Love on a Spring Morning (16 page)

Oh God. This man and his manners. She was going to die. “I thought you had to go get your kids.”

His eyes darkened and he licked his lips. “I’ve got time to make you feel good.”

The week before, she’d been one hundred percent ready to have sex with him. And today she’d literally raced over when he messaged her. So why was she balking now? “Um…” She dragged a stuttering breath into her lungs, then grabbed his t-shirt as he eased back, confusion on his face. “No, wait. I want…” She let out a watery laugh. “Okay, look. The list of things I want to do with you definitely includes whatever you were thinking. But like you say—we need more time.”

“Time isn’t something I’ve got a lot of,” he said, smoothing his hands over her hips. He leaned in and she eagerly kissed him again, but this time it was calmer. More kissing-for-kissing’s sake, less feverish-race-to-get-naked. She’d kick herself for this later, but before they went any further, she needed to make sure they were on the same page.

And before that could happen, she needed to convince herself she wasn’t falling hard for this man. They didn’t need to talk for her to know that Ryan’s heart was full-up with his kids and his grief, and she was—at best—a sexy distraction.

It wasn’t a common role for her, but she could do fun and sexy. Taking a deep breath, she walked her fingers up the centre of his t-shirt, over the corded muscles in his neck, and across his cut jaw, ending up at his talented mouth. The guy could kiss, that was for sure. “Then we’ll need to make time,” she purred. “Stolen moments here and there. If you see me, you grab me and kiss me. And when the time is right, we’ll make sure that it’s good for both of us.”

— FOURTEEN —

H
E could feel her eyes on him, watching as he unloaded firewood. The cast and crew were having a bonfire on the weekend—some sort of team-building event that Holly wasn’t looking forward to—and Olivia had tasked him with the site prep. Picnic tables assembled, fire pit dug out, hardwood stacked.

“Enjoying yourself?” he finally asked, ambling over to the deck where she sat, kind of reading a binder. Mostly just watching him, though.

His ego wasn’t complaining.

“Definitely.” She did a quick glance around, but they were alone. Her grin got bigger as she roamed her gaze over his body. Two days had passed since they’d shared that last scorching kiss, and she’d been working non-stop. Last night she’d called him from her bed, close to midnight, and they’d talked for a few minutes before going a couple of rounds on almost goodnights, then one regretful real one. She’d been the one to actually hang up, and he’d held his phone against his chest for a long time after, his cock half-swollen just from the sound of her voice.

Now his dick just needed one glance from her to bounce to that almost perpetual state. The Holly Effect.
 

She set down her work, but didn’t get up. Her smile settled into a lazy twist at her lips, and it was sexy as hell. “You have to get kids soon?”

He nodded. “Bus will arrive in ten minutes. Maya’s at a friend’s house until dinner, having a playdate.” The first one he’d accepted. He was getting there. Slowly. “You working on lines or something?”

“Yep, for tomorrow. I’m actually done for the day.” She stretched out the last few words, and he wasn’t going to pass up the unspoken request for spending some time together.

“You want to join us for dinner? We’re having hamburgers, nothing fancy.”

Why did such a simple offer light up her eyes like that? “Your kids won’t wonder why you’re having the movie lady over?”

He laughed. “As long as the movie lady doesn’t kiss me, they won’t think twice about it.”

“Deal.” Her eyes crinkled, and he bounded up the stairs. She tipped her face up as he got closer. “Hello, there.”

“Since I can’t kiss you later…” He leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. Hard yielding to soft. Brittle won over by sweet. She parted for him and he stroked her cheek as he deepened the kiss, wishing they had more than a few minutes. She stirred something inside him, a youthfulness that made him wish she wasn’t disappearing in a few weeks.

There’d never be enough time with her
. He’d been grappling with that surprising realization for a few days—however long he’d have with Holly, he’d want more. It was for the best they knew from the start that there was also an end.

Bittersweet was better than broken-hearted any day of the week. In theory. Each day he kissed her, though, was another day he thought about inviting her to stay for the summer.

But stay where, exactly? She was living in his in-laws’ home. Sure, all their furniture had been put in storage—a ridiculously wasteful idea he’d scoffed at when Olivia told him that was the plan, although it made the idea of maybe sharing her bed a bit easier.

