The day after Emily delivered the letter to Justin, her morning had started poorly and gotten worse. Upon waking, she’d rolled over, blinked bleary eyes and checked her phone for messages from Justin. No new voicemails, no new texts, which meant the letter she’d written hadn’t affected him at all.
No, don’t think like that. She needed to remember that the aim of writing the letter hadn’t been to win him back—although she couldn’t deny she’d hoped that would be the end result—but rather to make sure he knew she thought he was perfect as he was. And now he did.
She’d just have to be satisfied with that.
Compared to the past few weeks, the shop was quiet. Peaceful. The buzz of Christmas, Boxing Day and New Year’s had finished, and locals had returned to work. Tourists still lingered in the area, and she had a steady stream of customers to keep her busy, but she found herself missing the frantic rush that had occupied her mind so she didn’t have time to dwell on her bittersweet New Year’s romance. Now, in between exchanging pleasantries and ringing up items, her mind wandered to those days and nights with Justin when she’d been wonderfully, recklessly happy.
Then, late in the afternoon, her mood plunged dramatically. A teenage girl with bleached blonde hair and dark eyeliner entered the shop and slowly circuited it, picking products up, then placing them back on the shelf. She seemed bored, like she was killing time.
Emily watched her, refraining from offering help because the way the girl hunched her shoulders and averted her eyes said she wanted to be left alone. But something about the girl’s furtive attitude unsettled her, so rather than preparing bouquets as she usually would during the downtime, she stayed at the counter and started tallying sales. When it happened, the girl moved so quickly Emily wondered if she’d imagined it, but then the girl shifted, and the outline of the daisy wreath she’d slipped down her shirt protruded through the fabric, giving her away.
A shoplifter. Emily’s gut churned. It wasn’t unheard of for tourists to try their luck at Pretty Things, but usually they only dared during busy times when she and Sandra were distracted. She’d never seen anyone so blatant. Keeping her expression neutral, Emily reached for her phone and selected Sergeant Gareth Wayland’s mobile number. Hands shaking, she typed out a message, earmarked ‘URGENT’.
Shoplifter in my store. Please come help.
She didn’t do anything else, waiting until she received a reply.
Two minutes away. Don’t let them leave.
What did one say or do to prevent a thief from leaving their shop? Emily wasn’t prepared to physically stop her. The daisy wreath wasn’t worth it. If it came to that, she’d simply let the girl go and issue a trespass order if she tried to return.
Taking a deep breath, she plastered a phony smile on her face. “Nice day out there, isn’t it?”
The girl mumbled something.
“Pardon?” Emily said. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“It’d be better if I wasn’t here,” the girl snarled, louder.
Emily flinched, taken aback by the naked hostility in her glare. “Are you here with your family?” she asked, searching for a way to continue the conversation before the girl stalked out. “Stuck until they’re ready to go home?”
The girl’s chin jerked. “Something like that. But the trip has no end date. I could be here for a day, or a month.” She scowled darkly. “I won’t last a month in this hellhole.”
Emily blinked rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”
The girl’s lips firmed in a sullen line. “You heard me.”
At that moment, the door swung open and Sergeant Gareth Wayland strode inside. Tall and broad, with a stiff bearing and a square jaw, Gareth could intimidate most people into confessing with nothing more than a look. Fortunately for Emily, she’d never been on the receiving end of that frightening expression. He folded his arms over his uniformed chest, jaw working as he chewed gum, and leveled his famous glare at the temperamental shoplifter.
“You have some explaining to do, young lady.”
Then the door opened a second time to admit Aria Simons. Fantastic. Another reason to add today to her official list of the worst days ever. Aria may be lovely, but she was also naturally inquisitive, and—an added bonus—a reminder of the man Emily was trying to forget.
Aria stopped just inside the door. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Gareth?”
Emily squeezed her hands into fists and prayed for the whole godforsaken day to end.
Justin was nursing a pint of beer at Davy’s Bar when Gareth pulled up a stool to join him.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” Gareth said to Davy, the Irishman who owned the establishment.
Davy poured another pint and slid it across to Gareth. “You look wrecked,” he told the sergeant. “What was it today? Rescuing Mrs. Dodd’s mangy cat from another tree? Busting a cheating ring at the high school?”
Justin chuckled. On many occasions, he’d seen Gareth up a tree, frail Mrs. Dodds waiting below, and he never failed to snap a photo. Never knew when that might come in handy.
“Shoplifting teenager at Pretty Things,” Gareth replied. “You know how Em is. She was shaken up.”
Justin snapped to attention and his knee whacked the underside of the bar, throbbing painfully. “There was a shoplifter at Emily’s place? Is she okay?” Tension rocketed through his body as images flooded his mind. Emily, terrified as some hoodlum threatened her, or hugging her knees and crying once the thug left, then going home and feeling unsafe in her own bed.
