Lucky in Love (24 page)

Only one person ever middle-named her. Her mom; just what she needed. She swiped at her eyes and turned, considering herself lucky to be so wet that no one could possibly tell if she was crying or not. “Mom, why are you here?”

“I heard about the diner. You’re hurt?”

“Now’s not a good time—” Mallory brushed her mom’s hand away. “
Mom
.”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me! You have a cut on your cheek. And you let Jane
fire
you?”

“Okay, someone give me a microphone!” Mallory said as loud as she could. “Because I wasn’t fired, I
quit
. There’s a difference.”

Her mother stared at her for a long beat, during which Mallory did her best not to look as utterly heartbroken as she felt. Finally Ella nodded. “Well, I hope to hell you took Jane down a peg or two while you were at it.”

Shock had Mallory gaping. “You’re not upset?”

“She’s overworked you and taken advantage of your skills. The board’s already banding together to try to get you back. I suggest turning down their first offer. According to what I overheard, their second offer will be a much better deal.”

Mallory choked out a shocked breath. “Overheard?”

“Fine. I put a glass to the door of Bill’s office and listened in. But I’m not proud of it.” Ella hesitated. “What I am proud of is you. And Sawyer sent me over here to get you. He needs one last quick word from you for his report.”

Sawyer was already headed for her.

He gave her a look of frustration. “You okay?”

No
. “Yes.”

“Good, because so far I’ve heard twenty different versions of what’s going on. Tell me that you’re going to come up with the
right
one.”

She told him the entire story the best that she could, then turned to look for Ty and found her mom talking to him. Ella was animated, her hands moving, her mouth flapping, and Mallory’s stomach sank. From the looks of things, she could be reading him the riot act, or…hell. She couldn’t imagine. “I’ve got to go,” she said to Sawyer.

Her mother saw her coming and met her halfway. “He has a way of looking at you, honey. Like you mean something to him.”

Mallory shook her head. “What did you two talk about?”

“Are you asking if I accused him of destroying your reputation?” Ella looked over Mallory’s shoulder and found Ty watching them. She sent him a little finger wave.

He didn’t wave back but he did almost smile.

“You made it clear what you thought of my way of thinking,” Ella said to Mallory. “And you were right. I’ve been holding the reins too tight, depending on you to be the calm in the storm of this crazy family. That was unfair, maybe even cruel, and I was wrong. I never should have done it. Just as I never should have allowed you to blame yourself for Karen. Or my divorce. Or the general insanity of our family.”

“Mom—”

“Hush, honey. I told him I’d make him dinner,” Ella said casually, almost as a throwaway remark, and stroked Mallory’s wet hair back from her face.

“You
what
?”

“He’s been good to you. I want to thank him. It’s simple etiquette.”

“You mean it’s simple curiosity,” Mallory said.

“Okay, that too.”

“Mom, we’re just…” God. Her heart hurt. “Friends.”

“Oh, please,” Ella said with a laugh. “I didn’t fall for that with Tammy when she brought Zach home, and I’m not going to fall for it with you. He said yes.”

“No, really,” Mallory said. “We’re not what you think we are. He said
yes
?”

“Sweetheart, you’re drenched and still shivering. You’re going to catch your death out here. Go home and take a hot shower, and put something on that cut on your cheek.” Ella hugged her tight, then pushed her toward her car.

Mallory took a last look at the scene. Ty was back to helping. He was hauling things out of the wrecked diner with Matt. Two extremely fine examples of what a good use of gorgeous male muscle could do.

“Mallory.” Josh gestured to Mrs. Burland, huddled on the sidewalk. “She’s refusing to go to the hospital but mostly, she’s just shaken up. If you’re leaving, maybe you could drive her home.”

Mallory ended up driving the entire senior posse home since Lucille was the only one of them still in possession of her license, and she was going into the hospital for X-rays. It took nearly an hour because each of them took forever to say their good-byes and get out of the car. When she’d finally gotten rid of them all, Mallory told herself to go home, but herself didn’t listen. She drove to Ty’s.

