I’ll never understand the point of family reunions. Throw a bunch of people in the same room who haven’t wanted to talk to each other in ten fucking years, and that’s supposed to be the recipe for a good time? Pfft.
Nevertheless, there I was. I flew half the night into some small-town airstrip that was nothing more than a few hundred yards of asphalt poured down the center of an overgrown cornfield. To top it off, I had to drive three towns over in a rental car once I’d landed. And I use the term ‘car’ loosely, since the dilapidated piece of shit didn’t much resemble any vehicle from this century.
God, I missed my bike.
Next stop on my agenda: coffee. There was no way in hell I was going to face the entire Ross clan without my morning jolt of caffeine. Sure, a stiff drink would’ve been better, but I figured I was going to need a few of those to make it through the next few days. I should probably start off slow, I told myself.
So, I parked the junker curbside and walked through the doors of a coffee shop I hadn’t stepped inside for ten years, and not surprisingly, nothing had changed. The tables, the wallpaper…hell, I think they’re still using the same coffee pots. And the woman behind the counter with the hairnet and the fake smile plastered on her tired face looked suspiciously like the woman who worked there a decade prior.
My mother could’ve moved to any city—fuck, any country—in the world, and yet she chose to remain in a place that would just freak out and implode if a big-box store came to town. Change was the enemy there. What the hell did my mother see in this shithole?
Nevertheless, there were only a few people ahead of me in line. That was one of the perks of small-town living: there were never more than a few people in front of you, even during the morning rush.
After a quick survey of the room, I could tell my entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed. Too bad none of the chicks staring at me were worth much more than a second look. Whatever; small town women didn’t generally fit into the rulebook, anyway—the rulebook that clearly spelled out what type of women made for a great time without any of the burdens of the morning after. Fortunately, just a few days later, I’d be flying back to civilization, where I could easily find all the pussy a guy could ever want.
In the meantime, could the line possibly have been moving any slower? I glanced ahead to see what was holding things up, but suddenly I was no longer in a hurry. In fact, I was perfectly content right where I was, not two yards away from the most gorgeously shaped ass I’d ever seen—and I’ve seen plenty.
It was perfect. Hell, I’d challenge Heff himself to find a more perfect ass. The yoga pants she wore fit her like a fucking glove.
And then that ass turned around, and if I were any lesser of a man, my jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. Not just because the rest of the package was as incredible as the ass, but because the package wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me. Something I hadn’t seen since she was a sixteen-year-old hottie who thought she’d fallen head over heels for the town prick—ahem, yours truly. Of course, since I’d been twenty-two at the time, noticing her was as far as it could have gone. Frankly, I’d been relieved when I’d had reason to get the hell out of dodge in no small part because she’d sorely tempted my resolve.
Caught up in trying to balance a briefcase, purse, file folders, and the extra-large coffee, she didn’t notice me at first, which was a good thing, because it gave me a few seconds to get my shit together and figure out if I wanted her to notice me.
And the answer? Hell fucking yes, I did.
Sarah Wells wasn’t sixteen anymore, and though I never would’ve thought it could be possible, she was even hotter than she’d been back then. And damn, did I want a piece of that. Sure, small-town women were generally off-limits, but Sarah suddenly became the exception to the rule. She had to be, because god damn it, I needed that perfect ass of hers in my bed.
One quick glance at her hand showed no ring—not that it would’ve stopped me anyway. Still, it’s always a good idea to know what you’d be up against.
But just as I was about to get her attention, she looked up, and a split second later, everything in her arms fell to the floor. The look on her face would’ve been comical if the way her lips parted in shock hadn’t brought about a thousand images of those lips put to every possible use in my mind. Even less comical was the way those thoughts sent a hot jolt of arousal through me that had me fighting against a raging hard-on right there in front of the coffee-hungry crowd. That would certainly have given new meaning to ‘the morning salute’.
I bent down to help her retrieve her things, focusing on the items spilled out on the floor rather than the woman bent over in front of me. For fuck’s sake, had it really been so long since I’d gotten laid? Days, at most, so what the hell had gotten into me? Fortunately, I’d managed to get myself under control—at least outwardly—by the time I stood up again.
“Hello, Sarah Wells.”
“Hello, Declan Ross.”
