I nod and stop breathing when he starts to work the front of them open. “I propose we share joint custody,” he says softly, his dark blue gaze dipping lower to rest on my mouth.

  I lick my lips because my mouth is suddenly so dry it feels like I’ve been eating sand and his jaw goes tight. “Joint custody?” I sound stupid when I say it. Like I have no idea what the words mean. I’m wearing clothes underneath. Jeans and a tank, same as always, but that doesn’t matter. My heart starts going crazy like it did last night when he got too close. All I can do is wonder what it would be like if Declan Gilroy was undressing me for real. If we were alone and I didn’t absolutely hate everything about him.

  “Yeah.” He looks up at me when he says it. Coveralls loose to my waist, he slips his massive hand inside. “Joint custody.” His wide, blunt fingertips skim along the underside of my breast and I have to lock my knees in place to keep from crumbling to the floor. “You take care of it and I’ll buy what you need to do it.” His hand closes over the squirming lump tucked under my arm and pulls it out, his knuckles grazing my nipple on the way out.

  The cat.

  He was reaching for the cat.

  “Her.” I watch him tuck the kitten into the crook of his elbow where she promptly starts purring so loud she sounds like a motorboat. “She’s not an it. She’s a her.”

  “Okay. Her.” He flashes me a grin. “Do we have a deal?”

  It’s only fair, right? He’s not wrong. I wouldn’t even have the cat if he hadn’t shown up and dragged me into his business. I mean, why should I have to spend my hard-earned money on things like cat litter and squeaky toys when he’s the real responsible party?

  Before I can say anything he gives me a grin so deep it reveals a pair of dimples I’ve never noticed before. His little brother has them and he uses them indiscriminately to get what he wants. I have a feeling Declan doesn’t flash his around as easily. “Excellent,” he says, holding my gaze for a moment longer before he takes my cat and the cart full of shit and walks away.

  Twelve

  Declan

  Wrong,

  This is wrong.

  All of it.

  I’m a criminal. I steal cars.

  For her dad.

  She’s too young.

  I’m too much of an asshole.

  She’s too honest.

  All I do is lie. To get what I want. To avoid trouble. To start it. Just for the hell of it.

  She’s too innocent.

  And I’m guilty as sin on about a hundred different levels.

  But fuck if any of that matters to me right now.

  Right now, it’s all I can do to keep from stripping her naked and fucking her on the check-out conveyor belt.

  And she’d let me too.

  No one else has touched her before. I suspected as much but I knew it for a fucking fact the second I slipped my hand into her coveralls.

  The way she held her breath while my fingertips skimmed the swell of her breast.

  The way her cheeks flushed pink when my knuckles grazed her rock-hard nipple.

  The muddled look on her face—half relief, half disappointment—when I pulled the kitten out of her coveralls.

  I went to high school with the cashier. Her name is Connie. She was a few years ahead of me and makes small talk while she scans my cartful of shit.

  “She’s cute,” she says. For a second, I think she’s talking about Tess but then I catch the look she’s giving the kitten.

  “Thanks.” I don’t want to talk to her. I throw a glance at Tess. She’s waiting by the front entrance, studying the bank of prize machines harried mothers use to bribe and distract their kids. Instead of closing up her coveralls, she’s stripped them off to the waist, tying the arms around her waist. She’s wearing a ribbed white tank top. The kind guys wear. She’s not wearing a bra and I can’t stop staring at her.

  “Does she have a name?”

  “No,” I say without looking at her.

  “Something that cute should have a name.”

  Jesus. Is she flirting with me? “How’s Jake and the kids?” I say, finally looking at her. Jake is her husband. They got married when he knocked her up their senior year. That’s how it works around here. You fuck around enough, you end up putting a baby in some girl you barely know and five minutes later you’re married and working some shit job while she keeps popping them out and nags you into a heart attack by the time you’re fifty.

  No, thanks.