The garage was open, and he was beneath his precious Shelby.

She bet he’d never walked away from a car in his life.

Still working on adrenaline, frustration, and a pain so real it felt like maybe her heart had been split in two, she stormed up to the mechanic’s creeper and nudged at his exposed calf.

Okay, maybe it was more of a kick. “You told my mother she could cook you dinner?”

He rolled out from beneath the car, and arms still braced on the chassis above him, looked up at her. He wisely didn’t comment on what was surely a spectacularly bad hair day on her part. She’d been hit with the sprinklers, and then dust from the ceiling tiles, and the whole mess had dried naturally without any of her de-frizzing products that never really worked anyway.

“Problem?” he finally asked.

“Oh my God!” She tossed up her hands. “You did. You said yes.
Why
?”

“She said she’d make meatloaf. I don’t think I’ve ever had home-cooked meatloaf. I thought it was a suburban myth.”

She’d never wanted to both hug and strangle someone before. “
I’ll
make you meatloaf!”

“You dumped me,” he said reasonably. “And besides, you don’t cook.”

Dammit. Dammit, he was killing her. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes but she couldn’t rub away the ache. Spinning on her heel, she walked out of the garage.

He caught her at her car, pulling her back against him. She felt the shaking of his chest and realized he was laughing at her.

At least until he caught sight of her face.

His smile faded then.

With a frustrated growl, she shoved him away and got into her car, but before she could shut the door, he squatted at her side, the muscles in his thighs flexing against the faded denim he wore. He blocked her escape with one hand on the door, the other on the back of her seat, his expression unreadable now. “This isn’t about meatloaf,” he said. “This isn’t even about me. Tell me what the real problem is.”

I’m in love with you…

“My problem,” Mallory said, “is that you’re blocking me from shutting the door.”

“And you’re shutting me out.”

“That’s pretty funny,” she managed, throat inexplicably tight. “Coming from you. The King Of Shutting
Me
Out.”

“I didn’t shut you out intentionally.”

“Ditto,” she said, with no small amount of attitude.

He studied her for a long moment. “Tell me about the night Karen died.”

She felt like he’d reached into her chest and closed his fist around her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. “She’s not a part of this.”

“I think maybe she is. She took a walk on the dark side, and it didn’t work out so well for her. She made you promise to be good, and you kept your word. Until me.”

“Someone has a big mouth.”

“
Many
someones,” he agreed. “But then again, you love it here. You love all those someones. And they all love you.”

Mallory dropped her head to the steering wheel. “Look, I’m mad at you, okay? This isn’t about me. I know my painful memories are relative. My life is good. I’m lucky. This isn’t about how poor little Mallory has had it so hard. I’m not falling apart or anything.”

He stroked a hand down her back. “Of course you’re not. You’re just holding the steering wheel up with your head for a minute, that’s all.”

Choking out a laugh, she closed her eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re so much more okay than I’ve ever been. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Mallory. Do you know that?”

“But that’s just it. I’m not strong at all. I always thought I could save everyone. If I was good, I’d excel. If I was good, my family would stay together. If I was good, nothing bad could happen.”

Ty’s hand on her was calming. So was his voice, low and even, without judgment. And the dash of affection didn’t hurt. “How did that work out for you?” he asked. “All that being good?”

Another laugh tore out of her, completely mirthless. “It didn’t. All that work, all that time spent trying to please everyone, and it fell apart anyway. I failed.”

“You know better than that.”

“Do I?” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. It was her only anchor in a spinning world. Nothing was working out for her. Not her job. Not the way she wanted people to see her. And not her non-relationship with Ty. “I don’t want to talk about the past anymore. My sister made her choice. My family each made their own choices after that. My parents handled everything the best they could, including their divorce.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But it still chewed you up and spit you out.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t always have to be okay.”

“Well, I know that.”

“Then say it. Free that sixteen-year old, Mallory. Say it wasn’t her fault; not your parents’ divorce, not Karen, none of it.”

