Come On Closer (13 page)

“You could just tell him off. You're an adult.” She looked exasperated, and he didn't blame her.

“His name's on the firm. He owns everything in here.”

“He doesn't own you,” Larkin said, and the comment produced a tiny thrill of possibility. It was the same thrill he got from thinking about breaking out, doing something else, being anything but a Sullivan. But then reality intruded again, and he was just a guy in a suit in his father's law office with a framed degree he was expected to use. He'd already come so far down this road of falling in line with his father's expectations. Generations of Sullivans glowered at him from the walls of the office. They'd been responsible, educated, high-class men who valued tradition, or so he'd been told. Sullivans didn't follow their hearts; they followed the money. Walking away from all of that sounded like the simplest thing on earth, in theory—but he knew that the walking would be the only easy thing.

It was more like a jump off a cliff. And he couldn't see the bottom from here.

“Please,” he said. “As a favor. I'll make it up to you.”

Larkin exhaled loudly through her nose, but he
could see her softening. It bothered him to take advantage of the same sweetness that drew him to her, and a large part of him wanted to tell her he'd just go to his parents' house by himself so that she didn't have to miss her dinner with Gina. But he knew at the same time that he wouldn't be able to put his father off for long. If they just did what he wanted now, he'd leave them alone. It was the central calculation of his life, and he knew it was no way to operate, but until he figured a way out of this endless loop it was all he had.

“Fine,” she said, and Shane tried to pull her into his arms.

“Thank—”

Her hand on his chest surprised him, since it was anything but friendly. “Don't thank me. I know a lot about crappy parents, so I sympathize, but that doesn't get you off the hook for enabling him. I have a life, too. He doesn't get to dictate my schedule.” She blew out a breath. “But I'll do it this once. For you.”

Guilt mingled with relief deep in his chest. “Because I'm cute?”

Her look was bland. “Because you're cute,” she said, and shook her head. “I have to get back. Enjoy the goodies, okay? And share. I'm serious.” She paused to consider. “Though maybe not with your father.”

He'd had no intention of sharing with anybody, but he supposed he could make an exception. Plus, Tammy would go nuts over this stuff, and God knew she deserved it for putting up with him every day. “Sure. I'll share.”

Larkin looked skeptical. “I mean it, Shane.”

He lowered his head to touch his nose to hers, and this time she didn't try to push him away. He inhaled
deeply, savoring the warmth of her and the scent of frosting. She melted against him the way she always did, and he wished the rest of the office would just vanish so he could try out that desk seduction scenario. Just the two of them . . . that's what he wanted.

Fortunately, he was used to disappointment by now.

“You're pretty cute, too,” he said.

“Hmm. I don't even have anything fancy to wear to dinner. They expect fancy, right?”

“Shorts and flip-flops. They'll be thrilled.” He nuzzled her again and kissed her lightly, once, twice.

“They're not going to like me,” she said, and there was such an ominous note in her voice that he pulled back to look at her. She was as serious as he'd ever seen her, grim and unsmiling.

“Sure they will. And anyway, I like you. That's all that matters.” That didn't seem to soothe her any, and it made him think she must know something he didn't. But that was nuts. He rarely brought women to meet his parents. This was maybe a little earlier than he would have subjected Larkin to it, but they might as well get it over with. Because he had no interest in doing this with anyone else again. Just her. His parents weren't warm and cuddly, but they'd be fine with whoever he picked. He was sure of that.

Well, pretty sure.

“Okay” was all Larkin said, sounding dejected. It wasn't the attitude he would have hoped for about the whole thing, but then again, his father wasn't known for bringing joy to the masses.

“It'll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said again. “But if I have to do this, you
can have dinner with me and Gina next Saturday. That's fair.”

It
was
fair. Not ideal, since every night spent in the company of chaperones cut down on the amount of time he got to touch Larkin, but hopefully there would be plenty of time for that. He was getting more practice being a gentleman than he'd bargained for—that was for sure. It was probably good for him. He suspected that just because of how little he liked it.