She hadn’t called him.
Fear gripped his stomach. He would never even have known if not for Gareth. Emily hadn’t turned to him for comfort, or to chase down the little shit and make them sorry. Justin itched to smash something. He thumped his fist on the bar, the impact sending jarring shock waves up to his elbow.
“Calm the hell down,” Gareth rumbled. “Emily is fine. She didn’t even need me in the end. Your sister turned up and sorted everything out. Bit disappointing, actually. I was looking forward to playing the hero.”
Justin growled. He actually growled. Like one of the wild animals he encountered in his line of work. Emily didn’t need the sergeant to be a hero for her. Justin would be her hero. Every other man could go to the devil.
“Was that you?” Davy asked, bemused. “I gotta say, I’m worried, man. I know you don’t get out much, but growling isn’t generally how we communicate around here.”
Ignoring him, Justin considered what Gareth had said: Aria had come to the rescue. His emotions jumbled together until he couldn’t recognize one from another. He was grateful to Aria for being there, but oddly envious. It should have been him.
But it never would be him, he realized. As long as he stayed away from Emily, hesitating and dithering like his sister in a shoe shop, she’d never come to him for support or ask him to be her rock, no matter how badly he wanted her to. What’s more, he had no right to expect anything different. He wasn’t entitled to know what was going on in her life any more than Gareth or Davy, and that simply wasn’t good enough.
Forget about taking time out to think, he needed to go after what he really wanted.
Sinking into a hot bath, Emily felt the troubles of the day ease away. Warm water embraced her body and soothed the tension from her shoulders. Then someone knocked on her front door. Lowering her ears beneath the water, she ignored them. Whoever it was, they were only going to make her crappy day crappier, and she deserved a break from reality. She closed her eyes and tensed then released the muscles in each limb, one by one, working her way from her shoulders down to her toes.
Vaguely, she became aware of a thundering noise, closer than the front door; someone was in her house. She straightened, water sluicing down her back. If she lived anywhere other than Itirangi, she might be concerned by the sound of a person in her house, but most likely it was just a friend who didn’t want to wait outside. She never locked the door, so anyone could walk on in. She wrung her hair out and wrapped a towel around her body. As she did so, the bathroom door flew open and Justin filled the doorway, broad shoulders heaving, staring at her with some unfamiliar emotion glowing in his eyes.
Well, that was unexpected.
She clasped the towel tightly to her chest, pulse spiking so high she feared she might faint.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You frightened me out of my wits.”
Justin’s mouth fell open. Then he snapped it shut, his throat working as he swallowed. “You—”
“Are nearly naked,” Emily finished for him. “This is my bathroom. In my house. Which I didn’t invite you into.”
He glowered, and she wished she didn’t notice how handsome he looked, his swarthy complexion improved by the flush on his cheeks, his hair recently cut but mussed, his beard tidy. Clearly, he hadn’t gone to pieces after their breakup.
“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked. Her nerve, a by-product of fear and indignation, began to wane. “Why are you here?”
She’d delivered the letter first thing yesterday. It wasn’t as if he could have just discovered it and rushed over here, although he certainly looked like he’d rushed from somewhere. When he didn’t reply, she stepped out of the bath, onto the mat. Her movement seemed to jolt him into action. He hurried forward, arms open, and embraced her tightly.
“Justin, I’m all wet,” she protested, but couldn’t push him away without dropping the towel. Not that modesty mattered at this point, but the towel felt like a protective layer between them.
“I don’t care,” he growled into her hair. “Let me hold you.”
His strong biceps bulged where they banded around her upper arms. She could feel his warmth through the damp fabric of his shirt, and his heart pounded frantically beneath her ear.
“Please don’t hold me like this when you don’t love me,” she muttered, desperate to put some distance between them so she wouldn’t turn to mush because of the way he held her as though she were vital to him.
“I can’t let you go,” he said helplessly, as though he didn’t fully understand it himself. “Not now, not ever.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. Did he mean that? She wanted to believe, but she was afraid to. “What are you saying? What’s going on, Justin?”
“You’re mine,” he said, his large body trembling as he spoke. “But you didn’t come to me. Something bad happened to you, and you didn’t tell me about it. Didn’t let me fix it for you.”
Something in her deflated. So, that’s what this was about. He didn’t miss her, he was just annoyed he hadn’t had the opportunity to save the day.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” she told him. And maybe, to another woman, that might have been true, but to her, it was yet another symptom of how terribly this year was going when they were barely even two weeks into it. For the sake of her dignity, she forced herself to say, “No need to look so torn up about it. I’m fine. You checked on me. Now you can go.”
