Chapter 2
“Miles,” Tabitha called from behind him.
Ignoring her, Miles used the key fob in his hand to unlock the car doors. In less than a minute, he’d be behind the wheel driving away.
Then he could go home and pretend he hadn’t let Tabitha chase him out of the bar. That seeing her hadn’t affected him at all.
That he didn’t still think about her.
He was with me because I was pretty and malleable and convenient.
She made it sound like he’d picked her off a shelf. Like she’d been a toy for him to play with.
Like he’d taken advantage of her. Used her.
And he was… lost. Lost and terrified of being alone.
Reaching his car, he yanked open the door.
And went utterly, completely still when Tabitha laid her hand lightly against his mid back.
He turned slowly and her hand dropped, but she didn’t step back.
“Fastest way back to Pittsburgh is to take the highway.” He crossed his arms and gestured to the right with his chin. “Take North Pearl Street three blocks to Fifth Ave then turn right onto Elm Street. You’ll see the signs for the expressway.”
“Why, Assistant Chief Jennings. Is that your way of saying this town isn’t big enough for the both of us?”
“I hadn’t realized Hayden was such a gossip.”
Although after her king of one night stands crack, he shouldn’t be surprised she’d told Tabitha his job title.
“Congratulations,” she said, light and, it seemed, honest. “Looks like your life has gone according to your plans.”
Christ, but that was so far off the mark, he didn’t know whether to laugh his ass off or sit on the pavement and bawl like a baby.
Neither would change the situation.
Either would be a loss of control.
“Not quite.”
His plans, the ones he’d shared with her all those years ago, had been simple.
Become a cop, return to Mount Laurel where he’d spend his life serving and protecting the people he cared about the most, surrounded by his family and friends.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tabitha said. “It looks to me like you’re right on track with that ten-year plan you had.”
Except his ten-year plan had included being married by now. Maybe even having a kid or two.
It had included being married to her.
Those plans changed when he’d realized what a fool he’d been for her. He’d learned valuable lessons about trust. He’d survived his first, his only, heartbreak. He’d moved on.
He’d fully believed he’d gotten over her.
Until fifteen minutes ago when he’d turned on his barstool and saw her standing there.
“What do you want?”
Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”“I mean, why did you come after me?”
“I want to talk to you.” She shifted closer. Laid her hand on his chest. “I want to hear what you’ve been up to. How you’ve been. I want you to stop being so angry with me.” She tipped her face up and met his gaze, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you.”
He went stiff with shock, his neck and shoulders tightening with denial. His blood boiling with fury. But he refused to let any of it show.
Refused to give her any piece of himself ever again.
“Did you think I’ve been sitting around waiting for you?” he murmured, hoping like hell she couldn’t feel the thudding of his heart beneath her hand. “That after ten years without a word I’m pining for you?”
“I doubt Mount Laurel’s king of one-night stands has enough free time to be doing any pining. Or, from the sounds of it, much sitting around.” She paused, taking a long moment to send him a knowing look. “More like he’s trying to fuck someone out of his system.”
Nothing like having your ass chewed right up then handed back to you with a few words.
But she wasn’t the only one who could hide. Who could pretend.
And he was quickly learning she wasn’t the only one who could lie.
“This might come as a shock to you and that ego you’ve acquired,” he said, tossing her earlier comment about his ego back at her, “but when I’m with other women, you never even cross my mind.”
Her look went from knowing to sympathetic. As if she saw right through his bullshit and pitied him for trying to fool her with it.
For trying to fool himself.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she said quietly, “if you still think about me.”
His denial flew, fast and furious up his throat, but instead of bursting out his mouth, the lie stayed there, choking him, refusing to be let free.
And in that silence, she sensed her opening.
“It doesn’t have to mean you forgive me,” she said, “if you stop being so angry with me.”
Having her this close, the warmth of her fingers seeping through his shirt, that new scent of hers surrounding him, made him realize the truth.
It wasn’t anger that had his pulse racing and his fingers twitching with the need to settle on her waist and drag her closer. It wasn’t fury coursing through his veins, making him hot and hard.