“I'll have dinner with you and Gina. Anytime,” he said. Larkin nodded, but the shadows hadn't gone from her face, and he wondered when she'd get around to telling him the whole story about her own family. That was only fair, too. After all, she was about to get up close and personal with his.

Larkin nodded, then surprised him by cupping his face in her hands and tugging him down for a sweet, lingering kiss that left him muzzy-headed. When she pulled back, her eyes searched his face, and she seemed about to say something. Finally, though, she simply shook her head with a rueful little smile, stroked his cheek one more time, and stepped away.

“See you later,” she said, and left him staring after her, wondering what she'd been trying to
say.

T
he delivery arrived at Petite Treats midmorning on Friday, a large and fairly flat box that Aimee hauled back into the kitchen, her eyes sparkling.

“What did you order?” she asked. “It's for me, right?”

Larkin looked up from a tin of cupcakes she'd just pulled out of the oven and frowned. “I don't even think that's for
me
. I didn't order anything. Is the address right?”

“Yeah, Hot UPS Guy was completely positive it belongs here. He showed me the address when I asked if he was sure.” She looked around, then switched to a stage whisper. “He smells really good!”

“One of these days you might want to ask him his name. I'm sure he has one,” Larkin said, wiping her hands on her apron and coming around the table to take the box. It was light, and when she shook it she
heard a sound that could be another box, or possibly fabric.

“Why ruin the mystique of Hot UPS Guy?” Aimee asked, then grinned. “So? Are you going to open it?”

“Um.” Larkin eyed the box as her stomach started to knot uncomfortably. She had her suspicions about this, and if she was right, she'd prefer to react to it by herself. “I'll get into it when I have time a little later. I'm sure it's not important.”

Aimee's dark brows shot up. She was a beautiful girl who wasn't such a girl anymore, Larkin thought, heaving an inward sigh. Eighteen and had the world by the tail, working here and saving up to start at the Culinary Institute of America in New York in the fall. Larkin would miss her terribly, but watching her spread her wings was an experience she wouldn't trade. It had been nice to be the kind of mentor she hadn't ever really had.

“It's not like you not to rip open a present,” Aimee said. “Do you think it's one of those glitter bombs? You don't have any enemies, though.”

Larkin snorted. “Shows how much you know.”

“Not in Harvest Cove, you don't.”

“Well . . . no. But you still have much to learn, young padawan. And I'm not opening it right now.” She propped it against the wall in a corner and left it there over Aimee's protestations. She had things to do. Things and stuff. Far more important than ripping open a box which had probably come from Shane, and probably contained something that was going to make her question this constant desire to be with him, both with and without clothing. He was with his friends tonight, at least, so she could brood in peace—and because of the box, she was in the mood.

It was still there as the daylight faded and the lights came on outside, until she was closing up and could no longer ignore it. Flustered, she pulled out her phone and called Emma.

“What's up?” Her friend's voice was chipper, at least. That would help.

“So I have a potential emotional event happening here. Want to come over and drink me through it?”

Emma's warm, husky laughter made her smile. “Sure. You want backup? I've got three other women on the hook for a girls' night, too. Seems like it's been a long week for everybody. I think Zoe's lobbying for a pajama party at her house, though.”

“I can swing that,” Larkin replied, her mood already lightening. “I'll get changed and head over. And I'll bring martini stuff.”

“Then you'll be the queen of the party. See you around seven?”

“Absolutely.” Larkin hung up, already feeling better. If she had to be cursed with a taste for clueless men, at least she had friends to commiserate with. And sometimes, that made all the difference. With a resigned sigh, she picked up her package, turned out the lights, and headed out the door.

•   •   •

“Why do you keep looking at your phone?”

“I'm not.” Shane frowned, then tried to slide his phone under the table while looking at it. Jake sighed loudly beside him. It was hard to blame him, Shane thought. He'd invited them all over to hang out and have some fun, but so far all they'd managed to do was sit around his kitchen table and stare at one another, punctuating the silence with the occasional insult.

“Seriously. One more time and I'm shoving that phone someplace you won't be able to get it without a laxative,” Jake said.