“Don’t lie to me, Em.” He leaned back, tilted her chin up, and searched her gaze. “I know you better than that.”
“No.” Emily shoved his chest, towel be damned, but he held firm. “You don’t get to act like you care about me,” she hissed, forgetting the fact she didn’t like conflict. Self-preservation instincts had kicked in and she forgot anything except the way she’d hurt when he dropped her like she didn’t matter. “Please don’t pretend you care.” A tear trickled down her cheek and dripped onto his shirt. “If you wanted me in your life, you would have said something by now. You can’t do this to me, it’s not fair.”
Justin resisted her attempts to throw him off. “I know it’s not fair,” he said softly. “But I do care about you, Em. So, so much. I wanted to take the time to think everything through, to make sure we did it right this time around. You deserve that. But then it scared the hell out of me when Gareth said what happened. I was so worried about you. And do you know how much it hurt to realize that if not for Gareth, I wouldn’t have known anything was wrong? Worse, that I had no right to know?”
“Just like I had no right to call you,” she said, meeting his eyes, refusing to give into the impulse to look away. “You’re not my boyfriend, and I vividly remember you saying we should keep it that way in future.”
He groaned. “I was wrong, sweetheart. I made assumptions and let my fear get the better of me and I’m sorry for that.” He nuzzled her forehead, pressing soft kisses along her hairline. “I screwed up badly. I know that. But I’m falling in love with you, Emily Parker, and I hope you’ll let me prove it.”
“You are?” Emily prided herself on not stuttering. Her insides had turned to warm goo. “But I wrote you that letter and you ignored it.”
“Like I said, I was thinking. But that was stupid. I should have come to you straight away.” He drew back, meeting her eyes so she could read his sincerity. “I was an ass. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. I’m sorry.”
Emily nibbled her lip. Could this really be happening? Was Justin actually here, in her bathroom, confessing his love for her? Or, at least, something a lot like love. It was a high school fantasy come true. But it was even better than the fantasy, because this was real. Justin was flesh and blood, a man who made mistakes, but who was falling for her the same way she was for him.
“I’m sorry for getting carried away,” she said.
“The pink fluffy toilet cover was a bit hard to stomach,” he said, smoothing a hand down the side of her face. “But I completely overreacted and blew it out of proportion. The fact of the matter is, you’re too good for me, Em—nobody’s been shy about making sure I know that—but I want another chance anyway. I want to be the person you turn to when you need help. I want to have the right to be annoyed if I hear things about you from another man. Please, say you’ll give me that chance.”
She cocked her head and studied him, as if taking the time to consider her options. A muscle in his jaw twitched. She smiled, then cupped his face between her palms and kissed him. There was nothing to think about. She was crazy for him. Maybe that made her just plain crazy, but so be it.
“Of course, I will. But next time you’re upset, talk to me about it before you get to the point of no return.”
“Promise.” He kissed her back, completely serious and uncharacteristically tender. “Do you promise to bear with me even though I’m bound to mess up another ten thousand times or so?”
“I promise,” she vowed. “As long as you give me your all.”
“I will.” His lips lifted in a sexy grin. “Now, can I peel that towel off your glorious body and make love to you?”
“Want to join me in the bath? It’s still warm.”
He glanced at it. “I’ll never fit.”
She giggled. “I trust you to be creative.”
With a deep groan, he claimed her lips, thrusting his tongue between them. She gasped at the sensual invasion, then as quickly as the kiss started, it ended.
“How about the bedroom?” he rumbled.
She watched him from beneath heavy eyelids, pouting mischievously. “That’s no fun.”
“You won’t be saying that soon.”
He bent and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed and swatted his backside but didn’t fight too hard. After all, she kind of liked it when he manhandled her.
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “You can make love to me in the bed.”
“Good.” He made for the bedroom, with her hanging over his shoulder. “I’m crazy for you, Emily, and I’m going to make sure you know it.”
He stepped through the doorway and turned around, then allowed her to slide down the front of his body.
“Be my girlfriend?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “What is this, high school?”
His mouth curled into a smirk. “Well, you have had a crush on me since then, remember?”
“I may have had a crush on that boy,” she said coyly, “but I’m head over heels about the man he became.”
“I’ll never deserve you,” he murmured, “but I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure you never regret being with me.”
“I won’t,” she swore. “I love your family, your cats. I’m not totally sold on your house, but it has good bones and a great location. We can work with it. More importantly, you’re my One.”
He chuckled. “And you’re mine.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh. Stop talking and put your money where your mouth is.”
He looked at her with wonder, as if she was the answer to all of the world’s greatest riddles.
“How did I ever live without you?”
“Unhappily,” she suggested.
Now it was his turn to cover her mouth. With his lips. And he didn’t stop for a long, long time.