Hometown Hope: A Small Town Romance Anthology

by Zoe York

  “I’m not dating him,” Brynn said firmly. She paused, then confessed, “Because then I’d have to stop. Right? Six different guys in six months.”

  Ah. Suddenly it made sense. “If you don’t date him, you can keep seeing him.”

  Brynn blushed. “I don’t know if he feels the same, but that’s how I’m looking at it.”

  Cori grinned. “Good for you. Just enjoy it.”

  With a smile that was definitely a little dreamy, Brynn headed upstairs to the fourth bedroom that she’d taken over for her office.

  There were five bedrooms in the huge, old two-story house, along with three bathrooms, a living room, formal dining room, enormous kitchen, den, full basement, and attic.

  But none of those were serving as Cori’s office. Cori didn’t need an office. Cori didn’t do work that required an office. Well, she’d been a personal assistant to a publisher for a while. And she’d run the front desk at an eye doctor’s office for about six months. But like everything she did, she hadn’t stuck with either of those jobs long enough to count them as any kind of career.

  Cori sighed and got up from the table, gathering the dishes. Her sisters hadn’t gushed over her s’mores pie either, dammit. Baking and cooking were two things she was good at, and she’d really love to have someone gush over something she did. And, not that she was shocked, she thought of Evan. She’d love to feed Evan. She’d love to do a lot of things to and for and with Evan.

  Now she was the owner of a pie shop where she couldn’t bake, doing books that were barely books, and lusting after a guy who was going to have to now kiss her sister like he wanted to do her up against the nearest firm surface. Because yeah, that’s exactly how she and Evan kissed.

  She threw the dirty spoons into the dishwasher with a satisfying clang. If Rudy’s intention had been to give her a lesson in deprivation and self-control, this was well played.

  She was nearly done cleaning up when the doorbell rang. The doorbell—a grand chime with three tones—fit the old house with the high ceilings, original woodwork, built-in china hutch, and wall sconces perfectly and made Cori smile as she headed for the foyer.

  She pulled the heavy old door open, not even bothering to look through the window first. And her smile immediately widened.

  Evan Stone stood on her front step. Well, their front step.

  “Hi.” He gave her a big grin.

  Did he know which sister she was? Was he grinning at her or just whoever opened the door? Evan grinned at people all the time. She just knew it. He looked really good wearing that grin too. And she really wanted him to know who she was. “Hi.”

  She did not want him kissing Ava. The thought was hardly shocking, but the intensity with which she felt opposed to the idea was a little.

  Movement behind him caught her eye, and she glanced over his shoulder to see their neighbor across the street, Jason, taking a box from the back of his truck. He lifted a hand in a wave.

  And it seemed clear what she needed to do. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Evan’s neck and pressed her body against his, kissing him like, well, like she wanted to put him up against the nearest firm surface.

  Evan didn’t hesitate for an instant. He cupped her ass, pulled her up against him, and opened his mouth.

  Tongues and tiptoes. That was what Brynn had said of their kiss at the shop. The tiptoes made her taller and the tongues, well, those made her think of hot, wet thrusting of another kind.

  Evan’s hands were in her hair again and she was glad she had it down tonight. It allowed him to slide his fingers against her head and then drag them through the long strands in a deliciously decadent way that made her want those hands and fingers all over her body.

  No. He could not kiss Ava like this. Dammit. Cori couldn’t handle that.

  She finally pulled back, but Evan didn’t let her head go as he looked into her eyes, breathing a little harder.

  “Hey, Cori,” he said gruffly.

  Relief swept over her. She hadn’t admitted it, even to herself, but that first night in New York had been bugging her. That he’d poured all of that heat into a kiss with another woman. And that had been before she’d gotten to know him better. That was why the kiss at the shop two days ago had felt even more satisfying. He’d known it was her. And had kissed her like he’d never get enough.

  “Hey,” she said, just to confirm that he was completely correct. Then she went back in for more.

  Their lips met and the kiss turned hungry almost immediately. He backed her up against the door and slid his tongue along hers. One of his big hands ran from her butt to her thigh, lifting it so that he could press against the hot, aching spot where she needed pressure. And friction. And a lot less clothing.

  His other hand slid into her hair, gripping gently. He angled her head to the side and moved his lips over her jaw to her neck. “Damn girl,” he said huskily. “You smell like chocolate, and you feel like the place I want to be for the next several weeks, straight, and you kiss me like you’ve had every dirty thought about me that I’ve had about you.”

  A little chorus of yes, yes, yes! sang in her head. He knew it was her. And hell yes, she’d stay right here for the next several weeks—although with the less clothes thing—and she’d love to share a few of those dirty thoughts.

  She gave a soft laugh, then a moan as he sucked gently on the skin just behind her ear. “Man, I hope so. I don’t want to be kissing someone who doesn’t have the kinds of thoughts I’ve had.”

  “Those thoughts are keeping me up at night,” he confessed, his hand sliding down her back and then under the edge of her shirt.

  Her skin erupted in goose bumps as he trailed his finger over the bare skin just above her shorts.

  “I could tell you about a few of them,” he said, running his hand higher, spanning her rib cage and getting so close to her breast.

