by Jill Shalvis
“Did it knock any sense into you?” Cole asked.
“I’ve got more sense in my pinkie finger than you have in your whole body,” Tanner said.
“You know, she’d be good for you.”
Tanner stared at him. “How the hell do you figure that?”
“I hear from Olivia that she’s funny, smart, and won’t put up with any of your shit.”
“We’re so not having this conversation,” Tanner said, lowering his fingers from his noggin to check if he was bleeding. “Shit.”
“Come here, you big baby.” Cole cupped Tanner’s face and tilted it down to look at the top of his head. “Okay, so there’s good news and bad news.”
“Just tell me,” Tanner grated out.
“The good news is your head’s still attached to your shoulders,” Cole said.
“And the bad news?” Tanner asked.
“The hit doesn’t appear to have knocked any sense into you.”
Tanner gave Cole a shove that didn’t budge him. Cole often came off all casual and easy, but in reality he wasn’t either. He was just as tough as Sam or Tanner himself, and he was also the glue that held them all together. And sometimes, like now, he acted like a chick. Tanner shoved him again and Cole shoved back, and then the men had each other in a headlock.
“Hug me like you mean it,” Cole said. “And I’ll let go.”
“I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Hug me like you love me, bitch.”
“Uh…I can come back.” This was from Troy, who’d apparently shown up from school as he’d been instructed to do since he was still grounded from everything else. He was standing on the dock, backpack hanging off one shoulder, staring at them. “If you wanna be alone.”
Cole laughed a little and from his hunched-over position craned his neck to look up at Tanner. “He thinks we’re—”
“Hey,” Troy said, backing away, lifting up his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Of course there isn’t,” Tanner said. “But we’re not.”
“There’s a kid in my class that has two moms,” Troy said.
“That’s great,” Tanner said, shoving free of Cole. “But it’s not…Cole and I aren’t like that. Not that it wouldn’t be fine if we were.”
“Speak for yourself,” Cole said, straightening his sweatshirt. “You’re not even close to my type.”
Tanner gave him another shove and Cole blew him a kiss.
“Knock it off, you idiot,” Tanner said. He looked at Troy. “He’s kidding.”
“Oh.” Troy nodded. “That’s good because Tumblr says you’re having a thing with some chick named Callie.”
“I am not having a thing with Callie,” Tanner said, though he had to admit he wouldn’t mind having a thing with her. Maybe a couple of things. He turned to Cole. “And what the hell do you mean, I’m not your type?”
Tanner took Troy fishing. He took the boat out to his secret sweet spot and showed the kid how to get one on the line without fail.
The entire time Troy looked like he was getting a root canal.
So much for bonding.
After nearly three hours of silence, Tanner gave up. “Is there a problem?”
No answer.
“Hello,” he said.
Troy pulled out an earbud. Tinny music blared out. Tanner stared at him and then shook his head. Jesus. “Not your thing, fishing?”
Troy looked relieved. “Fish suck.”
Okay, so maybe they weren’t two peas in a pod after all.
That evening they sat at Tanner’s kitchen table and worked on Troy’s chemistry homework due to the D he’d come home with.
“Chemistry sucks,” Troy said an hour later when he still hadn’t gotten halfway through. “Sucks hard.”
“Working sucks,” Tanner said. “Fishing sucks. School sucks. Let’s try this—what doesn’t suck?”
“Here? Nothing,” Troy said sullenly.
Tanner pushed the books aside. “Come on. I’ve got something we need to do.”
“What now?”
Tanner pushed open the door to his spare bedroom, the one he’d given over to the kid. It’d been pretty sparse when Troy had first arrived, just a futon. But Tanner had picked up a bed, a dresser, and a desk.
“Great,” Troy said, looking at the desk. “A place to do more work. In a white room. It’s like my own private padded cell.”
Tanner ignored the sarcasm. “You don’t like white? Then pick a color. We’ll paint this weekend.”
“Dark purple,” Troy said without hesitation.