  “They’re fine.” She flushes and stops talking.

  When my total flashes on the screen, I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash. Connie’s eyes go wide while I peel off a few bills and toss them on the counter. A few seconds later the drawer pops open and coins rattle down the shoot to roll around in the bottom of the dispenser. Scooping them up, I tuck the cat tighter into the crook of my arm. “Keep the rest,” I tell her, walking way, cart in tow.

  “Here,” I say, handing the kitten to Tess when I’m close enough. As soon as the transfer is made the little furball lets out a yowl of protest. Dropping a few quarters into a random machine, I give the crank a few turns while Tess fights the kitten as it tries to claw its way up her shirt.

  The machine spits out a small clear plastic container and it hits the heavy metal flap with a muted thump. Reaching in, I pull it out and give it a shake before I toss it to her. “Here you go.”

  She catches it, despite the furball she’s wrestling and gives me a wry smile. “Is this my prize for being a good little girl?”

  “No,” I tell her, letting my gaze slide down her frame. Letting it linger a little too long on her breasts before lifting it again. “You weren’t that good.”

  Leaving her where she is, I push the cart toward the automatic sliding doors leading to the parking lot while she scrambles after me. I parked on the other side of the lot, as far from the store as I could get, behind the store’s delivery truck because I followed her here and had no intention of approaching her until I was actually standing behind her while she stared at bags and buckets of cat litter.

  I am so fucked.

  It doesn’t take her long to realize what I’m doing. Where I’m going. “If you think I’m getting into a—” She stops herself before she says something incriminating but the heat in her tone tells me she hasn’t forgotten about last night. Or forgiven me for pulling her into my bullshit. “car with you, you’re nuts.” When she says, she’s right next to me, glaring up at my face while she hurries to keep up. She doesn’t mean car. She means stolen car.

  “It’s not a car, Tesla.” I dig a set of keys out of the front pocket of my jeans. “It’s a minivan.” I hit the button on the fob and it lets out a chirp. I pull up short in front of the silver, late model Sienna. “More specifically, it’s my mom’s minivan.” I pop the hatch and start loading bags and boxes into the back of it while she stands there and stares at me like I’m trying to kidnap her. Irritated, I slam the hatch closed and look at her. “You can’t walk—not with all this shit to carry. The carts have a perimeter lock on them. Can’t take ‘em out of the parking lot—so quit posturing and just get in.”

  I swear to god, if she wasn’t holding that damn cat, she would’ve swung on me.

  How fucked up am I that the thought makes me want to drag her into the back of my mom’s van and get her naked.

  “I hate you.” She pushes it through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed and glittering on my face.

  “Good.” I want her to hate me. I need her to because that’s the only way this doesn’t go from bad to worse. The only way I have even a snowball’s chance of keeping myself in check.

  Without warning, she spins on the heel of her boot and stomps her way to the front of the van. When I slide behind the wheel, she’s sitting in the passenger seat. Her cheeks are flushed pink beneath her smooth olive skin. Her lip parted so she can breathe through her mouth. Her chest heaving slightly like she’s out of breath, each exhale pushing her dark, rock-hard nipples against the thin material of her shirt.

  I meant to stick the key in the ignition. Start the van. Take her home. Get her the fuck away from me. I bought enough shit to last the cat most of its life. I met my responsibility. I can go back to ignoring her and the way she makes me feel. Makes me want.

  That’s what I meant to do.

  But that’s not what I did.

  I don’t even realize it until I hear the keys hit the floorboard. Until I’m reaching across the center console and dragging her toward me. The kitten lets out a squeak and I pull it out of her hands and drop it on the seat Tess was sitting in only a moment before.

  Stop me.

  Stop me.

  Stop me.

  That’s what my brain starts shouting, the second I get my hands on her.

  She doesn’t stop me.

  Not even close.

  As soon as I have her in my lap, her arms snake around my neck. Her fingers push through my hair. She sighs softly and parts her lips when my tongue licks its way into her mouth.

