How to Rescue a Family

by Teri Wilson

  Dillon nodded, and after giving Ryan a quick one-armed hug, he followed Dan to his car. Just as he was about to climb inside, he hesitated and looked over his shoulder.

  “Uh-oh.” Ryan’s jaw clenched.

  Amanda frowned. “Do you think he’s changing his mind? He seemed thrilled earlier.”

  Dillon ran back toward them, but he still had that easy smile on his face. Ryan figured he must have forgotten something—his dinosaur maybe.

  But no, that wasn’t it at all.

  He threw his arms around Amanda’s legs and grinned up at her. “I forgot to tell you goodbye.”

  Then he was off again, darting back to Dan’s car.

  * * *

  Amanda stood dripping just inside Ryan’s foyer, struggling to catch her breath.

  Dillon’s embrace had caught her off guard, but it wasn’t the sweetness of his actions that had knocked the wind out of her. It was what he’d said.

  I forgot to tell you goodbye.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to push the words out her head, but she couldn’t. Now that they’d been let loose, they kept repeating on an unending loop in her mind, always in Dillon’s quiet little singsong voice.

  Goodbye.

  Goodbye.

  Goodbye.

  “You okay?” Ryan’s gaze traveled over her, leaving a rush of goose bumps in its wake.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. “Fine.”

  Not fine. So not fine. When she’d thrown her hat in the ring as Ryan’s fake fiancé, she’d been so eager to help Ryan and Dillon stay together that she hadn’t given any thought to what their temporary arrangement would do to Ryan’s son once it ended.

  He’d lost his mom. There was still a chance he could lose Ryan. And now she’d inserted herself into his life, knowing all the while that he’d lose her too. When the custody battle was over, she was going to pack up her things and walk out the door. How could she possibly explain it to him? How could he understand when he couldn’t even go on a playdate without making sure he told her goodbye first?

  “Come on, I know you’re freezing.” Ryan held up a towel, arched a brow and waited for her to step into it.

  She hesitated. She felt too raw all of a sudden to play house—maybe because Dillon’s tender goodbye had rattled her or maybe because for the very first time in their faux engagement, she and Ryan were alone in the house together.

  Probably both.

  Whatever the reason, she wasn’t sure she could stand that close to him in his little hushed cottage and not take their game of pretend one step too far. But at the same time, there was a challenge in his gaze as he peered at her over the top of the towel. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was daring her to come nearer.

  Maybe he actually was.

  Challenge accepted.

  If Ryan wasn’t fazed by the sudden intimacy of their situation, then neither was she. She was tired of being weak, tired of waiting for things to happen to her instead of making them happen all on her own. If the tornado and its aftermath had taught her anything, it was that she was stronger than she thought she was.

  She squared her shoulders and stepped into Ryan’s outstretched arms, holding her breath as she waited for him to release the towel. But he didn’t—not at first, anyway. Instead he wrapped the plush terry cloth around her trembling form and then gingerly...slowly...achingly slowly...he began patting her dry.

  He spent whole minutes on her legs alone, running the soft towel over her calves and then higher, mercifully ignoring the shiver that coursed through her when his hand brushed against the inside of her thighs. Then he moved to her arms and shoulders, and his face was mere inches away. He concentrated so thoroughly on his task that he never quite met her gaze, but that was okay because it left her free to study his features up close—his lips, his nose, his chiseled jaw. His eyelashes, dark as soot.

  He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and no matter what happened between them after Dillon’s custody was secure and they went their separate ways, that would always be the case. He was the standard by which all the other men in her life would be measured. He was the one.

  She audibly swallowed, and the corner of his lips hitched up just a tiny fraction of an inch. If she hadn’t been staring at his mouth, mesmerized, she would have missed it entirely.

  He wasn’t The One, as in capitalized letters and something borrowed and something blue. He couldn’t be. Amanda hadn’t been looking for The One. She’d just been minding her own business, dreaming up recipes people would never eat and biding her time at the Grille. As Belle always said, she’d practically been hiding.

  And he found you anyway.

  She took a shuddering inhale. This was getting weird. She wasn’t a child. She was perfectly capable of drying herself off.

  But even as her mind told her to snatch the towel away from him and finish the job herself, her eyes drifted closed as he walked behind her and she tipped her head back, letting him gather her slippery wet hair in his hands.

  He was close enough for Amanda to feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. She could even smell the lingering traces of his familiar aftershave, and oddly enough, that was what finally did her in. She’d fallen asleep wrapped in that masculine scent for the past several nights, dreaming of a frosted pine forest as his bedsheets tangled around her legs. That scent did things to her. Things that frightened and fascinated her in equal parts.

  “I know what you’re doing,” she whispered.

  He stroked her hair with the towel for several long seconds until he finally responded. “Do you?”

  She longed to peer over her shoulder. The fact that she could feel him, smell him and hear every sultry intake of his breath but she could no longer see him was maddening. She would have been lying if she said she didn’t like it, though. She liked it quite a lot. She was enjoying everything about this strange, quiet seduction...