Tanner swiveled his head and stared at him. “Dark purple?”
“Dark purple.”
Tanner rubbed a hand over the top of his head and winced at the bump there from hitting it earlier. “Look, I get that you’re pissed off at having to be here, that it feels unfair and you want to strike out and all that, but you’re the one who has to live with the color. So I’m going to ask you again. Dark purple? You sure?”
Troy just stared at him sullenly.
“Okay,” Tanner muttered, and shook his head. “You’re sure.” He started to leave and then stopped. He remembered after his dad had left, how his mom had picked up two jobs to make ends meet, and he’d felt so helpless and furious all the time. “Listen,” he said. “It will get better here.”
More nothing and Tanner shook his head. “Fine. Life sucks. Go with that, it’s a great attitude.”
Troy moved past Tanner and stretched out on the bed. He closed his eyes and for a moment looked so painfully young and so painfully vulnerable.
“’Night,” Tanner said quietly and turned to go.
“Um,” Troy said.
Tanner turned back. “Yeah?”
Troy hesitated. “Thanks.”
It was possibly the first time Troy had ever said that word to him, and Tanner felt an ache from deep in his chest. The kind of ache that was either a heart attack in the making or he was having a bona fide, real dad moment. He wanted to press Troy for more but knew that wasn’t the right thing to do.
As for what was the right thing, he didn’t have a clue. So he nodded and left the kid there on his bed and hit his own, where he dreamed of a green-eyed, strawberry blonde who lit up at the sight of a doughnut and hadn’t a single clue that she was the hottest woman in the room.
The next morning he sat at the bakery for an hour but she never showed.
The pretty brunette from the other day was there, though. She came up to his table with a try-me smile. “Is this seat taken?” she asked.
“No,” he said, and rose. “And this one isn’t either.”
“But…” She stared at him as he started to walk away. “Don’t you want to finish your breakfast? We could make it a date.”
“Sorry,” he said genuinely. “But I already have one.”
Chapter 10
Callie figured out the way to battle her doughnut demons. She stayed in bed. It wasn’t bad as far as offices went, and the dress code—PJs—really worked for her. She’d gotten up long enough for a teeth-brushing mission and to grab her laptop, and then she’d crawled back into bed and gone straight to work, telling herself that she didn’t need caffeine and sugar to get going.
Her humiliation did that just fine.
She worked like a fiend. No one could deny that she knew how to throw a hell of a good party. She just hoped her brides enjoyed it because odds were that the reception would be the highlight of their marriage.
An hour or two later she decided that this working from home thing was a decent gig. In fact, maybe she wouldn’t ever go into town again.
That’s when someone knocked on her door.
She went still, frozen like a deer in the headlights. Then she glanced at the clock. It was ten in the morning. Both Becca and Olivia were at work by now. She hadn’t ordered a pizza for breakfast—though she absolutely would have if anyplace in Lucky Harbor delivered pizzas for breakfast. Hey, maybe she could quit her job and do tha
t.
In any case, she wasn’t expecting company.
The knock came again and she looked down at herself. A double-extra-large men’s sweatshirt that kept falling off her shoulder. Plaid PJ bottoms about a foot too long and washed so many times they were threadbare. Today’s footwear of choice—Shrek slippers.
Yeah. She was ready for a Victoria’s Secret catwalk.
She climbed off her bed and looked out the peephole. Dark, silky hair. Dark eyes. Navy sweatshirt. Sexy jeans. Damn it. What was he doing here?
“I can hear you breathing,” Tanner said.
She stopped breathing and went utterly still.
“And now I can hear you panicking.”
She let out the breath with a whoosh and backed away from the door, heart pounding. “Why are you here?” she asked the door.
“Because our table was already taken at the bakery.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. It’s not our table.”
“Felt like it,” he said.
She thunked her forehead on the door. “Why are you really here?” she whispered.
“Because you didn’t show.”
