Making It Right

by Kathy Altman

  She clutched his arm. “There’s something in here with us.”

  His first thought was that Dylan’s classmates had somehow found a way into his loft as a means of hiding out from the sheriff. Then he realized what Kerry was hearing and slowly willed his muscles to unlock.

  It would help if he turned on the lights.

  Instead of the floods, he turned on a lamp. “That’s my clock-bot you’re hearing. It’s over by the kitchen.”

  Kerry zeroed in on the clock, which had started to beep as it butted heads with the wall.

  Gil walked over, scooped it up and turned it off. “I must have programmed it wrong.”

  “Talk about surprises. So you have to chase it around in the mornings?”

  He grinned. “It does like to play hard to get.” He took her in, all tousled hair and teasing lips and luscious curves tapering into long, shapely legs, and his chest fluttered. “I like that in an alarm clock,” he said gruffly.

  Kerry laughed, a breathy, trembling sound. He set the clock on the nightstand and moved to the foot of the bed.

  “Jitters?” he asked. “Or second thoughts? Because I can still take the couch.”

  “Don’t even,” she said. With fluid, leisurely motions, she tugged her shirt up and over her head.

  She wore a purple bra with lacy cups see-through enough to provide a hint of nipple. And a lot of smooth, creamy flesh.

  “Damn,” he said.

  Gorgeous. That’s the word he should use. Stunning, even.

  She didn’t seem to mind his lack of eloquence. She dropped her shirt and stepped toward him, and the bounce of her breasts turned the discomfort of his erection into full-on misery. He grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand and yanked it over his head, eager for the feel of her bare skin against his.

  It had been too damned long.

  When her foot got tangled in one corner of the sheets and she stumbled forward, somehow saving herself at the last moment from a face-plant, heat scaled his cheeks. He cupped her elbows and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I should change those, anyway.”

  “Don’t bother. I know how comfortable they are.” She leaned her head against his chest and ran her hands up his arms, leaving a rippling trail of pleasure behind. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you change them before I went home last night.”

  “I wanted to keep them.” He gave an awkward half shrug. “They smell like you.”

  She inhaled sharply, and lifted her head. He took advantage, kissing her roughly, possessively, as he’d learned she liked it.

  “Crème brûleé,” he murmured.

  “Sorry?”

  “That’s what you taste like.”

  He felt the warmth of her delighted sigh against his neck. She slid her hands to his ribs and lowered her mouth to his nipple. His entire body jerked. A few strokes of her tongue and his hands were fumbling with the fastener on his jeans.

  One last, swirling lick and she raised her head, her beautiful green eyes slumberous with need. “You know what you taste like?”

  He shook his head, unable to form even the simplest of words.

  “You taste like more,” she said, and lowered herself to her knees, taking his jeans and his boxers down with her.

  He caught her by the arms before she could so much as breathe on him, and coaxed her back to her feet. “Can we come back to that?” He kissed her hard, and reached for the button on her hip-huggers. “I’m not done tasting you.”

  Her eyes flared and her body shook and oh, yeah, she wanted it, but not as much as he did.

  “Let me get my boots,” he said. “You get your jeans.” He tipped his head at the bed. “Last one in gets her legs thrown over my shoulders.”

  With a breathless laugh she shed her jeans. When Gil groaned in appreciation and reached for her, his boots tumbling to the floor, she gave him a push. He landed on the bed on his back and worked hard to contain his grin.

  With a part nervous, part naughty smile, Kerry shed her bra and panties and crawled up to hover over him on all fours. Jesus, she was built.

  “You win,” she said, and pretended to pout.

  He took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand, then pulled Kerry down on top of him. “I’m thinking we both win.” His hips lifted all on their own and when she ground against him, a savage tingling zapped the base of his spine. He groaned and rolled them both, kissed her hard and started working his way down her body.

  A few hours later Kerry teased him awake, her mouth seeking, her hands urgent. She rode him hard and fast, so fast he couldn’t hold back. He used his fingers to help her along and when hot, sharp pleasure shook his body, then receded into a dazed ache, her euphoric cries moments later allowed him to drift back into a contented sleep.

  The next time he woke, the space next to him was empty, the loft quiet. He lay with his eyes closed, body tense, every muscle in listening mode.

  Nothing.

  He rolled onto his side and pulled her pillow to his chest. She’d be back. They weren’t done. But that didn’t stop the loneliness from dragging him down. And this despite expecting her return.

  He brooded about how his father must have felt, when his girlfriend had left him for good and his wife and son had forsaken him.

  With a pained grunt, Gil shoved the ill-timed thoughts away, and concentrated instead on his feelings for Kerry.

  He’d never intended to consider forever, with anyone. How could he support a family when he was barely making ends meet? Still he’d sometimes wondered what it was like for Seth and Joe and Reid. Waking up to kids bouncing on the bed. Waking up to a wife you could pull close and plan your day with. Your life with.

  The door at the top of the interior stairs opened and Kerry padded in, phone in hand, wearing nothing but socks and his Steelers T-shirt. The way her breasts moved under the cotton had him perking up, until he saw her face. His gut cramped at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes and folded lips.

