Truly (New York Trilogy #1) (12 page)

This is the problem with men who think the world is full of people as nice as he is
, Allie thought as she sprinted down a parallel aisle.
They never understand codes
.

They also had trouble with dry humor, and they were too nice to even
consider
anal.

She cleared the end of the aisle. There they were: her fiancé and May’s erstwhile boyfriend standing together, wearing matching Why-has-Allie-gone-crazy expressions.

Executing a sharp ninety-degree turn, she flung her arms out and blocked the reporter from exiting his own aisle. “Matt, take Dan’s rental and
leave
,” she demanded. Reporter Guy pushed against her arm barrier, then thought better of it and jogged toward the back of the store.

Allie pivoted to make a shooing motion with her hands.
“Go,”
she hissed. “I’ll keep him here. When you get to the cabin, hide the rental where he won’t be able to see it. Maybe we can prevent him from finding us and ruining the whole trip, okay?”

Understanding dawned on Matt’s face. He grabbed Dan’s arm and started hauling him toward the door. “Who’s taking Roscoe?”

A brilliant plan occurred to Allie. So brilliant, she broke into a manic grin. “I am.”

She followed Matt and Dan through the doorway and unclipped her dog from the post, inviting him to follow her into the store with a soft tug and a cluck. The rental car unlocked behind her with a clunky mechanical noise.

“Good luck,” Matt called.

She barely waved her hand at him. All her attention was focused on the dog, who followed her eagerly into the store. “Do this for me, Roscoe, and I will give you
all the salami
,” she promised.

Having sprinted down the next aisle over, the reporter had just reached the register. Allie headed directly for him. Roscoe positively wiggled with excitement.

Allie felt like wiggling, too. She had a talent for getting in the way, but Roscoe took the ability to a whole new level.

When they got close, the reporter dodged left. Allie dropped the leash and made a whirling motion with her hand. “Round him up.”

She snapped her fingers and Roscoe took off like a shot, barking and running circles around the reporter. It only took a few seconds for the guy to fall down, ankles hopelessly ensnared.

“Oh, you poor man,” Allie said. “I’m so sorry.” She watched him surreptitiously beneath her aura of ditziness to ensure that he didn’t seem too frightened of Roscoe. Reporter or not, if he had a dog phobia, she’d never forgive herself for aggravating it.

He only looked mad, though, not scared. “Get this fucking dog off me,” he demanded, and she plastered a worried frown on her face as she walked in counterclockwise circles, waving her bags of cold cuts back and forth within range of Roscoe’s nose. The dog barked with excitement and nosed Reporter Guy in the thigh.

Inside, Allie was whirling in circles, her imaginary paws lifting off the floor with every excited bark.

Dan and Matt would have to be gone by now. She had saved the day.

“You want another shower to warm up?” Ben tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. “Or I could make you some more coffee.”

“Both would be great.”

May was perfectly warm, but she felt gross—drying on the outside but damp under her arms, along the insides of her thighs, and around her ankles. Her feet were swollen and sore from walking so much in her soaked shoes.

A shower and a hot coffee would go a long way toward improving her condition. Though the prospect did raise an uncomfortable question.

Ben answered it before she even had to ask. “You’re going to need something dry to wear. Let me see what I’ve got.”

May took a seat at the counter, awash in something like déjà vu spiked with Mexican jumping beans.

She’d never expected to come back here, but when the opportunity had arisen, she’d decided to say yes even before he finished asking.

Yes
to whatever he offered.
Yes
to Ben.

She wasn’t sure when she’d made up her mind. Before she took the cab to the farmer’s market at Union Square, though. Waiting in line at the airport, she’d been thinking about the way he’d looked while whipping cream for her. The flex of corded muscle in his working forearm and the way the other arm cradled the bowl against his stomach. The hollow of his throat above the neckline of his gray T-shirt.

His three-day stubble had grown into a four-day beard now. When he’d leaned in to kiss her cheek earlier, his face had felt scratchy and warm against hers. Interesting.

She’d never kissed a bearded man before.

