Chapter 23 #2
She tried not to stare. Really. But there was something about the way he moved that made it impossible not to. He was confident and efficient with his motions, and the dancer in her admired the strong lines of his body as he sliced and chopped.
His strong shoulders shifted beneath the fitted fabric of his shirt with each slice of the knife, and her mind, horny and traitorous, flicked back to the cabin for the millionth time.
To his long, strong body above hers. To the way he’d kissed her.
Tasted her. Spread her open and grinned up at her, his white teeth flashing against the dark silk of his mustache, just before he—
She fanned herself discreetly and forced herself to look somewhere, anywhere other than at pure temptation.
“Was tonight the first time you’ve seen Tucker?” he asked without looking up.
The heat flash abruptly cooled. “Yes. The first time I’ve seen him in person.” She wrapped her hands around the beer bottle and peeled the damp wrapper. “I called him when I got back from the cabin.”
The chopping continued, slow and steady. “How did that go?”
“I told him I saw the photo of him and Madison.” She cleared her throat. “He didn’t deny it. He said that it ‘wasn’t planned,’ like that somehow makes it better.”
Rush scraped the vegetables into a pan and reached for the carton of eggs. “What did you say?”
“I told him I hope they’re happy. And I told him I never wanted to hear from him again.”
“Good.” Rush nodded, stirred the eggs in the pan, and fixed her with one of his direct looks. Man, he had the cop thing down pat. She tried not to squirm under all that intensity. “Have you been okay since the cabin?”
“Okay? Oh, you mean—” Not pregnant. Not thinking about the best weekend of my life. Not hoping you might stick around. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
“Good,” he said simply. He cut the omelet in half and slid the pieces neatly onto two plates, popped up the toast and buttered it generously. Settling onto the stool next to her, he slid one plate her way.
She smiled her gratitude and dug in enthusiastically.
“So,” she said between bites, “tell me about the new job.”
“It starts in February. I’ll be working at a private security firm. Grant Clairmont set it up for me. Theo’s brother—your brother-in-law, right? Grant and I served in the Marines together.”
“Oh, that’s right. We met at the wedding. Grant, Ford, and Lieren, and their grandma Georgie, right?”
“That’s them.”
“That’s a big change—sheriff to working security,” she observed.
For the first time, his gaze slipped. “It’s work,” he said dismissively.
“Well,” she said, setting down her fork, “thanks again for stepping in tonight. I knew I’d run into them eventually.” A sigh slipped out before she could stop it. “Now we have to explain it was all a misunderstanding—that we’re not actually together.”
Rush finished the last bite on his plate, stood, and collected their dishes. He rinsed the plates, wiped down the counter with his usual efficiency, then dried his hands and turned back to her.
He didn’t speak right away. Just watched her. His gaze dipped to her mouth, lingering there before meeting her eyes again. The frank interest in his expression hit her, hot and dark, pulsing low in her stomach until her breath stuttered.
Rush’s energy, when he let her see it, took her breath away.
“We don’t have to do that,” he said.
Surely her ears had glitched. “What did you just say?”
“We could make it true,” he said.
That smile. Those damn crinkles at the corners of his eyes that softened the whole stoic-sheriff thing and made him look so unfairly handsome her heart actually throbbed.
For one unguarded second, elation shot through her.
More of Sheriff Sexy? Her body did a little shimmy of delight before his next words landed like a stone.
“A temporary arrangement.” His voice dipped lower and a little rougher.
“No more god-awful blind dates. My sisters stop hounding me, and in the meantime…” His eyes dragged over her again, slowly moving from the soft rise of her breasts to the curve of her waist, and then lower.
She hadn’t realized how much she missed that look—how much she’d missed feeling like a woman someone couldn’t take his eyes off.
Rush’s unapologetic appreciation sparked something wild in her, something reckless and overdue. She was tired of playing it safe. Tired of being pitied. She wanted to want things, and take them, just because she could.
“We both get exactly what we want until I leave for Boston,” he finished.
“Temporary…” she said thoughtfully, testing the word.
It didn’t scare her. If anything, it felt…
perfect. No promises. Not forever. No more shrinking herself to fit someone else’s life.