  “One of mine includes us breaking one of those little round tables in the pie shop,” she told him, arching closer, hinting that she wanted his hand higher.

  He pulled back a little, his eyes burning. “Oh, really? One of mine has to do with the very big, very sturdy table in the conference room in New York.”

  She laughed. “Probably safer.”

  “I think sturdy will be important.”

  She caught her breath. He’d said will. As in it will happen. “Good.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her again, finally moving his hand to cup her breast. Her shirt pulled up on her stomach and cool night air hit her suddenly feverish skin. Evan ran the pad of his thumb over her nipple and Cori felt it in every inch of her body. Some more than others, of course. Then he rolled it between his thumb and finger and all of the tingles all over her body seemed to laser focus into a pulsing need between her legs.

  “Evan,” she moaned into his mouth.

  “Cor—”

  But he was interrupted by a car driving past the house. And the little beep beep the driver gave that said they’d seen it all.

  Cori sucked in a breath and looked down. She was still mostly covered, only her stomach exposed, but it was very clear where Evan’s hand was.

  The hand that he slid out from under her shirt as he leaned back.

  “I’ve had a few dirty thoughts about you against doors and walls too,” he said, his voice rough. “But we should maybe not do front doors. Or at least, not the outside of front doors.”

  Cori ran a hand through her hair and Evan’s gaze dropped to the breast he’d just had in his hand. She dropped her arm, very aware that her nipples were pressing insistently against her shirt, begging him for more attention. She coughed. “Yeah, that’s maybe a good plan.”

  “Wouldn’t want to scandalize our little town,” he said with a grin.

  Our little town. Was Bliss her town? Strangely, that didn’t seem completely…strange.

  And then the word scandalize sunk in. Yeah, doing her sister’s boyfriend against the front door—or any door for that matter—would be scandal
ous.

  Even if no one knew about it?

  From the street, they wouldn’t know that she wasn’t Ava, but seriously? Did the fact that no one knew that she and Evan were messing around make it better? And did it help that he wasn’t actually cheating on Ava? And did it make it okay that this was definitely not a usual relationship for Cori? She’d met Evan Stone two weeks ago. She’d never wanted a guy like this, flirted with a guy like this, kissed a guy like this, and not already slept with him. Hell, some of her relationships would be over by now. In the overall cosmic view of right and wrong and good and bad intentions and all of that, did any of these things really make it all right?

  “You knew it was me? Even before I kissed you?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Though I don’t mind you confirming it that way.”

  Cori looked up at him, hating that she loved that he’d known her. He wasn’t hers. Couldn’t be. At least for a few more months. And maybe not even then, really. Because going from one sister to the next would probably be scandalous too.

  On impulse, Cori gathered her hair in one hand, lifting it away from her neck. “Here,” she said, tipping her head and pointing behind her right ear.

  He leaned in to look, his warm breath caressing her neck and shoulder.

  She felt her body react, tingles skittering down her arm and her nipples tightening. She cleared her throat. “We each have our first initial tattooed behind our right ear. “

  He lifted a finger and traced the small C. Her tingles got tingles.

  “That’s really cute,” he said, his voice husky again.

  God, he smelled good. She resisted the urge to put her face against his chest and inhale deeply. And she gave herself more points for again resisting a very strong impulse.

  She let her hair drop. “Now you’ll always have a way of knowing. For sure. Just…in case.”

  He didn’t ask in case of what. For which she was grateful. Because she couldn’t say exactly. She just had this feeling that she really wanted to always know he knew her.

  “Our mom used to use a marker to put our initials there. It helped babysitters and our grandparents and teachers. We did the tattoos on our eighteenth birthday as a kind of tribute to her getting us to adulthood mostly on her own. We don’t tell many people.”

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Sure.”

  They stood looking at each other for a long moment. They were no longer touching but he was very definitely in her personal space. And she’d never wanted to have her body against someone else as much as she wanted to be up against Evan Stone in that moment.

  “And you knew who I was when you kissed me,” he said.

  “Of course. But they didn’t know who I was.”

  “They?”

  “The neighbors,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of Jason’s house.

  “Ah. And it wouldn’t be okay for them to think that you were Cori greeting me at the door?”

  She cleared her throat. “Just thought it was a good opportunity to further cement this thing between you and Ava.”

  “Ah. Well…thanks.”

  Finally she sighed. “Actually, that wasn’t it. I just…had to.”

  His smile faded and he nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah?”

  He blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

  “Oh.” So he was feeling the longing too.

  He nodded again. “And it makes it even more awkward to now ask if your sister is home.”

  That made Cori straighten. Right. The neighbors could think she was Ava. From a distance. But there would be a point where Evan had to actually be with the real Ava. “Yes. Right. Of course. She’s on a conference call. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Well, no.” He shifted his weight, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “We, um, need to go out. Me and Ava. We have to be seen together. In public.”

  “Oh. You’re here to ask my sister on a date.” Ugh.

  “Yeah.” He took a small step back.

  Double ugh.

