She smelled good.

I stood a little closer than necessary as she read over the sheet, then signed it. I could see her lashes flicker as she blinked and waited for the typical reaction that always followed when people realized I was that Sean. The Sean Downing—one of the Downings. The one who’d lost his wife. Bitterness welled up inside.

Tish looked back up at me, and the bitterness died under an avalanche of irritation. Here it comes.

She turned the paper back over to me with a friendly smile, her eyes polite and distant.

It hit me then.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

She cocked her head, studying me. “I know you came into the sports bar where I work and flirted with me.”

The words didn’t connect at first, but then I remembered going out with Dominick and Cedric. The blonde. She looked different now, her sunny hair spilling down past her shoulders, wearing a sweater that barely hit the waistband of her jeans, and worn, old boots that went almost to her knees. “You’re the server from last week. Still kind of bummed you didn’t give me your number. At least I got your name now, though…Tish. But that wasn’t what I meant. You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Am I supposed to?” She pursed her lips as she studied me.

I was surprised to hear myself laughing. “Imagine that.”

I was still smiling when she came back out.

Her next words, though, chased away the humor.

“It doesn’t matter who you are. We’re all here for the same reason…and we’ve all lost somebody.”

She watched me with sympathy and compassion. I hated it. In reaction, I reached up and caught a strand of her warm, golden hair and tugged on it. “You maybe want to rethink giving me your number? Or maybe we could just skip that, go out to eat, maybe get a drink?”

I had a feeling the demons in my head were going to scream loud tonight.

I’d just as soon not deal with them alone.

Tish reached up and caught my wrist, gently tugging until I let go of her hair. “I don’t think so.”

Her face was somber, but it didn’t take away from the soft, gentle beauty. There was something…warm about her, and whatever it was, it drew me in. “You sure? Maybe I could talk you into signing the rest of that paper for me. You wouldn’t have to mess with me anymore.”

“Sean…” She sighed, sounding mildly exasperated. “I don’t know exactly why the court decided you need to be here, but they did. That means you need to be here. I’m not going to help you cheat.” There was a finality in her voice that registered, and she backed away, that sympathetic smile returning to her face. “But if you want to talk, maybe get some coffee or something…I guess we can sit down and talk. I know it’s not always easy opening up to a group of strangers—”

“Sugar, the only thing I want opening up is your legs,” I said, the words flying out of me before I realized I was going to say anything. That naked sympathy on her face had cut in, though, cut deep.

Her cheeks went red, and she jerked back like I’d slapped her.

That just made me ashamed, but instead of apologizing, I dug in my heels. “What’s the matter, blondie? Haven’t you figured out by now that men would rather fuck out their feelings than cry them out?”

“Really?” The shock had faded from her voice, and she gave me a reproachful look, shaking her head. “That hasn’t been my experience here. Usually, when men act like wounded bears and lash out, it’s because they’re hurting, not because they’re in the mood to fuck.”

My cock stirred, watching her pretty mouth form the word fuck. “Damn…” I murmured under my breath.

“Is it so hard to let somebody help, Sean?”

I glared at her. “I told you how you could help. Since you’re not interested, I think I’ll pass on the heart to heart.”

Turning on my heel, I headed for the door. I had to get out of there, and fast. Because the longer I stayed, the more I was tempted to give in and do exactly what she suggested.

Let her help.

It was just after one on Sunday, and my kitchen was full of talkative smiling women while men gathered in my living room, piled on the couch as they analyzed the football game.

I sat off to the side in the recliner Isabel had loved, brooding as the chaos of my family echoed around me.

I kept telling myself that I shouldn’t have opened the door.

But if I hadn’t, Brooks would have used his key to unlock it, and they all would have piled in.

I’d been informed by Briar that, “You’ve had enough time to brood and grieve on your own.” Apparently, it was time to rejoin the family again. Or at least learn to spend time with them again. Maybe ditching them for Thanksgiving hadn’t been the best plan.

Cormac sat on the far end of the couch, quiet and looking out of place. My dad talked to him, and from time to time, Brooks tried to draw both of us into the conversation, no matter how many death stares I gave him.

Cormac responded politely.

I just ignored all the attempts.

Finally, after my brother tried again, I got up and headed into the kitchen. It was one place that didn’t remind me of Isabel much. She’d hated to cook. She could do it if she was strong-armed into it, but she hadn’t liked it.

Daria and Briar both paused in their discussion when I came into the kitchen. Daria was the first to respond, coming over to give me a hug. “You need to shave, Sean. You’re as rough as sandpaper.” A light Russian accent tinged her words.

“Not like I got anybody I’m going to give razor burn to,” I said with a shrug.

Briar kept her distance. The two of us didn’t know how to act around each other half the time. It was my fault, and I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t get past the big wall of Cormac either.

“You said you’d found a group to attend.” My sister studied me as I poured myself some coffee.

I glanced at her. “You used to be better at subtlety, Briar.”

“I’m not trying to be subtle.” She shrugged. “Have you been yet?”

“Yeah.” I took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “Last night.”

“The coffee that bad, Sean?” Daria asked.

“No. It’s fine.” I’d been grimacing because of the group. Because of Tish. “There was this girl…” I stopped and shook my head.

Both Daria and Briar was staring at me. “What?”

“You met a girl?”

“No!” I snapped. “Not like that. That’s the last thing I want or need. She’s a pain in the ass.” I almost told them that the only thing I wanted from women right now was a few hours of forgetfulness but realized that would make me sound like an ass. I was, but I didn’t need to highlight it. “She actually works at this sports bar where I like to go with Dominick and Cedric. She was working her shift when we went last week, and, trust me, she was just as annoying then as she was last night.”

Daria pressed her lips together and turned away.

“Just how is she…annoying?” Briar asked.

I jerked my head up, staring at her hard.

Her expression was innocent.

Narrowing my eyes, I tried to discern if there was something under that innocent expression, but if there was, she’d gotten very good at hiding her thoughts.

“She’s just…annoying. I was hanging around after the group because I needed my court papers signed and she starts yammering on about how it can be hard to talk in a group, but we could go out for coffee and talk, shit like that.”

“I guess she recognized you. Might have been trying to hit on you,” Daria offered as she flipped squares of French toast off a griddle I didn’t even know I’d owned.

“No.” Annoyed, I shoved my hand through my hair. “She didn’t even know who I was.”

“Sure she didn’t.” Briar’s tone was sarcastic, and when I looked at her, she rolled her eyes. “I mean, that’s a tired old line, right?”

“I…no. Look, you two weren’t there. She wasn’t trying to play me. She was just annoying.” Aggravated all over again, I left the kitchen.

For a second, I thought I heard Briar laughing behind me. I turned to glance back in the room, but both she and Daria seemed focused on sprinkling powdered sugar on the French toast.

Maybe I’d finally cracked.