Chapter Two
Missy stepped away from Ben, breathless and stunned by the intensity of the kiss they’d just shared. Her knees were actually weak, like she needed to sit down. So she did, pulling out the cushioned chair tucked close to the table. He remained standing, his large hand sliding under her hair, cupping her neck, warm and reassuring. She let herself enjoy his touch for a long moment while she collected herself before standing abruptly, dislodging his hand. The busy church basement came back into focus. She needed to know if Louis was still here.
Ben slipped an arm around her waist, distracting her with his sexy rumble in her ear. He smelled like warm spice and leather. “Who’re we looking for? You want me to kick his ass?”
She clenched her jaw. Louis was her problem, and she dealt with her problems alone.
“Just a minute,” she said under her breath. She went up on tiptoe, craning her neck for the tall, thin man with scraggly black hair, wearing an old army jacket. Her ex-husband was a drugged-out homeless man. She wouldn’t have given a shit except he showed up at her apartment a couple of weeks ago demanding money, probably for his next score. She suppressed a shudder. He’d been stalking her ever since, saying she owed him. She knew to keep an eye out for an old blue Toyota Camry that he lived in and probably stole. Even if she had money, she’d never give him a cent. Her hatred for him had faded over the last nine years, but she’d never, ever forgive him.
He seemed to be gone. She let out a breath and sank to the chair. Louis must be desperate to look her up after so many years. Maybe he owed money to a drug lord, or maybe he just needed his next hit of whatever he was on. She didn’t care what he did as long as he moved on. Eventually he would give up on her and move on to richer pastures. She was sure he must have a list of exes to hit up for cash. He used to be smooth with women and handsome when he cleaned up.
She glanced up at Ben still standing by her side—the perfect shield to scare off another man. At first glance, Ben looked tough with his short-cropped hair, angular face with pronounced cheekbones and a square jaw with a hint of stubble. Plus he was tall and built, the black leather jacket emphasizing his wide shoulders and broad chest. She knew he was harmless and not just because he clearly adored his grandmother. She’d put Ben in the harmless category the first time they met months ago at a party. They’d played as a team at pool, where he’d been a charming flirt, and they’d trounced the competition. That was the kind of victory she remembered. When he later didn’t remember her, she was less than flattered, but it just confirmed that his flirting had no serious intent behind it. Harmless.
Except that kiss—not so harmless. It was lethal, stealing her breath, clouding her mind, reducing her to a quivery needy state. A flirt she could handle, anything stronger than that might lead to relationship land, a place she swore never to visit again. The fact that her marriage of three years had turned abusive would have been reason enough. But she was a survivor, determined to feel comfortable around men again and hold her own. Years of therapy and self-defense classes got her to where she was today—single and safe, dealing with men on her own casual terms.
No man was trustworthy.
She knew this from Louis, from her years volunteering at a women’s shelter in Seattle, and her current volunteer work for a women’s emergency hotline. Even knowing all that, she’d let her guard down last spring, getting involved with a short-term employee at the construction firm where she worked. She’d agreed with her boyfriend, Matt, to keep it quiet so it wouldn’t look like she, the person in charge of payroll among many other things, had a special attachment to an employee. Matt would be leaving in the summer as soon as the project ended, so she hadn’t thought it was a big deal. She’d spent many nights in his studio apartment, furnished sparsely with a mattress on the floor and a sofa. She didn’t care that he didn’t have money because he was so warm and affectionate. He’d actually made her feel cherished, something she’d never felt before with any man. When his temp job ended three months later, she’d been so excited to finally tell the world about their relationship, and then Matt informed her they couldn’t go public because he was married with a baby on the way. Total betrayal.
Missy was so humiliated, so embarrassed, she’d never told a soul about it. Lesson learned once again—this time for keeps—no man was trustworthy. She had her sister, her friends, and that was more than enough.
She looked up at Ben, defenses firmly in place. He pushed her hair back over her ear, gazing down at her with heat in his blue eyes. She felt herself flush. Normally she wouldn’t be opposed to acting on fantastic chemistry for a hookup, but Ben was one of the guys who’d grown up close to the Campbell family. And the Campbell clan, with all their biological and honorary brothers, were frequently at the bar where Missy and her friends from book club hung out. Some of the guys had recently become engaged or married to some of her friends, and the crossover between the two groups had reached epic proportions. She was sure to run into Ben more and more frequently. The fact that she’d only seen him a handful of times before this was not enough to sway her. She liked to keep her casual hookups separate from her real life.
