by Jill Shalvis
“Oh,” Elsie said, startled. “You’re still up?”
Leah turned on the light. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Oh, you know.” Elsie let out a little laugh. “My old bones creak and wake me up.” But Elsie didn’t look old. She looked…guilty. “Okay, so I was out. I…had a meeting.”
“At midnight?”
“Is it that late?” Elsie asked. “Huh.”
“Who did you meet?”
“Max Fitzgerald.”
Elsie was on the Historical Society board with Max. She’d complained about him for years and years, calling him a liver-spotted, tight-lipped, tighter-assed renovation nazi.
The name fit. “Why did you have such a late meeting? You forget to pay your dues or something?”
Elsie grimaced and pulled her coat tighter around herself, but it didn’t miss Leah’s attention that Elsie was wearing her good “going out” shoes. Leah, once the master sneaker, felt her eyes narrow. “Grandma, what’s going on?”
“Okay, but just remember, this all started out with me trying to surprise you,” Elsie said.
“Me?”
“Yes. You’ve been working so hard and without a single word of complaint.”
“Grandma,” Leah said, both touched and irritated, “I love being here with you. I have nothing to complain about.”
“But you’ve taken over so beautifully, and the place is such a mess. I know it is, Leah; don’t even try to deny it. I just wanted to see what kind of renovations we could make. Cheaply, of course. Something to help you.”
“I’m good with how things are,” Leah said. “Other than wanting new ovens.” She meant this, one hundred percent. In fact, the truth was that she actually loved the bakery’s slightly antiquated setup. It made her work hard, made her think, made her concentrate. She liked having little brain power left over for anything else.
Like what the hell she was going to do in two weeks when the Sweet Wars finals aired and the gig was up? Or why she was happier here, back in the place that had once upon a time been the bane of her existence, than she’d been anywhere else.
Although she suspected this was because of a certain big, bad, gorgeous firefighter who, thanks to her own doing, was now her pretend boyfriend.
And a hell of a kisser.
“Well, you’re a doll for putting up with everything,” Elsie said. “Anyway, I wanted to see what I could do and ran the thought by Max first.”
“Oh, Grandma,” Leah said softly. “You give him way too much power.”
“And he said I was absolutely welcome to make any renovations.”
“Yes, because you have every right to,” Leah pointed out. “Grandma—”
“And so I was just having a drink to thank him, and he…invited me to the firefighter’s ball next month,” she ended in a rush.
Leah opened her mouth again, but Elsie cut in before she could speak. “No. Don’t say whatever it is that you’re going to say. I was wrong about him. Okay, yes, he can be a fuddy-duddy, but he’s also very conscientious about our town’s history and takes his job seriously. And actually, he’s a very nice man. I’m sorry if I let you think otherwise, especially because I know you don’t think all that highly of the male race in general. And maybe that’s my fault too, for not correcting your notion that they’re all temperamental horse’s patoots. That was just your daddy, honey.”
“Well, I know that.”
Elsie smiled a little sadly. “Do you? Because you’re quick to judge a man, and even quicker to cut one out of your life.”
This threw Leah off her game a little. “Of course I know it,” she said. “I like men, Grandma.” She’d been on her own a long time. Twelve years, actually, since the day she’d driven out of town at age eighteen and not looked back. She’d had relationships. Granted, nothing that had lasted, but as she’d told Dee, it only took one…
But did she really believe that? “I’ve had boyfriends.”
“Had? Past tense?” Her grandma’s eyes were sharp. “Don’t you have a boyfriend right now?”
Well, she’d walked right into that one, hadn’t she? “You mean Jack.”
“Do you have more than one?” Elsie asked with a laugh.
Jack woke up before his alarm thanks to a sensation of being crushed. Sitting up, he turned on the light.
At some point in the night, Kevin had climbed onto the bed with him. The dog lay on his back, all four legs straight up in the air as if he were roadkill, snoring loudly enough to rattle the windows.
He had nearly the entire bed.
