A Kiss to Remember

by Naima Simone

  “I’m here. And thank you. I... Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. But I’m only speaking the truth.” He sighed. “I get why you shared that with me. Thank you for trusting me. I know it wasn’t easy.” He paused, and several moments passed where his breath echoed in her ear. “Ava and I started dating in college. People said we were a ‘golden couple,’ whatever that means. I guess I can see it now. Similar goals—both financial majors, wanted to be entrepreneurs, desired a certain lifestyle, had the same ideals about the family we desired. She was beautiful, driven, ambitious, and I admired all of that about her. So after we graduated, we married.”

  A hard silence ricocheted down the line, deafening in its heaviness.

  “I love my parents, especially my mother. But their marriage... It wasn’t healthy. My father wasn’t physically abusive, but emotionally, verbally? He cut her down with words, by withholding affection if she didn’t have his dinner on the table on time or if she disappointed him in any small way. And my mother’s identity was so entangled with his that when he died, she crumbled, didn’t know who she was, how to carry on from one day to the next. That’s why when she sold the house and moved here, I dropped everything and made it happen. She needed to escape anything that had to do with my father so she could finally discover herself apart from him. I think that was one of the things that attracted me to Ava. She had her own identity, her own goals. But I didn’t count on that tearing us apart.”

  Questions pinged against her skull, but she remained quiet, letting him tell his story at his own pace. Yet her whole body ached with the need to wrap around him, hold him.

  Protect him.

  She shook her head, as if the motion could dislodge the silly idea. Declan didn’t need her protection. Didn’t need her.

  “We both entered graduate school and took jobs in our fields. While my career seemed to rise fast, hers didn’t go as smoothly. And listen, I’m a white man in a field that is set up for me to succeed. So I understood her frustration. I knew there were certain advantages for me that weren’t there for her. But she turned bitter, and she took that bitterness out on the one person who unconditionally loved and supported her—me.”

  Remi almost asked him to stop because what was coming... It had turned him off relationships all these years later. So it must’ve scarred him.

  “It started with complaining about me not having enough time for her. So no matter how tired I was from work and school, I tried to give her more attention. Then she accused me of being too needy, so I pulled back. I’d arrive at work and discover that my files were missing information, or the numbers had been transposed. Or I had to make a presentation, and the PowerPoint had disappeared from my computer. When we attended my office parties, she either flirted with my colleagues or deliberately insulted them. Or as I later found out, slept with them.”

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  “Yes, shit.” He chuckled, but it didn’t carry any humor. “She tried to sabotage my career before it could really begin. The betrayal...” He cleared his throat. Paused. “The betrayal when you’ve done nothing but love a person... It destroys something in you. Your trust. In other people. In yourself. It’s not something you forget—or want to repeat.”

  She got it. God, did she get it.

  “She didn’t break you, though,” she whispered.

  “No,” he whispered back. “She didn’t.”

  “Declan?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LAST HALLOWEEN, DECLAN attended a friend’s party, dressed as a pirate, and ended up going home with a sexy as hell cat—or maybe she’d been a mouse.

  The Halloween before that, he’d spent the evening at a business dinner. And had his dining partner for dessert.

  This Halloween, he stuffed goody bags with candy, toys and small books for the fifty or so excited children that crowded into the Rose Bend Public Library for the Spooks ’n’ Books Bash.

  Being the town librarian’s “boyfriend” definitely had its perks.

  He smirked as he tossed a mini pack of M&M’s into a plastic bag decorated with goofy ghosts, cats and witches. In the three weeks since he’d started dating Remi, he’d gone to a high school–sponsored haunted house, judged a pumpkin pie contest that she’d volunteered him for when the scheduled judge came down with food poisoning, and gone on his first ever hayride. He’d eaten his first s’more in nineteen years, tasted his first cup of homemade spiced cider ever and snacked on honest-to-God grapenut custard, hauling out and dusting off childhood memories he’d long forgotten.

