Story of Us Page 10

  Marcus said nothing else, storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Declan stared after his friend for several seconds before heading upstairs to clean up and change his shirt. Son of a bitch.

  He was walking down the stairs when the front door opened. Sophia stopped when she saw him and stared up at him. Glancing down, he noticed her hands were loaded with shopping bags.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He didn’t want to admit that just seeing her settled the dust the scuffle with her brother had left behind.

  “Uh, you do some shopping?”

  Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and whatever makeup she’d worn that morning seemed to have disappeared. Her eyes were a bit puffy, and he could almost feel the sadness surrounding her. She kicked the door closed with her foot, and he walked to her, grinding his teeth together when the scent of her kicked him in the gut.

  He was in so much trouble. Because what just went down with Marcus didn’t matter to him nearly as much as the hurt hovering in her gaze.

  “What happened?” He took the bags from her hands.

  “Nothing. I went shopping. I just got your texts. Sorry if I worried you.”

  Declan set the bags on the couch. “I wasn’t worried.”

  She was staring at him when he turned back, one brow arched. “No? You always text people eleven times when you don’t see them for a few hours?”

  He stalked closer, irritated with himself. “You left the bar almost eight hours ago to go talk to your parents, which I knew was going to be hard on you, so yeah, I wondered where you were.”

  “How did you know I wasn’t at my parents’?”

  Declan glanced back at the bags. “Want me to take those upstairs for you?”

  “Declan?”

  He rubbed his neck again but didn’t look back at her. “I didn’t, okay? But I figured you weren’t.”

  She walked closer to him and looked up, her eyes narrowed. “What happened?” She reached out and ran a gentle finger down the bridge of his nose, making him wince. “You’re bruising.”

  He closed his eyes. “That feels good. Your finger is freezing.”

  “What happened?”

  She was going to find out anyway, and he was shit at keeping secrets. He didn’t normally try. “Your brother stopped by.”

  Sophia’s face contorted, her brows bunching and her mouth pursing up. “He punched you?”

  Declan nodded. She dropped her hand from his face but only to throw them in the air.

  “Cretino,” she snapped. Declan didn’t know much Italian, but he knew that one meant “jerk.” As for the other words that came tumbling out of her gorgeous, full lips, he had no clue, but he’d bet money they weren’t complimentary.

  Declan walked to her, stopping her from pacing the way he’d done earlier. He gripped her shoulders. “Hey. Hey. Calm down. It’s okay. It’s nothing.”

  She scrunched up her face. “It’s not nothing. He punched you.”

  Declan laughed. “Babe, I’ve been punched before.”

  Her shoulders drooped like the fight went out of her. “By one of your closest friends because his little sister put you in a terrible position?”

  Shaking his head, refusing to let her blame herself for Marcus’s reaction, he pulled her against him. He should probably keep some distance between them, but he couldn’t. Not when she so clearly needed a hug and dammit, so did he. “No. Not for that. But this isn’t your fault, Sophia. You needed a few days. If your family can’t support that or understand it, too bad for them.”

  She held herself stiff for about three seconds, and then she all but melted against him. Declan felt his heart copy the motion. It melted. Right into her. Damn.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Stroking a hand down her hair, he hugged her tighter. “Don’t be.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, and Declan became all too aware of how perfectly she fit against him. Of how his heart settled with her this close, even as other parts of his body revved up. Inhaling the scent of her shampoo, swallowing past the thickness in his throat, he asked, “How’d it go?” The shopping bags and lack of texts, not to mention Marcus’s right hook, were telling enough, but he wanted to hear it from Sophia.

  “It didn’t go well,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry.”

  It occurred to him that he’d never done this: just held a woman, comforted her because he could and because it felt important for him to do so. Not a woman who he was attracted to at least. He’d never felt this deep-seeded desire to make everything better. Not that he had any idea how to fix things for her, but he’d never been a position where he wanted to for a woman. When her body further relaxed into his, like she trusted him enough to give him some of the weight on her shoulders, he was sunk.

  His whole life, he’d heard the adage “you’ll just know”, and he’d placed absolutely no stock in the words. Surely, by thirty-two, he’d have felt a small ripple of what was rushing through him right this moment, but no. He hadn’t. And in the last year, he’d opened himself up to the possibility of feeling it. Of recognizing it. He hadn’t. Until now. It was as if his heart had saved everything for this woman. One he shouldn’t and, really, couldn’t want. Was this what everyone meant when they said he’d know? Was it this crazy feeling in his heart like he wanted to seduce her and care for her in equal measure?

