As Trey walked into the Yelvertons’ house, he was filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The Shadows had given him that. Their meeting had been much different than he’d expected, but he was buoyed by their enthusiasm for the project and determined to see it through to the end.
Whether or not it was good for him, it was good for them, and those guys needed it. So he’d stick it out. And hopefully at the end of this thing, he’d come out with his skin intact.
“Trey,” Mrs. Yelverton greeted him warmly. She gripped his hand, stepping closer for a moment, and he wondered if she was about to hug him. He didn’t move, and she put more distance between them.
He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or disappointed that she hadn’t tried. How would it feel to be hugged by his mother? His real mother?
“Bethany’s not here yet,” she said, leading him into the kitchen. “It’s just you and me for the moment, I’m afraid.”
“No problem with that,” he said carefully as he sank onto a barstool. She rummaged in a cabinet and pulled down some glasses. “Have you been doing well?”
“Just fine,” she said brightly, pulling open the fridge. “Sweet tea?”
“Sure.”
She poured him a glass, the ice inside clinking softly. As he sipped, he watched her.
Her movements were quick, efficient. They reminded him of himself, honestly. The way he liked to get things done without wasting time. Hell, she even stacked things in the cupboards the same way, he thought as she pulled out a plate for some cookies.
“You know,” she said, leaning against the counter, “we’ve been so busy with the wedding planning that we haven’t had a chance to talk much.”
“I’m not an especially good conversationalist.” He took a long sip of tea, discomfort prickling the back of his neck.
Conversation meant questions. And questions meant lies. And like it or not, he’d set himself up to lie to her over and over again. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. But the truth was worse. So he kept his trap shut.
“I’m not either, to tell you the truth.” She handed him a cookie on a napkin. “Not really.”
“You do all right,” he said, and she laughed.
“I guess I do. It helps to have someone you’re interested in to talk to.”
“You’re right there,” he said, then looked at her.
That morning, he’d pulled his smartphone from the bedside table and done a Google search. The site he’d clicked on had made his throat close up, his chest curiously tight as he scrolled through photos, news items, and pictures of a downtown mission that had been built to honor him. The memory of the kid that had disappeared without a trace a long time ago.
Knowing that she’d done that—devoted her life to it—made him wish with all his being that he deserved it. That he could tell her how much it meant to him.
He cleared his throat. “I checked out the website for Sam’s Place.”
She paused. “You did?”
His nod was brief. “Yeah. Looks great. It’s definitely the kind of place that would have been really helpful.”
The “to me” was left unsaid. But she got it, because her smile was pained, and her eyes were suspiciously shiny as she responded. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”
The pang in his chest grew. He wished he was better at talking. At showing her what he felt. If he’d been able to, he’d have expressed just how honored he felt that she’d put so much of herself into a place that would help kids who were in his position. That her efforts had gone in such a positive direction. That even though every sign had pointed to his death, she’d not only believed enough to keep looking for him, but also extended the care and love and hope into a place that helped the disadvantaged, the lost, the broken.
But he couldn’t formulate a sentence like that. Not out loud. So instead, he just picked up his tea. “This is good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she whispered, and silence fell between them.
The sound of a door opening broke the quiet. He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t need to. He’d known who it would be.
“Hi. Sorry I’m late,” Bethany said, her presence in the room causing the whole place to feel brighter. “I had brunch with Sarah, and we lost track of time.”
“Oh good. Did she come back with you? She didn’t tell me her plans when she left this morning.” Mrs. Yelverton pressed a kiss to Bethany’s cheek as Trey tried not to look at her. God, it had only been hours, but the need to draw her into his arms was nearly painful.
That was impossible in front of Mrs. Yelverton. Bethany was almost her daughter. He’d keep his hands to himself out of respect for that.
But damn, it was hard.
“No, she went out shopping to blow off some steam. She’s got a big project due this week, and she needed a little break.”
