But she wasn’t his puzzle to complete. So she took a step back—physically and emotionally—and used a chipper, impersonal voice. “Thanks for bringing that by. When Mrs. Nelson comes home I’ll be sure to run it over.”
Pete stared at her a moment longer, then nodded as if he’d made some conclusion about something. “Good.” He walked to the door and opened it, turning only to give a stern warning of, “Lock this behind me,” before closing it firmly in his wake.
The charged air immediately stilled. Like someone flipped the switch. Sarah breathed deeply, then walked to the door to lock it.
Scenery, Sarah. He’s good-looking scenery on this road trip. Don’t get attached.
* * * * *
It was his childhood dream come true.
Growing up in foster homes meant you grabbed food when you could and hoarded it for when you couldn’t. Sure, there were good foster families, but they were few and far between in his experience. Often they were only in it for the short haul. He’d never been a problem kid, never saw the point in acting out for attention. The way he saw it, the less attention, the better. He became quick at adapting, becoming a chameleon, at knowing how to use humor to diffuse almost any situation, from awkward to dangerous.
The Corps was his family now. And he would die for anyone in his family.
But it was nice to pretend with the Millers. That he was their pseudo-son, and this was just another dinner in a long line of family meals. That he could take for granted the security and warmth.
Pete heard the door open and shut, but either nobody else heard, or they didn’t think it was something to note. A moment later, Sarah rounded the corner.
“Hey, Millers.”
Her face was rosy from the cold, her dark blonde hair was a complete tangle. But it was the grin on her face that had him struggling to breathe.
Unlike yesterday at the bar, tonight she seemed… Glowing. She radiated happiness. As she shed her coat, scarf and mittens, he watched her generous breasts press against the front of her sweater. The thick material hid any evidence of cold, but he could easily guess her nipples were solid pebbles from the winter air. He could almost feel them pushing into the palm of his hands, warming her skin with his own.
Hands clenched into fists under the table, he willed his cock to settle down, or else he’d have a permanent indent from the zipper of his jeans.
“Mom, I invited Sarah for dessert. I hope you don’t mind, but we always have so many leftovers,” Maria said as she popped up to grab another plate from the kitchen.
“Of course I don’t,” Laura said. “Sarah’s always welcome. Grab a seat, sweetie. The one by Pete is free.”
Sarah’s smile dimmed a fraction, then picked back up.
Was he really that bad? Had he scared her at some point? The intensity from the day before in her apartment had concerned him, but it was nothing to freak out about. At least, he didn’t think so.
As conversation around them resumed its typical level of insanity, she seemed to relax a bit. And when he knocked his hand against hers reaching for another slice of pie, she didn’t react one way or another.
He felt compelled to try again, see if she would give him another shot.
“How long have you worked at Buffalo’s?”
“Four years,” she answered easily. “Started as a hostess, worked my way up to bartender. I’ve loved every minute of it.”
“She could be manager by now,” Maria put in.
“I could,” Sarah conceded. “But then I wouldn’t be around to bust your chops all the time. I’d be upstairs doing paperwork.” She gave a mock shudder.
“No aspirations in restaurant management?” Tony asked.
“Nope. Didn’t even have aspirations as a restaurant bartender. Just fell into it.”
“Did you grow up in the area?”
Her lips tightened into a thin line. “Nope. Can you pass the cobbler?” she asked firmly.
Okay. Was it his imagination or did he just hear a door slam shut? He could take a hint when someone clobbered him over the head with it. Determined to keep up the positive direction they’d been moving, he asked how her day had been.
She launched into an amusing story about one of their regulars and a pickle he’d gotten himself into over a forgotten anniversary. And with each change of topic, her posture loosened, her eyes moved from wary to inviting. For some unknown reason, knowing she was at ease made him more comfortable as well.
Eventually Mr. Miller leaned away from the table and rubbed his stomach. “Stuffed doesn’t begin to describe it. Good meal, love.” He leaned over and gave his wife a kiss.
Pete couldn’t swear it, but he thought he heard Sarah breathe a tiny sigh. But before he could replay the moment to be sure, she stood.
“Thanks for dessert, Mrs. M. Amazing as always. I need to get going.”
“Didn’t hear that rattletrap of yours pull up. Did you get the muffler fixed?”
Sarah paused in the act of wrapping her scarf up in some complex but adorable pattern. “No, haven’t had time yet. I walked.”
“Walked? Honey, no,” Laura chided. “You could have called, we would have come to get you.”
“I like the exercise,” Sarah said with a smile. “Knowing I’d gorge myself on your cobbler means I need to burn the extra calories. It’s only a few blocks.” She leaned over and gave Mr. Miller a hug. “Thanks. Maria, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tony, walk home with her,” Colin ordered.
Pete didn’t give him time to agree. “I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to,” Sarah said through her teeth.
He bit back the urge to smile. “I want to. Just give me a minute to grab my co—” He was talking to thin air. She’d already turned on her heel and left the room. When he glanced back at the table, four grins greeted him. He shrugged.
“I think she likes me.”
* * * * *
Sarah trudged through the bracing wind, hunching slightly when an extra powerful gust nearly knocked her over. She had to get out of there. For whatever reason, Pete was crawling under her skin. Infiltrating the perfect coat of armor she’d built up rivet by rivet after her divorce. Slipping in past all defenses to make her want again. Need again. Remember she was a woman.
