She wasn’t ashamed. She’d meant every word.

And yet to stay and face him… That was definitely the tougher route. But last night he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d kept her off the roads. He’d allowed her to stay. And more than all of that, he’d taken care of her.

She needed to thank him. It was just good manners. Turning, she glanced at Aidan where he still stood watching the dark night slowly turn into a glorious morning.

He’d let her have her inner battle in private.

“I’ll get my keys,” he said.

She drew a deep breath. “Not necessary. Turns out we were both wrong about what I’m doing next.”

He turned then and met her gaze, a small smile on his mouth. “Not me,” he said. “I had money on you and I never lose.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Well you could’ve saved me some time and anxiety if you’d just said so to start with.”

White teeth flashed. “Where would the fun be in that?”

The stairs did indeed lead to the gym. The only windows in the place were high, up close to the ceilings, and set in the concrete walls. The moon was still up and beaming ghostly slants of light across the hardwood floor, casting the room in a patchwork of luster and shadow.

Hud was indeed there, shirtless, sweatpants dangerously low slung, working weights. As she moved across the floor to the weight bench where he was mechanically lifting, she shifted in and out of the moonbeams. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.

Matching the flip-flopping emotions churning through her. Stay. Go. Stay…

Hud continued to silently hoist weights in perfectly timed repetitions like some dark superhero, and she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the man and how much she ached just looking at him.

She leaned over the bar and smiled at him.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. Nor did he return her smile.

“Right,” she murmured. “Because you remember everything about last night.”

He settled the bar into the rack and sat up as she moved around to straddle the bench facing him. “You don’t remember?” he asked with a whisper of disbelief.

“Not at first, but it’s all coming back to me.” Determined to keep the tone light, she tried smiling again. “So. I threw myself at you. Should I apologize for that?”

The false stillness in his face told her that he wasn’t going to let her keep anything light and he wasn’t going to smile this away either. “Absolutely not,” he said.

Okaaaaay. “And the things I said,” she managed. “How about that?”

“You shouldn’t apologize for what you feel,” he said carefully. “Ever.”

With a sigh, she scooted forward and invaded his space. When he didn’t make a move to get away, or make any move at all in fact, she splayed her hands on his chest. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For which part?” he asked, staying on his side of the bench, not making a move to touch her in return. “Letting you drive up here into an oncoming storm to give me my phone back? Or maybe for being so nice to my mom. Or hell, how about having to keep Lily company when I ditched you for a robbery call?”

“All of it.” She let her hands drift a little because she couldn’t help herself. He was warm and hard and a little sweaty. It shouldn’t have been such a distraction but it was. He was one big distraction. “I meant I wanted to thank you for everything,” she said. “Allowing me to paint the mural, which gave me time on this mountain. Teaching me to ski better. For the friendship that had nothing to do with having cancer.” She paused because this one was harder. “For making me feel whole again,” she said softly.

He stared at her for a long beat and then leaned forward. The burgeoning daylight softened his features from a superhero to a mortal man, one with weaknesses and hopes and dreams like any other. She liked the superhero. After all, he’d given her chills and excitement. But she loved the man.

When he reached for her, she slid her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, sighing in pleasure when he leaned in farther to press his forehead to hers. “That sounded like a good-bye,” he said.

“It was.” Her voice was a whole lot firmer than her heart. “I’ve got to get home.”

His lips moved down to hers and he hovered there as he whispered, “I didn’t peg you for a runner.”

“I’m not running.”

“Feels like it,” he said.

The temptation to kiss him was strong and she was weak, so she gave in, pressing her mouth to his. Their mega attraction exploded between them, as always. Before she lost herself to him fully, she pulled away and stood up, determined to keep her resolve. “I can’t think when we do that.”

He stood up too. “What do you need to think about?”

She met his gaze. “Work. I’ve got to go, Hud.”

“Okay. But you’ll be back this weekend,” he said. He didn’t word it as a question, but it was one.

“Yes,” she said. “For the mural.”

“Bay.”

He said her name softly, with so much feeling her throat tightened. She stepped back into the shadows, relieved to have them.

“If this is about last night—” he started.

“No.” She closed her eyes. No, she didn’t want to go there. He didn’t have time for her, for this, and she needed to protect herself. Besides, this wasn’t exactly in her plan either. She wanted to go out and see the world, and it wasn’t as if he’d drop everything to go with her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I did a foolish thing, letting this go so far.”

He was silent, and she took that for her answer. Unable to look at him again, she kept her eyes closed, the memory of his regret burning in her brain. Backing away, she struggled to keep her voice even. “Good-bye, Hud.”

And then she ran up the stairs.

Chapter 27

Bailey ran up the stairs and down the hall, hoping like hell Aidan was still in the living room and still available to take her to her car in town. A good cry was all she needed, she assured herself, but it was going to have to wait until she was alone. It was a matter of pride that Aidan not see what a baby she’d become.

She made a quick pit stop back in Hud’s room for her phone, which she’d left on the nightstand, and then hit the living room.

No Aidan.

Of course not, she thought bitterly. Heaven forbid a Kincaid fall into line.

No problem, she decided. She’d just call a cab—she sincerely hoped they had one in town!—and wait outside. Pulling out her cell phone, she moved, head down, to the front door.

And ran right into a brick wall. Or rather Hudson Kincaid. He stood there with his feet braced apart, his arms folded across his chest, and his gaze inscrutable.

“Move,” she said, and then her good manners couldn’t be held back. “Please,” she added but not contritely.

He broke his stance to take the purse from her shoulder and transfer it to his. Then he took her phone and shoved that into his back pocket.

Stunned, she scrambled for something appropriately scathing to say.

But he beat her to it. “You want it both ways,” he said. “You want this to be just an item on your list as you’re spreading your wings and enjoying life, and that’s perfectly fine with me. I get it. I’m happy to be that guy for you. But on some deeper level you’re also playing at wanting something more, flirting with it when it suits you but running away when it doesn’t.”