“Ty.”

“Say it.”

She gulped in some air and let it out. “It wasn’t my fault.”

He wrapped his hand around her hair and gently tugged until she’d lifted her head and was looking at him. “That’s right,” he said with terrifying gentleness. “It wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could with what you had. You made the decision to progress beyond that little girl who lived to please. You stepped outside your comfort zone and went after what you wanted.”

She felt the heat hit her cheeks. They both knew what she’d gone after.

Him.

Naked.

And she’d gotten him.

“Stop carrying all the responsibility for everyone,” he said quietly. “Let it go, let it all go and be whoever the hell you want to be.”

She gave him a little smile. “Are you going to take your own advice?”

“I’m working on it.”

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He flashed his own small smile. “Too bad you dumped my sorry ass.”

She looked at him for a long beat. “I might have been too hasty on that,” she whispered. “Twice now.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. Because your ass is anything but sorry.”

He gave her a smile. “Come here,” he said, and then without waiting for her to move, rose to his feet and pulled her from the car.

She curled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Where are we going?”

“To show you how much more amazing I can be when we’re horizontal.”

A life without chocolate is no life at all.

T
y set Mallory down in his bathroom, and she looked around in confusion. “I’m not horizontal.”

Leaning past her, he flipped on his shower and cranked the water to hot. Then he stripped. And oh good Lord, he looked so damn good without his clothes that it almost made her forget her problems, including the fact that
he
was her biggest problem. “What—”

“You’re wet and frozen solid. Kick off your shoes.”

While she was obeying that command, he peeled the wet clothes from her and let them hit the floor. And while she was distracted by his mouth-watering body, he checked the temperature of the shower, then pushed her in.

She sucked in a breath as the hot water hit her, and then another when he reached for the soap. He washed her with quick efficiency while she stared down at the erection brushing her stomach.

“Ignore it,” he said.

She stared at it some more, and it got bigger.

He shook his head at her and washed her hair, his fingers heaven on her scalp, making her moan. Then he set her aside, soaped himself up with equally quick efficiency, which absolutely shouldn’t have turned her on, but totally did.

It must have showed because his eyes went dark and hot. Turning off the water, he wrapped her up in a towel and sat her on the counter. With just a towel low on his hips, he crouched down, rooted in a drawer, and came up with a first-aid kit and a box of condoms. Both unopened. Saying nothing, he set the condoms on the counter at her hip.

She went hot looking at them.

Grabbing the first-aid kit, he straightened to his full height and pushed her wet hair from her face. He dipped his knees a little and eyed the cut over her cheek. “A few butterfly bandages will do you, I think.” He disinfected the cut, and when she hissed out a pained breath, he leaned in and kissed her temple.

“Nice bedside manner,” she murmured. “You patch up a lot of wet, naked women?”

“Almost never.” He carefully peeled back the plastic packaging on the sterilized butterfly bandages and began to cover her wound.

“So what exactly happened that you’re okay with handling this sort of thing again?” she asked.

“You happened.”

“Come on.”

He slid her a look. “You think you’re the only one making changes in your life?” he asked. “You work your ass off, no matter how much shit you see, and you see plenty. You just want to help people, heal them. I used to be like that. I didn’t realize I missed it, but I do.”

“The job you’re going back to,” she said. “It’s obviously very dangerous work.”

“Not as dangerous as being a SEAL. That was about as bad as it can get.”

“Like the plane crash,” she said softly.

“Yeah. Like the plane crash.”

“Do you have PTSD, Ty?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Probably, a little. Not debilitating though. Not anymore anyway.”

He was still damp from the shower, his hair pushed back from his face. He concentrated on his task, leaving her free to stare at him. His mouth was somehow both stern and generous at the same time, his jaw square and rough with a day’s worth of scruff that she knew would feel deliciously sensual against her skin. He had a scar along one side of his jaw and another on his temple. His chest was broad, his abs ridged with muscle.

He was beautiful.