  The fact that she moved faster the closer she got to the bed told him he wasn’t the problem, praise God.

  He held up the covers and scooted over. She crawled in beside him and rested her head on his chest, her left leg across his thighs. One by one, his muscles unclenched.

  When she sniffled, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smelled like raspberries. “Dylan?” he asked. “Or Eugenia?”

  “Both. I went downstairs to call so I wouldn’t wake you. Dylan is feeling sore and guilty, but grateful because his teacher’s letting him postpone that test. Eugenia...” She sighed. “I think I broke her heart.”

  He worked his arm free and stroked her hip. “She’ll be okay. Her apartment will be, too. Is she going to call the adjuster?” When Kerry nodded again, he found her hand and gave it a squeeze. “There’s nothing more you can do right now.”

  “I can apologize to her in person.”

  “Want me to go with you? We can head over to the diner first, buy a cake or a pie or something so she’ll let us in.”

  Kerry levered herself up on one elbow, blinking rapidly. Apparently his offer had loosened a few tears. “That’s sweet,” she said, her voice husky. She kissed him on the cheek. “But I need to do it on my own.”

  “I’m here if you need me,” he said.

  His stomach grumbled.

  Kerry gave up a laugh. “Sounds like what you need is breakfast.”

  “You need it, too. The baby needs it more.”

  “I’ll get something to eat as soon as I’ve seen Eugenia.” She made a face. “Maybe if I go over there looking hungry enough, she’ll feel so sorry for me she’ll feed me and forgive me.”

  Gil cocked an eyebrow. “If I were you, I’d have a plan B.”

  “You’re right.” The smile she threw him was uneven, but at least he’d made h
er smile at all. She shoved at the covers. “A pie it is.”

  When he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, she rose to her knees and hugged him from behind.

  “There’s something I need to say.”

  The gravity in her voice kicked his stomach into a spin. “Okay...”

  “I did some research. There are grants for people with bachelor’s degrees who want to become licensed to teach.” He stiffened, but she squeezed him into submission. “Hear me out. You could take online courses and get your degree in eighteen months. You’d have to do some practicums, but I could run the store while you’re doing all that, and once you start teaching, too. With the grant, you can afford to take the classes and pay an employee.”

  She kissed his ear. “What do you think?”

  “I think—” The words barely made it past the cramping in his throat. He turned and framed her face with his hands. “—that you’re amazing.”

  “Does that mean you’ll consider it?”

  “I will,” he said gravely.

  “Good. Now it’s time for me to consider getting dressed.” She kissed him again and slid off the bed. She bit her lip as she disappeared into the bathroom and he knew she was thinking about Eugenia again.

  Slowly he reached for his boxers, and tried to imagine how it would feel to be getting ready to face a classroom of unenthusiastic ninth graders instead of a struggling hardware store.

  * * *

  EUGENIA WAS BEING petty and unreasonable but she couldn’t help it. Something juvenile inside her refused to let her shake off the pout this time.

  She faced the backside of the bright spring display she’d so cheerfully arranged in the store’s front window only the month before. April was too soon to be thinking of a summer scene, but she was no longer in the mood for glittery raindrops and colorful flowers.

  She gazed through the large front window, at the bustling Saturday morning street beyond, and sighed.

  She was tired of being the calm one. The sensible one. She was so over playing mediator, biting her tongue, wrapping her dreams in tissue paper and storing them in an airtight container because a certain former marine refused to pull his head out of his ass.

  And she was over the big-hearted but infuriating daughter who just couldn’t bring herself to leave well enough alone.

  My apartment. My lovely, cozy sanctuary. It had taken her months to achieve the perfect combination of style, comfort and ridiculousness, and in the course of one evening, it had all been ruined. Desecrated was a better word. She was anxious to start scrubbing, to remove every filthy trace of those jackass juvenile delinquents, but her insurance adjustor had advised her not to touch a thing until he’d had a chance to take photos.

  Last summer her dress shop had flooded. Now this. She sighed again. What was it Harris liked to say? No good deed goes unpunished?

  His daughter stood silently watching as Eugenia dismantled her front window display. Time to replace the white picket fence and tire-sized blooms with something less sentimental. And more realistic.

  Kerry shifted her grip on the pie box in her hand and Eugenia couldn’t help wondering what she had in there. Apple? Blueberry crumb? Or—God help her—Cal’s mocha truffle brownies? She sniffed the air, but couldn’t detect anything except the lavender potpourri she kept by the cash register.

  “Can I help?” Kerry asked quietly.

  Eugenia stacked the fence pieces against the wall and grabbed the broom. “I think you’ve done quite enough, thank you,” she said, and instantly hated herself for it. She turned in time to see Kerry flinch.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, but Kerry stopped her with a violent shake of her head.

  “I’m sorry. So deeply sorry. I made a terrible mistake—”

  “Yes, you did,” Eugenia snapped. At the stark regret on Kerry’s face, she drew in a deep breath, and relented. “I know you were just trying to help someone out. It’s not your fault it got out of hand, but I wish you’d checked with me first before handing out a key.”