Shane looked up at his best friend, the man who'd been there for him from grade school onward, the man whose friendship he valued above all others, and said, with feeling, “Bite me.”

Jason Evans, Jake's cousin and a local park ranger, leaned back in his chair and looked between the two of them, lips twitching with amusement. “True love,” he commented, then took a sip of his beer. Shane offered him a one-fingered salute, used to the sarcasm from that quarter. Jason was as big as he was, but a hell of a lot quieter until you got to know him. Then he was as much of a jackass as the rest of his friends. Shane considered that an essential trait in the people with whom he surrounded himself. So far, he'd done a pretty good job in his selection.

Fitz was slumped forward to Shane's left, chin propped on his folded arms. He'd been looking increasingly forlorn as the evening had worn on. “Are we going to watch a movie or something?” he asked. “Cards? Video games? Something?”

“Jesus, you're a treat tonight,” Shane said, turning to look at him. Fitz's dark eyes looked up at him, huge and sad and puppyish. They all knew what the issue was, of course. It wasn't like they hadn't been through it dozens of times before. “If you can't write, why don't you get out of town for a few days? Find some inspiration. See the world. Get laid. Any or all of these things would do you some good.”

“I don't want to go anywhere.”

“Yeah, you never do. Glad you could take a break
from haunting the halls of your Gothic mansion to share your misery, though.” Shane snorted. “How do you write about such cool stuff when you never go anywhere?”

The puppyish look turned peevish. “It's called having an imagination. You know, that thing you use to picture naked women. It can actually envision other things, believe it or not. And I do too go places,” he grumbled. “I go to cons.”

“Which you hate.”

“I like the people, I just hate the travel. But I still
go
. And I don't see you jetting around the globe, either, Sullivan. I get out more than you.”

“Not true,” Shane said. “I work at an office, which means I leave my house. I know you spend days at a time holed up and living on ramen.”

“I would never try to live on ramen.” Fitz's eyes narrowed. “My mom brings me food.”

Shane tried to picture his own mother doing that for him. She might send the chef over if things were dire, but that would be about it. Come to think of it, he'd never seen Liz Sullivan actually operate a stove. She came from old money, older and even more substantial than the Sullivans'. Kitchen work was strictly for the help. As was child-rearing.

“Well,” he said, searching for a comeback. Finally he settled on “You still suck.”

There were chuckles and groans around the table. Fitz simply shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Ow. My feelings.”

“Call Seth,” Shane suggested. “We can make him give us a ride in his police mobile.”

“Yeah, I think Seth wants to keep his job,” Jake
replied. Seth Andersen was engaged to Jake's wife's sister, Emma Henry. Shane had thought he was kind of uptight at first, but it turned out he was just quiet. Quiet and a little bit of a Boy Scout, but there was a sense of humor lurking in there, too. He'd have to have one to live with Emma.

“Damn it, Shane, what do you keep looking at on there?” Jake made a grab for his phone, which Shane deftly maneuvered around.

“Nothing. No—
hey
!” Fitz poked him in the side, where he was ticklish, which made him wobble enough for Jake to swipe the cell phone. He got up and dashed from the room, laughing madly. Shane cuffed Fitz upside the head and took off after him, Jason's rumble of a laugh following him. Jake had always been fast. Unfortunately.

Shane found him hunched over his phone at the foot of the stairs. “I love how you don't even have a pass code on here.”

“It's a pain in the ass to do it every time I want to get into it. Give it back.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Before I have to pick you up and smash you.”

Jake handed it over. “That was a waste of energy. So confess. What are you obsessing about?”

“I'm not obsessing. I'm just . . .” He shrugged, then decided he might as well tell Jake. “I sent Larkin something. A present. I know it got delivered, but she hasn't texted or anything.”

Jake's brows lifted. “A present? Like flowers or something? That's not like you.”

He knew, which was one of the many reasons it was weird talking about it. “Yeah, no. It was like a dress . . . thing.” If Jake's eyebrows went any higher they were
going to vanish into his hairline. “Shut up,” Shane added preemptively.

“You picked out
clothes
for her?”

“What? I have taste.”

