by Jill Shalvis
with which she could decimate his self-control. Still he hung on until he knew he was close to scooping her up and tossing her on her bed, from which there would be no going back.
And he wanted that.
God, how he wanted that.
But he wouldn’t take it there. He couldn’t. Because soon enough she was going to leave. And he didn’t want to feel that pain ever again. Heart heavy with regret, he caught her wandering hands in his and slowed the kiss, gentling it. A good-night kiss now, one that was still sexy as hell but not going anywhere.
Lily stilled as if her wits had just come back to her. She blinked and stepped back. “Crap. That … shouldn’t have happened. Again.” She shook her head. “Especially on her birthday.” She paused. “You should go.”
He wasn’t sure he understood the significance of kissing her on Ashley’s birthday, but she was right about one thing—he needed to go. He stepped outside and turned back … just as she shut the door.
Smart girl.
Welcoming the cold wet air slapping him in the face, Aidan jogged down the stairs and to his truck.
As he started the engine, he looked up and saw Lily at the window, watching him. But then she must have hit the light because the room went dark.
And he drove off, telling himself it was for the best.
Chapter 12
On the days where there were no morning calls, Aidan and his fire crew had a routine. First they trained, hard. This was usually a four-mile run in full gear. After that they cleaned the station and their gear.
Their captain was new this year and still working on earning the guys’ respect. He was five foot six in shoes and a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet, and was not so affectionately referred to as Captain Tyrant.
For a few days the fire calls had been few and far between, thanks in part to some heavy rainfall leaving everything so wet nothing could catch fire.
Which meant Captain Tyrant was on the loose. This morning he’d made them run five miles in full gear and then decided that they’d go straight into washing the rigs before hitting the showers.
Not a popular call. Hot and sticky from the workout, everyone immediately began to bitch.
But the captain’s jaw was set, which meant there’d be no changing his mind.
So they went to work cleaning. Well, everyone except for Mitch, who’d gone to the shower without hearing the captain’s decree.
When the captain heard the shower running he muttered something about “that cocky son of a bitch” and stormed off to the showers, yelling through the glass doors for Mitch to “get your ass out here and help clean the station right this very minute unless you want to run another five miles in full gear and then clean the place by yourself!”
Mitch, who was six foot four and, at two hundred and twenty pounds, quite an imposing figure, strode out wearing nothing but his fire boots.
Well, and a few soapsuds.
He ambled over to the big bay windows, grabbed a squeegee, and went to work scrubbing the glass, his twig and berries swinging in the wind.
The entire crew doubled over, dying of laughter. Everyone, that is, except for the captain, who was looking apoplectic. “What the hell are you doing?” he bellowed.
“Cleaning like you ordered. Sir,” Mitch added politely, scrubbing with a whole new level of vigor.
The bay windows stretched from ceiling to floor and faced a restaurant across the street. The restaurant was busy with the breakfast crowd, lots of people going in and out.
And there stood Mitch in all his glory, washing the windows.
He was gathering quite the audience.
“Are you trying to get me fired?” the captain yelled.
Probably this wasn’t actually Mitch’s endgame, but going by the considering look that crossed his face, it was clear he wasn’t opposed.
By this time the rest of the crew was practically on the floor rolling while Mitch just carried on, his personal attack hose right there if he needed it.
“Get your ass back in that shower!” the captain roared.
“I’m confused,” Mitch said, turning to face the captain, body parts going along with the force of gravity. “Get in the shower! Wash the windows! Which is it, Cap?”
The captain turned so red that Aidan started to fear that he might actually stroke out.
“Go! Just go!” the captain bellowed at Mitch, shooing him with wild hands.
So Mitch, with the rest of the crew still laughing their asses off, turned and calmly walked back into the shower.
He was back out five minutes later, fully dressed, hitting the chores as hard as the rest of them.
The captain didn’t say another word.
At the end of their shift the next morning when Aidan and Mitch walked out to their vehicles, there were no less than three notes taped to Mitch’s truck.
With phone numbers.
Aidan stopped by Lenny’s place on the way home to check in with him, which wasn’t hard since he lived in the resort’s employee housing building.