  If, in fact, that’s what it was.

  It had to be, though. Didn’t it?

  She squeezed her eyes shut tight and went ahead and said it. “You’re trying to seduce me.”

  “I’m pampering you. I had a feeling you wouldn’t recognize the experience.” He inched closer until she felt the hard press of his erection against her backside. A whimper escaped her, and the towel fell from Ryan’s hands to the floor, where it pooled around their feet. “Tell me—when was the last time someone took care of you?”

  Her eyes swam with hot tears. She gave her head a nearly imperceptible shake.

  Never.

  There hadn’t been a last time. No one had ever taken care of her before. Not like this. She’d always been the one who’d done the nurturing, the one who’d done more...the one who’d cared more. And now Ryan was showing her what it felt like to be treasured, to be adored.

  I can’t.

  It was too overwhelming, maybe because she felt like Dillon’s goodbye was still wrapped around her heart, squeezing it tight. Or maybe because being pampered felt far too much like being loved. It didn’t really matter why. She just knew that if she didn’t walk away right now, she never would. And yet her feet just wouldn’t move.

  Ryan swept her hair to one side, over her shoulder. Then he touched the side of her neck with a featherlight brush of his fingertips. “I want to kiss you in this exact spot.” His voice was a low growl that she felt deep in her center. Velvety smooth. “I’ve wanted to kiss you here for days. May I?”

  She bit down hard on her lip, but it was no use.

  “Yes, please,” she murmured.

  She sounded desperate. Needy. But when his lips made contact with the curve of her neck, she didn’t care how she sounded. She didn’t care what would happen tomorrow or the next day or the day after that.

  She wanted to be Dorothy in Oz for just a little while longer...as l
ong as she could.

  She took a deep breath and turned to face him. There were questions in his eyes—questions he didn’t need to ask because she whispered yes again. Yes to it all. Yes to everything.

  And when his mouth came down on hers, it felt like he was kissing away the goodbyes that frightened her so. Because a kiss this pure, this passionate could only be one thing. Not an ending and not a goodbye, but a prelude. A searing-hot promise of things to come.

  Her pulse roared in her ears and she ran her hands over Ryan’s chest—touching, exploring—letting them do all the things she’d been dying to do since the day he’d first stalked into her restaurant ordering drinks they didn’t serve. He’d seemed so out of place back then, as if the tornado had picked him up in Washington and deposited him in Spring Forest just for her.

  But he fit here now, just like his hardness fit perfectly against her grasp when she let her hands drift lower. And lower still.

  He groaned into her mouth and a shudder coursed through her.

  There’s no place like home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ryan wasn’t sure how long he and Amanda stood just inside the door, kissing and touching and exploring. Hours, perhaps? Days? Time seemed to come to a standstill and in between the sighs and the quickened breaths, his mind could only snag on one conscious thought—finally.

  They’d been barreling toward this moment for so long, but every time they’d come close to making any sort of real connection with each other, something got in the way. At least that’s what he’d thought. He’d been wrong, though. He realized that now. As much as he wanted to take her to bed, as much as he needed to feel her softness surrounding him as he pushed inside her, making love to her wouldn’t be the act that bonded them together. Their hearts and souls were already intertwined. While they’d been pretending to be a couple, something very real had taken place—they’d slipped into intimacy.

  All Ryan’s life, he’d thought intimacy was the kind of thing that required pursuit. Intention. People didn’t just accidentally develop feelings for one another without noticing.

  Except maybe they did.

  No.

  It was his lust talking. How was he supposed to think straight when he’d been celibate for so long? Of course he was confusing physical intimacy with real, soul-deep connection. His body was surging with testosterone, let loose after years of being pent up. They’d been pretending, for crying out loud. It was all an act. None of it was real.

  Why did he keep forgetting that important detail?

  He adjusted the angle of his head so he could kiss Amanda more deeply, more thoroughly. She made a tiny mewing sound he loved so much, soft like a kitten, and Ryan couldn’t think anymore. About anything. He could only give and take and feel, and for once in his long, lonely life, he was fine with that. He and Amanda would figure things out in the morning. They only had a few hours together before Dan was scheduled to bring Dillon home, and Ryan wanted to make the most of every damned minute.

  Date night.

  The words rang in his mind like a bell, tricking him into wondering if this is what life would be like if they made their temporary arrangement permanent. Between the playdates and the school runs, would they always have this? He couldn’t fathom a relationship any more different than the one he’d had with Maggie. He’d blamed himself for the disconnect between the two of them. He’d been the one to seek solace in his office. He’d been the bad person in the marriage, the broken one.

  When Amanda looked at him—when she touched him the way she was stroking him now—he no longer felt that way. For the first time in years, he felt whole.

  What was happening? Sex wasn’t supposed to be this way. Sex was just...sex. This felt like so much more, and they hadn’t even undressed yet. Amanda’s damp clothes still clung to her curves, and somehow he could see everything and nothing all at the same time. Her body was exquisite—shapely and lithe, but he wanted to know more. Needed it.