She always was good under pressure—at least, she carried herself well under pressure. Unfortunately for her, Sarah had the most expressive face I’d ever seen; the girl couldn’t hide how she was feeling if her life depended on it. At least, the younger version of her hadn’t been able to, and it didn’t appear she’d had gotten any better at it.
“Do you have a few minutes for coffee with an old friend?” I asked.
She checked her watch before replying, something the young Sarah would never have done. If I’d invited her to coffee years ago, she would have jumped at the opportunity.
“Yeah, alright. I guess I have a few minutes.”
Not the enthusiastic response I was hoping for, but I’d take it. After all, if I was only going to be in town for a few days, I didn’t have long to get that incredible ass into bed. A guy’s got to work with what’s available to him.
She’d sat down at the nearest table while I grabbed a coffee, and was reorganizing the armful of papers she’d had in her arms as she spoke. “So…what have you been up to for the past, I don’t know, ten years?”
“A little of this, a little of that I guess you could say. What about you?” I already knew she’d gone off to medical school and graduated at the top of her class—not that I was going to divulge how I knew.
What I didn’t know was what the hell she was doing back in Westport, Washington. Her only link to that place was her father, and he had passed away several months prior. Had she come back just to reminisce, or was it a permanent move?
“A little of this, a little of that, huh?”
“Alright, fine.” I knew if I didn’t give a little, she wasn’t going to budge an inch. “I’ve moved around a bit. I spent a couple of years in South America on business and such.”
“So, you went into the family business after all?”
She was surprised and rightly so. I’d railed in objection to a life in boardrooms and stiff suits. There was no way I was going to become one of them, and I hadn’t. But I wasn’t going to tell Sarah that.
“Yeah, I did.” And I definitely wasn’t going to tell her it wasn’t my family’s business that had sent me into just about every dirty crevice in the world. Besides, I was already plenty aware of what I’d been up to for the past decade; I wanted to know about her. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Well, I went into medicine. I was working in the ER in Baltimore up until a few months ago. Then, it was just time to come home, I guess.”
“I heard about your father, Sarah. He was a good man. I’m sorry for your loss.” I had no intention of telling her that I knew firsthand what a good man Erik Wells was, or that I would miss him, too; more than I’d ever missed my own father.
“Thanks, Declan. I just wish I’d been there, you know?”
She was already beginning to let her guard down. I could hear it in the tone of her voice, and see it in her expression clear as day. It was just a small chink in the armor, but it was a start. Unfortunately, she chose that moment to glance down at her watch again.
“Damn it! I’m going to be late for my shift if I don’t get going,” she cursed as she stood and gathered the stack of papers in her arms again. “It was nice to see you. If you’re ever back in town, we should do this again.”
“Actually, I’m here for a few days. Have a drink with me this evening?” I planned on having more than a minute and a half to persuade her, but I hoped at least some of that old infatuation remained and she’d jump on board.
She froze mid-grab for the last of the papers on the table. “I’ve been rather…busy…”
“Certainly, you can squeeze in time for one drink with an old friend.” I gave her the look that most women seemed helpless to resist and immediately regretted it. She took a physical step back—and half a dozen emotional ones—at the same time.
I should have known better. I knew people, I always have; it’s one of the things that made me good at what I did. And from what I remembered about Sarah, the typical bullshit games men played didn’t work on her.
Fortunately, it wasn’t like I’d never been in a difficult situation before.
“I won’t be here long, and it would be really nice to spend a little time with a familiar face.”
Nice and simple. No innuendo. And no lines—at least, it didn’t sound like a line.
“Yeah, alright. What the hell. Pick me up at…nine-thirty?”
The hand she extended for a handshake wasn’t exactly the response a guy would hope for, but I’d work on that later.
“I’ll see you then, Sarah.” I clasped her hand in mine, doing my damnedest to block out the feeling of her skin, but what hit me then, completely unsuspecting, was the contrast between them. It wasn’t just the size difference, or that her skin felt like satin against my roughened fingertips. She was a doctor; her hand comforted people, helped people…it saved lives. And mine? I’d taken more lives with my bare hands than I’d care to think about.
Was that an attack of conscience hitting me? I hadn’t known I still possessed one of those. But this was Sarah, the strong-willed girl I’d gladly left behind years ago. What the hell was I doing trying to get into her pants, anyway?
She turned and started walking toward the door, and I had my answer: because the woman could make Aphrodite herself cringe with jealousy.