“Hey,” Jack said and nudged him.
Kevin stopped snoring but didn’t move a single muscle.
“I know you’re awake.”
Kevin slit open one eye.
Jack pointed to the floor.
With a sigh, Kevin heaved himself up and stepped off the bed. He sent Jack one soulful look over his shoulder before heading out of the room. Two seconds later Jack could hear the sound of Kevin slurping water out of his bowl, and no doubt drooling everywhere while he was at it.
Jack rolled out of bed as well, showered, and then hit the road. He’d hired a day nurse for his mom, both to keep her company and to make sure she was getting everything she needed, especially when Jack was on shift and couldn’t help her himself.
But when he stopped by his childhood home on the way to the station, Dee was already up and dressed and sitting at her kitchen table.
Kevin bounded into the room and would’ve taken a flying leap at her, but Jack grabbed his collar just in time.
“Gak,” Kevin said, eyes bulging, tongue hanging out.
Ben stood behind the stove cooking a big spread of bacon, eggs, and french toast. “I thought you were home, still in bed,” Jack said.
“You thought wrong.”
Kevin, desperate to get at Dee, whined.
“Sit,” Jack told him.
Kevin barked. His bark was loud enough to pierce eardrums, and everyone in the room winced.
“Not bark,” Jack said. “Sit.”
Kevin offered a paw.
Jesus. “Kevin. Sit.”
Kevin turned in three circles and plopped down to the floor, which shook like an earthquake under the one-hundred-and-fifty-plus pounds.
Dee laughed. “Such a sweet boy.”
Kevin smiled at her.
“Sweet, my ass,” Jack muttered.
Ben began loading a mountain of food onto a plate, which he then brought to Dee.
Dee, who always ate less than a bird whenever Jack had tried to feed her, beamed at Ben. “Thanks, sweetheart.” She gestured to Kevin, who all but scrambled his circuits trying to get up at the speed of light. Like a cat on linoleum, his paws fought for purchase as he raced to her side.
“Now you be a very good boy,” Dee said to him, patting him on the head, which was level with hers. “Be a very good boy and sit for me. Can you do that, Kevin? Can you sit for me?”
Kevin sent her an adoring smile and sat.
Jack shook his head. “Fucker.”
“Such a good boy,” Dee cooed. “So much better than my potty-mouthed son.”
“He’s not a good boy,” Jack told her. “He’s a menace to society.”
Kevin sent Jack a glare of reproach.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asked Ben.
“It was your turn to stock the fridge.”
By “fridge,” Ben meant Jack’s fridge, as Ben didn’t use his own. “Yeah? So?”
“So you bought beer, cookie dough, and peanut butter and jelly.”
“Oh, Jack,” Dee admonished.
“Hey,” he said in his defense, “I got the basic necessities.”
Ben shook his head. “No wonder you’re single,” he said in the tone that they both knew would rile Dee up, which in turn would effectively get Jack in trouble. Ben’s favorite thing to do.
“He’s not single,” Dee corrected. “He’s got Leah.”
“Right,” Ben said dr
yly. “Almost forgot.”
Jack gave him a look. This didn’t appear to bother Ben in the slightest. “So where’s Carrie?”
“I don’t need a nurse this week,” Dee said. “I didn’t want to waste your money, so she took on another patient.”
“Mom, forget the money. I want you taken care of when I’m working.”
Dee pointed at Ben.
Ben saluted her with his spatula.
Jack slid a look to Ben. He knew his cousin felt he owed Dee his life—multiple times over—for taking him in and keeping him on the straight and narrow.
Not that she’d always managed to keep Ben on the straight and narrow, but he’d turned out okay. If you counted being a little off your rocker okay…
“I’m fine,” Dee said again. “Or I would be if I wasn’t worried about you.”
“Me?” Jack asked. “What about me? I’m fine too.”
Ben, flipping a piece of french toast, gave a snort that made Jack feel twelve again and defensive as hell. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you’re awfully cranky for someone who’s fine,” Ben said lightly.