She stood, embarrassingly overheated from their kiss. “Thanks for your help.”
He jerked his chin. “Who was it?”
She worked for a casual tone. “Just a guy who’s not my type. He asked me out before, and I thought he might again. I just wanted to let him down easy, letting him think I had a boyfriend.”
He studied her, his eyes boring into hers. For a moment she worried he could see through the lie, but then he gave her an easy smile, his dimples popping up adorably in those rough stubbled cheeks. “I must be your type. That kiss—”
“Never happened.”
He narrowed his eyes.
She glanced at the adjacent table, where several people were waiting to pay for their purchases with Cheryl. Apparently, the Missy and Ben make-out session had been quietly stepped around. She’d be more embarrassed except she’d do it again in a heartbeat. It had worked phenomenally well in getting Louis to back off. And, she could admit it, she’d enjoyed their kiss immensely, enough to be sorely tempted by Ben. She hadn’t been with anyone since Matt, five months now, and the chemistry she had with Ben was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And that was just from a kiss! Her stomach dipped imagining skin on skin, the hot rush of—
The problem with Ben, she reminded herself firmly, was they’d end up thrown together a lot with all their mutual friends. If they hooked up, they’d have to see each other afterwards. He’d probably be like, “hey, ex-lover, don’t mind me flirting with this other woman.” Who would no doubt be one of her friends. Nope.
“Let me take care of your purchase,” she told him. “Then I need to help Cheryl.”
He said something under his breath and then walked to the other side of the table.
She ignored his grumbling, neatly folding the dark gray sweater he preferred, and then wrapping it in tissue paper and tucking it into a white box. After she told him the price, she pointed out his next stop. “There’s a gift-wrapping station over by the beach paintings if you want to take care of that too.”
He pulled a wad of twenty-dollar bills from his wallet. “Here.”
She counted them out, way too much. She tried to give some back, but he crossed his arms, tucking his hands away. “This is too much, nearly double.”
“Keep it. A donation to the church.”
Her throat constricted. He had no idea how much good this money would do this Christmas. “Ben…” She couldn’t get the words past the lump in her throat.
“What?” His tone was brusque.
She swallowed hard. “Thank you. It’ll be put to good use.”
“Good.” Another one-word terse reply.
“Are you mad I made you kiss me?”
His lips twitched. “I’m not mad.”
“You seem…not happy?”
He leaned close to her ear, his words hot against her skin. “When a gorgeous sexy woman lays a kiss on you like that, twice, and then gives you the cold shoulder, you might be a little not happy too.”
She warmed at the compliment. She’d never been called gorgeous before, and coming from his gorgeous self—wow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the cold shoulder.”
He straightened. “Okay. So now what?”
“I really do need to get back to work. I’m sure I’ll run into you again. Fate, right?”
He leveled her with a look of pure aggravation. “Right.” He snagged his sweater and stalked off.
“Wait!”
He stopped, slowly turned, and looked at her expectantly.
“You forgot your jam!” She held it out to him.
He marched back to her, irritation written all over his face. “Thank you,” he bit out, taking the jam.
“Bye and thanks again.”
He stalked off, jam in one hand, sweater box tucked under his arm. She let out a soft sigh, watching him go before remembering herself and jumping in to help.
By the time the craft bazaar ended at five o’clock, Missy was proud to say it had been a huge success. Her goal to raise two thousand dollars had been met and then some. Twenty-three hundred dollars, all of it going to the Harper family—Rena with her three kids, ages six, eight, and ten. She was one of the women Missy helped through the women’s hotline. Rena was starting over in an apartment in Clover Park after escaping her abusive husband. The church community had come together to make sure the Harper family had furniture and the basics, but Missy wanted to do something more. She wanted the kids’ first Christmas in their new hometown to be special. They’d each escaped with only one suitcase of personal belongings, not wanting to alert the abuser that they were leaving for good. The kids needed continuity—a tree with decorations, presents, a special Christmas dinner—to keep their childhood intact. They needed to know everything they loved about Christmas would still be there for them even if some things had changed. Missy knew from personal experience how important it was for a kid to have something they could depend on when their world turned upside down.