“You really miss it,” she said softly. “The action.”

“Once an adrenaline junkie, always one, I guess.” He finished with the cut on her face and lifted her hand, turning it over to gently probe her swollen and already bruised wrist. She had no idea how he’d noticed it.

‘It’s not broken,” she said.

He nodded in agreement, then lifted it to his mouth and brushed a kiss to her skin.

While she melted, he expertly wrapped it in an Ace bandage, then looked at her shin.

Bleeding.

She hadn’t even realized.

He dropped to his knees and attended to that with the same concentration and professionalism he’d given everything else. His head was level with the counter she was sitting on, and his hands were on her bare leg. And all she could think was if he shifted her leg an inch more to the left, her towel would gape, and he’d be eye level with her bare crotch.

It was a suggestive, erotic thought that led to others, and she squirmed, wondering how she could get her towel to drop without being obvious about it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were cleared?”

He looked up into her face. “I think you know why.”

“Me.”

“You,” he agreed.

There were some advantages to changing her life around, to living for herself instead of for others’ expectations, she decided. For one thing, it had given her new confidence. So she accessed some of that and unwrapped the towel, letting it fall to the counter at her hips.

Ty went still, and a sensual thrill rushed through her.

He let out a breath and slid his hands up her legs, applying gentle pressure until she opened them for him. He groaned at his new-found view and pressed a kiss to first one inner thigh, and then the other.

And then in between.

His hands were on her, rough and strong but tender at the same time, and her body quivered, rejoicing in the rightness of his touch. He murmured something against her skin and though she couldn’t hear him, she urged him on, clutching at his shoulders until her toes curled, until she cried out his name, until there were no more thoughts.

She opened her eyes and found him rising to his feet, eyes hot, mouth wet, as he helped her off the counter. Then she was staring at him as he turned and walked out of the bathroom. “What are you—”

Since he was gone, she followed him into his bedroom, watching as he quickly dropped his towel, but instead of finishing the horizontal lessons, he pulled on black knit boxers that barely fit over his massive erection. “What are you doing?”

“Someone’s at the door.” He slid his long legs into jeans and grimaced when he tried to button them up.

Still in her orgasmic glow, she was thinking that she’d like to trace the cords of every one of his muscles, starting with his chest and working her way down. It’d take a while but she thought it would be time well spent. Then what he’d said sank in. “Someone’s at your door? I didn’t hear anything.”

A small smile escaped him. “That’s because you were making more noise than the doorbell.”

“I was not—” God. She covered her hot cheeks. “Who is it?”

“Your mother.”

She squeaked. “
What
?”

“I caught sight of her walking up to the door from the bathroom window.” He glanced down at his hard-on. “You’re going to have to get it.” He eyed her body from head to toe and groaned. “And probably you should get dressed.”

“
Why is my mother here
?”

“Meatloaf.”

She’d forgotten about the meatloaf. Panicked, she turned in a circle. “My scrubs are wet and in a pile on your bathroom floor!”

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium—”

She stared at him. “What are you doing now?”

“Listing the chemical elements so I can answer the door without a boner.”

“And knowing my mother is on your porch isn’t taking care of that?”

“Good point.” He threw her a pair of sweats that had been lying on a chair and left the room.

In the end, she tossed dignity and wore his sweats instead of her wet scrubs, but by the time she got to the living room, it was empty.

She found Ty in the big kitchen setting down a large bag. “She didn’t stay,” he said. “She said she figured I had my hands full making sure you were okay. She said she’d water your flowers and feed the cat for you, that you were to just sit your tired patoot down and relax, and I was to make sure you did just that.”

“My mother, the Master Manipulator.”

“Is your patoot tired?” he asked, sounding amused though his eyes were very serious.

“No. Are you hungry?”

His eyes roamed hungrily over her features. “Yes, but not for food. You?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Ty had been wanting to get his hands on Mallory since he’d heard from Matt about the missing drugs. Hell, he’d been wanting to put his hands on her since…always. He
always
wanted to put his hands on her. His hands, his mouth.
Everything
.

