by Jill Shalvis
He laughed low and rough. “I’m pretty sure it’s you, Ali.”
She took in a deep, slow breath, smelling the wet clay and the scent of clean, heated male, and experienced a wave of desire that had her quivering.
When Luke finally freed her of the apron, he tossed it over his shoulder. Her sundress followed shortly, and then her bra. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He snagged her bikini panties and slid them down her legs, leaving her in nothing but mud boots.
And a lot of clay.
A ragged groan rumbled from his chest. “My favorite look on you,” he said, taking her in from his prime position between her dangling legs, which were spread and held open by his lean hips. “It’s like a feast.” He bent over her, a hand on either side of her hips. “And I am starving.” He kissed first one breast and then the other, lingering to nuzzle.
His jeans were rubbing against her inner thighs and between, and she shivered. There was something incredibly erotic and completely sinful about being naked and sprawled out for him while he was still fully dressed. Even more so when he dropped to his knees on the garage floor and used his tongue. She might have come right off the table, but Luke caught her hips in his big hands, holding her in place so he could devastate her with slow, purposeful care. It took an embarrassingly little amount of time for her to completely fly apart. Even less the second time.
And then he was inside her. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her so that they were chest to chest, and began a slow, delicious glide in and out of her body.
“How?” she managed, breathless. “How is this better every single time? Is it because we don’t want it to be?”
Latching his lips onto her throat, he shook his head. The gentle tugs of his mouth sent shock waves straight through her, and she cried out and clutched at him, tightening around him.
“Oh fuck, Ali…” he growled, tightening his grip. “Not going to last if you keep that up.”
She did it again. In retaliation, he nipped at her shoulder, her collarbone, the swell of her breast, wrenching a moan from her as heat and pleasure spiraled. Somehow she managed to open her eyes and watch the intensity on his face as he moved inside her, which proved to be her undoing.
He came with her this time, hard, shuddering as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She trembled, little aftershocks of pure pleasure, and Luke tightened his grip in a soothing, protective embrace. His heat seeped through her, consuming her until she felt like she might burst again as he breathed her in, nuzzling, kissing, nibbling her throat and jaw and ear.
Loving her.
Not that he’d admit it. Unable to help herself, she clung for a few minutes, trying to remember everything about this moment. Everything.
He let her cling for long moments, as if he felt the same. Finally he raised his head and met her gaze. She knew he was checking to see if she was okay, so she reached up, brought his face back to hers, and kissed him.
Because she wasn’t okay.
He was leaving.
Chapter 23
The next morning, Ali woke up entangled with a big, warm, hard body.
Luke.
After their garage foray, they’d eaten, and then he’d taken her to bed.
His.
He was still deeply asleep on his back, one arm bent with his hand beneath his head, the other gripping her butt like he owned it.
She took a good, long last look at him, ignored the ache in her heart, and she slid out of the bed.
He mumbled something and rolled over, burying his head beneath his pillow. The rest of him was bared to the world, that strong back, those mile-long legs, and the best ass she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing. With a sigh, she slipped out of his bedroom.
He was leaving today, and her sadness had nothing to do with the distance between San Francisco and Lucky Harbor. It was that there’d been no mention of continuing this. Whatever this was. So really, the distance was irrelevant.
But she refused to watch him go.
She drove to Eat Me and had the now-famous Grace’s chocolate chip pancakes. Lucille was there with her blue-haired posse. She came over to Ali and gave her a hug. “Heard Detective Lieutenant Stud Muffin is leaving,” she said. “Thought you could use some TLC.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Because men don’t make the world go around. Although,” she said, eying Mr. Wykowski as he entered the café, “they do make it more interesting.”
To say the least.
“Been meaning to ask you about your ceramics,” Lucille said. “A little birdie told me that Russell isn’t interested in selling your stuff in his shop.”
“A little birdie?”
Lucille grinned. “Okay, Leah. And the truth is, I covet your ceramics. I thought you might be interested in having a show at my gallery. If we price things right, you might even be able to pay that fancy attorney of yours.”
“You’d do that?” Ali asked.
“Of course. You’re good.”
Ali smiled. “And if I wasn’t?”
“Well, then, this conversation would have stopped at Detective Lieutenant Stud Muffin.”
Ali’s phone rang. Russell wanted to see her, so she headed to the flower shop. It wasn’t open. It wouldn’t ever be open again, at least in this version. Russell had boxed everything up and was standing at the front counter. He didn’t look as sad as she felt. He didn’t look sad at all. He was happy.
And she was very happy for him. And devastated for herself.
Russell smiled and pulled her in for a hug. Then he handed her…the book.
She stared down at it. The thing was ancient and frayed at the edges, with notes and pieces of paper sticking out everywhere. “Your business?”
“Yep. Lucky Harbor Flowers is yours, what there is of it. All you need is a place.”
“But I don’t have money to pay you,” she said.
“Consider it severance.”
She hugged the book, then thrust it back. “I can’t take it, Russell. It wouldn’t be right.”