  No one who knew Harris Briggs could deny his daughter had inherited the stubborn set of his chin. Kerry set aside the bakery box. “I’d like to be part of the cleaning crew. Gil said he’d help, too. Hopefully we’ll save you some money that way.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I have insurance.”

  “I’d like to take care of your deductible. Snoozy’s paying me a full wage now, so I have two checks coming in.” Her eagerness wavered, but she met Eugenia’s gaze head-on. “Though I was hoping you and I could work out a payment plan.”

  “Absolutely.” Eugenia eyed the bakery box. Lemon bars? “You can stay in my guest room while the work’s being done.”

  “I appreciate that. I can’t tell you how much. But you have to realize that’s the last thing I could bring myself to do.”

  Eugenia opened her mouth to protest, then nodded. Sometimes favors did more harm than good. She and Harris knew that better than anyone.

  “Where will you stay, then?”

  The door to the shop opened and Eugenia had a split second to regret that Saturday was her busiest morning when she realized her first customer of the day was not a customer at all but Harris himself. She stacked her hands on the end of the broom.

  “Good morning,” Eugenia said crisply.

  “Mornin’.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I heard what happened and I just wanted to see if you were doin’ all right.”

  “Thank you, Harris. I’m fine. Possessions can be replaced. It was time that apartment had an overhaul, anyway.” Eugenia hid the urge to preen as she managed to sound like she actually meant it.

  “How about you, Kerry girl?”

  “I’m okay, Dad, thanks. The apartment is a terrible mess, but Gil and I both plan to help clean up. Dylan, too.”

  Wait, what?

  Eugenia shoved the broom aside and slapped her hands onto her hips. “Am I imagining things, or are you two actually talking to each other?”

  Kerry’s smile held more than a little relief. “We had a good conversation the other day. I think we’re going to be okay.”

  “What she means is, I finally pulled my head out of my ass and offered her an apology, and she had the grace to accept it.”

  Eugenia grabbed a felt coin purse out of a nearby bargain bin and heaved it at Harris. The little purse bounced off his elbow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

  He rubbed his elbow. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “To apologize to me.”

  He nodded solemnly. “I’m workin’ on that.” He stared at Eugenia a moment longer, then turned to his daughter. “Looks like you’ll be needin’ a place to stay. You movin’ in with Cooper, or with me?”

  Kerry blinked. “I don’t think he’d appreciate that. He likes his privacy.”

  “That’s settled, then. Monday, we’ll get you moved in.”

  Kerry shared a sweet smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

  It took Eugenia a few seconds to find her voice. Yes, she was happy. She’d given up hope that these two would ever make peace with each other, let alone set up house together.

  But she couldn’t help feeling like an outsider. She glanced at Harris, and the tenderness on his face—tenderness aimed directly at Eugenia—both shamed and thrilled her.

  “I’m happy for you both,” she said mistily. She hugged Kerry and walked her to the door. “I know you need to get back to the hardware store.” She ignored Kerry’s knowing glance. “You go ahead. Your father can stay and help me with my display.”

  After Kerry left, Eugenia locked the door and swung around. “I’m proud of you.”

  “You are? What for?”

  She took his hand and led him toward the office in the back. “For setting aside your pride for the sake of
your relationship with your daughter.”

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You do?” She guided him toward the club chair in the corner of her office, backed him up and with a gentle push, encouraged him to sit. “And what’s that?”

  “‘Took you long enough.’”

  She gave a throaty laugh. “Yes, well, where you’re concerned, that applies to more than one area of your life.”

  “I lost you from bein’ a hardheaded SOB,” he said, his voice full of gravelly regret. “Finally I realized I couldn’t stand to lose her, too.”

  When Eugenia kicked off her shoes and started unbuttoning her blouse, he went still. “Uh, Genie? Whatcha doin’?” He grimaced. “We’re not goin’ to start cleaning upstairs, are we? I mean, I want to help, but right now I got stuff to do.”

  “You are so right.” She peeled her blouse down her arms, revealing one of the very best bras she carried, a push-up style in black and light blue lace. She couldn’t have planned this better if she’d tried. With what she hoped was a saucy smile, she reached for the zipper at the back of her skirt. “Have I ever told you what a turn-on it is when you get all self-reflective and your voice goes scratchy?”

  His hands curled around the arms of the chair and his fingers went white. “Self-reflective, huh? I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “I know I can be bossy.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Slowly she lowered her zipper, and began to work the pencil skirt down her hips.

  Harris flushed when he spotted the matching panties—what there was of them. Gaze riveted on her hips, he swallowed hard. “And I sure can hold on to a, uh, a grudge.”

  “No argument here.” She stepped out of her skirt and threw it over her shoulder.

  Harris scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “My coffee’s too strong.”

  “Strong? Try lethal.” Leisurely she ran her hands over her breasts and down her sides, and hooked her thumbs in her panties.

  He was leaning forward, an expression of pained anticipation on his face. “And,” he growled, “I’ve never been able to turn down a piece.”

  Eugenia’s head shot up.

  “Of pecan pie,” he finished smugly.