  “Let me make you something to eat and you can tell me about it,” he said. He didn’t move, though. He wanted to keep her close. Stroking a hand down her hair, his blood hummed when her hand stroked up and down his back.

  “You don’t have to feed me,” she said.

  Declan leaned back, keeping his arms around her, but allowing him to see her face. Because he’d craved the feel of her lips the moment he’d lifted his mouth from hers earlier that day, he gave in to the need now. He kissed her soft and slow and deep, letting his hands wander up over her shoulders until he was cupping her face.

  Sophia’s hands came to his wrists and held on. He captured her sigh, easing back in small degrees. Pressing his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes and just absorbed everything she was making him feel. Fuck. He’d done more feeling in three days than he had in a lifetime. Was this how Adam had felt? Zach? No wonder his friends had been unbearable for periods of time. A vise around the heart didn’t feel much better than he imagined one would around his nu—

  “Dec,” Sophia whispered.

  He opened his eyes and stared into hers. He wished Sophia’s weren’t full of turmoil.

  “Let me feed you,” he said again. He lowered his hands and took one of hers, pulling her into the kitchen.

  “I had cereal, but I can make you something. Eggs? Toast?” He glanced at her in time to see her cringe. “Don’t like eggs?”

  Her eyes flashed wide then she smiled. “Oh. No. Yes. I do, I just don’t feel like them.”

  “Okay. Here, sit.” He nudged her toward the stool and tried to think of something easy to make. Deciding pancakes were easy, he gathered the ingredients while she sat, arms folded on his island countertop.

  “I know I keep saying it, but you really never struck me as the domestic type,” she said.

  He stirred the batter at the island, so he could talk with her while he worked. “I keep telling you, you never really knew me. Besides,” he said, winking at her. “Women love a man who can cook.”

  Sophia laughed, and some of the shadows lifted from her gaze. “That is true. I’ll have to repay the kindness and make you some of my great-grandmother’s lasagna.”

  Declan’s stomach growled at the thought. “I won’t turn that down. Speaking of cooking and domesticity, Meg and Adam were going to switch this weekend’s gathering to their place, but I offered mine. Other than having the guys help me move in and buying them pizza, I haven’t had everyone over. Not all together anyway.”

  “Oh. Okay. I looked at a few places today. There was one that seemed okay, but it isn’t available until the m
iddle of the month.” Her eyes darted down, a sign he’d started to recognize as nerves.

  He set the bowl by the stove, turned the burner on, and gave it a minute to warm up. He came around the counter and took her hand. “I’m not asking you to leave. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I don’t care what your brother or the rest of your family thinks, Sophe. You don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want. And I’m not sure how you mixed up my words and turned them into me suggesting otherwise, but to be perfectly clear, I’d like you to stay on Saturday. I’d very much like to have you meet the rest of my friends.”

  “What’s going on here, Dec?”

  She was vulnerable, and he was clueless as to how to go about explaining to a woman that he’d like to…to what? He had no idea.

  He pulled his hand away under the guise of starting the pancakes. She didn’t need more piled on her, so he went with the easiest reasoning. “I told you about Parks and Garrett. They’re going to help us out with the team challenge at the pub, but they’re going to do a trial run with us on Saturday. The others don’t know, but I thought it might be fun to pit my friends against each other in a culinary challenge.”

  Her easy laugh tightened every inch of his body. “Such a good friend.”

  Not according to Marcus, but he liked to think that, yeah, usually he was. He wasn’t sure what to do about the fact that his loyalty was solidly in Sophia’s camp right now. Maybe he was the dick. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be what Sophia needed right now, and he didn’t want to examine why. He wanted to make her pancakes while making her laugh.

  “I do my best.”

  “What’s happening between us, Dec?”

  He shrugged but knew he couldn’t avoid the conversation entirely. “I like you, Sophia. I’ve known you for most of your life. I care about your family. I’m good friends with your brother. We’ll smooth things out. Don’t worry about that. You need someone more than he does right now. You’ve been gone a long time, and I want you to know you have someone in your corner.” There. That was a pretty good start.

  He poured out four circles before looking back. She was watching him.

  “And the kissing? Is that you being in my corner?”

  Leaving the pancakes for a minute, he kept the counter between them but came closer. “No. That’s because you’re sexy as fuck, and I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. Listen,” he said. He stopped, ran his hands through his hair, and stared at her, his tongue feeling tangled and thick.

