Chapter 7
Seven
Chip only ever set out to walk Ally home from work, never once expecting his entire evening would be taken hostage. First, to an Egan family dinner, and now, with this journey upstairs to Ally’s room, while her parents worked downstairs on some secret surprise.
Each step left him with an increasingly twitchy feeling all over, like he’d bitten off more than he could chew, and that this day would never end.
Then again, this is Harlow. They might not set me free before morning.
Oh, Lord Vader. Please, help me!
Ally turned at the top landing, and he tried not to pause while she waited for him to catch up. “As you probably remember, my room’s not the biggest space in the world.”
He met her at the top, her close proximity a reminder of why he wanted this day to end. Being this close to her was dangerous, especially since he still hadn’t learned much about who she’d become in the years apart. Only that old feelings died hard, and even those feelings likely remained one-sided.
Her parents’ voices floated from the living room, Vel Egan muttering, “Oh, sugar. Where did you put it?”
Next came the sounds of rummaging, which inexplicably left Chip more concerned about their surprise.
“I don’t know, woman.” Ronny’s gruff tone followed the light slam of a wooden cupboard door. “You had it last!”
Ally’s eyes widened, although they held a habitual brightness, and her lips curled upward. “We should go. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with the soul-crushing decision to ruin whatever plan they’re hatching in order to break up the squabbling.”
She stepped away and opened the door to her bedroom, guiding him through the threshold and onto another trek through the past.
Just like in the past, an assault of color hit him, less the pink and lilac “teenage dream” from those days, more a mature palette of rose, violet, and magenta—those vibrant colors and the slight clutter announcing that a woman and artist lived here.
A fluttery sensation filled his stomach, his words lost with the slow wander of his gaze. This place. They’d spent so much time here together. On so many occasions back then, he’d insisted they hang out at her home over his.
He’d wanted the escape. Wanted to experience a functional family. And the Egans had delivered that in abundance. Then at some point, that need for escape evolved into something else altogether.
His attention fell to the jewel-toned rug over the bare floorboards, his body recalling the rug’s distinct spring as they’d sprawled across those thick, woolly fibers. They’d played board games, listened to music, and finished homework; his later visits were punctuated with the extra effort of shutting down his desires to stare, or worse, to lean in and kiss her… At least there’s one upside to the awkwardness of youth.
“I’ve changed some things in here.” Her voice pulled his focus to her slight shrug, her hands gesturing out to the room at large. “Some, not so much.”
“There are some noticeable differences.” He strolled over to an array of ceramic vessels lined along her deep windowsill and picked up a bright orange vase with muted-pink polka dots, the quirky collection a nice contrast to the hyperclassical theme inside his dad’s home. “This is one of yours?”
She gave a small nod and joined him, taking the vase from his hands and turning it over in hers—her fingers long and thin, her nails short and painted in a happy shade of watermelon red. “Just a side project. Yah know, something to do with my boredom, which I guess I have a lot of being here in Harlow.”
Her gaze flicked up to him, one cheek tugging in a repressed hint that this was more than just “something to do.”
Having grown up around her hours of drawing and crafting while he’d studied, he leveled his focus on her, not accepting her attempt to minimize her talents. “You’ll have to explain your process. Your work is beautiful, and I wouldn’t know where to start with making anything like that on my own.”
Her brows lifted, allowing new light to catch in her eyes, her lips parting only for her to startle at a celebratory holler from her parents downstairs.
Clearly, they’d found what they’d been looking for, although their sudden joy broke the moment between him and their daughter.
As if to snap out of some daze, Ally shook her head and blinked down at the vase, slow to eventually extend an arm and return it to the window shelf. “Well, Aggie let me set up a studio in a spare shed out back of her nursery. Right now, I aim for functional pieces over anything purely decorative, which makes it easier for her to upsell vases, plant pots, occasional outdoor wall hangings, and the like to the nursery’s customers.”
Her attention slipped from one piece to the other on the ceramic-filled shelf, as though seeing each one anew. Her side profile, with her hair tucked behind one ear, highlighted the small diamond studs in her lobes as well as the subtle shift of the long tendon running down the side of her neck.
A soft prickle ran over his skin, a lighter sign of attraction paired with the sinking weight in his chest. Hello, regret. He’d spent years berating himself for missing her. For his grief over leaving. He’d dismissed so many emotions as no more than the vapid imaginings of a hormonal boy… but maybe that boy had been on to something.
Not wanting her to catch him staring, he peered over to a dark wood makeup table against a farther wall, where an array of pink glass bottles sat around a bundle of makeup brushes sticking out of a turquoise earthenware jar. A jar he’d bet she’d made too.
An easy smile pulled at his lips. Those feminine touches. The handmade art. He’d entered alien territory and loved every second of being in her space.
He turned back to her watching him, her unexpected beam soon coupled with a laugh. He responded with a sidelong stare, certain he’d missed something. “What? What is it?”
Her laughter stopped, and her lips bent into a thoughtful frown. “It’s just… every time I get to thinking on how much you’ve changed, you throw some little reminder of what’s the same. Like just now, you flash that same old geeky smile of yours, and I’m back to being thirteen again. Those were good times, weren’t they?”
