Somebody Like You: A Darling, VT Novel Read online

  “I hope you like everything on it. I seem to remember you aren’t a picky eater.”

  “This is my favorite pizza ever.” She reached for plates and plunked them on the table, adding a stack of napkins. “I discovered it when I came home for a weekend a few years ago. Whatever Lewis puts in his sauce, it’s amazing.”

  “I got wine, too,” he said. “The other night you had red, so I picked up a bottle. I thought you might need it after your long day.”

  “Bless your heart.” He smiled. She actually looked like he’d given her a cherished gift. “Earlier I was thinking all I wanted was a shower, a glass of wine, and some food, and now here I am with all three. I’ll grab a corkscrew.”

  No mention of any company in that trio of items, but that was okay. For a few minutes they loaded plates and she got glasses while he uncorked the merlot. When she moved to pour him a glass, though, he shook his head. “None for me, thanks. I’m driving.”

  She hesitated. “Of course. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’d probably be below the legal limit with a single glass, but I’m a cop. I don’t chance it.”

  Of course, he only lived a twenty-minute walk away. Darling was pretty small when all was said and done. But he doubted she’d want his truck parked out front all night. They’d barely brokered a truce. Rumors would not be welcome.

  She took her glass and plate of pizza, and led the way into the living room. It was a cozy spot. Her furniture didn’t seem new, but it was comfortable, and there was a small coffee table and one end table. She had a big bay window at the front with wide-slatted blinds offering privacy or letting in sunlight. There was a gas fireplace and a small entertainment center with a television, cable box, and DVD player. No stereo, he noticed, or bigger speakers. All in all, it seemed rather minimalist. Other than a few potted plants, the room was devoid of any real decoration. No pictures on the wall or knickknacks like at his mother’s. It was cozy, yes, but something was missing. It was missing anything that really said Laurel.

  He took a bite of pizza—it really was amazing—and watched as Laurel took a long drink of wine, a huge bite of pizza, and then let out a sigh and closed her eyes.

  At least he’d done something right.

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Thank you. This is awesome.”

  “You’re welcome. Your house is nice.” Great conversation, butthead, he chastised himself. It was as if he had no idea how to talk to nice Laurel instead of prickly Laurel.

  “I haven’t really had time to make it my own yet. Just moved in some furniture.” She nibbled a piece of pepperoni. “Dan kept the house, actually, and it seemed stupid to take stuff just because I could. It was always more his house than mine anyway. He was living there when we got married.”

  A whole speech about her marriage. Aiden looked longingly at the wine, feeling he might need it if things got too in depth about her divorce.

  “You didn’t split it down the middle? Sell the house and stuff?”

  She shook her head. “Naw. He bought out my half of the house, which was my down payment for here. My savings went into the business. Dan wouldn’t have let me struggle. He’s a good man.”

  Dan sounded like a paragon. Aiden decided he didn’t like him already.

  “You didn’t want the house? Didn’t want to stay in Burlington?”

  She’d taken another healthy sip of the wine, looked over at him and shrugged. “It was too weird. We worked at the same firm and so does Ryan. Once the news broke, it was awkward as ass.”

  Eat your pizza, he told himself. Don’t ask too many questions.

  “What about you, huh? No girlfriend for a Saturday night, so you’re forced into spending the evening painting over lewd graffiti?”

  He thought about his ex, Erica. They’d dated for quite a while after high school. Erica had been a year ahead of them in school, but that hadn’t mattered after graduation. He’d lost “it” with her. And she’d been fun. Right up until the time he’d turned twenty-one, she’d been twenty-two, and they’d been together nearly three years. She didn’t want it to be fun anymore. She wanted it to be permanent and he simply hadn’t been ready to settle down.

  He’d also thought, quite mistakenly, that being honest about his feelings was the best approach. Boy, had that been a miscalculation. She’d only gotten more clingy. She’d started planning their future, what sort of house they’d have, how many kids … He’d taken the coward’s way out. Not his finest moment.

  “Not lately, I guess,” he replied. “I haven’t had a serious girlfriend for a while.”

  Laurel chuckled. “Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?”

  Meaning she considered him incapable of being serious. Her and everyone else. Between the milkshake incident, and then the public blowout with Erica, he’d established a rep for himself in Darling. It sucked that that sort of thing followed a person.

  “I dated someone for a few years.”

  At least she looked surprised. “What happened?”

  “She wanted to get married. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was twenty-one. That’s pretty young.”

  And she’d married this Dan guy at that age, maybe twenty-two. Maybe girls were just ready faster than guys. Since then he’d gone out with women, sure. He wasn’t a monk. But he’d always kept things light and casual. No one had ever knocked his socks off enough to make him insensible. To make him do something stupid and impulsive.

  “And no girlfriend since?”

  “No one serious.”

  He folded his thin crust in half and took a big bite, wanting to change the subject. Why had he suggested this again? Well, he’d always found Laurel pretty in a simple, uncomplicated kind of way. And he supposed there was an element of challenge in it, too. There was something to be said for winning over someone who’d sworn to hate you forever.