Just fun, freedom, and maybe a few firsts she’d been too busy being the good girl to even imagine.
“Temporary I can do. But what exactly do you think I want?”
He cocked his head, studying her. “I think you should be the one to answer that question.”
“I’ve spent a long time doing what I was supposed to want,” she said slowly. “I think I’m ready to figure out what I really like.”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes warmer now. “I can handle that.”
She hesitated. “And it’s not—there aren’t other women, are there? I don’t want to be one of many.”
“No.” He looked at her unflinchingly. “There’s no one else, Lily. Just you and me.”
Something inside her softened. Relief, yes, that there was no one else, but also something deeper that she didn’t want to examine just yet.
He leaned in, his broad frame blocking out the kitchen light.
So close she could smell the cold winter air and lingering woodsmoke clinging to him, and a flash of heat surged through her, making her knees wobbly.
“If our chemistry’s any indication,” he said, his voice a husky murmur near her ear, “we’re going to have a real good time together. ”
Her breath hitched. The weekend at the cabin flashed hot and fast through her mind. The idea of more of that was so far out of her neat and tidy norm… and yet, maybe that was the point.
She wanted to be that free-spirited, braver version of herself. The one who chose bigger, bolder moves instead of swallowing herself whole to keep everyone else comfortable.
He raised a hand to her cheek and brushed his fingers along her jaw. “I’ve missed kissing you, Lily.”
Her mouth opened then closed again, along with her eyes.
Kissing Rush had been almost obsessively on her mind the last month.
The way he was so sure in touching her, knowing her body in a way that she was just beginning to understand.
The idea of exploring that was seductive.
Liberating. Dangerous. Thrilling. Fun. Very un-Lily-like. And maybe that was exactly the point.
It didn’t get more real than spending a few months with Rush Callahan—taking what she wanted instead of what was expected.
Heat flushed through her, and her mind crowded with X-rated images of his mouth on hers, the slow grind of his hips, the rough drag of his hands down her spine. God, she still wanted him.
She licked her lips without thinking. His eyes tracked the motion like a hawk.
Her brain short-circuited, melting straight into a puddle at her feet. Just like that, the memories of tasting whiskey on his lips and the scrape of his mustache over her skin flooded her.
And he knew exactly what he was doing.
He lifted his gaze slowly, a crooked, slow-burn smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not usually like that,” she blurted before she could stop the confession. Heat climbed her throat. “That weekend… the cabin. It was…” She swallowed. “I don’t just… I don’t usually…”
Rush’s eyes went a deep, smoky gray. “Maybe it was more you than you think,” he said softly. “Either way, I’ll count myself lucky it was me you let loose with.”
He draped his arm along the back of her stool, shirt stretching over muscle, crowding her with heat and intent. She was way out of her league again.
Her fingers curled against the countertop. Neat had been her safe zone for years. The polite smile when she wanted to scream. The yes when she meant no, years of swallowing her needs to keep everyone else comfortable. Always doing the “right” thing.
But the cabin had cracked something open in her. For one wild, breathless weekend, she’d wanted without apology, and on the way back down the mountain, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t go back.
Do the real thing, not the right thing. Even if it scared her.
And nothing felt more real than Rush Callahan.
“Okay,” she heard herself say unsteadily. “We’ll just… enjoy this. Until Boston?”
He dipped his head, his lips brushing dangerously close to hers, close enough to make her sway. “Until Boston,” he murmured, then his hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her inexorably toward him, and then he kissed her.
Not tentatively or carefully. His mouth claimed hers in a way that made her think of all the other places she’d like to feel that kiss again.
Sparks that had teased for weeks went up like dry tinder catching fire.
It was slick heat and teeth and tongue, his mouth devouring her while she pressed against him until she was more in his lap than on her own stool.
The counter pressed against her hip as she leaned into him, hard muscles against soft curves.
His other hand settled low on her hip, urging her closer, closer to all that fire.
He slid off the stool and dragged her off with two firm hands on her hips, settling her against him as he leaned back and kissed her deeply. He tasted like sweet, hot trouble—bold and dangerous, and oh so tempting.