by Jill Shalvis
Luke didn’t bother to sigh. “Ali. And she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Well, whatever you kids are calling it nowadays then,” Roger said. “Friends with benefits?”
Luke choked on his soda.
“You know, Ted Marshall’s a good man, right? He takes care of Lucky Harbor, and he gives back. But Ali’s good people too. She goes to the senior center. My sister’s there. Ali takes the time to sit with her, talk to her, get her involved in the activities. If Ali stole that money…Well, I just wanted to say that I know she must have had a real good reason.”
“She didn’t steal it,” Luke said.
“I’m just saying…”
A few minutes later, Luke left for home, once again jogging through the morning chill. He took the streets this time, his running shoes hitting the damp ground. He’d meant to steer clear of all Lucky Harbor business. He’d definitely meant to stay clear of Ali.
He’d failed at both.
Ali had had a crappy day. Leah had tried to get her to go out tonight but she wasn’t in the mood. Instead, she was in the kitchen licking brownie batter from a wooden spoon like her life depended on it when Luke wandered into the kitchen.
“I smell chocolate,” he said, looking hopeful.
He was wearing sexy-as-hell jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt that was snug across his broad shoulders. He looked even better than the chocolate. “Brownies from a box,” she told him. “Comfort food.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and reloaded the spoon with more batter.
Taking her wrist, he brought her hand up to lick the spoon in the same spot she’d just licked.
It gave her a hot rush. So did Luke shifting closer.
“Tell me,” he said.
She shrugged. “People kept coming into the shop to see the girl who stole the money. And you were right—word is they’re getting ready to make an arrest.”
“And you’re afraid it’s going to be you.”
“Well, who else at this point?” she sighed. “Russell’s taking two days off and keeping the shop closed. Even he’s planning for me to be in jail.” She needed to get to the bottom of this now. Determined, she set down the spoon, grabbed her keys and purse, and turned to the door.
“Where are you going?” Luke asked, slapping his pockets, turning in a circle, clearly searching for his keys in the universal bewilderment of men everywhere across the planet. “Ali—”
“Table,” she said.
“What?”
“Your keys are on the table.”
“Damn, you’re good.” He scooped them up. “Where we going?”
“To be proactive.”
“Yeah? Where’s this proactive thing taking place?” Outside, he took her elbow and redirected her to his truck.
“I don’t need help, Luke. Not with this.”
“Think of me as a wingman,” he suggested, and opened the passenger door for her.
Since he was standing there blocking her escape, looking big and bad and absolutely unmovable, she got in. “If you’re just the wingman, why are we taking your truck?” she asked.
“Wingmen always drive. Where to?”
“The Love Shack.” The local bar and grill was the only nightlife in the entire county.
“I have liquor in the house,” Luke said.
“I want to talk to Gus. He told the police he’d holed up with the caterer.”
“So?”
“So the caterer was Tara Daniels Walker, and she’s very married. But Tara’s assistant—Callie—dated Gus a few months back and then broke up with him. Loudly.”
“What makes you think he’s lying?”
“Someone’s lying,” she said. “If it’s Gus, why? What’s he covering up? Something for Teddy, or himself?”
“Okay, I like the way you think,” Luke said, “but this has trouble written all over it. I talked to Mikey Schmidt today.”
“The stoner guy?”
“He cleans Town Hall at night. He caught Marshall with a maybe blonde the other night.”
She glanced at him. “Melissa?”
“He couldn’t say. I need a favor, Ali.”
“Sure. Anything.”
The look he slid her was pure heat, and she flushed at the thought of doing anything for him. That’s not what he’d meant, she told herself firmly. Get a damn grip.
“When we get there, let me lead.” He parked in the parking lot between the pier and The Love Shack, catching her before she could jump out of the truck. “Wait,” he said. His phone was ringing. Holding onto her purse—clearly a man who knew how to slow down a woman—he punched SPEAKER on his phone, which was still lying on the console. “Hanover,” he said shortly.
“Oooh, so official,” a woman said. “Odd, for a man on vacay.”
“I’m…” He glanced at Ali. “Busy. You okay?”
“You mean, do I need you to save me?” the woman asked. “Never fear, little brother, I do not. I’m trying to save you.”
Luke’s sister, Ali thought with way more relief than she should have felt.
Luke’s brow knit in annoyance. “I’m fine, Sara. Just—”
“Busy,” Sara said. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I heard about you and the cute florist.”
Luke stared at the phone, and Sara snorted into the silence. “You were seen kissing her in your truck on Main Street in Lucky Harbor, Luke. What did you expect? Anyway, you’ve got some reporters here who want—”
“Tell them no,” he said with steel. “Tell them to stay away from you or I’ll get restraining orders. Tell them—”
“Got it, Ace. I can handle this. What are you doing?”
Luke tightened his grip on Ali’s purse when she tried to break free. “Working.”
“Liar,” Sara said. “You never answer the phone when you’re working. It’s the cute florist, right? Tell me about her.”
Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m hanging up now.”