  It was more than that, though. He’d seen the fragile look on her face earlier, when faced with her business being attacked yet again. He’d heard her laughter as she wielded the hose and it had lit something inside of him. And when they’d almost kissed …

  He looked over at her, all soft and relaxed and pretty and wondered if she’d still taste as good as she had all those years ago. Wondered if there’d still be that sense of girlish shyness in her kiss, or if she kissed like a woman who knew what she wanted.

  He shifted on his chair. The challenge was suddenly becoming very real and he wasn’t sure what to do next. His first urge was to kiss her and see what happened, but he figured he’d get a smack on the cheek for that. Maybe he should just get out. He could make his apologies and say he had to work in the morning and that would be that.

  But Laurel deserved better from him. And if he wanted people to take him seriously, he might start by not behaving with a frat-boy move.

  He chewed and swallowed. Laurel reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass, then settled back on the sofa to tackle her second piece of pizza. “What about you, Laurel? Have you dated since the divorce?”

  She shook her head. “Naw.”

  And then she picked up the wineglass and took a long drink. Like three swallows’ worth.

  “Touchy topic?”

  She licked her lips as she put down the glass. “You’ve heard rumors, right? I’m sure you must have. Darling hasn’t changed that much.”

  He was walking into dicey territory, so he proceeded with caution. “About the reason behind your split? Yeah, I heard.”

  She nodded, staring into her glass. “I figured. I try to ignore the talk, but I know it must be happening.” She smiled sadly. “It’s probably the one downside of coming back home. But there are a lot of good things, too. I’m starting to get better at weathering the storm.”

  Which meant that at some point she probably hadn’t been good at it.

  “Did he break your heart, Laurel?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Then she let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. He did.”
/>
  She’d loved him, then. Really loved him. Aiden had the awful urge to plow his fist into something. On the heels of the impulse came the very real guilt that he’d once hurt her, too. Yes, they’d been young, but it was a tender age. Wounds went deep. Watching his little sisters grow up had been illuminating in that regard.

  “What happened?”

  She pulled her knees into her chest. “He shouldn’t have married me in the first place. He was lying to himself and to me, too. Things hadn’t been quite right between us for a while. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and I thought we were just drifting apart, you know? That maybe it was work stress. Or that we’d moved past the honeymoon stage and we’d work it out.” She looked over at Aiden and shook her head. “I was a bit naïve where my husband was concerned. He started going out for drinks with Ryan. I thought they were just buddies, and that maybe Dan needed someone to talk to.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Joke was on me at the end. Dan came out, and now he and Ryan are a thing. A serious thing.”

  “Holy shit.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Right?”

  “And you still get along?”

  “Once he told the truth, he was very open with me. We were friends, too, Aiden. And he really, really struggled.”

  “That tells me about him. Not about you.” He was surprised when she blinked quickly several times. Was she crying? He didn’t see any tears on her cheeks, but she was definitely struggling. “Forget I said that,” he offered, wondering how the hell he’d got himself into such a heavy, emotional conversation.

  Because it was Laurel. And because, long before he’d hurt her, they’d been friends.

  “You know, everyone always talks about Dan, and Dan’s decisions, and Dan’s struggles. Other than my mom, I think you’re the first one to ask about me.”

  Her voice cracked at the end and he wondered if he should go to her. Sit beside her and put his arm around her, but she didn’t seem to want to be coddled. Everything he’d seen so far showed that she was determined to stand on her own two feet. He couldn’t blame her.

  “Yes, it was hard,” she stated. “But we didn’t have to worry about children or custody or any of that stuff. I honestly, truly, wish him the best.”

  “But?” Again, it was about Dan. He frowned. “You don’t have to self-edit with me.”

  Her gaze touched his. “You never used to be this astute.”

  “I used to be seventeen. No one’s astute at that age.” He tried a smile, because she looked so sad.

  “Dan made mistakes. Lots of them. His intent was never malicious. It’s not hard to be civil because I don’t hate him. But … you’re right. I felt … feel … betrayed. Hurt. Stupid for not seeing it. I was really, truly in love with him. When someone walks away, it hurts. Negativity is not helpful. So I try to focus on moving on instead.”

  “Like with the garden center.”

  “Exactly.” She turned the glass around in her hands. “And so when that starts falling apart…”

  “It’s not just business. It’s personal.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you understand.”

  Aiden felt very humbled. “You are way more forgiving and generous than I would be in the same situation.”

  “The best thing I could do for Dan was let him go. And really, it’s not like we’d be able to salvage our marriage. That’s a pretty irreconcilable difference.” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

  “And so here you are.”

  “Here I am,” she agreed.

  And damned if where she was didn’t seem a little too lonely. Especially for someone like her, who’d always seemed to have her shit together.

  He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “So, does this mean you’ve forgiven me, too?”

  She laughed then, lightening the atmosphere a little. “Well, I’ve just given you the sordid details of my failed marriage, so I suppose it means I must have.”

  “Good. Because I really am sorry, you know. I was a teenager and an idiot. I deserved that milkshake over my head.”

  Laurel had put her plate and glass down on the table. “I’m sorry I did that,” she whispered. “I was just so…”

  “Mad?” he supplied.