And that wouldn’t do. There was no point in investing her time in thinking about a guy who had nothing to do with her. Pete was about as interested in her as—
A hand latched onto her shoulder and she jerked in response.
“Ah!” She slipped and lost her balance, nearly pitching forward into a white-coated yard. Only strong hands and some fancy footwork kept her from a mouthful of dirty snow. She straightened, made sure her balance was intact and took a step out of reach before turning around. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up like that?”
“Sorry,” Pete said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, not looking one bit sorry. “I called out your name but it must have gotten lost in the wind. Must have been lost in thought. What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” she answered quickly. Too quickly.
“Uh huh.” He wasn’t buying her bullshit, but he didn’t say anything else. Just fell in step with her as she trudged toward her apartment.
After a few moments of silence, she asked, “So are you staying with the Millers?”
“In the guest house back there. I guess it used to be a pool house, but then they got rid of the pool, as Mr. M. explained. ‘Perfect for houseguests and in-laws’ were his actual words.”
Sarah chuckled. “Don’t let him fool you. He loves Laura’s parents like they were his own.”
Pete laughed and the rumble slid through her insides like hot buttered rum and pooled at her core. Damn, she was not supposed to be affected like this. This called for a distraction.
She said the first thing that came to mind. “What is hot-buttered rum?”
Brilliant, Sarah.
“Disgusting, would be my first guess. Past that, I’m lost,” Pete replied, not at all thrown by the quick switch in topic.
“Hmm.” Better stick with silence. Safer that way.
Pete stood for a moment, immobile.
After another few seconds of awkward silence, she blurted out, “Why did you volunteer to walk me home?”
His lips moved then, a slow smile spreading from corner to corner. “The truth?”
“It’s preferable.” And not offered often enough.
“Because for some reason, despite your prickliness at times, and the
Don’t Bother
neon sign you haul around, I still have this urge to kiss you.”
“Huh. I did ask for honesty, didn’t I?”
And it pleased her in a stupid, girly sort of way that he wasn’t playing a game, wasn’t hiding his intentions. And, of course, that a hot man wanted to kiss her. She wouldn’t even bother denying that one.
“So?”
“So, what?” Her brain was still banked in a fog of possibilities.
He leaned in and said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Chapter Three
Sarah’s mind blanked. What? “Yes?”
“Yes.” He captured her mouth with his, cold noses bumping slightly. She felt pressure on her jaw, then the kiss was over. Before she could protest, he spoke.
“Sorry, gimme a sec.”
She cracked one eye open to see him biting the tip of one gloved finger and pulling until the leather came off. He did the same with the other, then shoved both gloves in his coat pocket. Then he gave her a boyish grin and showed off his bare hands. “Now I can do this properly.”
Cupping her chin with his hands, he leaned in for another kiss. His tongue swept in with confidence, as if he could read her mind and know she wanted more. Though the coats made it difficult, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him closer.
For warmth. Right. Yes, for warmth, that was it.
What a load of bull. She wanted him. The telltale slickness between her thighs was too evident for even her to deny.
Damn you, hormones. I thought we talked about this.
Her hormones weren’t listening. Or if they were, they were rebelling worse than a teenager with an attitude problem.
Or maybe, instead of the problem, Pete was an answer…
He pressed her against the side of the garage and even with layers of fabric, she would have sworn she could feel the heat of his erection burning against her stomach. She squirmed and wiggled until one mitten-clad hand managed to squeeze between their bodies and cover the bulge. He sucked in a breath against her cheek and she pushed with the heel of her hand in an obvious invitation.
The four lonely years since her ex left slammed into her and she felt the heavy weight of desire for the first time in too long.
How many steps were there to get to her apartment again?
Too many.
Would they develop frostbite if they rolled around naked in the snow?
Probably.
“Not yet.” Pete groaned and repeated, “Not yet.” He dropped his hands and took a giant step back.
“Not yet what?” She panted, breath coming out in puffs of steam. The air around them was freezing, but she might as well have been on fire.
“Just… Just not yet. You need to think. And I need to be sure.”
“Sure about what?” Okay, that came out like a belligerent child. But seriously!
“I like you.”
“I gathered that. I thought that’s what this was all about,” she said dryly.
“So,” he went on like she’d said nothing, “you need to be sure you understand. I don’t live here. I’m not a permanent thing.”
“I understood that. No offense, but I kind of considered that part of your appeal.”
His face contorted for a moment. If she had to guess, she’d say he was biting back a smile. “Just think about it,” he said and turned to walk away. “I’ll see you around.” He disappeared around the corner of Mrs. Nelson’s house and was gone.
Sarah trudged upstairs and let herself into the slightly-warmer apartment. Stripping off her mittens, she bent down to flip on her space heater. Toasty it was not, but it worked. And she never wanted to take advantage of Mrs. Nelson’s energy bill by cranking up the heat too high. The wonderful old lady already let her stay in the apartment for a fraction of the normal rent in the area. She wouldn’t abuse the generosity.
She tossed her coat over the desk chair and flopped down on the bed, not bothering to remove her scarf. It still wasn’t warm enough yet.
What the hell was going on with her life? Since when had she felt blatant attraction to a perfect stranger? She was a woman with a pulse, so of course she recognized a good-looking guy. But never before had she wanted someone so quickly.