Sara laughed at him. “I’ll start. Her name’s Ali. Jack says she’s pretty. Maybe I should get a few days off work and come up to get a look at her myself.”
Ali felt a warm fuzzy flow through her, which was rudely chased away by a blast of reality by Luke himself.
“It’s work,” he repeated.
Work…
“Uh-huh,” Sara said, sounding amused. “Love you.”
Luke punched END and looked at Ali. “Ready?”
Oh, yes. She was ready. She was ready to leave his truck. Alone. “I’ll handle this,” she said.
“Never hurts to have backup, Ali.”
“I won’t be more work to you.”
He gave what might have been a very small sigh. “You don’t know my sister,” he said. “If I’d told her anything else, she’d drive up here and butt in.”
She unhooked her seatbelt.
Behind her, Luke did the same. “Let me do the talking.”
Over her dead body.
“Listen,” Luke said, going for reasonable. His mistake, because it’d been a while, but he should have remembered that angry women were never reasonable. “You’re looking pretty riled up. You need to—”
Ali slid out of the truck and headed to the bar with purpose.
“Go in low profile,” he finished. “Shit,” he muttered behind her when she didn’t slow down. He followed her inside and watched as she walked right up to the bar where Gus was sitting with a few other guys over beers.
Luke nodded to the guy behind the bar—Ford Walker, co-owner of the place, ex–world sailing champion and all-around good guy.
“Can I have a minute?” Ali asked the janitor.
The big guy smiled down at her. “Hey, Ali. Luke. Heard you two were a thing now.”
“Remember the other night?” Ali asked him.
“When I let you into Marshall’s office? Yeah.” His smile faded. “I’m sorry you got caught.”
“I didn’t steal the money,” she said, looking like steam might start
coming out of her ears. Or her hair. The hair was pretty wild today, but he liked it.
He liked her. Way too much.
“Right.” Gus nodded adamantly at her. “You didn’t steal the money.”
“Can you tell me who else you saw in the hallway that night?” Ali asked.
“Well,” he said, scratching his beard, “just as I told the police, it was hard to keep track. That hall was busy as hell.”
“Could you give it a shot?”
“Sure. Mrs. Medina wanted to see the Lost and Found, which was in the storage closet. Then, while I was waiting on her, Ella came in to make a phone call in private. Only she ended up yelling at her sister, so it really wasn’t so private at all.”
“Ella?”
“From the post office. And then Aubrey came in to see why people were in the office to begin with, and she got all up in arms about it. And then there was Ted himself…” Gus blushed a bit at that. “But I suppose you’ve already heard…”
“That he had Melissa in there?” Ali asked politely.
Gus downed his drink. “Yeah. I didn’t know, Ali. I swear it.”
Gus’s mountain-sized friend snorted.
Luke agreed. As the janitor, nothing happened in that building that Gus didn’t know about.
“And you,” Ali said to Gus, “you were there with Callie, right?”
Gus went very still, only his eyes sliding to the giant next to him. “Uh, who told you that?”
“It’s what you told the police,” Ali said calmly. Except she wasn’t calm at all. Her eyes gave her away. Was Luke the only one who could see it?
Gus’s friend set down his beer and glared hard at Gus. “You were with Callie?” he asked. Actually, it was more of a shout.
“Now, now, Buddy,” Gus said quickly, raising his hands. “In all fairness, you did say you two were just friends, so—”
Buddy punched Gus in the mouth. “In all fairness,” he said.
Luke grabbed Ali and hauled her back just as the two men tumbled to the ground, Gus’s long legs taking out the two men on the other side of him.
“Hey!” one of them yelled. “You spilled my drink!” And then he jumped into the fray too.
His friend dove in as well, and pretty soon beers and fists were flying in a full-out bar brawl. Ford hopped over the bar to break it up, and Luke helped him separate the idiots from the idiots.
Afterward, Ali was staring at him. “Wow,” she said.
“What?”
“You just waded into the flying fists and yanked them apart like it was no big deal, like you didn’t even notice the danger.”
He could have told her that it was no big deal. He’d been in a lot worse danger than a damn bar fight, but she was looking at him all impressed, and it was kind of nice. He led her outside, where they ran into a woman going in.
Aubrey.
In a navy blue suit, looking elegant and chic, hair perfect, she looked startled to see them. “We got cut off on the phone,” she said to Ali.
“Yeah.” Ali slid Luke a glance. “Sorry about that. Listen, careful in there. It’s crazy tonight.”
Aubrey took a look at the bar’s entrance. “What’s going on?”
“A little fight,” Ali said.
“Seriously?” Aubrey pulled out her phone. “Did you call the police?” She turned to Luke. “Aren’t you the police?”
“It’s handled now,” Luke said. “How often do you work late?”
“A lot.” Aubrey gave him a wary look. “Why?”
“Just wondering if you’ve ever seen anyone else late in Marshall’s office.”
Aubrey was quiet for a beat. “You’re on vacation, which means you’re not a cop right now, right?”
“Right,” he said. Cop rule numero uno: be able to lie your ass off right to anyone’s face.
“So this isn’t official or anything.”
“Absolutely not,” Luke said without hesitation.