  “Well, that is awkward.” Especially considering I want to strip down and introduce you to my pastry bags and decorating tips. Cori coughed. “I don’t know when she’ll be done with her call but—” Suddenly Cori wanted more time with him. It was like there was a timer ticking now that would signal the end of…whatever this was. “Do you want to have dessert and coffee with me while you wait?”

  Slowly he nodded. “I do. I really do.”

  “Are you okay?” He seemed pained.

  “Just kind of wishing dessert and coffee was a euphemism,” he said. “For which my answer would still be I really do, incidentally.”

  Cori felt heat curl through her belly and then dive into her panties.

  “And then I was feeling bad that I wished that,” he went on, cooling her down a little. “And then I was remembering that this thing with Ava isn’t really real. And then I realized that this—going for the feel-good stuff instead of the responsible stuff I promised—is exactly what I always do.”

  Wow, that was all…pretty much exactly how she felt. No matter how warm and tempted he made her feel, couldn’t she, just once, not give into her urges? Could she resist saying what the hell just one time? Apparently not, because Cori heard herself say, “But you just have to be sure Ava has some fun and doesn’t work all the time.” You don’t have to sleep with her. Or fall in love with her. Or even feel guilty about wanting to kiss someone else.

  “That’s true,” Evan said, his gaze on her mouth now as if he’d read her thoughts about the kissing.

  “And I’m not saying my s’mores pie won’t make you feel good, but giving me your honest opinion about a potential addition to the pie shop menu would be helpful. And helping someone out is responsible, right?”

  “I guess you’ve got a point.”

  “So we’re fine.” If Brynn painting with Noah wasn’t dating, then… Yep, there were loopholes everywhere. And she was honing in on every one of them. Typical.

  “I mean dessert with a guy who’s here to ask my sister out doesn’t count as a date for me, right?” Having a conversation with a guy in her kitchen over pie and coffee was definitely not a classic date scenario in Cori’s life. There would be a distinct lack of hard liquor, for one thing. And a lack of sexy panties—she had on plain white cotton tonight. And a lack of dirty dancing, NASCAR racing, and Tae Kwan Do instruction…which were the ways she’d met her last three boyfriends. Oh, and there would be a hell of a lot more talking. Even if her pastry bags and decorating tips were right there in the drawer by the oven.

  Evan shook his head. “Probably not.”

  “Probably not?”

  He paused, then his voice went a little lower. “Still kind of feels like a date.”

  Yeah it did. A pretty plain, sweet, she-still-wanted-it date. Cori shook her head and decided to lighten things up. Because light was definitely more her style. “Oh, that’s just because of the kissing. Kissing always makes things seem more serious than they are,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  But Evan didn’t take the lighten-up hint. Or smile. He just said, “Funny. Kissing is usually my go-to for keeping it casual.”

  She swallowed. Crap. Her too. Kissing was way easier than talking. “Well, I guess we could kiss in the kitchen instead of making conversation. If you insist.” She gave him a smile that she was sure looked as wobbly as it felt.

  “Strangely, I don’t think that will make this more causal.”

  Oh, boy. “Okay. What will?”

  “I’m not sure anything will.”

  How about dating my sister? Will that make things seem more casual between us? Talk about being out of her element. Cori never got too serious. If anything, she didn’t get serious enough in her relationships. Now this one…she couldn’t seem to pull back on the reins.

  She took a deep breath. “Pie is the only answer. It will make you feel like you’re giving in to all kinds of temptation, but you won’t have to make a p
hone call in the morning.”

  “Why do I feel like you’re not a phone-call-in-the-morning girl?” Evan asked. Still not letting her lighten the moment up.

  “Oh, hell no, I’m not.” She laughed. She really wasn’t. She always wanted some space the morning, and day, and sometimes week, after.

  “And why do I also feel like you’re a girl I’d really want to call?” Evan asked.

  She swallowed. “Because you’re a contrary personality. Like me.”

  He took a few seconds, but finally he nodded. “Probably. Okay, let’s try the pie.

  Chapter 7

  The girl had to start wearing a bra. That was the only solution.

  Evan watched as Cori stretched to reach into the cupboard for a plate, her short T-shirt pulling away from the black cotton pants that hugged her hips and ass, and found himself leaning slightly to the side on the stool. No way was that shirt going up above her breasts—the shape of which he now had permanently imprinted on his palm—no matter how high she reached, but damn, the idea of it almost put him on his ass on the floor beside the breakfast bar. That would have been hard to explain.

  “It smells amazing in here,” he said, trying to distract himself from the hard, little points that were poking against the bright pink words That’s a horrible idea. What time? on the front of her shirt.

  But if a girl wore something that bright, she had to expect people to look, right?

  She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “Thanks.”

  “You cooked?”

  “Chicken piccata,” she said as she turned to scoop a piece of chocolate pie onto the plate. “And s’mores pie.”

  She set it in front of him, but before he could reach for it, she picked up a blowtorch. It was a kitchen-sized blowtorch, but a torch all the same. She lit the end and touched it to the marshmallows on top, toasting them quickly. Then she set a fork on the edge and pushed the plate toward him.

  Evan couldn’t help it. He laughed and shook his head. “Even dessert has a little something extra with you,” he said.