At Last

Chapter 7

Chocolate does a body good.

Amy couldn’t believe it. She stared at the teenager who was still wearing the blue sweatshirt. Her face was dirtier than it’d been the other day, and her eyes were bright with false bravado and pride. Behind that lurked fear, plain and simple. There was a bruise on her jaw, too. Someone had hit her, and at that knowledge, Amy’s gut squeezed.

“Amy, this is Riley. Riley, Amy.” Matt met Amy’s gaze. “Riley’s hungry, and I’m my usual starving.”

“No problem.” Amy set a menu in front of the squirming, skinny Riley. She hadn’t bothered to bring one to Matt. He knew everything they served.

Matt tapped on Riley’s menu. “Whatever you want.” Then he rose, and moving with his usual quick efficiency, took Amy’s arm in a firm grip. “A minute?”

She opened her mouth to tell him she was swamped, but he met her gaze and she saw something in his-exhaustion. She let him direct her into the back hallway just outside the bathrooms. “You okay?” she asked.

There was a beat of surprise from him, then finally, he nodded. He was either fine or he didn’t want to discuss it. “What is she doing here with you?”

He didn’t answer the question, and by the way he was looking at her, she knew that wasn’t what he’d brought her back here to discuss. She had no idea what that might be.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said.

Not expecting that, or the punch of emotion the words brought, Amy stared into his light brown eyes. He hadn’t even touched her, and that now familiar zing ran through her, from the very roots of her hair to her toes, and then straight back to every erogenous zone she owned-of which there appeared to be more than she remembered.

Not appearing to be bothered by the zing in the least, Matt put his hands on her hips and gently bumped her back a step, up against the wall.

Not only wasn’t he bothered, she could feel that he liked the zing.

A lot.

There was nobody else in the hallway, so when he leaned in and kissed her, no one heard her soft murmur of surprise.

And arousal.

He gave her no tongue, nothing but his firm, warm lips, but the kiss wasn’t sweet, not by a long shot. Nope, this kiss had purpose, and that purpose was to remind her exactly how explosive their chemistry was. In that moment, there was nowhere else she’d rather be, and she showed him by pressing close and deepening the kiss.

There wasn’t much give to Supervisory Forest Ranger Matthew Bowers’s body, not a single inch-except for his mouth, his very giving mouth. Not until her knees had dissolved and she was grasping his uniform shirt in her sweaty fists to keep herself upright did he break free, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. He murmured something that sounded like “every fucking time,” then gave a low laugh and shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe it either. Once more he brushed his mouth across hers, a lighter caress this time, slowing the pumping blood slightly.

And then as if nothing had just happened, he spoke. “Found the girl in an illegal campsite. I think she’s living out there. Has an ID that claims she’s eighteen. I want to have Sawyer run the address and check her out, but first I want to feed her.”

Aw. Aw, dammit. How the hell was she supposed to keep her distance when he kissed like that and had a soft spot for a teen in trouble? “She’s not from around here?”

“I don’t know. She lied to me about camping with her family, and now she’s saying she’s here in town visiting friends, but she’s lying about that, too. I’d like to take her back to where she belongs, if I could figure out where exactly that is.”

Amy grimaced.

“What?”

“Not everyone lives a fairy-tale home life,” she said, painfully aware of what the girl might be trying to stay away from.

Matt’s eyes and mouth were grim, suggesting that he understood that all too well, perhaps more than Amy gave him credit for. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. I thought maybe you could help me figure her out a little.”

Amy went still, staring up at him. He looked at her right back. Steadily.

He wasn’t kidding. “Oh no,” she said. “No, no, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because what do I know about teenage girls?”

“You remember being one, right?”

Yes, far more than she wanted to admit. Like Riley, she’d ended up on her own at too young of an age. Looking back, it was a miracle that she’d made it relatively unscathed, not to mention alive. “I really don’t have time for-”

“Just soften her up a little,” he said. “I want to help her but she’s not overly fond of me, and I think she might be in some sort of trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his face, as if he was bone-tired and barely keeping himself awake. And hell if that didn’t soften her, too.