The slight lift at the end of her sentence pointed to her experiencing a moment of reckoning—the clash of murky memories and the equally confusing present. They still got along well enough, past ties maybe pulling them closer still… but… what to do with it all?
So, he narrowed his eyes and made sure to leave out any real malice, certain she would understand his lighthearted attempt to ease her concerns. “How does one smile ‘geeky’?”
She laughed again, heartier this time, her head tilting back to expose the creamy-white skin of her throat. “I don’t know, you just do. It’s this big geeky grin, like everything is right and fascinating in the world, and you’re all sweet as pie and full of innocence.”
He gave an amused, huffing sort of laugh, although the weight on his chest pressed harder. Sweet and innocent? Not the description he wanted from her. Still, he picked up another vase—a green one this time, with teal stripes and a wavy rim—leaving room for her to fill the conversation.
“You used to shoot me that same smile back in class, yah know?” True to form, Ally Egan took up the offer to add more words. “Remember? Like when you’d let me copy math work fresh out of your book?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Rationing the moments he got to eye her, he inspected the vase, maximizing another chance for humor. “I also remember the day Mrs. Davis caught you cheating.”
“ Me? Cheat?” Her rising pitch pulled him back to her, her arms now crossed in a fake show of attitude. “ You helped me cheat.”
He put this vase down and turned to her fully, leveling an unruffled expression. “Not my fault you got so confident with your copying that you went ahead and wrote my name at the top of your test.”
“Oh no, you remember that? How embarrassing!” She gave a weak shriek and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking from a new wave of laughter. “Oh, and then I had to go to the principal’s office and explain.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn redder.” He chuckled along with her, only for another memory to dull his joy. “Remember how you spent that last summer pining over Gerry Gibbons?”
Though he pitched forth a smile and delivered the question like some kind of joke, even he couldn’t deny the rasp to his tone or the long pause while Ally’s expression dimmed. “Yeah.”
The silence continued, thick, oppressive, and hard to escape. He picked out a new vase in a dramatic wine shade, once again pretending this conversation mattered less to him than it did. Gerry. A typical football player type. Muscle as thick as the brain in his head.
And then there were her feelings for Dean. Another alpha male, though, with far more working for him than Gerry ever showed potential for. Surely, she’d never thought of either man’s grin as geeky. So, maybe she had a type. One that excluded Chip.
Another memory washed him over, just days after he’d arrived in Boston, when his father prodded at his skinny, fourteen-year-old biceps. You’ll have to work on these. That brain of yours is an asset, Son, but it’s not enough.
A week hadn’t passed before he’d been enrolled into every local sporting team his schedule would allow. Smarts weren’t enough. He wasn’t enough.
She took the vase from his hand and proceeded to trace a thumb over the etched-in, geometric details. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll introduce you to Gerry next time we’re at Maynard’s. He married Darleen Hayes fresh outta high school, and they have three kids together with another one on the way. You wouldn’t know it though, not with all the time he spends hiding at the bar, chasing any new female unfortunate enough to catch his notice.”
Chip kept a straight face but raised a brow of mild interest, even though he wanted to laugh at the recap on his unofficial high school rival. “So, Gerry found his niche?”
“And he quit being a pretty boy in favor of questionable personal hygiene. But of course, he still thinks he’s all that and more.” She shrugged before reaching out and patting his bicep, the heat of her hand warming his skin. “So, let’s just say, you win, Chip.”
Her stare held him, and he could have sworn his heart skipped at her apparent awareness of his insecurities. “Is that your way of saying you’ve developed a preference for geeky smiles?”
She took her hand back, her laugh turning tight as she rolled her eyes. “These days, I prefer nothing over nothing. I’m good being single, thanks.”
He waited, but her gaze didn’t meet his. “Sounds like you’ve been through some things.”
Her eyelashes fluttered through a quick, stunned pause, only for her to flick hair from her eyes in a seemingly self-fortifying move. “Nothing major. In fact, I have a lot to look forward to. Seems you do too.”
But the husky dip in her voice once again contradicted, as did her sudden flurry of steps toward her bed, where she sat on the edge and patted the spot next to her for him to sit also.
The muscles over his face tensed, and the rest of him failed to move. He took a moment to gather his bearings and play casual about joining her. On her bed.
“So, want to tell me what your family’s planning down there?” His heartbeat drummed loud in his ears, even as he leaned back and propped his hands into the white faux fur blanket behind him.
Despite all stereotypes about geeks, he’d learned to hide his eccentricities well enough to be with other women and even turned down a few over the years.
He also never really got nervous about being around any of them, his take on physical intimacy being that it was little more than an act to satisfy biological urges. Fun? Sure. Still, nowhere near the magical experience so many of his fiction books described.
Only Ally hinted at rebutting this theory. And they’d never engaged in anything more than a plutonic touch.
We just have history, that’s all.