“That’s too bad.” Mrs. Yelverton sighed as Bethany sank onto the stool next to Trey. “I’d hoped she’d be able to see the invitations at least.”
“I showed her. She loved them.” Bethany smiled at Trey, and he couldn’t stop the squeezing feeling in his chest. “She said to tell you thank you.”
“No problem,” he rasped.
Mrs. Yelverton turned and busied herself pouring Bethany a glass of tea. In the split second of privacy, Trey reached beneath the counter and rubbed his palm along Bethany’s leg.
Her bright smile and the spark in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
Damn, he’d missed that girl.
“Well, should we get started?” Bethany asked as she pulled a manila folder from her bag.
“Oh damn. I’ve left my glasses in the office. I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Yelverton left the room, and they were alone.
He looked at Bethany for a long moment. How could he tell her what he was thinking? Feeling? How things were all mixed up and complicated, but when he was next to her…
“Hi,” she said quietly, a small smile on her face.
“Hi,” he said, reaching over to her. “I’m sorry for running out on you like that.” He gripped her fingers in his own, raking his thumb over her knuckles.
“It was kind of sudden,” she agreed. “I should probably be angry at you.”
“Are you?” He lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips brushing across the back of her hand.
“I don’t think you would have left if it wasn’t really important.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have.”
“Then I’m not mad,” she whispered.
Trey pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a sweet reunion at first, gentle and exploring. But Bethany opened her mouth to him, and as desire surged in his veins, he let his hands sweep down her back and passion spurred their kiss deeper. Bethany groaned softly against his mouth, and he wished he could scoop her into his arms, find the nearest bedroom, and press her into the soft covers.
Footsteps approached. Reluctantly, he pulled away, arms folded on the counter, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened.
Smiling to himself, he watched as Bethany blinked owlishly, trying to collect herself as Mrs. Yelverton walked back into the kitchen, glasses in hand.
“Bethany, are you all right, honey? You look a little pale.”
“I’m just fine,” she squeaked, and Trey bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. She kicked him beneath the counter. “Sorry. Fine. Here, you take my seat, and we can look over the invitations.”
Behind Mrs. Yelverton’s back, Trey shot a wink toward Bethany. She blushed.
This was going to be a long—and fun—afternoon.
* * *
The longest afternoon in Bethany’s memory finally drew to a close. Mama Yelverton had been thrilled by the invitations, as well as the progression of other plans. They’d finalized colors—white, gray, and a brilliant turquoise—as well as the bakery, the photographer, and several other key decisions.
And every time Mama Yelverton’s back was turned, Trey was there, reminding Bethany of what had been and promising her so much more to come.
She’d felt like a naughty teenager, sneaking off behind her mother’s back as she prepared to leave.
“Let me get you those papers you needed for the venue,” Mama Yelverton said and dashed off toward her office.
Trey was centimeters from her as soon as they were alone.
“You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered against his chest as he swept his broad hands down her back.
“That’s the idea.” He pressed his lips to her cheek in a sweet, gentle kiss. “My house or your apartment?”
She bit her lip as his big, hot body pressed into her. God. She wanted… She wanted to be with him again. Free. Complete. Comfortable.
At her apartment she’d be afraid of interruption again. Every time she was there with him, it seemed like someone or something was always just behind. But at Trey’s…they were safe. Alone. And she wanted the oasis of his home again—to understand him by being surrounded by things he owned and loved.
“Yours,” she whispered, curling her fingers into the lapels of the leather jacket he’d donned just a moment ago.
“Good,” he whispered, then stepped back.
Mama Yelverton appeared around the corner just then in a dizzying display of perfect timing.
“Here you go. I could have dropped them in the mail though.”
“No need,” Bethany said. “I’ll drop them off tomorrow. Save you a stamp.”
“Great,” Mama Yelverton said with a smile. She looked from one of them to the other. “Well, this has been a lot of fun. What are you two kids up to tonight?”