  Yes, these last three weeks had definitely been an experience. As different from his outings with Tara as the Patriots from the Lions. He’d had fun.

  Damn.

  When had his life stopped being fun?

  Not that his life was bad. God, no. It would be the height of white privilege to cry about a challenging career he enjoyed, the luxurious lifestyle it afforded him, the doors to the elite business and social worlds it opened to him. And he indulged in it all.

  But did he feel that pure excitement like a child on Christmas morning or a kid soaring down a steep hill on his bike at full speed? Like a teen discovering the bloom of his first crush?

  No. That had been missing.

  Until now.

  Until Remi.

  His pulse an uncomfortable throb at his neck, his wrists, he scanned the library, and like a lodestone, his gaze found her. Maybe it was the dark fire of her hair—or the brighter flame of her very essence—but she seemed to gleam like a ruby among the crowd of parents who stood in the outer ring surrounding the children who gathered for story time.

  A smile flashed across her face at something, brief but so lovely, and the air in his chest snagged.

  Jesus, the power of it.

  Like a hard knee to the gut and a gentle brush of fingers across his jaw at the same time.

  He blinked, dragging his much-too-fascinated scrutiny away from her and back to the task at hand. Goody bags. Candy. Toys.

  “Is this my son over here in the back doing manual labor?” His mother appeared in front of the table, a wide smile stretched across her pretty face. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of Janet Howard’s blue eyes as she nabbed a small box of crayons and swung it back and forth in front of him. “If I didn’t see it with my own eyes...”

  He snorted, holding his hand out and curling his fingers, signaling for her to hand over the box. When she did, with an even-wider grin, he drawled, “Laugh it up now, woman. But just because I work behind a desk doesn’t mean I don’t know the meaning of labor.” He arched an eyebrow. “I mean, who do you think mows that big yard I have?”

  She mimicked the eyebrow gesture. “That reminds me. James Holland lost your number. But he wanted me to pass along the message that he would be glad to take care of your lawn like he does mine.”

  “Freaking blabbermouth,” Declan muttered, dropping the crayons into the goody bag. No sense of male solidarity at all.

  “Hi, Declan.” Tara strolled up to them, smiling widely. “This is so cute.” She turned, waving a hand in the direction of the larger area set up with game stations, the story circle and tables of books. “When Janet told me she was stopping by, I had to tag along. All this time I’ve lived here, and I can’t believe I’ve never made it to this charming little event.”

  “It’s only the second time the library has held it. Remi started it last year,” he said, pride for Remi and the staff’s hard work evident in his voice. He didn’t even try to conceal it.

  He’d only witnessed the tail end of their labor, helping set up and put up decorations, but more than one person had regaled him about all the time and effort she put into the event. And when his mother’s gaze narrowed on him, he met it. There was nothing wrong with being proud of a friend’s achiev
ements.

  Fuck, he was a terrible liar. Even to himself.

  His mother and Tara glanced at one another, then Janet hooked an arm through Tara’s, clearly telegraphing where her allegiance lay. “Well, that’s nice. I just remembered you mentioning you were spending Halloween here, so I thought we’d come over and see if we can convince you to join us for coffee afterward.”

  We.

  He didn’t bother looking at Tara, but kept his attention focused on his mother. “I’m sorry. Remi and I already have plans after this wraps up.” Technically, they didn’t, and he hated fibbing to his mother, but if he had to take Remi to Sunnyside Grille for a late dinner to make the lie true, he would. “But thanks for supporting the event.”

  His mother’s smile tightened around the edges, and she turned to Tara. “Honey, would you mind giving me a moment with Declan?”

  “Not at all,” Tara said. He ignored her and the smug note in her voice.

  If she expected him to bow to his mother’s coercion on her behalf, then neither woman really knew him.