“Just get what you can out of her,” he said, sensing her capitulation, not too tired to press his advantage. “That’s all. A few minutes.”

“And why me exactly?”

He ran a callused finger along her temple, making her shiver. “Because you have a way with people.”

She choked out a laugh. Her way with people was usually to piss them off. “If I’m your best bet, you’re the one in trouble.”

He gave her a searing look that promised he was not only in trouble, he was trouble, and that he’d be worth every second of it. But his next words quickly doused any inner fire.

“I think she’s been abused,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t like to be touched. And when I brought her here to feed her, she assumed I’d demand sex as payment.”

Amy’s gut clenched hard, but she nodded and then tried to move past him to go back to the dining area. Matt wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her. “Hey.” He dipped down a little to see directly into her eyes. “You okay?”

“Of course.” Wasn’t she always? She tugged, giving him a level look when he didn’t immediately let go. Her patented “don’t make me kick your ass” look. “I have to get back to work. Jan doesn’t pay me to stand around and kiss her customers.”

That alleviated some of the strain from his eyes, and he smiled. The kind of smile that made her want to kiss him some more. “You kiss a lot of customers?”

She gave him a push. He knew damn well he was the only one. And despite what she’d said about needing to get back to work, she didn’t go directly back to her tables. She took a moment and a deep breath. There was a lot going through her. She’d been serving a big table when that first prickle of awareness had raced up her spine, settling at the base of her neck, followed by a rush of warmth, and she’d known.

Matt had come into the diner.

Nothing unusual, really. He came in a lot. Tonight he’d been later than usual, which meant he’d had an especially long day. Shaking it off, she moved to the drink dispenser to get him another soda.

Jan was there, checking the ice machine. “Look at you jump for him,” she murmured. “Never figured you for the kind to jump for a man.”

“I’m not jumping for anyone.”

Jan sent her a knowing smirk, which was both annoying and embarrassing. So she knew Matt would be thirsty after a long day and that he’d want a refill, so what? Matt was hugely popular in town. Everyone knew what he drank, and how much.

And yeah, okay, she’d followed him to the back when he’d wanted to talk. That had been business.

Sort of.

She shifted so that she could see him in the booth with the girl, soaking up the sight of him in his uniform, slightly dusty, a lot rumpled. Armed. Clearly weary, his long legs were sprawled out in front of him, his broad shoulders back against the booth. He’d probably been outside all day, his tanned features attested to that, but somehow he’d still smelled wonderful.

Which only annoyed and embarrassed her all the more, because she really needed to stop noticing how he smelled. Rolling her eyes at herself, she went to his table to take their order.

“I’ll have the usual,” Matt told her, and looked at the sullen teen across from him, who was meeting no one’s eye. “Riley?”

“I don’t care.”

Matt sighed and turned to Amy. “Make it two of the usual.”

“His usual,” Amy informed Riley, “is a double bacon blue burger, fries, non-stop refills of Dr. Pepper, and a piece of pie. And by piece, I mean a quarter of an entire pie. You up for all that?”

Riley’s mouth had fallen open, but she nodded.

Amy went back to the kitchen. Jan was there with Henry, their cook. Henry was ten years younger than Jan and born and bred in Lucky Harbor. He’d been a trucker for two decades before going to culinary school in Seattle. He claimed cooking had healed his soul. It certainly had healed Eat Me, which had been floundering since they’d lost their last cook, Tara Daniels, to the Lucky Harbor B &B.

Jan was at the pie case dividing the only remaining half of apple pie into three pieces. Amy stuck Matt’s order into Henry’s order wheel, then reached in past Jan and snagged the biggest piece of pie.

“Hey,” Jan said. “I was going to serve that piece.”

“There’s still two left.”

“Yeah, but you took the biggest one.”

“It’s for Matt,” Amy said. She grabbed the second-to-last piece as well. “And this is for the girl who’s with him.”

“Why is Matt’s piece the biggest one?”

“Because you cut it uneven.”

“Yes, but why is his piece the biggest?”

“He tips the best,” Amy said.

Jan stared at her, and then cackled, slapping her thigh in rare amusement. Henry joined her.

