No Strings Attached

by Susan Andersen - No Strings Attached

  She turned back to Jeremy. “Here, let me take some of your veggies.” She crossed over to his table, tossed the green peppers into one of the storage pans and the fresh pineapple into another and packed them back to her space. “Finish up the onions. Then you can start frying up the sausage, okay?”

  “You bet.”

  The only sound for the next little while was the rapid chop of their knife blades against the solid butcher-block wood tops. Tasha was aware when Jeremy finished, for he scrubbed down his work surface, carried his containers over to the industrial-sized refrigerator to store until the lunch orders started coming in, then returned with four packages of raw sausage. Soon, the scent of cooking pork blended with that of her sauce.

  She tried to concentrate only on things that would make her pizzeria run smoothly today, and for a while she even succeeded—and quite admirably, too, if she did say so herself. So it was with considerable surprise that, apropos of nothing, she heard herself abruptly say, “Some people just aren’t cut out for love.”

  Jeremy’s head jerked up, and he stared at her. Then he nodded. “That’s true. I’ve never really talked to you about my mom, but she has severe bipolar disease with IED.”

  That yanked her right out of her pity party. “Oh, Jeremy, I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is, ya know? I’m sure that when she and Dad got married, she thought she was cut out for family life—and I know she loved me when I was little. But more and more her bipolar disorder stepped smack in the way of her ability to show us affection—and the worse the disease became, the meaner she got, which is where the Intermittent Explosive Disorder, or IED, comes in. She did better with Dad than me, and he loved her like crazy. But because of the way it started affecting me, he felt he had to cut her loose.”

  “Is that what brought you to Cedar Village?”

  “Yeah. I got that she was sick, but it was really hard to remember when she was going off on me or hitting me—and I started acting out. I took up with a sketchy crowd and just generally got myself in a lot of trouble.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t my point, though. That is I know from firsthand experience that some people aren’t cut out for love. But, Tash?” He looked her in the eye. “You aren’t one of them.”

  She jolted as if she’d brushed up against an exposed electrical wire. “We weren’t talking about me.”

  “Sure we were.” He looked at her with eyes that had seen far more than any eighteen-year-old should.

  And she paid him the respect of dropping her pretense. “Okay.” She gave him a small, self-deprecatory smile. “I guess we were. But you don’t know my history.”

  He laughed. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? This is, like, a postage-stamp-sized town. I might not have grown up here, but I know that you grew up in a trailer and your mama has a reputation.”

  Well...shit. Of course he knew. As he said, Razor Bay was a small town. A freaking itty-bitty burg that loved its gossip.

  “But even if I hadn’t known,” he forged on, “I’d know that you’re packed to the eyeballs with all the right stuff, like that empathy shit. Look at the people you hire. Well, Tiff comes from a functional family and has her act together, but you took on Peyton and me and, admit it, the two of us have had our share of issues.”

  His praise made her want to squirm in place like a toddler in need of a bathroom, so she raised her eyebrows at him and said with commendable dryness, “You do know that Max and Harper asked me to take you on, right?”

  “Yeah, I do. But did they ask you to hire Peyton, too? Or find me a place to live or rope your friend Jenny into teaching me how to research grants and scholarships so I can go to college?”

  She simply stared at him.

  “See, I do know you,” he said. Then he squared his shoulders. “What I don’t know is what Luc did.”

  He told me he loved me, the bastard. He called me a coward.

  “But I understand being pissed when someone you care about screws things up. I was hacked off big-time when Peyton dissed my dad. But, I gotta tell you, I’m sure glad I decided to forgive her. Because she messed up when she reverted back to Snotty Peyton, but it was one mistake. And I would have missed out on a whole lotta good stuff if I’d held on to my mad-on.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t that simple with her and Luc.

  But then she closed it again, her protest unspoken. Because it was.

  It was exactly that simple.

  Suddenly feeling a little light-headed, she gripped the butcher block with both hands while she hooked her stool with a foot and dragged it close enough to collapse upon.

  So her mother flitted from one relationship to the next and couldn’t maintain a lasting one to save her soul. That had nothing to do with her. Jenny had told her and told her that she wasn’t Nola. She had assured herself of the same thing—and had even thought she believed it.

  Clearly she hadn’t. And that was pretty damn dumb on her part. Because in reality? She released a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. In reality she knew a thing or two about lasting relationships. Maybe not so much of the man/woman variety, but she’d had a best friend in Jenny since shortly before she’d turned seventeen. She had other friends, as well—good friends. And as Luc had reminded her, she had built a pizzeria from the ground up, and she’d done it on her own terms. She had employees and would have even more if business kept accelerating at the same rate it had been growing since summer.

  That’s who I am. I’m not like Mom in any other way, so why on earth have I clung to the belief that I’m her clone when it comes to love?

  Luc was right about something else. She was a coward.

  But that could change. She pulled off her apron and turned to Jeremy. “Can you hold down the fort?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I can do it. Tiff will be in for lunch, and Peyton is on the after-school to closing shift. We can handle things—and if something comes up that we can’t figure out, we have your number on speed dial.”