  “Son—”

  “Mom, I love you, and I would never intentionally disrespect you.” He interrupted her before she could get on a roll. He flattened his palms on the table and leaned forward, lowering his voice, not desiring an audience for this long-overdue conversation that he would’ve preferred to have in private. “But that—” he dipped his head in the direction Tara had disappeared “—is not going to happen. There has never been any chance of it happening. Something I made very clear to Tara even if she decided not to hear me. I only took her out those few times because it made you happy to see me with her. Or with someone.”

  He stretched an arm out, clasped his mother’s hand in his, squeezed. “I love you, Mom. You’re the most important person in the world to me. And I would hate to see our relationship damaged in any way by you choosing this hill to die on. Tara’s not for me.”

  “And this new woman is? A woman you haven’t brought around and introduced to me, I might add?”

  True. And he’d purposefully avoided doing so. His and Remi’s relationship was fake; having her meet his mother smacked too much of “real.” It crossed a boundary into territory he hadn’t been prepared to enter. But Janet arriving here tonight might snatch that choice out of his hands.

  Especially since Remi was headed their way.

  He straightened, his gaze shifting from his mother and over her shoulder to the sexy, stunning woman walking toward them. How could she make a simple long-sleeved, V-necked shirt, a dark pair of high-waisted skinny jeans and ankle boots so hot?

  Lust rippled through him, and he clenched his teeth against the primal pounding of it in his veins... In his cock.

  Goddamn.

  Kittens batting balls of yarn. Dad’s old baseball mitt that smelled like Bengay and sweat. Grandma Eileen’s dentures in a glass on the bathroom sink.

  Thinking of anything that would prevent him from springing an erection in front of his mother and all these kids. But most of all his mother.

  “Oh.” His mother hummed. “That’s the way of it.”

  Declan didn’t tear his gaze from Remi. Couldn’t. But if by some small miracle he could, yeah, he still wouldn’t. Disquiet scurried beneath the throb of need. And he didn’t want to glimpse the acknowledgment of that disquiet in his mother’s eyes.

  “Hey.” Remi smiled, glancing down at the table packed with goody bags. “Thank you, Declan. So much. First you saved me with the pie contest and now with this. When my volunteer called out, I thought I was going to have a bunch of screaming kids on my hands.” She laughed and turned to his mother. “We’ve met before, Mrs. Howard, but it’s nice to see you again. Thank you for coming tonight.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Ms. Donovan. Or is it okay to call you Remi, since rumor has it you’re dating my son?”

  The pointed and faintly accusatory tone wasn’t lost on Declan, and apparently not on Remi either, since pink tinged the elegant slant of her cheekbones. But to her credit, she didn’t back down.

  “Rumors in a small town?” Her lips curled into a rueful twist. “If only we could monetize it, we could single-handedly support our economy. And yes—” she nodded “—I would be honored if you would call me Remi.”

  Declan smothered a bark of laughter. Nice side step. “Remi, my mother’s not new to a library. When I was a kid, she used to take me there often and let me pick out any book I wanted, then let me participate in the scavenger hunts or watch afternoon movies. And she even volunteered at our school library sometimes. Or maybe she just wanted to keep an eye on me,” he teased.

  His mother snorted. “Both.”

  “Mrs. Howard, I don’t know if you’d consider it, but the library can always use volunteers,” Remi said.

  “Volunteer? Me?” She scoffed, but Declan glimpsed the interest flicker in her eyes, even though her features remained guarded. “What could I possibly do?”

  “Whatever you enjoy.” Remi half turned, sweeping a hand toward the room. “If you like clerical duties such as helping us entering patron info into our computer system or returning books to the shelves or manning the help desk, that would be wonderful. Or since we are an interactive library, if you love working with the children, you can read to them, help with tutoring, assist us with our events or even man one of those scavenger hunts Declan mentioned.”

  Declan stared at her. Excitement shone in her hazel eyes, the gold like chips of sunlight, and enthusiasm lit her face so brightly, he blinked at its gleam.

  She was beautiful. No—such a paltry, lazy word to describe the purity and loveliness of a spirit enhanced by a stunning face and body.