“Hey,” Amy said, insulted, “it’s true.” Well, at least partially true. Matt did tip better than any of her customers. “He likes the pie.”

“Girl,” Jan said, “he likes you.”

Amy ignored this, even as the words brought her a ridiculous shiver of pleasure. This was immediately followed by denial. Matt didn’t know her, not really. Sure, he was attracted to her. She got that, loud and clear. And that was 100 percent reciprocated. But as for him liking her? She’d never really cared what anyone thought of her before, so it was disconcerting to suddenly realize she cared now. She set the pieces of pie aside, pointed at Jan to leave them alone, then made two dinner salads.

“There aren’t any salads on his order,” Jan said.

“What, you writing a book tonight?”

Jan cocked a brow.

“The girl’s a runaway. She needs greens,” Amy said.

“Hey, I don’t care if she’s the president of the United States. Somebody better be paying for those salads.”

“You won’t be shorted,” Amy assured her and brought the salads to Matt’s table.

The expression on his face was priceless as he stared down at the plate, looking as if maybe he’d swallowed something sour. “I don’t like salads,” he finally said.

“Why not?” Amy asked.

His brow furrowed. “Because they’re green. I don’t like anything green.”

“Me either,” Riley said, and pushed her plate away.

Amy put her hands on her hips and faced Matt. “Salads are healthy. And,” she added with a meaningful look and a hitch of her chin towards Riley, “for people who aren’t eating regular meals every day, they can be a critical addition to a diet.”

Matt stared up at her, six feet plus of pure testosterone. She knew that, in general, he did as he wanted, and she figured he’d been doing so for a damn long time. But he’d asked for her help, and even if he hadn’t, she wanted this girl to eat a frigging salad. The silent battle of wills lasted for about five seconds, and then Matt gave a sigh, picked up his fork, and stabbed at the lettuce with little enthusiasm.

Amy turned to Riley, who was staring open mouthed at Matt, clearly shocked that he’d caved, that he was going to eat the salad just because Amy had asked. Or told.

“You, too,” Matt said to Riley, jabbing his fork in the direction of the girl’s salad.

“But-”

“No buts,” Matt said. “Amy’s more stubborn than a mule. You’re best off just doing what she asks or it’s like beating your head against a brick wall.”

Amy opened her mouth but decided to let that one go.

Riley sized her up for a beat and then blew out an exaggerated breath that spoke volumes on what she thought of being told what to do. Still, she began eating her salad.

Satisfied, Amy leaned against the outside of the booth, grateful to take some of the weight off her feet for a minute. For all Riley’s bitching, she was inhaling the salad like she hadn’t eaten in days. And hell, maybe she hadn’t. “So where are you from?”

“Around,” Riley said.

Well if that wasn’t downright helpful. “You enjoy the mountains?”

“Yeah,” Riley said around a big bite of lettuce. She was carefully avoiding the cucumbers as if they were poisonous snakes.

So was Matt.

“I’m going back up there to do some more exploring tomorrow morning, since I don’t have to work until late afternoon,” Amy said. “How long did you say you were camped out there?”

Riley went still, obviously shutting down. “I didn’t say.”

Amy nodded and met Matt’s gaze, which was warm and fixed on her. She didn’t want to think about why that made her feel warm in return, so she left them and went back to the kitchen. When the food was ready, she brought out the order, setting down Riley’s plate first. “You might want to-”

Riley began inhaling the burger and fries with vigor.

“-Take it easy,” Amy continued. “Too much on an empty stomach isn’t good.”

Riley didn’t slow down.

Matt moved over and patted the place next to him, and Amy caught Jan’s eye to let her know she was taking a quick break before sitting. “You been on your own for a while,” Amy said.

Riley shrugged.

“When I was living on my own,” Amy said, “it was a jar of peanut butter and raw ramen noodles for the week. Used to be able to get those for like nineteen cents each.”

Riley was halfway through her burger already. “On grocery Tuesdays, you can get other stuff cheap, too.”

“Grocery Tuesdays?” Matt asked.

Riley lowered her gaze and hunched over her food, like she’d accidentally imparted a state secret.