  Tasha looked at the pool of pineapple juice on her work surface and the scatter of rinds and the fruit’s exotic top that she hadn’t yet disposed of. “I haven’t even finished this up.”

  “Go,” Jeremy said. “I’m almost done with the sausage—I’ll finish that after I clean up here.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Standing, she crossed to the sink and washed her hands, then dried them on the discarded apron and tossed it in the standing laundry bag. About to head for the door, she wheeled around and crossed to Jeremy. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, she pulled his head down to press a kiss to his forehead. Then, releasing him, she stepped back.

  “Hiring you was one of the smartest things I ever did,” she told him. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

  Then she ran for the dining room. As she let herself out the front door and dashed through the downpour to the side staircase, she was suddenly awash in fear that she might be too late, that Luc had already gone. Paulson had said wheels up in ten minutes and it had been a lot longer than that. And if she’d let him leave without telling him that she loved him?

  Oh, God. She’d never forgive herself.

  * * *

  SOAKED TO THE SKIN, Luc hauled ass for the stairs leading to the living quarters above Bella T’s. Not that getting indoors in the next few minutes made a helluva lot of difference at this point. He couldn’t get any wetter.

  So, okay, probably not my most genius move, going out in a downpour without a jacket.

  But then again, when his SAC had slammed out of his place forty minutes ago muttering threats about Luc never working for the DEA or Department of Justice again, the weather hadn’t been a consideration. Not that the intimidation tactic had particularly worried Luc. He—and more important, Tasha—had a legitimate grievance against his SAC, and Paulson knew it. So, chances were slim that the guy would start a war with him. Not when the fallout
was more likely to harm the special agent in charge than it would Luc.

  But whether Paulson tried to make things difficult or let their differences slide wasn’t even a blip on Luc’s radar at this point. Right this moment he had zilch interest in ever working for either organization again.

  What had struck him like a thunderbolt to the chest was the depth of the bond he’d developed with his brothers over the past seven weeks. He’d realized at Max’s campaign party that he no longer felt he had to play an eternal game of catch-up with the existing connection that Jake and Max shared, that they treated him exactly like they did each other. But until this moment, it hadn’t truly sunk in how much that meant to him.

  Thrilled wasn’t a word any self-respecting guy would ever voluntarily utter—yet it was a secret he’d take to the grave that he felt precisely that knowing he had them. That he had brothers. He’d never shared a relationship with siblings before.

  He liked it. And contrary to his knee-jerk hell, no when he’d questioned whether he could stay in Razor Bay if he and Tasha were no longer together, he didn’t think he could simply walk away from this family he’d found. He wanted to see Jake and Jenny get married. He wanted to watch Austin grow up and have a front-row seat at the kid’s boy-to-man process. He wanted to be the same brother to Jake and Max that they were willing to be to him.

  Tasha or no Tasha.

  Yet—Jesus—if she cut him out of her life, he didn’t know how he could be around her without going crazy.

  His mind had bounced from pro to con and back again until the walls had started closing in on him and he’d just had to get out where he could stretch his legs.

  Where he could breathe.

  So he’d taken off down the beach and hadn’t given two thoughts to the fact that it was pouring so hard you couldn’t see the mountains across the canal. By the time it sank in, it had literally sunk in—his jeans and sweatshirt were saturated, and he could say with authority that that wasn’t fun. If he stayed in Razor Bay, which his march halfway down to The Brothers Inn and back had pretty much clarified he intended to do, he’d have to invest in some rain gear. His blood was still thin from years in the Southern Hemisphere, and he was cold to the fucking bone.

  When he arrived at the bottom of the exterior stairway, he heard the door above slam shut, and his heartbeat revved into gear like a NASCAR contender. Even knowing Tasha was more likely to make a break for her apartment than run into his arms if she found him coming up behind her, he loped up the steps, taking them two and sometimes three at a time to the small landing at the top. He yanked the door open.

  And was just in time to see Tasha down by his doorway. She whirled to face him.

  For a few fraught moments, they simply stared at each other. He was still grappling with his thundering heart rate when she broke the silence.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,” she said, then shook her head. Her cloud of curls swayed, the only bright spot in the gloomy hallway. “Forget that. It’s not the main thing I wanted to say to you.”

  “No?” He strode down the hallway to her. “What would the main thing be?” He wasn’t sure whether to brace himself or go for the gusto and embrace a little hope.

  “That I’m an idiot.” She looked up at him when he stopped a few feet away from her. “You told me you love me and I gave you the brush-off.” She took a step toward him. “What I should have said is that I love you, too. And you were right, Luc. I was a coward.”

  He didn’t hear anything beyond her declaration of love. Relief, elation—soul-deep happiness—speared through him. Threading their fingers together, he crowded her against the wall with a full-body press, pinning her hands to the plaster on either side of her shoulders. He looked down into her pretty gray-blue eyes for an endless moment. Then he stamped his mouth over hers and kissed her with everything he had.

  He groaned deep in his throat when she wrenched her hands free, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  He could have made love to her mouth for an eternity, but he wanted to hear her tell him again that she loved him. So, half reluctantly and half eagerly, he raised his head and stepped back.

