A Man for All Seasons. HEATHER MACALLISTER
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a bite from the point of the wedge, Marlie closed her eyes in sugary, chocolatey, bliss. Fabulous. Ravigote, serving Texas-European fusion cuisine—Marlie had made up that term—was out of her price range, so she enjoyed the samples that came her way now that Ty was dating Axelle.
The dessert was so rich that Marlie felt a little sick after eating it. “And that’s what they call ‘just desserts,’” she said aloud and laughed.
Oh. She looked down at her chocolatey fingers. “I’m telling myself jokes. Not a good development.”
After putting the pastry box into the fridge, Marlie loaded the dishwasher and wiped the counter. She knew Ty would have, but it was her fault he wasn’t here to do it.
She’d finished and had just clicked off the kitchen light when she heard the back door open and close. She hadn’t locked it. Adrenaline shot through her. The clock glowing on the microwave display told her it had been less than half an hour since Ty had left. He couldn’t be back already. He wouldn’t have had time to do more than drop off Axelle and return. Barely enough time for a good-night kiss.
She hadn’t heard his car enter the garage, but maybe it was because the water had been running in the kitchen sink. The living area’s mood lighting stretched into the darkened kitchen. Stepping into a shadow, Marlie clutched the dish towel and had two thoughts at the same time: as a weapon, the towel wasn’t going to do a whole lot, and the footsteps were climbing the stairs two at a time the way Ty always did. Usually when he came home, Marlie was working downstairs and heard them receding; it was odd hearing them coming toward her. Still, she exhaled in relief as his head became visible through the slats in the banister.
“Hey,” he said when he saw her.
“Hey,” she said back. Ooo, yeah. He was still angry, but he was trying to hide it from her as he walked toward the kitchen bar.
Dropping his keys in the ugly ceramic dish Marlie had made during a joint family vacation many summers ago, he nodded toward the empty dining table as he took off his jacket. “You didn’t have to clean up.”
“I know.” Marlie folded the dishtowel over the rack. “But I figured I owed you and I had no idea when you’d be back.” Or if you’d be back.
“It’s not like I could stay over there.” Ty’s profile was to her as he looked across at the sofa. He still had eye shadow on his cheek.
Nope. Not gonna look at the sofa. “Because…?”
“Because she lives with her brother.”
“I didn’t know that. Since when?”
“Since the week we met.” Ty draped his jacket over a chair. “Business is down and since Paul lives in a loft across the street from the restaurant, it made sense for Axelle to move in and take a smaller salary until things turn around.”
“Very practical.” If there was anything Marlie understood, it was needing a roommate to share expenses.
“And, look, I know we’re all adults, but sound really carries in a loft and we’re talking about the guy’s sister—”
“Okay! Got it!” Marlie smiled brightly as Ty gave her a strange look. “I promise you that we can work this out. Just let me know when and I’ll…I’ll go stay in a motel somewhere.”
Ty shook his head and walked past her to open the fridge. “You don’t have to do that.” The light illuminated his face as he stared inside.
Don’t take out the box. Don’t take out the box.
Thankfully, he grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap and took a long swallow, drawing Marlie’s attention to his throat.
How many times had she seen him do just that? Not specifically drink a beer, but a bottle of water or an energy drink or some other liquid? He’d open the container and immediately take his first swallow standing by the refrigerator while the door closed. Had she ever noticed his neck before? No. Why would she notice Tyler Burton’s manly neck, for pity’s sake? Why was she noticing it now?
He lowered the bottle and gave her a long look. Marlie braced herself for the announcement that he was moving out. Since she’d hung up the towel, she didn’t have anything to do with her hands, so she crossed her arms.
Tyler walked toward her, looking very predatory.
Marlie’s heart thumped even harder than when she’d heard the door earlier and thought someone was breaking in. Except this wasn’t fear; it was anticipation. But what exactly was she anticipating?
Tyler moved across the room as though in slow motion, his blue eyes steady, his cheek bones sculpted—but not in a modelly way, in a manly way. He didn’t smile. His lips looked fuller when they weren’t stretched in a smile. Very kissable lips, as a matter of fact. Nice and smooth. Maybe he used ChapStick to keep them in peak kissable condition.
Marlie might have some ChapStick around somewhere. It wouldn’t hurt her to swipe it over her mouth every so often, if she happened to remember. Not as if she was going to get kissed any time soon, she thought, staring at the mark on his cheek. And then it sure wasn’t going to be by somebody who was wearing more eye shadow than she was.
Without breaking eye contact, Ty stopped in front of her, not exactly in her personal space, but definitely close enough to smell the chocolate on her breath.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted the beer bottle and took another long swallow.
Oh, he was getting ready to say something Marlie didn’t want to hear. In fact, he was probably thinking about how to break the bad news to her. Marlie clamped her lips together because she refused to beg. And because maybe then he wouldn’t smell the chocolate.
TYLER LOOKED DOWN AT the woman who’d been sabotaging his love life since the summer between fourth and fifth grade.
He vividly remembered that summer. Their families had rented cabins in Colorado and enrolled Ty and Marlie in soccer camp. Marlie, being two years younger, practiced with the seven and eight year olds, while Ty was with the nine-tens, including dark-haired, dark-eyed, long-legged Blanca with the wicked kick. Blanca fascinated him—specifically her hair which blew all around, yet always fell smooth and gleaming back into place. And after practice, did Ty get to go with Blanca and the rest of the team and hang around the pool? No. Ty had to go over to the next field to collect little red-faced, sweaty Marlie with her bushy ponytail and walk her back to their cabin. Blanca never sweated.
Blanca could have been his first girlfriend. Could have, but wasn’t, not with Marlie tagging along with him everywhere.
And every other year or so, his summer was interrupted by a trip with Marlie’s family where he ended up responsible for her. Forget any possible summer romance. Even worse, while he was away, any girl he liked back home would find someone else to hang around.
The only good thing was that Marlie never got a crush on him, so they got along okay. And there was the one good summer, when he got his driver’s license and they met the twins—a girl for him and a boy for Marlie, so she had somebody else to follow around. That was the only time he ever actually enjoyed one of the vacations.
A boy for Marlie. Somebody else to follow around.
Hmm. Maybe grown-up Marlie needed a boyfriend to follow around.
Ty studied her as he tilted the beer back. She wasn’t his type, but she’d been engaged, so she was somebody’s type. Or she had been. Her hair was still bushy—it kind of went with the eyebrows—but her face was pale and bland. Her eyes were wide as she watched him, arms hugging her torso, her hands disappearing into the sleeves of a gray hoodie she wore with baggy pants. She always wore a gray hoodie and baggy pants.
Depressed. The thought came to him and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. She spent hours in her office dungeon staring at a computer screen. It was enough to make anybody depressed.
“You need to get out more,” he told her.