  I have a brief moment of clarity and think I’m going to do the right thing and push her away but the moment passes. Spins away from me when she strokes herself with the raging hard-on I have pressed against her pussy.

  Fuck.

  When this ends—whatever the hell this is—it’s going to be bad.

  Thirteen

  Declan

  2018

  Anton’s doesn’t deliver. Which means I’ve been driving around for almost an hour with a dress, shoes and about a grand worth of imported French lace riding shotgun.

  Finally, I grow a set and do what I know I have to do.

  Notice I said what I have to do. Not what I should do.

  What I should do is take this shit back to Anton’s and tell him that I made a mistake. Or hell, just find a dumpster and toss it in. Eat the five grand I just dropped on a dress and shoes and undergarments for a woman who hates my guts and call it a stupid asshole tax because that’s exactly what I am.

  A stupid asshole.

  Tess hates dresses. They make her feel naked. She told me that once, a long time ago. Maybe that’s why, when I was looking at her up on that pedestal, while Anton was clucking and pinning his way around her, that’s all I could think about. How vulnerable she looked.

  How beautiful.

  For one heart-stopping moment, she looked happy to see me. The beginning of a smile starting to spread across her face.

  Then she remembered who I am.

  What I did to her.

  That she hates me.

  It happens sometimes when she sees me. Most of the time she pretends I’m not even there. I can take that. I can take her ignoring me. It makes things easier for both of us.

  What kills me, what absolutely lays me open and tears my guts out, are the times when she notices me. When she looks at me and I see My Tess. The Tess who loved me.

  The Tess I broke.

  Maybe that’s why I did it.

  Why I bought all this shit and paid extra for gift wrapping.

  Because it’s in those moments when I’m at my weakest. When it takes every shred of decency I’ve managed to cultivate over the years to not grab her and kiss her.

  You mean like you did a few weeks ago, outside the bar? Yeah, you’re a goddamned paragon of virtue.

  I’m not. I’m about as far from virtuous as a man can possibly get.

  But I’m trying.

  I’m fucking trying.

  I mean, it’s been nine years for fuck’s sake. At some point one of us is going to move on for real. One of us is going to get happy and it’s going to stick.

  The me I try to be hopes it’s her. Hopes she finds someone who treats her right. Makes her happy. Deserves her.

  The real me, the guy who seethes and lurks. Watches and wants her from the dark, will kill anyone who tries.

  “Sir?”

  I turn my head to find the valet looking at me, his face pushed close to my rolled up window, fogging up the glass.

  Shit.

  I kill the engine on my truck and pop the door open. When I slide out to stand next to him, he stands up a little straighter, his masculinity not allowing him to slouch. I’m six foot six and weigh 280 pounds. Just breathing is considered an act of aggression.

  “Keep it close.” Forcing an easy-going grin onto my face, I hand him my keys. “I won’t be here long.”

  Before I leave him to it, I reach back into the truck and drag the box and bag across the seat and take them with me.

  Crossing the lobby, I spot the desk monkey out of the corner of my eye but I don’t break my stride. He must take his job very seriously because he’s already coming around the side of the front desk to attempt an interception.

  “I’m here to see Henley O’Connell,” I tell him, using my elbow to jab the call button for the elevator because my hands are full.

  “That may be, sir but I still have to—”

  “Gatsby.” The elevator lets out a ding and I step back. The desk monkey’s mouth snaps shut and he smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, over his tie. Gatsby is the code word Henley set up for guests who don’t need to be announced.

  She didn’t give it to me.

  She gave it to Tess and I happened to be listening.

  I don’t feel so much as a twinge of guilt over using it without permission.

  “Very well, sir.” He gives me a slight nod before disappearing.

  The elevator doors slide open and I step inside.

  I’ve never been here.

  Never been invited.