Lenny didn’t answer, so Aidan called him.
“Better be good,” Lenny answered, sounding groggy and pissed.
“I’m at your door. Let me in.”
“I’m … indisposed.”
Aidan dropped his head and stared at his boots. “You said you were going to stop drinking.”
“Indisposed with a woman,” Lenny said. “But good to know where we’re at with the trust. I told you I would quit drinking and I have.”
Aidan shut his eyes. “I’m sorry—”
“Save it,” Lenny said, and disconnected.
Aidan went home to crash but once again found Gray with his big, fat head in Aidan’s fridge and Kenna on his couch using his laptop.
“Could’ve sworn you have a wife to take care of you,” Aidan told Gray, tossing his keys to the counter. “And you,” he said to Kenna. “What’s wrong with your laptop?”
“Died. But don’t worry, I’m not looking at your browser history. I don’t want to see your selection of porn.” She leaned back and met his gaze. “I’m looking for work.”
“You have work,” he said. “You work here at the resort helping Gray.” Aidan looked at Gray.
“Yep,” Gray said, nodding.
“So you don’t need to look for work,” Aidan said to his sister.
She just rolled her eyes.
Gray’s glance to Aidan said he was baffled but not delegating much brainpower to the situation. “Given all we have on our plate,” he said, “I’ve filed this under the Ain’t Broke column.”
“Okay, yes, I get a paycheck,” Kenna said. “But no one lets me do jackshit. I wanted to drive the big Cat and Gray nixed that. I wanted to teach mountain biking. He nixed that too.”
“You wanted to teach the biking team how to navigate Killer Alley, a triple diamond run,” Gray said.
“I’m not some fragile little flower, you know,” she said. Maybe yelled. “I used to snowboard at neck-breaking speeds off cliffs for a living.”
Aidan slid a look to Gray. “I’m sure we could find you something more … challenging to do.”
“That’s just it!” she burst out, standing, tossing up her hands. “I don’t want you to ‘find’ me something. I want a real job, not one my brothers give me with a pat on my head.”
Gray had been steadily shoving food into his mouth this whole time, but when Aidan gave him a level look, he sighed and swallowed his mouthful. “We can give you a real job. A job without head pats.”
Aidan nodded.
“Too late,” Kenna said crisply. “I’m applying at all of our competition. You’ll have to steal me back if you want me.” She shut the laptop and walked out.
Aidan looked at Gray. “You’re going to find something good for her, right? Before she really gets another job?”
“Hmphl,” Gray said around a bite of Aidan’s leftover pizza.
“That was my breakfast.”
“Pizza for breakfast’ll
make you fat,” Gray said, mouth full. “And you’re single. You can’t go fat until you’re married.” Gray stuffed in another huge bite. “I’m just saving you from yourself, man.”
“Well done.” Aidan shoved Gray away from the fridge and bent to peer into the depths himself. He was so hungry he could eat a horse. “Hey, you ate Hud’s pizza too. He’s going to kill you.”
Uncharacteristically, Gray shrugged instead of launching into his usual “I can kick both your asses at the same time with my hands tied behind my back” speech.
Aidan narrowed his eyes. “What’s up with you?”
Gray shrugged again and opened Aidan’s last soda.
“Listen, I’m gonna need you to spit it out because I’ve gotta date with my bed—and you better not have been a dumbass and let anyone into it again.”
Gray just shook his head.
That he didn’t hit back on the dumbass comment had Aidan straightening from the fridge to look at him. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to ask you again and you’re going to answer me with the CliffsNotes version, you got me? What’s wrong?”
“She’s undercover trying to bring down a gang of boat smugglers.”
“Who, the Black Widow?”
“Penny.” Gray threw the now empty can of soda across the room, where it landed with perfect precision—not—in the window sill above the sink, knocking over the dead flowers someone had brought Hudson on his birthday a month ago.
Aidan let out a slow breath and kept his piehole shut. He was no idiot.
“Did you hear me?” Gray asked.
“Yeah, I heard you. So did the people in China. Look, you knew she wanted to work in insurance fraud investigations before you married her. You can’t be mad at her for that.”