After a minute, he appeared in the doorway to his bedroom and smiled in a way that made her heart race.

Deep breaths, May-o. It’s always scary when you’re about to jump into the deep end
.

Or so Allie told her. Allie was usually the one who did the diving.

“I’m sure my shirts will fit,” he said. “Not so sure about the jeans. We’re not far off on
height, but …”

Aaaand there was the water, the smack of impact as harsh as she’d feared.

We’re not far off on height, because you’re a giantess, but your hips are broad as a barn, and there’s no hope on earth of your squeezing into these jeans
.

She wasn’t cut out for the deep end.

“What about sweats?” she asked. “Or track pants, something like that?”

“Sure. Just a sec.”

He left her with his clothes, and she lifted his jeans to check: 32W, 34L. Straight up and down. Cuffed, they might have fit her in sixth grade, before she hit her second growth spurt. The one that had left stretch marks.

She folded them again as he came down the hall with a pair of dark green track pants. The stripes up the side were gold. Packers pants.

“They match your jersey,” he said.

She imagined herself walking around with him in Packers pants, a green jersey, and green slippers with bows. “I need to buy some clothes.”

“I know,” he said. “I figured shopping is probably first on the agenda.”

“You shop?”

“I wait nearby with a cup of coffee and my book.”

That made her smile, a little bit. “You can find out if they ever manage to bury the dead lady while I locate pants that fit.”

Ben smiled back, that elusive grin that made him look younger, a little silly, and far too appealing. “It’s a deal. But first, get warm, and I’ll feed you.”

“You already fed me soup.”

“I have to make the coffee, drink the coffee, and change my clothes. Plus, you’re a chick, so you’ll take forever. I bet it’ll be ninety minutes before we hit the pavement. By then, I’ll be ready to eat again.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fast at getting ready. It only took me a few minutes this morning.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have any of your woman crap this morning. I was about to ask if you want to run down to the drugstore before you shower to buy some stuff. You know, soap, toothpaste.”

“Is there one nearby?”

“Yeah, there’s a Duane Reade down the block if you hang a left at the front door.”

May hopped off the stool. “I’m on it.” She held out her hand. “Can I borrow your key?”

“Sure.” He picked his key ring off the counter and handed it to her, separating the apartment key from the rest. “It’s this one.” He retrieved his wallet and pulled two twenties from it. “Take this, too. No arguments.”

She frowned at the cash but accepted it. “I’ll pay you back.”

“I know you will.”

“And I bet I’ll be showered, dressed, and ready to go before you’ve got that pot clean, changed your clothes, and had your coffee.”

“You have to have some coffee, too.”

“Sure, sure. You can set it on the bathroom sink while I shower.”

A quick flash of something in his eyes, and that smile flirting with the corner of his mouth again. “Deal.”

May closed the door behind her and rushed down the steps with a lightness in her heart that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

* * *

“I look like a gym teacher.”

He glanced up and smiled. “More like an athlete.” In the white T-shirt, gray hoodie, and track pants he’d given her, her hair dark and slicked off her face again, she reminded him of an Olympic swimmer waiting for her heat.

“Yeah, well, the shoes are going to kill the whole effect.” She slipped them on, then came over and stood next to him, making a show of drumming her fingers on the countertop while she looked pointedly at his sock-clad feet. “Aren’t you ready to go yet?”

Ben took a sip of his coffee and filled in another clue in the
Times
crossword. “I’ve been ready for a month.”

In fact, he’d had to scramble to get dressed when he heard the shower cut off. She hadn’t been kidding about being fast.

“You’re sweating,” she pointed out sweetly.

“You’re smug.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Who, me?”

He pivoted on his bar stool and stood, scooping the keys off the counter. When he turned back toward her, he realized his mistake.

Way too close.

With her hair wet, her face was all angles and planes, broad cheekbones, and short-fringed eyes. He’d expected her to buy makeup at the drugstore and to come from the bathroom transformed. That was what Sandy would have done. His ex was a beautiful woman with or without all the crap on her face, but she wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving home without lipstick. He’d liked that about her—the way she’d always seemed so pulled together.

