Author: Jill Shalvis

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know!” She tried to take a calming breath. It didn’t help. “And I don’t even know why you thought it would have been me.”

He sighed. “You need the money. You always need money.”

Low blow. It took her a minute to catch her breath. “There are more important things than money,” she said. “And have you thought that maybe one of your other girlfriends might have done it?”

Guilt flashed for a single beat on his face. “Look,” he said, “whatever Melissa and Aubrey have told you is—”

“Aubrey?” Ali stared at him. “You had both Melissa and Aubrey on the side? Seriously?”

Ted’s face had closed up. “All I’m saying is that you’ve been misinformed—”

“Stop,” she said, lifting a hand. “You’re just reinforcing your ass-ness.”

“Fine. I don’t have to explain myself to you anyway.” His gaze flicked to Luke. “And what’s going on between you two? You found a way to stay here, huh?”

This time Luke tensed, and Ali grabbed his hand. “Don’t bother,” she murmured.

Luke didn’t take his eyes off Teddy, but he kept his thoughts to himself, looking extremely dangerous to Teddy’s well-being. “You’ve got your phone,” he said quietly. “Leave now.”

“I’m going, but I want to talk to you first,” he said to Ali. “Alone.”

He was very brave, or very oblivious. Either way, Luke didn’t budge, and Ali was choking on all the testosterone. “Oh for God’s sake.” She turned to Luke. “It’s okay.”

When he still didn’t budge, she stepped outside and shut the front door. “You have two seconds,” she said to Teddy.

Teddy eyed the front door warily. “My attorney advised me to stay away,” he said. “But you really embarrassed me, Ali. At work. In town. I thought we were okay, that we had a good run and then it was over, no hard feelings. So I have to know—why did you do it? You had to know you wouldn’t get away with it.”

“I didn’t do it—”

“I’m trying to work my way up to council and then to mayor,” he said, “and you made everyone doubt and mistrust my judgment.”

“Me? You were sleeping with half the town! You made yourself look bad.”

“Ali, you broke into my office and stole back a stupid ceramic pot that you’d given me. That’s just ridiculously stupid. Stupid and childish.”

“I didn’t break in.” But she flushed because he was right, on all accounts, and she hated that. “Yes, okay, it was stupid and childish. But I was hurt. You’d walked away without so much as a look back. You didn’t deserve the pencil pot.”

“Forget the fucking pot!” he yelled, and then made a visible effort to relax. He even poured on a little Teddy charm. “Look, I was just trying to be nice, okay? You were cute and fun, and when you had to get out of your apartment, I wanted to help you out. So I offered to share a place.”

This stunned her. “I thought we were a thing.”

“Okay, yes, we had a thing. But you weren’t my thing.”

She stared at him. “You could have told me,” she finally managed.

“You’re right, I should have told you. I should have said that I’d made a mistake. That you weren’t my type.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed. “Forget it.”

“Tell me.”

“Fine,” he said. “We’re…different.”

“You mean you’re a cheating bastard and I’m not?”

He sighed again, the put-upon ex-boyfriend, suffering through the breakup talk. “That’s not what I meant.”

No, actually, she knew what he meant, she knew exactly. He’d come from money and she’d come from nothing.

“I want that money back, Ali. I mean it.” And with that, he strode off the steps like he owned the world.

She’d have given just about anything to be holding the new key pot she was making so she could wing it at the back of his thick skull. In fact, she whirled around looking for something, anything, to bean him with.

“Later,” Luke said, joining her on the porch after clearly having listened to the whole exchange. “I’ll hold him down for you.”

“When?” she demanded.

“When you don’t have witnesses.”

She followed his gaze to Mrs. Gibson, who lived on the other side of Luke’s grandfather’s house. Fifty-something, she was a local teacher, soaking up the spectacle from her doorstep.

Luke waved at her.

Mrs. Gibson returned the wave and went inside.

“We’ll make Facebook before the hour’s up,” he muttered.

Luke could feel Ali vibrating with emotions.