“I’m not mad at her for being who she is. I’m mad at myself for not being okay with it. You remember last year when she went after those bank fraud idiots and they shot her?”
“Yeah, and they’re rotting in prison for it.”
“And Penny’s still got the bullet wound scar in her shoulder.” Gray’s phone vibrated a text. He read it, shook his head, and stood. “She’s on her way home with McDonald’s. It’s a truce breakfast.”
“I love McDonald’s breakfasts,” Aidan said. “I should’ve married her.”
“Mine.” Gray headed to the door. “Go find your own woman. How hard can it be? I even let one into your bed for you.”
“Yeah, well, she was the wrong one.”
Gray stopped short and turned to stare at him.
Shit.
“Wrong woman?” his brother repeated. “So who’s the right woman?”
“There isn’t one. Get out.”
But Gray had become an unmovable mountain, staring at him, doing the Kincaid mind meld thing. “Kylie?” he asked. “From dispatch?”
“No,” Aidan said.
“Yeah, good thing. She’s hot, but she laughs weird. Lori in rentals?”
“No,” Aidan said, annoyed but also trying to keep his shit together because giving his brothers, any single one of them, more information than strictly necessary was like giving intel to the enemy. “Drop it.”
“Yeah, right,” Gray said. “Lily?”
Aidan did his best not to react, but he couldn’t still his mind. He still remembered every second of dancing with her beneath a half moon that long-ago summer festival. He remembered kissing her … falling for her.
Then how she’d left the mountain without looking back, forgetting about him with shocking, heartbreaking ease.
Now she was back. And she’d kissed him like maybe she hadn’t forgotten him after all …
Which was really fucking with him. “I said drop it.”
Gray grinned. “Yeah. It’s Lily.”
Aidan stalked past Gray, yanked open the front door, and shoved his brother out.
Gray was still grinning wide as Aidan slammed the door on his nose and then bolted it for good measure. But he could still hear his brother chuckling to himself. “Dumbass,” he said.
“Yeah. He is,” Hudson said from behind him.
Aidan whipped around. “Jesus. How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
Aidan relaxed again and headed back to the kitchen.
Hudson waited until Aidan had taken a long pull on a bottle of water to say, “So. Lily, huh?”
Chapter 13
The salon turned out to be an interesting place. Cassandra stopped by daily, eight months pregnant and bored out of her mind. Today she plopped herself into the massage chair they had for waiting clients. When she turned it on, her body shimmied and shook in an alarming fashion.
“Turn that thing down,” Jonathan said. “You’re going to go into labor.”
“That’s the idea,” she said, turning the chair up.
Jonathan pointed at her. “If you birth that thing in here, I’m going to …” He paused like he couldn’t think of anything heinous enough.
And while he was thinking, Cassandra doubled over with a cry.
“Oh, God,” Jonathan said, face going white. “What the hell did I tell you?”
Cassandra lifted her face and grinned. “Gotcha.”
Jonathan just stared at her. “You’re not in labor?”
“Nope.”
Jonathan let out a long, slow, shaky breath, a hand to his heart.
Cassandra laughed and kept on with her massage chair antics. She also got her kicks out of announcing every little event, such as “The baby just stuck her foot into my bladder” or “I think I lost my plug” or “Don’t get too close, I’m gassy today and there’s some hang time.”
Lily couldn’t imagine the feeling of having someone step on her bladder and she had no idea what a plug was, but she made sure to stay out of Cassandra’s personal space bubble so as not to experience any of the hang time.
“Am I wearing pants?” Cassandra asked the room. “I hope I remembered pants today. I don’t want anyone to see my cankles.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be home building a nest or something?” Jonathan asked her, still irritated.
“I’m nesting here,” Cassandra said on a yawn. “And it’s hard work.”
Jonathan sighed and brought her some hot tea.
Lily didn’t expect to have clients right away, but she’d underestimated the far reach of the Internet. Jonathan referred people to her, but mostly they seemed to come out of the woodwork wanting her to spill celebrity gossip. Her nine o’clock was a thirty-something mom of two originally from San Diego who now ran a bookkeeping service in Cedar Ridge.
“So you’re back home after the big to-do, huh?” she asked Lily.
