensive cologne for this cowboy. He didn’t need it. He smelled like the outdoors, like hay, like sweet sunshine and warm, sexy male. If she moved, even a fraction of an inch, she could put her mouth on his bare shoulder. Her knees weakened at the thought.
He opened the wallet, still too close, still giving her that far too guileless smile. “See?” he said, showing her his license. His credit card. His twenty-dollar bill. “Everything of value—” He pulled out not one, but two condoms, and pressed them into her palm, “—is still here.”
Though she’d never, ever, in a million years admit it, her pulse took off like a shot. Heat flooded her body, pooling in all those erogenous zones she’d ignored for far too long, and all because his long, work-roughened fingers had held up two little packets that would allow him to have protected sex.
That she could imagine him doing just that, with her, was no longer such a shock.
“Mmm, that looks good on you,” he murmured.
“What?”
“That unguarded expression. You’re not so polished now, Holly Stone, and it’s a beautiful look for you.”
This was not happening. He was not seducing her with mere words.
But he was, and he dipped his head so that his jaw nearly brushed hers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sensual, and she had to fist her hands on the counter behind her to keep them from misbehaving.
It was a hard habit to break, not turning on the charm full force to get whatever she wanted, including a man. But she wasn’t that woman anymore, hadn’t been since the moment she’d pulled into Little Paradise. And no matter how much she wanted him in that moment, she wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to go after any man, not ever again.
She was going to make a success of herself, she was going to make a success of the café. She was going to learn to run it the way it needed to be run, and in the process, if she was beginning to realize she liked cooking, that she liked the peace and quiet here, that she liked seeing people every day, liked pleasing them with her creations—
She went utterly still and backed up that last thought.
Oh, my God.
She was…enjoying herself.
Well, that was allowed, right? She was trying to please her parents, but she could please herself at the same time. And when she was done, she was going to get on with her life.
Any second now.
“I have to go,” she whispered, not moving.
“Have to? Or want to?”
Was there a difference? Yes, oh yes, there was. “There’s a prospective buyer coming this afternoon. I have to show the café.”
He straightened and sent her a smile. “So you can go back home.”
Home? She had no idea where that was. “Yes.”
“Where is that, Holly? You’ve never said.”
To her absolute shock, her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out,” she said, and bolted.
She was still holding the condoms.
6
THAT NIGHT Holly looked at those condoms for a very long time. It was no longer the actual condoms she was seeing, but something much, much more.
Always before, wanting a man had been about the conquest. She wanted Riley, and yet it had nothing to do with the conquest. It wasn’t even entirely a physical wanting. It was just a vague, haunting…yearning she couldn’t put to words.
Riley represented everything she’d never allowed herself: stability, security, safety. And it was so far out of her realm to think about them that she opened up the trash and dropped in the condoms.
They lay there, perfectly good, perfectly wasted.
She wouldn’t think about him having to buy more. That was his problem. She shut the lid of the trash and turned her back on them.
She paced for a while, trying to clear her mind.
It worked, too, an idea came to her. Granted, she usually had ideas, but this one was perfect. All she needed was some…help.
At that deflating thought, she sank to her tiny couch in her tinier apartment, stared blankly ahead and laughed at herself.
She’d almost thought there…she’d almost forgotten…that she didn’t have a soul in the world she could turn to for help.
She’d always liked it that way before. She’d been pushing people away her entire life, making sure the only person she could count on was herself.
And now, blithely caught up in the moment and her growing affection for this ridiculous little town, and even more ridiculous little café that wasn’t hers, she figured she’d just suddenly turn to someone, just like that.
She could turn to Riley.
“I have no idea where that thought came from,” she said to the big, fat cat who insisted on climbing onto her lap. “I don’t need help from anyone, especially him.”
Harry began to purr. “It’s his eyes,” she told him. Despite Riley’s easygoing, laid-back nature, he saw too much. She didn’t trust him, or the way he made her feel. “Ugh. You’re heavy, cat.”
“Meow,” he said wit
h reproach.
Guilt actually swamped her. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Harry. You’re heavy, Harry.” Then she laughed at herself for being silly. Harry couldn’t care less what she called him as long as she fed him. “Why are you here, anyway? And you, too,” she said to the dog who lumbered into the room from the bathroom, where he’d been lapping at the toilet water again. “You’re disgusting.”
He blinked, insulted, and she relented. “Okay, I’m sorry. But surely someone else, anyone else, has a bigger pad for you to crash in.”
He licked her hand, walked in a tight circle exactly three times before plopping at her feet with a loud grunt.
Her heart tugged. There was no denying it, it tugged hard. Because the dog had chosen her?
That’s pathetic, she told herself, but she let out a little sigh and leaned back on her couch, totally and completely…content.
It was nice.
Oh man, she’d really lost it if that was the case, if she could feel contented a million miles from nowhere.
Someone knocked at her door, saving her from her own agonizing thoughts. The dog didn’t even lift his head.
“You could at least pretend to protect me,” she told him, and opened the door. “Dora,” she said in surprise to the grocery clerk.
Dora’s hair was even bigger today, if possible. It had to have at least an entire bottle of spray in it to keep it that height. She wore tight leggings and an even tighter crop top—white with neon-green polka dots.
Her bubble gum was purple this evening. “You’re in.”
Holly laughed. “Well…I’m out. Out of my mind, actually. But feel free to leave a message.”
“Is the job still open?” Without waiting for an answer, Dora pushed her way into the apartment, walked into the postage-stamp-size kitchen and opened the plastic container she carried.
A heavenly scent wafted through the room.
“Homemade lasagna. I brought three different kinds—meat, three-cheese and—” she shuddered “—this one is just for you, sweetcakes. Low-fat vegetarian.”
Holly grabbed a fork and took a mouthful of heaven. “You’re hired,” she said before she’d even swallowed.
“I want big bucks.”