  “Hurt,” she corrected, and her voice was soft with honesty.

  Aw, man. Angry he could handle. But for her to come right out and say that he’d hurt her … that was worse. “Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. Believe me. I liked you, Laurel. I liked you a lot.”

  Her gaze touched his. There was never any artifice in her eyes, he realized. Laurel wore her heart on her sleeve. It had been that way in high school, the other morning when she’d barely held back tears after the store had been robbed, and moments ago when she’d spoken about her husband. Right now he saw hurt and betrayal in the blue depths, as well as something else he couldn’t quite define that made him want to put his arms around her and hold her close.

  But doing that would be a dumb move. So he dragged his gaze away from hers, put his hands on his knees, and stood, reaching for the dirty plates. “I should really get going, let you get some sleep. Besides, I have to work in the morning.”

  “Of course.” She got up and wobbled a bit; the wine had hit her more than either of them had thought, and he reached out with his free hand and steadied her.

  “Oopsie doodles,” she said. “I must be extra tired.”

  His fingers squeezed her arm. “You okay there?”

  She nodded, looked up, and he forgot all about the plates in his hand and tomorrow’s shift and Dan and anything else. His chest tightened as he struggled to find something to say or do that wasn’t kissing her. Because that’s what he really wanted. He wanted to see if her hair was as soft as it looked and if the intoxicating scent came from her hair or her skin or both; he wanted to taste her lips and the tang of wine that clung to them, feel her body against his like he had earlier tonight only alone where he could take his time and memorize every inch.

  Holy shit, he thought, for the second time tonight.

  Instead he let go of her arm, took the dishes to the kitchen, went directly to the front door and started putting on his shoes.

  “You’ll call if you need a second coat of paint, won’t you? I’ll give you a hand.”

  “Sure.” She’d followed him and was watching, a dazed look on her face.

  “Thanks for the pizza.”

  “Um, you bought it, remember?”

  “Oh. Right.” He’d lost his head, there was no doubt about it. “Well, see you around, Laurel.” You’re such a chicken shit, running away. The condemnation sounded in his head, but the truth was he wanted to kiss her and it scared him to death.

  “See you around.”

  He opened the door. It opened inward, and she put her hand on the edge of the door as he stepped out onto the tiny landing.

  “Good night,” she whispered.

  He took one last look at her lips, so pink and plump and achingly sweet. “’Night…”

  She moved back. And the door was almost closed when he ignored every rational thought and pushed it back open again, stepped inside, and gathered her up in his arms.

  She let out a surprised cry as he kicked the door shut behind him, then pressed her against the bare wall of the entry. Her breasts heaved against his as she struggled for breath, and he met her eyes for an instant, demanding permission, knowing he would not proceed without it. Her tacit response was to lick her bottom lip, a move so innocently sensual he wasn’t sure she even realized she’d done it. And then her body melted against his, just the tiniest bit, and he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a kiss.

  It was fevered, fast, and all-consuming. The heady fragrance from earlier wrapped around him, drawing him in, clouding his head with her feminine scent. But that was nothing compared to the soft fullness of her lips, the way they felt against his, the way she tasted, like woman and wine. Her arms twined around his neck, holding him close as a soft sound escaped her thr
oat.

  He cupped his hands just below her bottom and lifted her up, and she automatically wrapped her legs around him as their hips pressed together. He braced her against the wall and rubbed against her, pelvis to pelvis, nearly losing his mind at the sensation. There was something so natural, so … earthy about her that he craved. Maybe it was the complete lack of artifice. All he knew was that Laurel didn’t need makeup or sexy lingerie or any other feminine trappings to make her desirable. Their clothes were on but their passion … it was naked. Raw, elemental, real.

  And grown-up.

  He gentled his kiss slightly, taking it deeper, slower, yet no less hungry. Her hands slid through his hair, her nails raking along his scalp and sending shivers down his spine. He let go of her with one hand, and slid the other over her breast, feeling the hard tip through both her bra and the cotton shirt.

  This was different, he realized, and doubt snuck past his libido. He’d wanted this. She’d wanted it to, if her participation was anything to go by. But that didn’t make it right. Or smart.

  And yet he wasn’t ready to let her go. Ten years ago she’d told him to stop and he had, and he’d driven her home, and smiled, and kissed her good-bye, and then collected on his bet. He wouldn’t make such an immature mistake this time. There was no bet. No dare. Just need.

  She unwrapped her legs from around him and her feet slid to the floor. Aiden ran his hands up her arms to her face, and cupped her jaw in his hands, still kissing her. He touched his lips to the tip of her nose, her eyelids, the crests of her cheeks, before settling back on her mouth again. God, that beautiful, mobile mouth that had the ability to make him forget all rational thought.

  “Mmmm,” he murmured against her mouth. “Laurel…”

  “Shhh.” The kiss was fully broken now, and she’d dipped her chin so he couldn’t look into her eyes.

  He put his finger beneath her chin and lifted it. His body was so hard and tense he felt like a string on a bow, pulled tight, desperate for release. But this time he ignored himself and focused on her.