“Do I even know you?” Jake asked, and Shane punched him in the arm. Jake winced and rubbed the spot. “Okay, it's you. But this is, ah, different.”

“So?”

“So it's different. I guess you actually like her.”

“Don't be dumb. I've liked her for a while. You know that,” Shane grumbled. He felt stupid talking about it. He could talk about any number of irrelevant things at length, but Larkin didn't fall into that category. And now Jake knew it.

“No, I mean, it's good! Larkin is great. I just didn't realize it was this much of a thing for you.”

“Well, it is. A thing.” Shane frowned, annoyed by the ever-present specter of his past self, the guy who people assumed actually put notches on his bedpost. He hadn't. Well, after college, at least. “I'm not like that anymore,” he added, a defense against whatever Jake was thinking.

“I know that,” Jake said, and the simple, slightly surprised way he said it was a welcome vote of confidence. “I just didn't realize you were moving this fast. But it's good, like I said.” He ruffled a hand through his hair, and the simple gold ring on his finger caught the light. Shane watched it, momentarily mesmerized. He didn't spend a lot of time thinking about his friends' romantic statuses, other than to sometimes resent their intrusion into his plans. It was easy to forget that Jake had taken the big plunge, that he was
married
. To a hot, funny woman who he preferred to spend time with
over everyone else, including his best friend. Shane hadn't been able to see how that would work before.

Now he was beginning to get an inkling. The idea was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

“What's it like?” he asked, only belatedly realizing he'd asked out loud. Jake's lips curved up into a puzzled smile.

“What's what like?”

“You know. Being with one person. Forever.”

Jake blinked. “Wow. You really do like her.” When Shane glowered, Jake laughed softly and put up his hands. “Okay, okay. Um, it's great. I mean, Sam and I argue sometimes. But we also have a lot of fun.” His eyes went far off for a moment while he considered the question, and his smile softened. “I like having her here. I like knowing I'm coming home to her. I like just sitting around and talking to her even though sometimes I have no idea what she's talking about . . . and vice versa, I'm sure, because I know I start with the medical terms sometimes and her eyes glaze over. But she's my partner. It's probably corny, but it's not just about the sex—she's my friend. I like who I am when I'm with her. She makes me better, if that makes any sense. And now I can't imagine being without her.” After he finished, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away with an uncomfortable laugh. “So, uh, yeah. That's what it's like.”

Shane looked at him for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You're right. It is corny.”

Jake tipped his head back and groaned. “Why? Why did I know you were going to say that?”

“Because you love me. Though not as much as you
love Sam, apparently. Don't I complete you?” He grinned, and Jake shook his head with a baleful look.

“No. No, you don't. Let's go play poker or something. I'll get out the cards.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Shane said, extending an arm to hold Jake back. “You didn't let me finish. It's corny,
but
it makes sense. And it helps. So thanks.” He took a deep breath. “We're having dinner with my parents tomorrow night.”

Jake's hazel eyes widened. “Oh.
Oh
. Well . . . good luck, then. I'm glad I helped.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

They stared at each other awkwardly for a few long moments, then, in unspoken agreement, headed back to the kitchen. Jason gave them an odd look.

“What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing,” Jake said, but then pitched his voice higher and added in a singsong, “Shane's in
looove
.”

Shane turned to glare at Jake's grin, then gave up and laughed along with his friends. “Whatever,” he grunted. “Screw cards. Let's go play Call of Duty and blow shit up.”

There was a chorus of cheers, and as Shane picked up his beer and followed his friends into the family room, he mulled over what Jake had said. He didn't know what it was like to have another person make him feel whole, or better, or whatever. In some ways he'd always been on his own. But he found he
wanted
to know. That was new. He wasn't sure if or how such a thing would work for him. All he knew was that Larkin was his best chance to find out, the only person
who'd ever made him want to find out. Falling in love, real love, still seemed unlikely, but stranger things had happened. The only thing he knew for certain was that everything he did or didn't do with Larkin had just gotten a lot more important.

Not tonight, though. Tonight was for friends. He'd worry about the corny stuff in the morning. So resolved, Shane started into the family room.