It was lust.
Back in the bar where it’d been brighter, where they’d been surrounded by people and noise, where his shock had been at the forefront, his anger a close second, it’d been nothing but memories. A few lingering embers of what had been.
He’d been able to ignore it.
But he hadn’t been able to smother it.
Now, alone with her in the parking lot, the night quiet and dark around them, her body pressing lightly against him, those embers ignited.
And were tearing through him like wildfire, burning away his pride. Enflaming his need. Turning his resistance to ash.
“You’re really just passing through Mount Laurel?” he asked.
“I’m really just passing through.”
He didn’t believe her.
He didn’t trust her.
But he didn’t have to trust her to fuck her.
Especially if it meant getting her out of his head once and for all.
“Come home with me.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Come home with me.”
“Why?”
It was such a ridiculous question, he grinned, sharp and quick. “Because you were right. There is still one thing I feel for you.”
She slowly withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. “You want to get laid.”
He wished it was that simple. Wished this was nothing more than an itch he could scratch.
“I want to fuck you.”
He didn’t miss her small flinch.
Or the way her breathing quickened.
“Yes, well, as you pointed out a little while ago, I am good in bed.” Her smile was small and tight. “It’s the only thing I’m good for.”
He dropped his gaze, his stomach churning with shame.
An apology stuck in his throat, sharp and brittle, like a piece of glass.
He swallowed it down.
“If you come home with me, it won’t be like it was before between us. If you let me have you tonight, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. I won’t ask you again. I won’t chase you. And it doesn’t matter if you decide yes or no, once that decision is made, whether you spend the night with me or not. When you leave, I won’t think about you. Not ever again.”
She stayed silent, watching him with a slight furrow between her brows, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“I’m at 64 Elmwood Lane. If your answer is yes, you can follow me there.”
***
Tabitha stared, mouth hanging open, as Miles got in his car.
What was happening? It was like she’d wandered into some alternate reality where Miles Jennings had morphed into a fuckboy.
He probably thought he was doing her a favor, laying it all out that way. Being truthful.
Honesty was so overrated.
The next thing she knew, Miles was pulling out of his parking spot.
The man could move fast when he wanted to.
Then again, he’d never been one to waste time. Flirting with her the moment he first saw her at the coffee shop where she’d worked all those years ago. Asking her out when she’d delivered his order to him. Securing a second date before they’d even completed their first.
When he wanted something, he went after it.
Easy enough to do when you were handsome, smart and came from a family who not only loved you unconditionally, but also taught you to believe you were worthy of every good thing you could ever dream of.
For Tabitha? Not so easy.
Any good thing that came her way was met with a healthy dose of cynicism and obtained through hard work and sacrifices.
Good things didn’t just happen for her.
She had to fight for them.
But she was tired of fighting.
The smart thing would be for her to go back to the hotel. Going home with Miles wouldn’t change anything between them. Would only make it more awkward and uncomfortable if she did get the job and moved here.
Would only blur the lines between the past and the present.
She’d grown over the past ten years. Had learned patience. And with that, came the ability to be more rational, reasonable, and much more careful with the choices she made.
And in the end, she did what any reasonable, rational, careful person would do.
She got into her car and followed him home.
Clearly, she’d come a long way in her personal development.
She parked on the street as he pulled into his garage. Rubbing her damp palms down the front of her skirt, she took a deep, fortifying breath, then turned off the ignition, slid her purse under the seat and got out. Shut the door. Made sure it was locked.
And glanced across the street to see Miles standing in the open doorway of his garage watching her, hands in the pockets of his jeans, as if he had all night to wait for her to get herself across the street and into his house.
Not only would he not chase her, but he also wouldn’t walk down his driveway for her.
She crossed the street, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement an announcement to everyone on the block that she’d lost her ever-loving-mind and was merrily skipping toward what could very well be her own doom.
His house was small and white with a wide front porch. The windows were dark, and for some stupid reason, that broke her heart.
His house shouldn’t be dark. It shouldn’t be empty. It should be filled with love and warmth and laughter.
There should be someone waiting for him to come home.