Sharing his wasn’t an option. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Jesus, he was all kinds of fucked up. And he was still kissing her. Sort of.

“You okay?” she asked softly, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He shook his head. Freudian slip, body-language style. “Yeah. No. I’m a bit distracted. Not your fault.” He cleared his mind and kissed her again, with purpose, and when he pulled back she was smiling, a soft, tempting look he wanted to put on her face over and over again. “Okay, I gotta run. We should be back from getting Maya around five. Come over any time after that.”

— —
 

Holly watched Ryan hop back into his truck and leave, then went inside.

Where Emmett was waiting, arms crossed.
Oh, shit
. “What?”

“So that’s the crush, huh? Cute guy with the cute kids?”

“Yep.” She could trust Emmett to be discreet. But that didn’t mean she was going to give him any more than what he’d already observed. She went to the fridge and opened it.

“You going to be able to say goodbye to all that cuteness when we leave?”

She was glad her head was buried in a search for salad stuff so he couldn’t see her face.
No, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle that in the least
. She was pretty sure she’d need to spend a month sobbing on Liana’s couch in Nashville.
A month you could spend in Pine Harbour, instead
. So unhelpful, her inner psyche. She needed to just enjoy what time they were going to have together and stop trying to manufacture something impossible out of wishes and dreams.

Behind her, she heard Emmett shift off his stool, then he appeared over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for stuff to make a salad with.”

“Hungry?”

She took a deep breath and flashed her assistant a winning smile. “Not exactly. I’m going to the cute family’s house for dinner, and I want to take a salad.”

“Oh, sweetie…” He gave her a sympathetic pouty-lip frown and she thumped him in the chest as they both stood up.

“Don’t, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of this or anything. Just…can you pull out everything I need to make a salad?”

“Do you want me to just make it?”

“No,” she retorted more sharply than necessary. “I want to do it.”

“But you need me to tell you what goes into a salad.” He crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow.

“Hey. I know it includes lettuce. And other stuff. It’s just the combinations that I’m fuzzy on. I can make a
salad
.” Surely. She was a skilled professional, how hard could it be? Besides, she had her phone. She grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out of the kitchen. “Actually, I’m good.”

“Googling doesn’t count,” he hollered as he skipped away.

“Yes it does,” she muttered under her breath, turning back to the fridge. Strawberries. Kids like berries, right? Pulling out her phone, she typed
strawberry salad
into the search bar and said a silent prayer to the Internet gods.

An hour and a half later, she knocked on Ryan’s door, pretending she wasn’t nervous as hell. The sight of him swinging the door open eased that just a bit—until his gaze caught hers in that slow-down-the-world kind of way that made her mouth dry and her heart hammer extra-hard against her chest.

“Hi,” she breathed, and he just nodded, a slow smile curling up the corners of his mouth as he stepped back to let her in, his eyes never leaving hers. She broke the contact to greet the kids.

“I brought a salad,” she said, holding the bowl out. “It’s not muffins, but it does have strawberries in it.”

“I don’t like salad,” Maya said solemnly. Jack poked her and she rolled her eyes. “I like strawberries.”

Holly laughed. “I don’t like salad either.”

“Then why did you bring it?” Gavin asked. They were all crowding around her, little bouncing bundles of curiosity, and she wanted to eat them up with a spoon.

Ryan swooped in, taking the bowl and giving his kids a glare, which she also thought was pretty cute. “Okay, that’s enough rudeness for one dinner. Can you guys say something nice to our guest?”

“Thank you for coming to dinner, Holly.” Gavin said it totally straight, his deadpan delivery cracking up his siblings.
 

Ryan just shook his head as he pulled a plate of raw burgers from the fridge. “I’m going to put these on the barbecue.” He gave her a warm look as he slid past, murmuring something about good luck under his breath.

I don’t need luck
, she thought. She already had something in common with the kids—she was a big fan of their dad. And despite the teasing, she could see how attached they were to Ryan. “I bet your dad’s a good cook, huh?”

“He’s okay,” Jack answered first. “But he doesn’t bake. Those muffins you gave us were awesome.”

