Bowie was coming over in less than an hour and it was all she’d been able to think about all afternoon.
Aspen bustled around the beach house kitchen, falling in love with it more every hour she spent there, while anticipation bubbled inside her. Given the way they’d left things the other day after the picnic, she’d worried she might not hear from him again.
His hot/cold routine had given her whiplash and left her confused. She still had no idea what had caused him to pull back when he’d seemed so into her right beforehand.
But the next morning he’d called and asked if she was free tonight. He’d sounded normal, friendly, not cold or distant. Lighter somehow, giving her hope that he had dealt with whatever had made him pull back. So she’d invited him over for dinner, because she wanted to cook for him and spend time alone with total privacy this time. If he pulled away again tonight, then she would accept he wasn’t that interested and move on.
Scraping the last of the sweetened whipped cream from the mixing bowl, she spread it across the top of the sliced bananas and set the springform pan in the fridge to chill. She was just tidying the counters when she heard the purr of a powerful engine outside as Bowie’s car pulled into her driveway.
“Come in,” she called out when a knock came at the side door a few moments later.
The door opened and Bowie stepped in, looking a million times more delicious than the banoffee pie she’d just made, in snug jeans and a deep teal button-down that hugged every contour of his powerful chest and shoulders. He had a bottle of her favorite sweet tea in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. The man certainly knew the way to her heart.
His gaze locked on hers from across the room, and her pulse skipped a beat. “Hey. Something smells amazing.”
“Is it me?”
One side of his mouth tugged upward, his neatly-trimmed beard ridiculously sexy. “Must be.”
He seemed anything but distant. Good, because she wanted to get a hell of a lot closer to him before the night was through.
Before she could say anything else, a whine sounded behind him, then a scratching at the door. Aspen shook her head fondly. “That’ll be Sinbad. Can you let him in?”
Bowie hesitated a second, set the bottle on the table, then reached back to open the door. Sinbad came through it and immediately shoved his snoot into Bowie’s crotch, making him jump back a step.
Aspen bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and turned to get the bully stick from the container on the shelf in the corner. “Here you go. Spoiled brat.”
Sinbad trotted over, tail wagging, gently took the chewy from her, then walked the few steps over to the woven oval rug beneath the kitchen table and curled up on it to enjoy his treat. “Perfect, you’re not in the way at all there,” she told him dryly, then looked at Bowie. “You all right?”
Bowie aimed a frown at the dog. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“No permanent damage, I hope?”
His gaze shifted to her, humor glowing there. “I hope not either. These are for you,” he said, crossing to her and offering the flowers.
She accepted them with a grateful smile and buried her nose in them, inhaling the scent of the gorgeous lilacs and fluffy pink peonies. “Oh, they smell like heaven.”
Bowie leaned down until his nose grazed her temple. “No, you were right the first time. That’s definitely you.”
Arousal streaked through her, beading her nipples tight and spreading warmth through her belly. “You smell pretty great too,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheek as she inhaled.
He cupped the back of her neck in a firm but gentle grip and kissed her gently, just enough to ignite the spark and make her hungry for more before lifting his head. Damn.
The oven timer went off, shattering the spell.
“That’s my cue,” she said, and whirled to grab the oven mitts from the counter.
“Can I help with anything?” he asked.
“How about you pour us a drink while I get the last of this ready?”
“Sure. Sweet tea with lemon?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He grabbed the bottle from the table and carried it to the cupboard where she kept the glasses. “What did you make us?”
“Roast chicken dinner.”
“Awesome. And, not to sound greedy, but did you happen to make anything for dessert too?”
“I might have. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
She tented the finished chicken with foil on the cutting board and left it to rest, tossed the roasted potatoes one last time, then set the oven mitts down and accepted the drink he offered her. “Should we go sit out on the back pizer until it’s ready?”
His deep chuckle slid over her like a caress, making her toes curl on the kitchen rug. “Picking up the local lingo fast, I see.”
“Have to, with Jack as a neighbor. He’s incredibly informative.”
“I’ll bet he is.”
A warm, salty breeze greeted them as they stepped through the French doors out onto the back porch. The padded settee creaked slightly as they sat down. Aspen sighed in bliss, already enjoying herself and glad she’d invited him over. It had been ages since she’d last cooked for anyone, the last time for Harry. “This view would never get old.”
“Nope.” Bowie stretched an arm across her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Her insides squeezed to know he wanted her close. He nuzzled the top of her head. “I’m sorry about the way I left things the other day.”
“It’s okay,” she said automatically, glad he’d apologized while also wishing he would expand on that a bit. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”
“Me too.”
Not wanting to disturb the fragile sense of peace she felt in him, she leaned into his body and slowly enjoyed her drink, watching and listening to the waves together. When the oven timer went off a few minutes later she looked up at him. “Time to eat. You hungry?”
His eyes darkened. “So hungry.”
She suppressed a shiver and got up, because if she stayed there and kissed him, she wouldn’t be able to stop and dinner would be ruined. “Come on.”
She snagged his hand and pulled him to his feet. Inside, he grabbed the plates and cutlery while she expertly cut up the chicken and made a quick pan sauce with the roasted lemon inside the cavity, and a big pat of butter. When everything was ready she plated them each up a portion and carried them to the table. “Enjoy.”
His gaze held hers across the table. “Already am.”