Amy’s throat tightened and she looked at Matt. “It’s when some of the grocery stores throw out their older stock to make room for the new stock.”

Matt’s gaze slid back to Riley, but he didn’t say anything more.

From the kitchen, Henry dinged the bell, signaling that Amy had another order ready. She sent Matt a did-the-best-I-could look and walked away. It was what she did with problems. Walk. Teenage life sucked? She walked. Her mom’s new husband giving her trouble? She walked. Her own guy trouble? She walked. It was her MO.

But this time, for the first time, she wasn’t proud of it.

Matt watched Amy go, something new unfurling in his gut as certain things began to click for him. She didn’t like being approached unexpectedly, or startled. She’d once survived on peanut butter and ramen. And she was slow to trust.

At some point in her life, things had been bad, possibly worse than he could imagine. It wasn’t any of his business, and it certainly wasn’t his job, but that didn’t stop him from aching for her and Riley both. Amy didn’t want his sympathy. He knew this. Riley didn’t want his sympathy either, but she was in trouble. He knew it deep in his gut. He’d like to help but he held no delusions on his ability to do that for either of them.

He didn’t have a great track record when it came to fixing people’s problems. In fact, he had a downright shitty record when it came right down to it. He turned his attention to Riley. Clearly she was on the run, maybe from someone abusive, or at the very least, she’d been sorely neglected. She’d practically licked her plate clean, eating everything except for the cucumbers. Couldn’t blame her there. “Better?”

She answered with a nod, though she did smile when Amy delivered the pie. The way to a woman’s heart… dessert. Good to know.

Riley waited until Amy moved onto another booth. “Your piece is bigger,” she said.

“So?” Matt said. “I’m bigger.”

“Yeah, that’s not why your piece is bigger.”

Matt ignored this. When they’d finished, he paid the bill. The salads hadn’t been on it, which meant that Amy intended to pay for them out of her own pocket, so he made sure his tip covered the cost plus, then led Riley back to the parking lot. He could feel her anxiety level rising. “You have two choices,” he said. “You can tell me where your friends live so I can drop you off there, or I can run your ID and figure out your secrets.”

He was going to do that anyway, but she didn’t have to know it.

“I’m of age,” she said. “I don’t have to give you my friends’ address.”

“Don’t have to… or can’t, because there are no friends?” he asked.

She stared at him, the silence broken by the sound of someone clearing her throat.

Amy. She was standing in the parking lot, purse slung over her shoulder, keys in her hand. “I got off early,” she said. “I have a spare bedroom, Riley. It’s the size of a piece of toast, but it’s all yours for the night if you’d like.”

“No,” Matt immediately said. It was one thing for him to get involved with a troubled teen they knew far too little about, another entirely for Amy to do it for him.

“No,” Riley said, echoing Matt. “I couldn’t do that. But thanks. I just want to go back to the woods.”

“You’re done with the woods,” Matt said. “No more illegal camping. It’s not safe, and I can’t have you out there.”

“And besides, you don’t have to camp,” Amy said to Riley. “Just come to my place. You’d get a hot shower and a roof.”

Matt opened his mouth, but Amy gave him a small head shake. To Riley, she gestured toward her car, and to his surprise, Riley got into it.

Amy turned to him, her expression one of grim determination. He could see that Riley had stirred something inside of her. Protectiveness, certainly, but memories too, and it didn’t take a genius to see that those memories made her sad.

His fault. “Amy-”

“I’m doing this,” she said.

Clearly, whether he liked it or not. And for the record, he didn’t. “When I asked for your help, I didn’t mean for you to-”

“I know. But I can’t leave her here, Matt. I just can’t.” There was something in her voice, something that twisted the knife deeper within him. “We’ll be fine,” she murmured, and slid behind the wheel of her car. He stepped between her and the driver’s door before she could shut it, crouching at her side. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

He paused, but he had no further reason to detain them so he stood and backed up, watching her drive off. He didn’t feel good about this, about sending a possible juvenile delinquent home with the woman he had a thing for. He wasn’t sure what kind of thing exactly, but it didn’t matter at the moment. This was his doing, and if something went wrong, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

So he followed them. He parked on the street outside of Amy’s building and watched them go inside together. A minute later, the lights came on. While he watched from his truck, he called Sawyer, requesting a search for a missing persons report on one Riley Taylor.