He stood her by the bed, making short work of the sweats she’d pulled on. When he dropped to his knees before her, he found her still warm and wet, already making those noises he loved, and when he slid a finger inside her, she gasped and opened her legs even wider for him.

A woman who knew what she wanted.

He loved that about her.

Her fingers were in his hair, holding him to her as if she was afraid he’d stop too soon.

Not a chance.

He wanted to hear her cry out his name again, wanted to feel her fly apart for him, so he worked her slow and easy, driving her right to the edge before backing off. She’d tightened her hands in his hair, doing her best to make him bald. He smiled against her and finally took her to the end. She was still shuddering when he surged to his feet and tossed her to the bed. She lay back, arms stretched out at her sides and gave him a little smile.

Sweet.

Hot.

“Why are you still dressed?” she wanted to know.

It was a good question. He stripped, grabbed a condom and rolled it on. When he had, he pushed inside her, just one long, slick slide that had them both sucking in a harsh breath of sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

Nothing had ever felt so good as being buried deep inside her.

Nothing.

“Ty?”

He drowned in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“This is far more than I thought it would be.”

He knew that. He knew it to the depths of his soul. With one hand in her hair, holding her for a hard, deep kiss, the other cupping her sweet ass, he began to move, thrusting into her slow and steady, and for the first time all day—hell, all damn
week
—his world started to make sense.

He’d been a military brat who’d never landed in one place for long, then a soldier himself. There’d been next to no softness in his life. He’d taken the time for the occasional relationship, although none of them were serious; none stuck long enough to affect him deeply. Certainly no previous relationship had managed to fit what his idea of love was.

Mallory was different.

In his heart of hearts, he knew that much. Hell, from that first stormy night, his tie to her had been undeniable. It’d happened in an instant and only strengthened with time, and he wanted to be with her. Talking, touching, kissing, fucking—whatever he could get, because she beat back the darkness inside him. But being with her was a double-edged sword, because every minute he spent with her absolutely changed his definitions of…
everything
.

She made him yearn for things he’d never yearned for before: home, family, love. And Christ if that didn’t stump him. What did he know about any of those things?

All he did know was that this—her mouth open on his, her body warm and soft and welcoming, her hands sliding up his chest and around his neck—felt right.
Real
. “Careful,” he murmured, kissing her swollen cheek, then her wrapped wrist. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“You healed me,” she murmured. “Now let me heal you.” Her hands slid down his back and then up again, and that felt so good he nearly purred. She melted into him and he warned himself that she’d had a rough time of it, that he needed to go slowly, but then she wrapped her legs around his waist and he sank in even further. With a moan, she arched beneath him, head back, eyes closed, hunger and desire etched on her face. “Oh, Ty…”

He nuzzled her exposed throat, then sucked a patch of skin into his mouth, making her gasp and tighten her grip on him.

Everywhere.

It set him on fire.

She did it again, and he let it roll over him: the feel of her heat gripping him like a vise, her scent, the scent of them together, the sound of her ragged breathing combined with wordless entreaties. Yeah. This.
This
was what he’d needed, her body hot and trembling against his, everything connecting. She was rocking into each thrust, her cries echoing in his mouth as he drove deeper, then deeper still. She was saying his name over and over now, straining against him, and then she was coming, shuddering in his arms as she went straight over the edge, taking him right along with her.

It was so good. That was his only thought as he let himself go. So good, so damn good…

Her hair was in his face, but he didn’t breathe because he didn’t want to disturb her. Her body, still overheated and damp, was plastered to his. She had one leg thrown over him, her cheek stuck to his pec, her hand on his favorite body part as if she owned it.

She did own it. She owned his heart and soul as well.

Jesus. It had started out so innocuously. Innocent, even.

Okay, not innocent. They’d had sex that first night in an attic. Some pretty fan-fucking-tastic sex.

He’d not been in a good place then. He hadn’t felt good enough for his own life, much less anyone else’s.