  Henley pretends to be my friend but she’s not. Not really. The truth is, she struggles with forgiving me for the way I treated her. The way I pushed her and my brother apart.

  It’s okay. I get it. If I were her, I wouldn’t even bother pretending. I’d openly hate my fucking guts.

  But I’m here and I’m going to ask her for help all the same.

  Because there’s no one else I can ask.

  Leaning the box against the wall beside her front door, I knock. I can hear voices inside—female voices. It occurred to me that she might not be home. What hadn’t occurred to me is that she might have company. That Tess might be here.

  Fuck.

  The door swings open.

  “Dec—” Henley starts to say my name but stops herself.

  “Who is it?” An unfamiliar voice. Must be Cari’s little sister, Grace.

  I hold up the bag, showing her Anton’s shop logo engraved into the heavy black paper. Her eyes go round and wide.

  “Nothing—I mean just a delivery.” She shakes her head at me. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She eases herself into the hall and shuts the door behind her. “What did you do, Declan?”

  I don’t answer her because what I did is pretty fucking obvious. “You need to be the one to give it to her.” I shove the bag into her hands before reaching for the box. “Tell her you bought it.”

  “Why?” She looks down at the box I push into her hand.

  “Because she won’t take it from me and she’ll at least consider taking it from you, that’s why.”

  “No...” She looks up at me, deep brown eyes narrowed on my face. “I mean why?”

  I know what she meant, I just don’t want to answer the question. “Because she needs a dress—” for her date. The rest of it gets stuck in my throat. I can’t say it. I can’t even think about it. “for whatever she needs it for.”

  Henley stands there, looking at me like I just dumped a bucket of rats over her head. “So you want me to lie. To Tess.”

  I hadn’t even considered that. That what I was asking her to do is wrong. Further proof that the old me is still driving the bus where Tess is concerned. “I can’t be the—”

  She shakes her head. “I’m still on probation where she’s concerned. After what happened with Con—” She stops talking. I don’t say anything. I just let the memory sink in. That I’m the one who came to New York to tell her about how her brother, Ryan was wounded in action and was home from the Army. That I did it against my brother’s wishes.

  That she owes me.

  “I’m a terrible liar, Declan,” she warns as she tucks the box under her arm. “She won’t buy it for long and when she figures it out, she’s going to be pissed.”

  I know she’ll eventually figure out that I’m the one who bought the dress and when she does, Henley’s right. She’ll be pissed.

  Pissed is probably an understatement.

  “She’s been pissed at me for eight years.” I shove my hands into my pockets and take a step back. “It’s not going to make much difference.” I turn and make my way down the hall.

  “For you,” she hisses after me. “It won’t make much difference for you.” The door snapping closed behind me before I can even think about apologizing.

  Translation: You’re still a selfish dick, Declan.

  Hands free, I jab the elevator call button, it lets out a ding and the doors slide open.

  And there’s my fiancé with her ball player. His hand is worked up her skirt and his tongue is shoved down her throat.

  “Going down?”

  At the sound of my voice, Jessica sky blue eyes go wide. She lets out a yelp and starts slapping at Viaga’s hand like she has no idea what it is or how it got up her skirt.

  It’s ridiculous. The whole fucked-up, bullshit mess of it—up to and including the fact that I’m actually marrying this skank—is so ludicrous that I start laughing.

  I laugh so goddamned hard I forget to get on the elevator and end up taking the stairs.

  Fourteen

  Declan

  I’m not sure why I’m here. Why I keep coming back. I mean, even when I was a kid, I never felt like I belonged. I lived here nearly my entire life and it never felt like home.

  Con’s car is in the driveway.

  Perfect.

  I’ve been spoiling for a fight all damn day. Ever since Cap’n poked his nose into my business with Tess at Benny’s. Ever since I saw her in that fucking dress and realized that she was trying it on for someone else. That if whoever he is plays his cards right, he’ll be the one taking it off of her at the end of the night.

 

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