She hid a smile and forked up a tender bite of chicken. The skin was crispy and well-seasoned, the meat succulent and tender. “Mmm, almost melts in the mouth,” she murmured.
“Oh, damn, this is unreal,” he said, quickly taking another bite. “What’s in it?”
“Magic. And love. It’s always the love you put in that makes things taste good. But honestly, butter.” Butter was always the answer when something tasted truly exquisite.
They didn’t talk much as they ate, both of them enjoying the food, and each other’s company. Aspen liked having him here, liked knowing he wanted to be here with her even though she still sensed a lingering sadness inside him.
After dinner, he helped her clear and do the dishes. She liked that too, working so comfortably with him in the kitchen. But given how quiet he was, she could tell there was something on his mind other than sex.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she murmured as she turned off the sink and dried her hands.
He met her gaze, watched her a moment before speaking. “I need to tell you something.”
That sounded…grim, but she was glad he was willing to talk to her. “Okay. In here? Or out on the pizer?”
His lips twitched. “Pizer.”
“Pizer it is.” The sun had set, painting the sky in luscious lavenders and pinks.
After letting Sinbad out to trot home, she sat on the settee beside Bowie. He reached out and took her hand, holding it palm up in both of his. He stared down at it as he moved his thumbs across her sensitive skin. “I’ve been alone a long time.”
When he didn’t continue, she spoke. “Why?” Something had happened. Something bad that had hurt him terribly. She could sense it.
He raised his head and gazed out at the ocean for a long moment while the tension ratcheted up inside her. Just when she was afraid he’d pull away again, he spoke. “I lived with my girlfriend Theresa a few years ago. We weren’t engaged yet, but I was planning on asking her eventually. She was an artist.”
Aspen waited, her heart beating faster. She could feel his pain so clearly, the guilt smothering him. Could see them both etched into the lines of his profile and didn’t speak, wishing that she could comfort him somehow.
“We were together for about three years, and living together around nine months or so. When we heard about the hurricane forecasted, it was business as usual here.”
Aspen’s stomach tightened, already fearing where this was leading. If she was right, it explained a lot.
He still wasn’t looking at her. “We prepped the house, got supplies and boarded up the windows. Things looked pretty normal as the storm approached, but just before it hit land it took a sharp turn right at us and turned from a Cat 3 to a Cat 4.”
She stayed still even though she wanted to touch him. “What happened?”
“She was supposed to evacuate with her parents. That was the plan. I couldn’t leave, because I was still in the reserves and got called in to assist with the emergency response on a cutter during and after the storm.” He paused, his shoulders taut with unspoken tension. “She refused to leave without me. Wouldn’t listen to me or her family.”
Oh no…
“We fought about it. I lost my temper, threatened to drag her to her parents’ place myself if she wouldn’t listen to reason. But it didn’t do any good.” He expelled a harsh breath. “I got called out just before the storm hit. I thought I’d still get back in time to take her to her parents’ place before the eye reached us. Instead I was out all night rescuing sailors from ships stranded offshore.”
Aspen turned her hand over in his and gripped one gently, offering silent comfort, bracing herself for what she already knew was coming.
“The storm stalled, leaving the eye wall right over us for over ten hours. The damage was…bad. Way worse than anyone had expected, even on the sound side. I managed to make it around to the house, though it was badly flooded. She wasn’t there. Cell towers and phone lines were down, but our radios were working. My commanding officer sent me to assist where the bridge had washed out. When I got there…” His voice faltered a moment and Aspen gripped his hand harder, aching for him.
He cleared his throat, took a second to compose himself before continuing. “We found her in the car, submerged under the water. She was tangled in her seatbelt.”
She winced. “Bowie…”
“She’d waited until the last possible moment to evacuate, and reached the bridge right as the storm surge hit. It knocked her car right over it. But she was still conscious when the car flooded. She’d tried to get out. The coroner said she’d been alive for about thirty minutes until the oxygen in the air pocket against the roof ran out. Which means I’d gotten there ten minutes too late.”
Oh, Jesus. Aspen hadn’t been prepared for that last bit.
“If I’d gotten there ten minutes earlier, I could’ve saved her. That’s what bothers me the most. That, and the fight we’d had. That the last things I’d ever said to her were in anger. That she was alone and terrified in the dark when she died. And that she must have prayed for me or someone else to find and save her.”
Aspen didn’t know what to say, horrified for them both. His pain mixed with her own, calling up the ghost from her past. Her eyes stung. She blinked them away, wanting to somehow alleviate Bowie’s suffering.
He glanced over at her and stilled in surprise, his expression freezing. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said gently, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek.
She shook her head, trying and failing to find the words to explain what was happening inside her. “I’m just so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He looked back out at the ocean, his hand gripping hers now. “I needed you to know, so you understand where my head’s at. Her parents blamed me for her death. Still do. I still blame myself, even though it’s been years. And the other day at the beach, I saw her parents out there with their granddaughter.”
Oh, shit. No wonder he’d pulled back so abruptly.
His head turned toward her. “I haven’t seen anyone since her. And then you walked into my garage, and I felt guilty as hell for wanting you. As if…I dunno, that some part of me thinks I need to be alone as some kind of penance or punishment or something.”
Oh, Bowie. She took a shuddering breath and released it slowly, willing her heart to slow down. His words had hit way too close to home.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I understand exactly what you mean.” She hesitated, her heart slamming against her ribs while he watched her curiously. “I killed my best friend.”