Bethany fought to stifle her reaction. “Oh, nothing much. Think I’m cleaning out my linen closet.”
Trey folded his arms over his chest. “Think I’ll be doing a little rummaging of my own, actually.”
Bethany nearly swallowed her tongue as Mama Yelverton shook her head.
“You two are much too wild for a Saturday night. Just let me know if I need to post bail.”
Bethany laughed nervously. “No need.”
She said her goodbyes, kissing Mama Yelverton’s cheek, and excused herself. As she walked toward the garage door, she glanced over her shoulder.
Trey’s body language was so hard to read. It was as if he wanted to lean forward toward his mother and embrace her, but another, larger half of him was keeping him back.
Bethany shook her head as she closed the door behind her.
She cared about Mama Yelverton. She cared about Trey. But she couldn’t iron out the relationship there. It was too new, too complicated, and much too fragile. He made it difficult to think when she was with him.
But that didn’t stop her wanting to keep two of her favorite people happy.
She climbed into the driver’s seat and waited, her keys swinging in the ignition.
What was the protocol here? Should she wait for him? She’d been to his place once before, but she hadn’t exactly memorized the way. It had been too difficult to see around his broad back as his motorcycle tore down the highway.
She shouldn’t have worried. Just a few minutes later, Trey was walking out the door.
She rolled down the window.
“Follow me,” he said, his hand resting on the door.
She bit her lip for a moment, unsure. It was getting late. As much as she liked Trey, should she really do this? He lived off the beaten path a bit. Would it be hard to find her way home in the middle of the night, GPS notwithstanding?
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said as if reading her mind. “But I will tell you I’ve got a brand-new box of Pop Tarts. And I brew a mean cup of coffee.”
She smiled. “Is that your subtle way of asking me to spend the night?”
“Sorry, was I too vague?”
She laughed at his mock offense. “No, I got it. We’ll see.”
He nodded, and then he strode off toward his bike.
In her rearview mirror, she watched as he swung his leg over the saddle and balanced his bike, cranking the engine.
She’d never thought about motorcycles much before, but there was something really sexy about the way he handled the shiny vehicle, the control, the balance, the smooth way he did it all. It reminded her of how his touch felt, and her stomach did a full somersault.
“Easy, Bethany,” she said as she turned around and followed him down the long drive, past the falling-down Victorian, and onto the highway. “Keep your brain on the road.”
At least until she got to his house. Then her brain could wander wherever it wanted.
Within reason.
As long as reason could last around Trey.
Which, in her experience, wasn’t very long at all.
The moon was hanging low in the sky, fat and glowing as Trey pulled off the road and down the gravel drive toward his house, Bethany following. Her headlights bumped up and down as they coasted toward his house. She took in the surroundings, biting her lip as her nerves started an intense twitching beneath her skin.
Here she was again. In his territory. On his turf. Under his protection.
Would it be as good as last time? As intense?
There was only one way to find out, she told herself as she gripped the door handle after cutting the car’s engine.
Trey was there, ready to grip her hand and close the door after her. “Welcome back,” he said, a little smile playing around his mouth as he led her up the steps to his front porch.
“This is the most beautiful place,” Bethany said, running a hand over the carved wood alongside his door. “Did you do this?”
“Wolf did,” Trey said as he opened the door.
“Wolf. That’s right. He’s your friend…your coworker?”
“Both,” Trey said, flicking on the lights. “He’s my right hand.”
Bethany smiled. “I know how that is. I feel like Sarah’s mine, sometimes.”
Trey turned to her, his deep-green eyes showing immeasurable depths. “Thank you,” he said, gathering her into his arms.
“For what?” She melted into him, beyond happy to be in his embrace again.
“For being you. For making me comfortable. For everything you are. Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
And in that moment, Bethany was desperately afraid that she would never feel complete again without this man by her side.
The depth of the tide of feeling swept her away, and she closed her eyes to the thoughts…and simply let herself feel.