“I’m not cranky.”
Ben shrugged.
Dee’s smile faded a little bit. “Are you cranky?” she asked Jack. “Why would you be cranky? I saw Leah yesterday afternoon, and she said things were great. You didn’t mess things up with her since then, did you?”
Of course he had, thank you very much. Jack sighed and looked to Ben.
Ben just raised a brow, the asshole. “It’s six in the morning,” Jack said as evenly as he could. “How much could I have messed anything up?”
Concern filled Dee’s gaze. “Oh, Jack,” she murmured. “Was it your phone?”
“What?”
“You know,” she said, waving a hand. “Your phone. I read in Cosmo that if a woman looks in her man’s phone and he has anyone in his contacts with only a first initial, that means it’s a…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Booty call. Grounds for a breakup. As is having eight contacts with the name Brandy, because chances are that they’re exotic dancers you’ve met on business trips.”
Ben pointed at a stunned Jack with a spatula. “No matter how much your girl presses you about your Brandys, deny everything until death.”
Dee waved an irritated hand in Ben’s direction. “You’re not taking me seriously.”
“Mom, I didn’t mess anything up.”
“Then where is she?”
“Leah?”
“No, the Tooth Fairy,” Dee said, making Ben grin again. “Where is Leah, Jack?”
Probably concocting some new way to make his life a living hell, he thought darkly. Oh wait, she’d already done that. Ever since the kiss on the beach—kisses plural, as in many, many amazing kisses—he’d done nothing but think of her plastered up against him, or better yet, beneath him, soft and wet, sighing his name in pleasure…
And yet there was his mom, looking at him with those eagle eyes of hers, the ones that could always tell when he’d messed something up, so he ruthlessly clamped down on the fantasy and shrugged. “It’s six a.m.,” he repeated.
“So she’s baking?”
Right. She’d be baking. He nodded.
Dee relaxed and went back to eating. She had color in her cheeks and looked happy. Jack would like to say that he’d put that happy look on her face, but he hadn’t. Ben had, with his food.
And Leah, with her lie.
Ben was making another plate, loading it full for himself, and Jack snatched it.
Ben muttered “fucker” beneath his breath, which Dee either didn’t catch or ignored. “You going to be around today?” he asked Ben.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Jack,” Dee said.
Jack didn’t take his eyes off Ben.
Ben nodded.
“She’s got an appointment day after tomorrow at ten,” Jack said.
“I can drive myself,” Dee said.
Ben nodded again affably. “But you’ll let me take you.”
“I’m fine—”
“Of course you are,” Ben said smoothly. “But this isn’t for you. It’s for your idiot son. We don’t want him worrying like a little girl while he’s on the job.”
Dee relaxed. “Of course not. But you have a life too, Benjamin.”
Ben lifted a shoulder. “I’m…in flux.”
Ben didn’t talk much about his job. Being a civil engineer sounded innocuous but it wasn’t the way Ben did it. His last job, where he’d gone into Iraq for the DOJ to design and build water systems for some of the war-torn towns, had obviously gotten to him, big time. Usually when he was in Lucky Harbor he went back to his woodworking, and actually he was a hell of a furniture maker when he wanted to be. But he hadn’t picked up so much as a single tool since he’d been back.
So yeah, he was in flux. He lived in flux.
Luckily, he never spent much of his income so he had some flexibility. Others in Lucky Harbor hadn’t been so lucky. The economic downturn had been hard on many of the businesses, and there were a lot of properties in trouble and on the market.
But things were starting to turn around. A few new businesses were coming in, and some of the properties were being built up and renovated, when the historical society loosened their bulldog grip on the regulations and permits.
There’d been some noise from the biggest developer sniffing around, a Mr. Rinaldi out of L.A., who was snatching up as many of the available properties as possible. He had three or four in escrow at the moment, including Elsie’s bakery. He’d promised the current residents that nothing would change, but the rumor was that he planned on getting a whole strip of buildings on commercial row and running the town.