She tucked the money she’d collected from each vendor into the metal cash box, locked it, and stored it under the table. All the vendors were packing up, and she jumped in to help. There was still a pile of men’s sweaters, probably their worst-selling item. She pulled a large plastic container from under the table and piled them in there. She found herself smiling, looking at the bluebird of happiness sweater. She briefly considered getting it for Ben as a joke gift, but then decided he might take it the wrong way. Like she wanted to continue with more flirty stuff, bantering back and forth…kissing. She flashed hot at the memory. Onetime thing. She tossed a few more sweaters on top, covering up the birdy goodness.
She finished packing the remaining knits and checked if anyone else needed help, but half of the volunteers had already left, and the rest were fine on their own. She went upstairs to the storage closet, grabbed a broom and dustpan, headed back downstairs, and got to work. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, a date she’d planned purposely so she could hit all the Black Friday sales for the Harpers. She wanted those kids to wake to the excitement of a pile of presents on Christmas morning, to believe that Santa was there for them more than ever, to know they were good kids on the nice list no matter what their dad had done.
“Bye,” Cheryl called, her hands full with a container of knits.
Missy set the broom against the wall. “You want help getting that to your car?” The woman maintained a teased blond hairstyle, but she had to be at least seventy.
“No, thanks, Harry’s here. He’ll be down in a minute to haul the rest.”
“Okay, thanks so much for your help today.”
“You’re welcome. Your boyfriend was cute. Mr. Leather Jacket.”
Missy fought back a blush, sure Cheryl had seen them making out. “Oh, ha-ha, he’s not my boyfriend.”
Cheryl raised her brows up past her fluffy bangs. “Whatever you call it these days.”
Missy waved that away, grabbed the broom, and went back to sweeping. She couldn’t dwell on Ben. She had bigger problems. Louis might show up at her apartment again, trying to get her alone. She’d better not hang onto the cash long. She’d deposit it as soon as the bank opened Monday morning. Then on Black Friday, she’d pay for everything with her debit card. She never carried debt on a credit card and kept a month’s worth of rent saved at all times just in case. She’d hung onto that just-in-case money, her safety net, for years. Her former teen runaway self needed it to feel secure.
By the time she finished sweeping, everyone had cleared out. She stopped for a moment, sweating, and pulled her sweater away from her body, fanning it a bit. She was thirsty too, but she wanted to finish the job first. She bent to grab the dustpan when she heard a noise behind her. She whirled, her heart thundering.
Louis was standing by her table, cash box in hand.
“No!” she shouted, racing toward him.
He met her halfway, shoving her sideways, the metal cash box slamming into her shoulder. She hit the floor and he took off for the stairs. She scrambled to her feet, chasing him and hollering the whole time. “Stop him! Somebody stop him!”
He had a head start and was fast. She ran up the stairs, her eyes glued to that cash box.
Father Munson appeared in the entryway. “What’s the problem?”
He was too old to chase Louis down. She kept running, shoving open the heavy front door Louis had just slammed back at her. By the time she got to the parking lot, he was driving away.
Bitter tears stung her eyes. He could not win. Those kids would not suffer because of him.
Father Munson appeared at her side. “What happened? Who was that man?”
She shook her head. “No one. Everything’s okay.”
“Sure?”
She pasted on a smile. “Yes. I thought he’d forgotten his gifts, but I was mistaken.”
Father Munson patted her shoulder. “I left a man in the confessional. I’d better get back.”
She nodded and headed for her car, shame bringing bile to her throat. She’d brought the devil to their door. She should’ve just written Louis a check and got rid of him. Instead she’d stubbornly clung to her emergency savings for fear of becoming homeless again, like when she was a teen runaway living on the streets. Fear had controlled her once more. Dammit.
She swallowed down the bile. Her savings wasn’t enough to repay the money he’d just stolen.
Everyone had worked so hard to make this event a success. Most of them had donated their profits entirely to the cause Missy had championed. She had to find a way to repay that money in time for Christmas.
Her fault. Her problem. No one had to know she’d ever been involved with such an awful man. Her ex would remain her shameful secret.