  She shivered and patted down her clothing. “Holy crap. You got me all wet.”

  He flashed her a cocky smile. “Then my work here is done.”

  Tasha gave him a shot to the shoulder with the flat of her hand. “Not that kind of wet, you tool!” Then she laughed, that full, rich from-the-belly laugh of hers. “Well, maybe that, too, but I was talking about my close, personal relationship with your soaked clothing. What did you do, take a dip in the bay?”

  “I walked the shoreline while I thought some things through,” he said, then shook his head impatiently, because like her, that wasn’t the main thing he wanted to talk about, either. Licking his bottom lip, he stared down at her. “Tell me again, Tash.”

  She didn’t pretend she didn’t understand what he was asking. But then Tasha had never been one to play that kind of game.

  “I love you,” she said, and her heart was in her eyes as she stared up at him. “God, Luc, I love you more than I knew it was possible to love a man.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath, but maintained eye contact with her usual straightforwardness. “You were right, you know—I was being a total chickenshit. I’ve always considered myself fairly fearless, and in every other aspect of my life I like to think I mostly am. But this romance stuff throws me off my game, and my first impulse is always to run like the wind in the opposite direction. What I finally realized, though, is that I’m not doing myself any favors by attempting to evade future hurt. Not if it only means breaking my heart now. So—”

  She squared her shoulders. “I’d really rather you didn’t go back to South America, and in all honesty, I can’t quite wrap my mind around how this relationship is going to work if you’re off putting yourself in danger for huge chunks of time. But if you think we can make a go of it, I’m willing to listen.”

  Luc felt as if he’d just knocked back a shot of pure sunshine, and he gazed down at her in wonder. “So you’d try to make it work if I had to leave?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, man, Tasha. I love you so much. But—”

  “Oh, God, there’s a but?”

  “Yes, but you’ll like this one, I swear. I’m not going anywhere, bebe. After you left this morning, I quit.”

  “You quit what?” Then she gaped at him. “Your job? You quit your job?”

  “I don’t want to work for someone who’s done the things Paulson has or told the lies he’s told. So, I quit. You need to understand something, though.” He bent his knees to bring their eyes to a more equal level. “I’m probably always going to be in law enforcement, and I can’t change the fact that I like a little danger in my job. So if you need a deskbound nine-to-five kind of guy, I don’t think I’ll be able to make you happy.”

  She leaped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her long legs around his hips. “Oh, you just have. You’ve made me so very, very happy. I don’t want to change you, Luc, and I can’t promise that I won’t worry about the risks you take. But I know what you do is part and parcel of who you are, that it’s as large a part as Bella’s is of me. And I can’t see you taking risks just for the sake of taking them, so just come home to me every night.” She faltered for a second, then got her verbal feet back under her. “Or I guess I should say as often as you can if you have to go undercover.”

  “Now, that I can promise you I won’t do. Undercover work is just an all-around bad idea for a man with a family.”

  Her face lit up. “Is that what we’re going to be, you and me? A family?”

  “Yeah. I plan to tie you to me with everything I’ve got.” Knowing her mile-wide independent streak, however, he held his breath.

  But she merely smiled and pressed her cheek against his. He breathed in the faint scent of homemade pizza sauce that wafted from her hair.

  Then she pulled back to look in
to his eyes. “Ordinarily I’d tell you I’d love to see you try.”

  Giving her a wry smile, he moved a curl out of her face with a gentle finger. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Smart man.” She kissed his chin, then tilted her face up to his again. “Not this time, though—I’m giving you a pass. Because that being-tied-to-you-with-everything-you’ve-got thing?

  “It sounds like my idea of heaven.”

  EPILOGUE

  January 17. The Brothers Inn

  “I HATE THIS TIE! Bow ties are for losers.”

  Luc looked over to where Austin was struggling to tie the accessory and grimaced sympathetically. He wasn’t all that great at tying his own.

  But Max stepped up to the teen with a quiet “Here, let me get that” and untangled the mess Austin had made. He deftly retied the bow, stepped back to straighten two of the black studs in the kid’s pleated shirt, then handed him his satin-lapeled jacket.

  And all the while the quiet burst-shot on Jake’s camera sounded as he captured the moment.

  Austin shrugged on his jacket, and Max adjusted it for a better fit on the teen’s skinny, but wide-shouldered, frame. Then he stepped back. “There,” he said in satisfaction and nodded at the mirror. “Check yourself out. You look like the handsome stud you are.” When the boy turned to comply, Max said, “See? Bow ties might be for losers in some situations. But they rock a tux.”

  “And Max should know,” Jake said with a fond smile. “He loves to dress up.”

  “But not in girls’ underwear,” Austin said with a huge grin.

  Max laughed. “You got that right.” He nudged Austin. “But this—well, chicks love a guy in a tux.” He grinned over at Luc. “Right, bro?”

  “So I’ve been told.” He gestured to his own tie. “Wanna give me a hand, too?”

  “You bet.” Max came over to stand in front of him and reached for the dangling ends.

  Luc heard the camera shutter once again as he raised his chin so his brother could work his magic unimpeded.