He didn’t take the book. “Then pay me when you get the shop open and in the black.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “How do you know I’ll get to open a shop?”
“I know,” he said, confident. “Of course, you’d have to stay in Lucky Harbor for that book to have any value…”
Ali looked down the street. It was very early. The strings of white lights were still on, twinkling like Christmas in June on the pine trees lining the walk. Until the theft of the money, she’d loved it here. Loved the people, the way it felt like home. And her three S’s were here: stability, security, and safety.
So hell if she’d let herself run off with her tail between her legs when she’d done nothing wrong. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m staying.”
Russell smiled and hugged her again. “Keep in touch.”
She would. And someday soon, although she had no idea how, she would open the flower shop. Her flower shop. It was what she wanted, with all her heart.
There were other things she wanted too. She wanted the money mystery solved. She wanted people to know she wasn’t a thief. She wanted her mom and sister to be safe and happy.
She wanted…
Luke.
She drove home.
Home.
She parked and stared at the big, old, beautiful house. Granted, she was a sucker for a place with character but…home?
This wasn’t her home. It was Luke’s.
Yet there was no denying that she’d fallen for the place and the man, despite knowing better. Luke didn’t want her to feel this way, except that particular message wasn’t exactly sticking to her brain. The thing was, actions spoke far more loudly than words, and Luke’s actions were telling her a very different story than his words.
His truck was still here.
She walked through the house toward the kitchen, needing something for her suddenly dry throat. Scotch was her first choice, but she’d proven incapable of h
andling that. She poured herself a glass of iced tea, and with her gut saying that Luke would be on the water, she stepped out onto the back deck. Hearing voices, she moved so that she could see the dock below. Edward was sitting there with his usual cigar, though she was hoping it was unlit, since she knew his doctor had told him to quit.
Luke had just pulled himself and his board out of the ocean. Water sluiced off the body she knew she’d never get tired of looking at.
It’d only been a couple of weeks, but he’d gotten a hold of her heart. Maybe some things took no time at all, but the fact was, he’d proven that he was a man she could believe in. A man unlike any other man in her entire life.
She was still thinking about that when the men’s words floated up the stairs to reach her.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Edward said. “Not to her. You’re living with her, falling for her, letting her think it’s okay to fall for you.” He jabbed his cigar at Luke. “You telling me when you leave here today that you’re not going to ever look back?”
Luke set his board against the dock and ignored his grandfather.
“You telling me you can just walk away again? Because let me tell you, boy-o, being alone? Not all it’s cracked up to be. Now that I’ve looked death right in the face—”
Luke snorted. “You had gas—”
Edward jabbed with the cigar again. “Say it one more time and I swear I’ll stroke out on you right here, right now, just to spite you.”
It was a distance but Ali was pretty sure Luke rolled his eyes as he leaned back on the railing, arms crossed over his chest.
“All I want,” Edward said, “is for you to learn from other people’s mistakes. My mistakes.”
“I’m not you,” Luke said quietly. “Ali and I both know what’s going on here, and what isn’t.”
Edward stared at him. “You want me to believe you’re just helping her, that she’s just a job to you?”
Ali held her breath for the answer, and when the quiet “yes” came, the blood roared in her ears. The first time he’d referred to her as a job had been to his sister, and he’d had a handy excuse for it then. This time the quiet conviction in his voice overrode any excuse.
Looking disgusted, Edward shook his head.
Ali tried to absorb the terrible, wrenchingly painful truth of it all, telling herself that this was not new information. But it still knocked her back a step. And then another.
And then she’d whirled and escaped into the house. She grabbed her purse and shoved a few things inside.
She had to go.
Still, she slowed long enough to leave a note hastily scrawled on a napkin, because leaving without a word was rude. Mimi had taught her better than that. Taping it to the fridge, she took one last look around, at the kitchen, out the window at the two men on the dock, one who’d been like a surrogate grandfather to her, the other who’d been…
Everything.
Her eyes were too blurry to see clearly, but she snatched the keys out of the ceramic bowl by the door and then stopped and eyed the bowl.
She thought of what had happened to the pencil pot she’d left Teddy, how it’d been shoved in a drawer. She couldn’t leave this one to that fate, so she snatched it as well. She’d have to come back for her other things, of course, but later. Much later.
Like after Luke was gone.
She opened the front door and then faltered for a beat, but she didn’t stop. Because for the first time in her life, she was going to leave first.
Luke turned from his grandfather and entered the house. He’d woken up alone. After paddleboarding and the run-in with his grandfather, he was hoping Ali was back. He needed to get on the road, but he wanted to…
Hell. He didn’t want to say goodbye.
But it was Sunday. He’d pushed his luck as far as he could with his job. The review was in the morning. He needed to go or face the consequences.
Edward had come in behind him. “Feels quiet in here.”
Yeah, it did. And Luke’s gaze snagged on the napkin taped to the fridge.
Dear Luke,
Thank you for letting me stay when you wanted to be alone. For helping me when you were on a break from doing just that.
For saving me.
Ali.