Aubrey nodded, then glanced apologetically at Ali. “I think it’s possible that Teddy’s been seeing someone else.”
“Besides Melissa and me?” Ali asked.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” Aubrey said. “I’d have told you before, but until you came into the office the other day, I really thought you and Ted were just roommates.”
Aubrey entered the bar, and Ali, looking a little deflated, fell silent. Luke took her hand. “Come on.”
That she let him lead told him it was time for more ice cream. So he took her to the pier and bought her a triple cone from Lance at the ice cream shop. Then he took her hand again. At this time of night, the pier was quiet, and once they walked past the arcade and Ferris wheel, they had the night to themselves. They walked in silence to the very end and stood there looking out at the ocean, lit by a streak of light from the moon. Water slapped rhythmically against the pylons. The sound always calmed Luke, and next to him, Ali let out a soft sigh.
“That got me nowhere,” she finally said, leaning against the railing, licking her cone like she meant business.
He tried not to stare and failed. Christ, he wanted her to lick him like that. “We knocked on some doors,” he said. “We shook things up.”
She turned to face him. “And now what?”
He stroked a finger along her temple, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for the sheer pleasure of touching her. Then he leaned in for a kiss. She tasted like chocolate and trouble. Big trouble. “We wait for the dust to settle.”
“We?”
“Yeah. We.” He let his hand fall from her. “But—”
“Yeah, I know.” She pushed away from the railing and started walking back to his truck. “It’s a short-term ‘we.’”
Chapter 11
It was two in the morning before Ali got Luke’s kitchen back together. She was heading to do the den next when she got her usual daily check-in text from Harper: Made good tips tonight! Next time you come home, dinner’s on me.
Ali managed a smile. Exhausted, dusty, and a little sweaty, she swiped her forehead and texted Harper back. Sounds good. How’s Mom?
The money you put in her account made her day. You okay? You don’t sound okay.
You got not okay from sounds good?
It’s in the tone…
Ali rolled her eyes. I’m fine…’night. Sweet dreams.
Don’t let the bed bugs bite!
It was an old mantra, and it made Ali smile again as she went back to cleaning up. Two hours later, she’d worked her way to the living room, and it was a disaster. Besides Luke’s things, her own pottery was still unwrapped and scattered on the floor.
After the bar brawl, Luke had once again told her to ignore the mess, that he’d get to it in the morning. “Get some sleep,” he’d said, and had vanished into the basement to presumably follow his own advice.
But Ali couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t ignore the house anymore. When she’d first seen it, she’d felt sick to the bone. The place was a mess, mirroring her own life. But it was her life and not Luke’s. She’d brought this disaster to his home. And since she had, it was important that she clean it up.
She’d already straightened the bedroom she’d been using and had packed up her stuff while she was at it. She’d tortured Luke enough with her presence. When she was done here, she would go to the Lucky Harbor B&B, and then to the first apartment that was ready, and hope to God her Visa could handle the weight.
It would be okay.
She’d always been spectacularly good at denial, at not looking back, at keeping one foot in front of the other. Nothing about that had changed. She’d landed on her feet before, and she would do it again. Knowing it, she took her first real deep breath since…
Since too long to remember.
At a whisper of sound behind her, she whirled around to find a heavy-lidded, tousled-looking Luke in the doorway, hands braced over his head on the jamb.
“What, no umbrella this time?” he asked.
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She relaxed her hold on a ceramic pot. “You nearly got this upside your head.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. He’d clearly come straight from his bed. He was wearing only a pair of black basketball shorts, disturbingly low on his hips, putting all his hard muscles directly in her line of sight. If she touched his abs, she’d find them rock hard. She knew this because during their kiss in his truck, she’d copped a feel.
And there. That. That was what her mind had kept going back to all these past hours while she straightened up. Their kiss. How he’d tasted. How his mouth had slanted over her own, his tongue gliding along hers…She didn’t have to think about the heat they’d generated; she was sweating just remembering it. “Sorry if I woke you,” she said, surrounded by the disaster she’d brought to his door. Averting her face, she concentrated on righting the books.
He didn’t say anything, so she turned back and found him still looking at her, his own gaze hooded. Sleepy. And something else, something that made her throat burn.
Dammit.
“Thought I told you I’d get to this in the morning,” he said.
“It is morning.”
Padding barefoot into the living room, he headed to the coffee table. Its big drawer had been dumped onto the floor. Crouching, he began tossing the things back inside.
“Luke, stop.”
He didn’t stop.
“This was my doing.” She caught his arm. “I’ve got this.”
His eyes held hers, not at all sleepy anymore, his muscles beneath her fingers corded. Warm. Then he went back to work. He finished the drawer and looked around, frowning when he saw the box of her pottery still scattered. He reached for the first piece, a miniature lion that she’d created last year, when she’d first come to Lucky Harbor. It represented courage. Her courage.
Luke stared down at the lion for a long moment, then very gently ran the pad of his finger over the mane. “It’s amazing. It looks so real.”
“Thanks.”
“You sculpted this?”
She nodded.