“I didn’t bake them, either. It was a stretch of my cooking ability to make this salad.”

“Which you don’t like.”

She grinned. “I like that it’s good for me. And it’s not awful. I hope. Don’t tell me if it’s awful, okay?”

Gavin nodded. “We wouldn’t, anyway. That would be rude. My dad said we had to be on our best behaviour or he’s going to tell Uncle Rafe that we’re allergic to pizza.”

“Wow, that’s some stiff penalty. Did you guys all go to school today?”

“I go to pwe-school,” Maya said, twirling in a circle.

“That sounds like fun.” Holly dropped down, squatting so she was at eye level with the tiny dancer. “Do you dance at school?”

“Uh huh.”

“I sometimes dance at work.”

“My mommy used to dance with me. She’s dead now.” Maya kept twirling, oblivious to the stunned expression Holly was trying to wipe off her face.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry,” she whispered, blinking back unexpected tears.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Jack leave the room, and her heart clenched. Had she done that? She glanced up at Gavin, who just shrugged. “He gets sad when Maya says things like that. She’s just little, she doesn’t know what that word feels like here.” He pointed to his chest.

“Should I get your dad?”

The seven-year-old shook his head, wise beyond his years. “He’ll be okay. He needs a minute. Maybe tell Daddy later. He doesn’t like secrets.”

She’d already learned that lesson. “Okay.” She gave him a small smile. “You’re pretty brave.”

He shrugged. “I get sad, too.”

“Of course. I’m sad about it, and I never got a chance to know your mom.” She stood up. “Do you have any pictures of her?”

Gavin took her hand and led her into the living room. On the wall was a matching set of black picture frames, laid out with deliberate care in pattern on the wall. Holly blinked back more tears. Before Ryan’s wife was killed, she was a woman who danced with her daughter and carefully organized family pictures with pride. Anything else she’d heard about Lynn Howard faded away.

“Where are you?” she asked Gavin, her voice catching with emotion. “Oh, there you are!”

He was smaller in the picture hung in the middle of the wall, and Maya was a baby. The only formal photo of the entire family, it was taken at the lake. Holly recognized the railing as being Lynn’s parents’ house. Ryan held a gangly little Gavin in his arms, Lynn—a beautiful woman, taller than Holly, with long blonde hair—had baby Maya in hers, and Jack stood proudly in front of them.

“And that’s my hockey picture from last year, and this is when we went to Canada’s Wonderland, and that’s Maya’s first birthday.”

From behind them, Maya whizzed past, leaping onto the couch beneath the pictures. She jammed her hands on her hips and started singing a song about cake, and how much she loved it.

“We get it, Maya. You love cake!” Gavin said, getting exasperated. “Her birthday was a couple of months ago, but she’s still kind of obsessed.”

Holly laughed and wiggled her hips to Maya’s tune, only to be interrupted by Ryan clearing his throat from the doorway. She spun around, cheeks flushing. “Dinner time?”

“Almost,” he said quietly, his gaze unreadable. Did he hate her being in this room? Had she overstepped by asking about the family pictures?

“Do you need help?”

He shook his head. “Jack’s setting the table.”

She nodded, her pulse skipping uncomfortably in her throat. “I’ll toss the salad?”

“Okay.” He stepped back as she walked toward him, but when the two kids sprinted past, heading to the kitchen and out of sight, he moved back into her path, blocking her in the living room. His chest rose and fell in front of her, and she took her time looking up at him, nervous to see his face up close. He was so skittish, and even though he said he wouldn’t run again, she couldn’t be sure he really knew that about himself.

When she met his gaze, she didn’t see nerves. The pain on his face was a million times worse.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered as her stomach twisted in knots. He
so
wasn’t ready for another relationship. “Let’s go have dinner.”

“I…” he started, then trailed off. She wanted to kiss him, but that might not make him feel better. All the little muscles in his face worked hard as he looked down at her, tiny twitches all over the place as he worked to keep control of the reaction he was having. When he spoke again, though, he was calmer, and the storm clouds in his eyes cleared. “I can put the kids to bed early, if you can stay. They all had a busy day, they’ll be tired.”