Luke stared at Ali’s words, dread spreading through him like wildfire. He hadn’t saved her.
She’d saved him.
Why would she leave a note like this? What had happened that would make her write it? His mind raced in reverse, back to a few minutes ago, to what he and his grandpa had been discussing on the dock. Shit. It wasn’t what chased her off, but who. He was why she’d run.
And his grandfather was right—without her, the house was quiet. He finally got what he’d wanted, to be alone. Except that wasn’t what he wanted at all. Whipping around, he went in immediate search of his keys. Naturally, he hadn’t left them on the counter. Or anywhere that he could see.
“What the hell are you looking for?” Edward asked.
“Keys,” Luke grated out, moving into the living room to look there.
“She’s got that key bowl, you know. You should try using it sometime. She made me one. It works like a charm.”
The key bowl. He’d put his keys in the key bowl. He strode back into the kitchen, but the thing wasn’t on the counter. Where the hell was it?
“Now what?” Edward asked.
Luke shook his head. “I have no idea where the stupid bowl is, but I have to go after her. I…fucked up.”
“Well then why are you still standing here?”
“Because I still can’t find my keys.”
Edward shook his head. “Your grandma, she used to smack me upside the head whenever I’d lose my keys. Always worked too. I’d always find my keys right after she did it. Come closer, let’s try it.”
“You were married for like twenty minutes,” Luke said. “When did you have time to lose your keys?”
Edward leaned in and smacked him on the back of the head.
“Ow. Jesus!”
“Two years,” Edward said. “We were married for two years. And it’d have been a helluva lot longer if I’d gotten my shit together sooner.” He fished deep in his own pocket and came up with a set of keys. “Connect the dots, you idiot. Be smarter than me.”
Luke stared at the keys. “Tell me those aren’t for the Dial-A-Ride.”
“What, you have a problem with it? ’Cuz you can always just walk. Maybe you’ll even catch Ali too. Sometime next year.”
Luke sighed and took the keys.
Ali didn’t let herself cry on the road to her mom’s house. No, that’d be dangerous and stupid, and she tried really hard not to do anything dangerous and stupid.
So she did the responsible thing—she pulled over to the side of the road to sob her heart out. Right in the middle of it, Zach called her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, obviously hearing the emotion in her voice.
“Nothing—oh my God. You’re calling because I crossed the county lines without even thinking about it, right? They called you.”
“Who?” he asked.
This stumped her. “The crossing-the-county-lines police?”
Zach laughed. “Relax, no one’s going to arrest you for visiting your mom. I got your message about Bree. Are you sure?”
“Yes, but they haven’t found the money.”
“Luke’ll sniff it out. He’s not the type to let something he cares about go.”
And yet he let her go…
She and Zach hung up, and Ali went on to what she was exceptionally good at—picking herself up and telling herself things would be okay. She blew her nose, slid on her dark aviator Oakley knockoffs, and got back on the road.
She arrived in time to sit at her mom’s table and chop veggies.
“No one ever eats the veggies,” Mimi said, sitting on the counter with a mirror in one hand and her eyeliner in the other. “But it seems classy to have them out, you know? You get t
he beer?” she yelled to Harper in the back of the old, tiny, narrow house.
“Mama, this is a damn surprise party,” Harper yelled back. “Stop asking questions about it and practice your surprised look!”
Mimi grinned and practiced in the mirror. “How about this, honey?” she asked Ali. “Do I look surprised?”
“Yes,” Ali said without looking. She munched on a piece of celery and wondered if Luke would eat celery. It was green, which probably put it on his taboo list.
“Did I tell you I’m learning how to do taxes?” Mimi asked. “It’s going to change everything, honey. You’ll see.”
She was eternally optimistic in spite of the fact that life had never handed Mimi Winters a single thing, including a break.
But the thing was, Mimi believed wholeheartedly that everything could change, and up until recently, so had Ali. All along she’d thought all she had to do was leave White Center and that would change everything. All she had to do was become the best damn florist in Lucky Harbor and that would change everything. All she had to do was love Luke and that would change everything.
But if wishes and dreams were sure things, the world would be a whole different ball game. And deep down, she’d always known that. And, she had a feeling, so did Mimi. But that had never once stopped her mom from trying to impart hope into both of her daughters’ hearts. Ali’s chest tightened a little bit. “I love you, Mom.”
Mimi looked up, surprised, then smiled softly. “Aw, baby. I love you too. What time’s Luke coming?”
“He isn’t.”
Her mother set down the mirror, her expression of surprise a real one this time. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not together. I’ve been telling you that. Besides, he’d be on his way back to San Francisco by now.” Ali closed her eyes and dropped her head to the table. “And I messed things up.”
“Oh, Ali-gator.” Mimi hopped down from the counter and sat next to Ali, hugging her close. “It happens. Listen, we’ll go to the Victoria’s Secret outlet store. We’ll get you something pretty, and you can make it up to him—”
“No.” But that did squeeze a laugh out of her. “It’s not like that. I messed up by falling for him.”