There were mixed feelings about this. Any commerce was good. It brought in money and kept people employed. But Lucky Harbor residents were used to being a tight-knit community, and there were fears that this was going to change.
Jack didn’t care about that, but he did care about the bakery, so he hoped Mr. Rinaldi’s word was good.
“What’s that, honey?” Dee asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack said.
“Yeah, you did,” Ben said. “You mumbled something about the bakery.”
Dee smiled. “He’s got his girlfriend on his mind.”
Jack put his empty plate in the sink, kissed his mom, and left, ignoring Ben’s knowing smirk.
Chapter 10
Leah’s breath caught as Jack’s body pressed into hers. His hands stroked up her sides and then his thumbs were brushing over her nipples. Moaning, she arched closer as he kissed her long and deep, grinding his lower body into hers. He was hard, so deliciously hard, and she ached for him. Tangling her hands in his hair, she kissed him deeper until he groaned her name.
Oh, how she liked the sound of her name on his lips.
Then his clever fingers found their way into her panties, and he let out another groan before breaking the kiss and nipping at her ear. “Jesus, Leah. You’ve got to remove your hand.”
What?
She opened her eyes and realized that Jack was standing over her, where she’d fallen asleep at her grandma’s desk. He was fully dressed and breathing heavily, making her realize that her right hand was cupping the bulge behind his zipper. She snatched it away as if she’d been burned, and he stepped back, leaning against the file cabinet.
It took her a shockingly long moment to catch her breath, but even then, she could still feel the bulge of him in her palm. The big bulge of him… “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“You were moaning and flushed and sweaty. I came close to check on you, and you molested me.”
She groaned in embarrassment and covered her face while he laughed softly. In spite of the tension in every line of his body, he flashed a smile. “Busy, huh?”
There was a lull at the bakery every day around ten in the morning. Since Leah was usually up by 4:00 a.m. to bake and then serving customers by 6:00, that lull came wit
h the urge to nap.
Usually she combated this with copious amounts of caffeine and something from her day’s wares that had lots of sugar, but today she’d been stuck in the teeny-tiny office facing a stack of her grandma’s bills. A little overwhelmed, she’d set her head down and clearly fallen asleep. “Yes,” she said. “I am very busy.” She bit her lip. “And sorry, about—” She gestured to his crotch. “Though it’s your fault for not knocking. Why are you here?”
“Donuts.”
“Donuts.” She huffed to her feet, pushed past him, and headed out front. “You interrupted the best sex I’ve had all year for donuts.”
“That’s sad.”
“Exactly why I needed the end of that dream!”
In tune to his soft laugh, she loaded him up a box of donuts and shoved him out the door.
From the bakery, Jack headed to work. His amusement had shifted into a solid, churning need centered right at his groin, which hadn’t yet gotten the message that he wasn’t getting any, despite how Leah’s fingers had felt cupping him. Thinking about how she’d looked in the throes of her sex dream made him hard all over again. He’d told her she’d been moaning and hot and sweaty. What he hadn’t told her was that she’d whispered a name.
His.
He blew out a breath and forced that from his mind—as well as the image of taking her on that desk, her long, gorgeous legs wrapped around him—so he didn’t walk into the station with a boner.
Station #24 sat at the end of commercial row, between the pier and downtown. Once upon a time, the two-story brick building had housed the town’s saloon and theater, but it’d long ago been converted to a firehouse.
There were three large garage doors out front, opened to reveal a fire engine, a ladder truck, an ambulance, and the county OES Hazardous Materials response vehicle. Beyond the garage, there was a utility-sized kitchen and a big open living room. Upstairs was a large sleeping area that looked like a frat dorm meets Three Little Bears, except it was the Six Little Bears with rows of twin beds.
Over the years, they’d added a pool table, an X-Box, a flat-screen TV, and some huge, comfy couches. Home away from home or, as they all spent more time here together than they did with their various loved ones, just home.