The red vase still in her hand, she lowered it onto her lap and lifted her face to him, her sudden bright expression akin to a cheerful cloudless day. “I’m about as clueless as you are about what my parents have planned, but we’re in my house, and they are my parents, so I have more reason to worry here. I’m just hoping they don’t pull out an album of embarrassing childhood photos.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He refocused on her makeup table again, a piece of furniture not there years ago. “Your folks don’t do things by halves. At least give them the credit of having multiple big albums of embarrassing childhood photos. Hey, what’s that?”
He pointed at a matching chair tucked under the table and squinted at some garment draped over the top, distinguishing the details of filmy lace and midnight blue shiny satin, his teeth clamping down on his inner cheeks the moment he discerned what he looked at.
Ally’s gaze hit the same spot, and she drew in a quick gasp. “You’re not allowed to check out my underwear.”
She grabbed his face and wrenched it toward her, only for him to jokingly fight back, even though he preferred the view of her wide blue eyes over any inanimate set of underthings.
Either way, he ticked one corner of his lip upward in a disappointed gesture. “I would have figured you more a sensible tank top and cotton panties type.”
Her face stilled before a distinctive and alluring deep blush bloomed up her neck and into her cheeks.
“Chiiip?” She dragged his name down to a low warning. “Why are you even figuring anything about my choice of underwear?”
He gave an easy shrug, although the heat trekking through his body likely had him mirroring the rosiness of her face. “I didn’t until I was confronted with your stray wardrobe. You may want to tidy up occasion—”
“Do you want me to boot you from this room?” Her deliberate stare dared him to let loose with another joke, but the dry scratchiness in his throat kept him from doing that. Meanwhile, his smile fell at her hands still touching him.
He liked a joke as much as the next guy, but he liked this more. The delicate banter. The sudden shifts and uncertainty. Time alone with her .
So, he held her stare and shook his head, offering a rough, “No.”
Her gaze danced about his face, as though she too could feel her blood coursing at the constant push and pull between who they’d once been to each other and whatever seemed to linger now. “Chip?”
Her gaze dropped to his lips, and his heart damn-near burst. She offered a clue on where her thoughts went, but he had no words. All he had was the slight lean of his torso toward her and raw hope.
But her impossible stillness shot holes through his hope, at least until her pupils expanded into wide, black pools, and her next words poured out on a breathy exhale. “I want you to kiss me.”
Electricity shot through his arm, and he lashed out a hand, hooking his fingers to the back of her neck and pulling her in, her eyelids snapping shut in an open invitation.
He closed the final distance and brushed his lips over the silkiness of hers, that tentative first caress already pushing his heartbeat to an erratic thunder. Suddenly, ten years of suppressed emotion surged through every inch of his body, and he gave in to unspoken longing, deepening the kiss.
After a lifetime of her in his orbit, no time or distance could dull this thrill.
Where she offered a sense of gentle femininity, he countered with his hard and shameless need. Though she took a moment to join him, her fingertips soon curled either side of his face and she demanded more of him on a low and hungry moan.
Impulsive. Impossible to contain. She, and this kiss, surpassed everything he’d imagined. The exchange didn’t live only in his head but existed as real as the heat off her body and the warm wetness of her mouth. Every time he penetrated her with his tongue, her taste seemed designed to increase his yearning, so lush and addictive.
And yearn he did. With a mind skilled at conjuring possibilities, he grew desperate for relief, hot need rushing his veins so that his length hardened.
Though her mother’s voice called for her from downstairs, he didn’t let Ally go, and she didn’t pull away either, so he dared to take this further. Dared to grasp for what he wanted most right now. Her in his lap.
But his quick tug at her body brought the sharp sound of shattering clay. She broke the kiss, leaping from his hold and onto the mattress at his side. Her gaze fused down to the wood floor beside the bed, her glossy stare quick to hit him next.
Sure enough, the red vase she’d held in her lap, lay in a cluster of broken pieces.
“Ally?”
She shook her head silently, her tongue darting out to lick her red and kiss-ravished lips, as though she sought to confirm what had just happened.
Never wanting to destroy one of her pieces, he wished to apologize. But truth be told, his only true regret was that the kiss had ended. So, the only honest thing he could think to extend was an offer to help clean up.
“Have you got cotton in your ears, girl?” Her dad burst through her closed door, his presence forcing a metaphorical gulf between them, one that had Ally leaping back even farther away from Chip.
Her dad’s brows dipped in the middle, and he passed his gaze between Chip, Ally, and the shattered clay, his voice momentarily stammering before he spoke again, “You two come on down, the surprise is waiting.”
His attention held for a moment longer, and then he slowly turned and padded out the door.
Ally’s incredulous stare dropped to the mess on the floor again, then sprung back to Chip, her mouth hanging agape. “Oh God. That shouldn’t have happened.”
The shock in her eyes indicated she spoke of more than the broken earthenware. As in, the kiss shouldn’t have happened.
If hearts could sink, then his most certainly did—along with his instinct to reassure her—since reassuring came close to convincing, and he sure as hell wouldn’t do that. Not now. Not ever.
Besides, her silence spoke volumes. It said that they’d been apart too long to call each other friends, and one kiss didn’t make for lovers.
“Come on.” Burying the internal sting from her regret, he stood and reached for her hand. “The mess can wait. Your parents won’t.”