He shouldn’t have been sitting by himself at a bar.
Even if at this moment, she was glad he had been.
When she was a few feet from him, he turned and walked into the garage.
Guess that was her cue to follow him.
She did, walking past his car to find him standing at the top of a short set of steps, holding open the door leading to his house.
And she knew this was her last chance to change her mind. That once she crossed that threshold, there’d be no going back.
But there was no choice. Only some sort of instinct pushing her forward. Some internal need to see this through.
Something telling her to seize the opportunity to be with him.
Because it wouldn’t come around again.
Brushing past him, she stepped into his kitchen. It was too dark to make out much more than the shape of a center island to her right and his shadowy form as he came in and shut the door behind him.
And while she stood there, heart racing, anticipation building, her eyes adjusted enough to the darkness to see him take off his shoes and place them on a mat in the corner, before hanging his keys on a hook next to the door.
Finally, he closed the distance between them. Breath held, she tipped her face up, ready, and more than willing for his kiss. His touch.
But he simply tipped his head to the left, murmured a gruff, “This way,” then walked away.
She sucked in a slow breath, then, using the counter for balance, lifted her foot, reaching down for the strap around her ankle.
“Leave them on.”
Her head came up at the softly spoken command to find Miles standing in the archway separating the kitchen from another room.
She set her foot down and he once more walked away.
Once more expected her to follow.
Which she did. Without thought. Without care. As if she was still that young, needy girl who’d blithely trotted after anyone who promised a bit of affection or attention.
She stepped into the next room, passing a small dining table and chairs, then through another arched doorway into his living room.
“Stop.”
She jerked to a halt. It was brighter in here, the streetlight out front shining through the picture window, and she watched as he reached for a lamp on a side table next to the couch.
She almost told him to keep it off. To keep them in the dark where they could pretend to be two strangers coming together.
Where she could keep hiding.
But then, he would be hidden, too.
After flicking the switch, he straightened, then stepped back.
She stepped up to him, sliding her hands up the hard planes of chest then linking them loosely behind his neck. Even in her heels she was still too short to reach his mouth, so she brushed her lips against the underside of his jaw, just over the steady beat of his pulse. Felt the light scrape of his stubble. Breathed in the woodsy scent of his aftershave. He was warm and so tempting, she couldn’t resist flicking her tongue out, tasting his skin.
But while his pulse picked up speed, he didn’t move.
His hands were still at his sides and not on her person where they should be. His head was lifted when the slightest tip downward would have his mouth pressing against hers. She raised her gaze to his hooded eyes, his expression giving nothing away.
As if having her follow him home was some twisted joke.
His moment of revenge where he could make himself feel better while making her feel small and foolish.
Face heating, she unhooked her fingers and slowly took a step back, putting the decision of what happened next in his hands.
And what did he decide?
To sit his ass down in the middle of the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world. Posture indolent, arms spread along the back, bent legs wide and taking up as much space as possible.
“Take your hair down.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, confused and nervous at his gruff tone. Irritated with herself at how she had to curl her fingers into her palm so she didn’t do as he said.
“Take your hair down. Slowly.”
“I’m not much for putting on a show.”
“Everything about you is a show. Everything about you is an act. A character you play. But I don’t want whoever it is you’re pretending to be right now.”
“You mean you want the girl I was when I was with you.”
Pretty. Malleable. Convenient.
“No. I want the real Tabitha. The one you never showed me. I want what’s real,” he said, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I want what’s true.”
He made it sound so simple. As if he was asking for no more than his due. Something he had every right to want. To expect.
Except there was nothing simple about the truth.
Nothing safe about it.
“We don’t talk about the past,” she blurted, heart racing at the mere thought of what she was about to do. What she was about to promise. “Or the future.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, the lamplight casting shadows over the angles of his face, making him look hard. Unyielding.
But then he did yield. And proved, finally, that she wasn’t in this alone.
“No past. No future. Just tonight. You tell me the truth about what you want. About what you like. About what you don’t like.”
She could do that.
What she couldn’t do was walk away.
She raised her hands to her hair.
And took out a bobby pin.