May had freckles all across the bridge of her nose and dusting her cheeks. A square face. When you looked at her features one by one, she wasn’t exactly pretty. Her upper lip was a bit thin, the bottom plump but chapped, as though she’d been abusing it. If it weren’t for that lush bottom lip and her big brown eyes, she would look almost mannish. Severe.

He couldn’t stop staring.

“Do I have toothpaste on my chin?” she asked.

If you did, I’d lick it off
.

“No. Sorry. Give me a second.”

He went into the bathroom and ran water in the sink so there would be some white noise to cover up the sound of him muttering curses at himself.

Could he not just hang out with the woman for a few days without wanting to climb on top of her? Yes, May was … interesting to look at. Pretty, even. An unusual kind of pretty. And yes, he liked her. But so what? Another man had asked her to marry him at lunchtime on Thursday, barely forty-eight hours ago. She wasn’t available to be mounted, and even if she were, he knew better.

He made his face stern and uncompromising in the mirror. “No kissing, no touching, no fucking,” he told himself. “Be normal.”

When he went back into the living area, she was rinsing her coffee cup in the sink.

“So I figure we shop first,” he said. “After shopping, we grab some dinner, and then I have to check on the bees before it gets dark. You can come with me to the roof if you want, or if bees freak you out, you can stay here. And then after, we can do laundry down in the basement,
so if you’ve got new stuff you want washed, you’ll have it for tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Do you need to call anybody—tell them where you are?”

“Yeah, but I can do that later. This nice lady at Starbucks let me use her phone, and I already called my friend who was going to pick me up. She said she’d leave a message at the store to let my family know I won’t be getting to the cabin tonight. Maybe I can write my sister an email later.”

“Cool.” He rubbed his hands together. “Tonight won’t count for your vacation. I’m going to ask you some questions to find out what you hate about New York, and then I’ll plan your tour experience for the next couple days. Tonight is just chores.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

He already had a mental list of a whole bunch of places he wanted her to see. Way too many—he had to pare it down. He crossed to the front door, shoved his feet into his shoes, and knelt down to tie the laces.

“New York is counting on me to do it proud,” he said. “What kind of clothes do you want?”

“I don’t know. I have less than twenty bucks.”

“I’m going to get you some cash, first thing. That way, if this vacation doesn’t work out and you need, you know, some space or that hotel room you wanted, you’ll be able to afford it.”

“That’s really nice of you,” she said. “I just hate the idea of—”

“Don’t say it.”

“What?”

“You were going to say
impose
again.”

She smiled, ducking her head.

“Whatever you take from me, it’s a loan, okay? Pretend I’m your friend at home giving it to you, and pay me back next week. What was her name, Dana?”

“Anya.”

He stood, opened his wallet, and handed her a credit card. “Here’s Anya’s credit card. I think the limit on that one’s something like twenty-five thousand dollars. Spend less than that, okay? But she spells her name funny, so you’ll have to sign it B-E-N-H-A-U-S-M-A-N.”

She ran her fingers over the raised numbers. “All I need is a pair of jeans and a couple T-shirts.
We could go to Walmart.”

“We don’t have Walmart in Manhattan. And you’re supposed to be on vacation, right? Be on vacation. Go crazy. Buy something you like. You get to keep the clothes, so you might as well enjoy them. Now, where do you want me to take you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been shopping in New York.”

He unlocked the deadbolt and held the door open for her.

When she brushed past him, he looked down, an automatic response to the soft pressure of her arm against his. She couldn’t possibly know what her ass looked like under the smooth, shiny material of the track pants, bouncing down the steps.

“I’m just going to take you to Macy’s, okay?” he asked. “It’s huge. I’m sure they’ve got something you’ll want.”

Preferably something big and shapeless. Which, once you start wearing it, I’ll begin to find inexplicably hot
.

“Macy’s it is.” She hit the landing and disappeared around the bend to the next flight.

“And buy some decent shoes.” His voice and his footsteps echoed off the concrete walls. “Yours suck.”

Her loud laughter filled the stairwell, and he hurried to catch up.