“I used to drive by and imagine the family inside,” she said after a moment. “A mom baking, kids in the yard, a dad coming home tired but happy. The orchard out back turning gold in September. I always wanted to know what that felt like.” She let out a quick, self-conscious laugh. “My mom and aunts did everything for me and my sisters when my dad left, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted a normal family.” She paused then added quietly. “I still do.” She took a sip of cocoa, letting the sweetness settle the lump in her throat.
She could have mentioned that her earliest memories were of living in the concrete complex of government-subsidized housing on the outskirts of Northfield while her mom worked as a waitress and went to school at night, but that would have shifted them from easy small talk into real feelings—and from the brooding set of Rush’s mouth, she knew he wasn’t willing to go there.
“How about you? You must not have stuck around for long after high school?”
“I couldn’t wait to leave,” he said bluntly. “I wanted to pull my own weight. Didn’t want my grandparents carrying me when they already had their hands full with my sisters. Figured the best way to make myself useful was to join up. The Marines took me, gave me structure and a way to take care of myself. That’s all I wanted back then. That and to see the world.”
Lily took a deep breath, concentrating on energy. His. Hers. Theirs. Rush was charged with it, either awaiting more unwanted questions or hearing about her own upbringing.That isn’t what this is, Lily,she chided herself. That’s not what you need from him.At least not now. Not yet.
“You must have stuck out like a sore thumb with that Texas drawl,” she teased, wanting to lighten the mood.
It worked. Rush’s shoulders loosened the slightest bit. “We did. None of us really lost it.”
“Thank God for that,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
He grinned suddenly, showing a flash of white in the dim light. “You like that, do you?”
Her cheeks warmed, but she nodded anyway. “It’s not bad,” she murmured. “What made you come back home?” she asked after a comfortable silence.
He looked into the fire broodingly. “I came back because this is home.”
She leaned in a little, searching his face. “And now you’re leaving again?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then his gaze cut to hers, his eyes a cool flat gray. “I guess I’m not meant to stay in one place.”
Lily leaned back, the quiet settling heavily between them.Her gaze drifted to the crooked tree in the corner, its top bent where it hit the ceiling. A smile curved her lips, more from habit than happiness. “Maybe that’s for the best,” she said softly. “This place deserves someone who’ll put down roots.”
Chapter Thirty
“You look tired,”she murmured a moment later, setting her mug down. “We can always do this another night.”
“I’m fine,” he said, sinking deeper into the couch until his head tipped back against the cushion. Firelight caught the gleam of his silver badge and the faint shadow of a bruise along his jaw. “Fuck. Long day.”
“Want to tell me about it?” she asked lightly.
His eyes went distant, his beautifully sensual mouth flattened under the sweep of his mustache. Silence stretched between them while she forced herself to meet his eyes calmly as a storm gathered in his. She’d never regret asking, but damn, it hurt to be shut out.
She untucked her legs and stood to leave. “You know, let’s call it a night. I should?—”
His hand shot out, catching her thigh above her leg warmers.
“Stay,” he said. Half command, half request.
She hesitated, torn between what she wanted to do and what was good for her, before nodding. His big hands wrapped around both thighs, just under her sweater, and kneaded. Shewatched his face as he touched her, noticing as exhaustion melted into something darker. Hungrier. His touch was firm, strong hands working the tired muscles until her breathing deepened. He worked his way down, pushing the warmers out of the way and up her calves again, working her tired legs until warm, liquid relaxation flowed through her.
She wasn’t blind to it—how he’d pivoted again from sharing any emotions—this time with his body instead of words.That’s what we agreed to,she reminded herself.A distraction for him and an experience for me. Nothing more.
“Rush,” she whispered, torn. He looked tired and worn, exuding a broody remoteness that screamed,keep out… and yet he caught her waist, tugging her closer.
“Come here.”
“You’re tired and?—”
“I’m not tired,” he cut in, his head shaking slowly, his gaze locked on hers. There was no softness in his expression, only the magnetic pull of a man who needed something she could give him.
He drew her in until her knees touched the couch. There was nowhere left to go but into him, and Lord help her, that was exactly where she wanted to be.
A low huff drew her attention downward. Riggs had shifted on the rug at Rush’s boots. His big head rested on his paws, his amber eyes alert and following her every move. Lily stiffened automatically.