  He’d met gorgeous women, dated them—fucked them.

  But they all faded into an obscure corner of his past the longer he looked at Remi. His heart thudded against his sternum, a rhythm that drowned out the chatter of adults, the happy squeals of children. His world narrowed to her, to the fine angle of her cheekbones, the sweet sin of her mouth, the alluring dent in her chin. To the lush, sensual curves of her body.

  Panic ripped through him, and out of pure survival, his mind scrambled back from a treacherous edge his damn heart should’ve known better than to go anywhere near.

  “Declan?” Fingers touched the back of his hand, and just from the delicious burn, he didn’t need to glance down and identify its owner. But he did anyway, because not looking at Remi Donovan wasn’t even an option for him. A small frown creased her brow. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, fine.” He flipped her hand over, rubbing his thumb over her palm, catching the small shiver that trembled up her arm. And because that vulnerability still sat on him, he repeated the caress. “I was just thinking how lucky this place is to have someone as loyal, hardworking and beautiful as you.”

  Her eyes widened, an emotion so tangled, so convoluted flashing in them that he couldn’t begin to decipher it. He’d surprised her. Good. Though they were engaged in this arrangement, there was something freeing about being able to touch her, to murmur compliments and neatly, safely categorize them under “for the charade.”

  Like now.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, giving him one last lingering look before shifting her attention back to his mother. “Do you want to get a cup of hot chocolate, and we can talk more about volunteering?”

  “Yes.” His mother nodded, and warmth slipped into her expression and voice. “I would like that very much.”

  “Wonderful. Let’s go before the kids beat us to it.” She laughed, leading Janet away.

  “Is that her plan, then?”

  Declan clenched his jaw. Hard. Until the muscles along his jaw ached in protest. Instead of replying to Tara, he walked away from the table, knowing she would follow. Pausing next to a volunteer, he asked her if she would mind watching the goody bags for a moment, and then he continued to a quieter side
of the room.

  Before he could speak, Tara crossed her arms over her chest, her lips forming a sulky pout that he hoped to God she didn’t think was attractive.

  “Is that her new plan? To ingratiate herself with your mother?”

  “No,” Declan said, arching an eyebrow. “That’s your strategy. Hers is simply being her. Interested in other people and their needs. Being nice. That’s who Remi is.”

  “Please.” Tara sneered. “It’s an act. No one is that nice. Not without a motive.”

  “You don’t say,” he drawled.

  Red stained her cheeks, and she huffed out a breath, her chin hiking up.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said through gritted teeth. “And you know it.”

  Declan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Briefly closing his eyes, he dropped his arm and met Tara’s dark brown eyes, glinting with tears.

  “Don’t.” He didn’t bother blunting the sharp edge of his tone.

  Maybe if he suspected the tears were authentic, he would’ve. But he’d witnessed this ploy before; she’d tried to use it on him with no luck, and she regularly employed those tears with his mother with much more success.

  “I’m going to say this once again. And this will be the last time, Tara. I’ve been patient and have tried not to hurt your feelings, but you don’t seem to understand kindness. Or you see it as something to take advantage of. There. Is. No. Us. There never was. There never will be. Hear me. Accept it. Move on. And if you genuinely like my mother and enjoy spending time with her, then fine. But if you’re doing it only to get to me, then leave her alone, too. I won’t allow you to use her, and more importantly, I won’t let you hurt her.”

  “Where was this concern for a woman’s feelings when you led me on?” she scoffed. Tears no longer moistened her eyes, but anger glittered there, and it pulled her mouth taut, turning her beauty as sharp and hard as a diamond. “You shouldn’t have slept with me if you claim we didn’t have anything.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have allowed my dick to do my thinking. But I’ve never lied to you, Tara. I was always up-front that we wouldn’t have a relationship—that I didn’t want that with you. With anyone. I convinced myself that you accepted that, when obviously you had other intentions the entire time. That’s on you, not me.”