“I really want to hit him,” she said.

“Bloodthirsty,” he murmured, taking her hand, running his thumb over the pulse racing at her wrist. “I like it.”

She didn’t look at him, and he realized she was shaking. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling her inside, turning her to face him.

She looked down, so he bent his knees to put them nose to nose. “What are you doing, letting him get in your head like that?” he asked.

“I—” She pushed him. “I don’t know.”

But he knew that she did know. She hated that someone believed she might have stolen that money, hated knowing that anyone thought she was a thief, even if that someone was the cheating bastard Ted Marshall.

“Forget him, Ali.”

She covered her face. When she shuddered, his heart stopped.

“I’m not crying,” she said through her fingers.

“Thank Christ.” But his relief was cut off by the solo tear that tracked down her cheek. Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled her in close. “Ali,” he murmured helplessly.

“Don’t,” she said, muffled against his chest.

“Forget it. I’m going to be nice to you for at least a second. You’ll have to just stand there and bear it.”

“No, I mean I’m all sweaty now. I think it’s the fury.”

Her body was overheated, her skin damp. He didn’t care. He lifted her chin and looked her over.

“I’m a wreck,” she said, trying to turn away. “A complete wreck. And a fraud.”

“Why, did you take the money?”

“No!” She took in the teasing in his expression and squeezed her eyes shut. “I wanted to be someone different here,” she said, and broke his heart. “Not an invisible nobody florist’s assistant from White Center.”

“Do not listen to him,” he said, maybe a little harshly, but he wanted her to hear him. Really hear him. “You’re not a nobody. And you are a florist, a great one. You also teach ceramics. Hell, Ali, half of your students are in love with you. You care enough to be nice to nosy, old men. You helped a stranger avoid the rest of the world, even when he was a total ass. You’d give that stranger the last of your paycheck simply because you thought it was the right thing to do.”

“It was the right thing to do,” she said. “And you weren’t a total ass.”

“You’d probably give away your heart and soul if it was needed,” he said. “But that would be a shame, because you’re one-hundred-percent heart and soul. You’re the real deal, Ali, the way the rest of us have forgotten how to be.”

“I have…faults.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but they’re not the ones Marshall said.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “You wear your emotions on your sleeve, and you care. Hell, most people would say those are good things.”

She snorted, and he smiled, relieved. “But one thing you’re not, Ali, is invisible. You’re standing right here, strong and beautiful—”

“No—”

“Beautiful,” he repeated fiercely, stunned to find that he meant it from a very personal standpoint. He stared at her, impacted on a visceral, physical, and mental level by her. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.

Ali didn’t think anyone had ever told her she was beautiful before. It should’ve felt like a cheesy line, but it didn’t. Mostly because though she knew he meant it, she also knew he didn’t want to find her beautiful.

In some twisted way, it was that reluctance that made her feel better. She didn’t want to feel anything for him either. She didn’t want to feel anything for anyone ever again, and yet she wasn’t hardwired that way. “I’m all sweaty,” she said again, even as her hands fisted in his hair.

“That’s okay,” he said silkily, his mouth brushing her temple. “We’re going to get even more so.”

The words made her shiver. So did the way he pressed her up against the wall right there in the foyer.

“I thought we were a bad idea,” she said.

“We are.” Her halter top slid down, revealing her bare breasts. He’d been so smooth she’d not felt him undo it. Then his fingers caught in the hem of the sundress, and he slid it up to her waist.

He sure was quick when properly motivated. “So this is what?” she asked breathlessly, already so excited she was rubbing her thighs together. “A pity fuck?”

His smile was heated and wicked as he kissed her. “That’s a two-part question,” he said. “Yes to the pity part, but it’s not for you, it’s for Marshall.”

If she’d had enough air in her lungs, she would have laughed.

“Now,” he said, pressing closer so there was no mistaking his intent—as if she could mistake anything about his pinning her to the wall with his hard body. “As for the fuck part…” He kissed her again, until she nearly forgot herself.