She lifted her head and stared at the door. “Why did it matter to you?”
“Open the door, Callie.”
“Tell me why, Tanner.”
Was that a barely-there sigh she heard? “Because you’re not an ostrich,” he said.
She blinked. “Maybe I am. Maybe I hide all the time. Maybe I’m a master hider.” Oh my God, Callie, shut up.
“I do know you,” he said.
She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “You don’t.”
“I know you’re smart as hell, so smart that most of us football players paid you to do our homework.”
“That was ten years ago,” she said. “You don’t know me now.”
“You run a hugely popular website that you design and handle by yourself,” he said. “I don’t quite get the need for thirty bazillion shades of white satin, or why anyone would want doves to fly over their heads and possibly crap on them, but that’s just me. You’re here in Lucky Harbor checking on your grandma—a serious pain in every bachelor’s ass in this town—but that aside, what you’re doing makes you a pretty damn sweet and caring person. Oh, and I know you have a serious thing for doughnuts.”
She stared at the door. He really had noticed her.
“Open up,” he said into the silence. “I’ve got something for you.”
“A doughnut?” she asked hopefully. “Because that’s the only way I’m opening this door.”
“Better,” he said.
“There’s nothing better.”
“A baker’s dozen,” he said. “And coffee.”
Momentarily forgetting what she looked like, she unlocked the door. Indeed, he was standing there with a big baker’s box and a carrier of four coffees.
“Gimme.” Mouth watering, she reached for the box, but he lifted it high and stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
His eyes were dark, hooded by heavy lids and his thick lashes. His jaw was covered in a few days’ growth of beard, longer than she’d ever seen it, making him look simultaneously dangerous and…vulnerable?
That couldn’t be right. Tanner didn’t do vulnerable.
But something was bothering him. She didn’t get the sense that it had anything to do with her, which meant it was none of her business, but it didn’t stop her from wondering.
And wondering about him made her feel like that silly teen again, with the even sillier crush. “You okay?” she asked softly.
“Was going to ask you the same.”
“Me? I’m great.”
He laughed softly, then moved in closer, his body brushing hers. For a beat she thought maybe he was going to kiss her on the cheek. It threw her in a startlingly good way and she stilled.
He did the same. His dark eyes softened and the laughter faded out of them. Then he shifted even closer so that her body brushed his.
She felt every inch of herself quiver because holy cow. Something was burning and she was pretty sure it was her. Time slowed and she realized she’d actually stopped breathing.
So had he. Then he took a slow, long, thorough tour at what she was wearing from her hair to the tips of her Shrek slippers, and smiled.
“You haven’t disappointed yet,” he said.
She held her head high. “I wasn’t dressed to impress.”
“I like it.”
This deflected most of her self-righteousness. “You do?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Mostly because you’re not wearing any underwear.”
“Hey!” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “How do you know that?”
“God-given talent,” he said. “And you’re happy to see me.”
Her self-righteousness was back in a flash. “For your information,” she said, “I’m cold.”
He smiled.
“I am!”
“I just find it funny that on your website you have an entire section dedicated to fancy lingerie, and you don’t wear any,” he said.
“Ohmigod.” She stared at him, horrified. “Why are you reading my website?”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” She tossed up her hands and struggled for the obvious. “Are you terminally insane? Soon to be married? A woman?”
He was grinning at her now. “No.”
“Then why?” She poked him in a hard pec. Her finger practically bounced off the wall of his chest. Damn, he was built. “Why are you on my website?”
“I’m curious about you.”
That should not give her a little thrill. “Well, don’t be. And stay off the site.”
“What if I was a client?”
“That would be entirely different,” she said. “Then I’d sell you the whole fantasy. But you and I both know that fantasy is expensive and also simply a balloon just waiting to burst.”
Tanner offered her one of the coffees. It was a bribe, of course, but she wasn’t above falling for it. She took a big gulp and closed her eyes in bliss. “God have mercy, how I missed you,” she whispered to the cup.