  He wanted to know how she liked to be touched. He wanted to know what it felt like to slide inside her. Most of all, he wanted to see the look in her eyes when she finally let go and came apart.

  He let out an aching breath and pulled back to study her expression. The sight of her swollen mouth and darkened irises made him groan again.

  “So lovely,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  She smiled, and he dragged the pad of his thumb against the delicious swell of her bottom lip before kissing her again. How did she taste so good? He’d lain awake on his sofa for hours the past few nights just thinking about that taste.

  His hands fisted in her hair, and he moved his mouth to her ear. “Tell me you want me.”

  He needed to hear her say it before they went any further. He needed to know they were in this together, and it wasn’t just him out there all alone, blinded by desire.

  She rose up on tiptoe and nipped at his earlobe. “I want you, Ryan. So, so much. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.”

  His erection swelled almost to the point of pain. Then he heard a zipper coming undone and still didn’t realize Amanda had opened his fly until her hand slipped inside his pants and her warm hand closed around his shaft.

  Oh my God.

  He took a sharp inhale.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered between gasps. “Please don’t move.”

  She peered up at him and that look, coupled with the softness of her breasts against his chest, was nearly enough to make him come. No. He needed it to last as long as possible. Weeks, months, years.

  Maybe even forever.

  He reached for her wrist, removing her hand from his body and weaving her fingers though his. Then he led her to his bed, where she’d been sleeping alone for the past seven nights, and he peeled the damp clothes from her body, one piece at a time, worshipping her soft brown skin as he went.

  When at last she stretched out naked before him, he stepped out of his clothes and let her touch him again. He tried not to think about how perfect she looked, gazing up at him as she reached for him and guided him to her entrance. But it was no use. When he pushed inside her radiant body, which inexplicably seemed as familiar as it did brand-new, he was struck with the profound realization that she belonged there—not just in his bed, but in his life.

  In his family.

  He began to move, sliding in and out at an excruciatingly languid pace, marveling at the beautiful woman beneath him. He wished he could tell her that whatever happened after tonight, everything would be okay. He wished he could beg her to stay and swear to her that she’d never live alone again because he’d always be there to take care of her, to pamper her, even when she insisted on putting everyone else’s needs ahead of her own.

  But he couldn’t say those things to her—not even now—so he kissed her instead, swallowing her aching cries.

  He didn’t deserve her. Not even temporarily. That was a fact. And in the end, that’s how he knew whatever they had couldn’t possibly be real.

  No matter how badly he wanted to believe otherwise.

  * * *

  Amanda woke to the smell of bacon wafting toward Ryan’s bedroom from the kitchen. She took a deep, luscious inhale before opening her eyes.

  God, she loved bacon.

  Didn’t everyone? That’s why the Grille went through fifty pounds of it a week. Back when Amanda’s parents managed the Grille, she used to cook the bacon during the breakfast shift on the weekends. She’d line up the strips in neat rows, enough to cover the surface of the entire grill from end to end.

  But never in her life had anyone cooked bacon just for her.

  She threw off the covers and climbed out of bed, anxious to see what was happening down the hall in Ryan’s quaint kitchen. Especially if whatever it was involved Ryan himself. Her need to see him again was visceral. They’d made love tw
ice before Dan dropped Dillon off at home. When the doorbell rang, Ryan dragged himself out of bed, gave her one last kiss and said he’d see her in the morning.

  They’d actually had a date night of sorts, just as Dan had suggested.

  The only way it could have been better was if Ryan had come back to bed after he’d read Dillon his bedtime story, tucked him in and made sure Tucker was situated in his place of honor at the foot of Dillon’s bed. But it made sense for him to stay on the sofa. Amanda was only in the house so that the engagement would look real for the court.

  They’d never discussed what would happen if their romance suddenly became real.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  Amanda slipped into her bathrobe and tightened the sash into a knot a little too forcefully.

  She didn’t know what last night had meant, and that was okay. She didn’t need to know. Not yet. Not while they still had time.

  They’d figure things out once the lawsuit was over, and according to Dan, a custody battle like the one Ryan was facing could take anywhere from three weeks to six months. In the meantime, she and Ryan would have to keep playing house.

  Amanda’s hands shook as she twisted her hair into a messy bun. Playing house had seemed much less dangerous when her heart wasn’t part of the game.

  But she was overthinking things again. Hadn’t she decided she was going to take more chances? What had happened to her big tornado-induced awakening? Ryan, Dillon and Tucker were all right down the hall. She still had one foot planted squarely in Oz, and to her complete and utter delight, Oz had bacon.

  When she padded into the kitchen, she found Ryan standing at the sink in a T-shirt and running shorts, washing a frying pan. Dillon sat at the kitchen table, munching on a strip of bacon and drawing pictures with his crayons while Tucker gazed hopefully up at him from the floor. Amanda did a double take when she saw the spread of food. The platter in the center of the table was piled high with biscuits. Granted, they were a little misshapen, but they definitely looked homemade. An assortment of jams and jellies surrounded the platter, and beside it, she spotted a plate of bacon. It all looked so homey, so...perfect.