If Riley Taylor was even her real name…

While he waited to hear back, Matt spent the time keeping an eye on the building, and maybe playing solitaire on his phone.

When Amy knocked on the driver’s window, she nearly gave him a coronary.

“If you’re not going home,” she said through his window, “you might as well come in.”

She’d showered and was wearing an oversized T-shirt and tiny booty shorts that revealed her mile-long legs. Her hair was wet, her long, side-swept bangs falling over one eye. She smelled like shampoo and soap-and warm, soft woman. He followed her up the stairs, watching her ass in those short shorts. She could’ve led him right off a cliff and he’d never have noticed.

Her place was a tiny two bedroom, emphasis on the tiny. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were all one room that was not much bigger than his truck. Small as it was, it was also cheerful. Sunshine yellow paint in the kitchen, bright blue and white in the living room. Clearly the place had come like this because he was quite certain that Amy wouldn’t have picked such vibrant colors. Amy was a lot of things-smart, loyal, fiercely protective, beautiful, edgy-but not exactly cheerful.

Proving the point, she gave him a blanket, a pillow, the couch, and a long look that he didn’t even try to interpret. “Thanks,” he said.

She nodded and turned away.

Then turned back.

Their gazes caught and held for a long moment, and the air hummed with hunger and desire. Fuck it, he thought, tossing the blanket and pillow down, but just as he stepped toward her, she hightailed it into her bedroom.

Smart girl.

Two hours later, he was still tossing and turning on the couch that wasn’t wide enough for his shoulders and about two feet too short. What the hell was he doing here? Thinking of sex, that’s what he was doing. Sex with Amy, which he was no longer sure was a good idea.

In fact, he was pretty damn sure it was a bad idea now that he suspected Amy had an extremely rough past. A past he’d likely stirred up for her by bringing Riley into her life. He needed to stay the hell away from her, that’s what he needed to do. She didn’t need the complication.

Getting comfortable was impossible, so he sat up and put his feet on the small coffee table. Slightly better. Count sheep, he told himself, but when he closed his eyes, sheep wasn’t what came to mind.

Amy came to mind. Amy, straddling him.

Naked.

Damn if that wasn’t a hell of a lot better than sheep. But it wasn’t exactly conducive to falling sleep, so he rose, thinking a kitchen raid might work. A rustle warned him that he wasn’t the only one awake just as he collided into a willowy, warm body that his own instantly recognized. Amy. Catching her, he dropped backward to the couch, taking her with him.

She landed sprawled over the top of him, all soft, tousled woman, her breasts rising and falling against his chest with every breath. “You okay?”

Apparently she was, because she fisted both hands in his hair and kissed him, a really deep, wet, hot holy shit kiss. Yeah, this. This was what he’d needed all fucking day long. It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Instantly hard, he rolled to tuck her beneath him, spreading her legs with his to make room for himself, pressing into her so that he was cradled between her thighs. It was dark so he couldn’t see much, but he sure could feel. And what he felt just about stopped his heart. She appeared to be wearing an oversized shirt, panties, and nothing else, as he discovered when his hands slid beneath the shirt to cup her bare breasts.

Amy gasped his name, and he went still, realizing he had her pinned beneath him, a perfect breast in each hand. And he wanted to keep kissing her, keep touching her until she was too hot to stop him. Even the thought revved him up. But Jesus, he’d forgotten the reason he was even here-Riley was in the next room. With a Herculean effort, he managed to let go of Amy and rise to his feet.

The distance didn’t help. Nor did the sight of Amy still sprawled on the couch trying to catch her breath. Her shirt had risen up, her cute little panties looking very white in the dark of the room. He wanted in those little panties. Wanted that more than his next breath.

Not happening. Snatching up the pillow and blanket, he strode to the door. “I’m going to sleep in my truck.”

A lie. He wasn’t going to sleep at all.

“I thought the truck was uncomfortable,” she said.

Yes, and so was a hard-on. He’d just have to live with it.