  “I’m listening.” She licked her lips and smirked, and he didn’t know which one appealed to him more. She was sassy and funny. Maybe she wasn’t his forever. But he damn sure didn’t think once would be enough. They were both adults. They could… What had he said? Explore things. God. What kind of jackass did that make him? A lying one. You don’t want to just explore things. You want to dive all the way in.

  “I’m not who I used to be. So, if you’re thinking I’m looking to get in your pants and be done, that’s not how it is.”

  She smiled. “You don’t want in my pants?”

  “What? No. Yes. Shit. Yes. I absolutely do.” He growled and stalked back to the stove. She was making him stupid. “But that’s not all this is. I get that you have a lot going on and now you work for me, which makes things…sticky.” Wrong word, man.

  She giggled, and he nearly dropped the pancake he was flipping.

  “It’s not funny,” he said.

  “It’s a little funny. The great Declan James, Brockton Point’s very own Romeo, is not nearly as smooth with the words as I would have thought.”

  The pancakes were a little light, but he could crisp them up. He turned, pointing the spatula in her direction.

  “I never understood that reference, the Romeo one. It’s used like a guy is out bedding all the women, but Romeo only wanted one.”

  Sophia gave him a sappy sweet look that should have embarrassed him. Instead, it sort of made him want to puff out his chest.

  “I work for you, Declan.”

  “I know that. I hired you, remember?”

  “You’re going into business with my brother.”

  Hopefully. Shit. He didn’t want their beer venture to fall apart. They’d been working on recipes for a damn year. More than that, he was proud of what they’d done.

  “I’ll smooth things over.”

  “I’m not in a good place.”

  He moved closer. “You feel like you’re in a good place.”

  Her eyes flared, and he recognized the heat in them. He felt the heat in her gaze until she looked down. “I’m not looking for anything. As much as I like kissing you, it’s definitely not a good time for me to start anything.”

  His stomach cramped. It was weird. He’d said similar words but hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of them. Karma clearly hated him.

  He went back to the stove and flipped the pancakes onto a plate, pouring four more. Not one to sit idle, Sophia got up and grabbed the butter from the fridge and the syrup from the small walk-in pantry next to the dishwasher.

  “So, we won’t start anything. Just don’t worry about leaving right now. And definitely be here on Saturday.” He’d invented casual. He could play along until she saw that they might have a shot at something. He wasn’t sure how he’d untangle all the barb wire that surrounded whatever was simmering between them, but maybe if they moved slow enough, neither of them would get cut.

  She took the pancakes to the table, and he poured them both some orange juice. Flipping the next batch, he tried to give her the time she needed to sort through what she wanted to tell him.

  “Mm. These are delicious,” she said around a large bite.

  Declan laughed at her enthusiastic tone. “The secret is the vanilla.”

  She gestured to them with her fork. “Nope. Pretty sure the secret is having you make them for me.”

  The praise warmed him in an unexpected way. He didn’t push her for details, instead enjoying the quiet comfort of sharing a late-night meal with her. After a few bites, she told him about her visit. It took a lot of effort not to respond with the anger he felt on her behalf. Picking up his juice, clenching his fingers around the glass, he listened quietly.

  “Then they started,” she said, setting her own juice down. “They told me I could move back into my old room and work at the restaurant again. I could even manage something.”

  “What?” Declan set his juice down hard enough that if he hadn’t just taken a huge drink, it would have sloshed over the side.

  Sophia glanced up, lips pressed tightly together. “Yup. They threw in several reminders that I’d hurt them and left them before telling me working in a dive bar would bring more shame to all of them.”

  “Excuse me? My place isn’t a dive.”

  Sophia grinned. “No. It’s not. And that’s what I told them.”

  “Damn right you did.” He stormed back to the stove and cursed again when he saw he’d burnt this batch. Oh well. He’d eat them anyway.

  “I reminded them that they not only liked you but respected you. I may have also said I wished the same were true of me. My father told me I needed to earn respect. I left.”

  Which had to crush her. She loved her family. Even if he didn’t know them, know her the way he wanted to, he could hear the regret in her voice every time she spoke about them.

  “You shouldn’t be blanketed with guilt because you did what most children grow up to do, Sophia. You lived your life. What if your grandparents hadn’t emigrated here because their parents hadn’t wanted them to? Your folks wouldn’t even be in the states.” He shut the burner off and plied his burnt pancakes with butter and syrup.

  “That’s true. But, in their minds, I let them down.”

  “You know that’s not true, right?”

  He sat beside her instead of across from her. She scooped one of his pancakes off his stack and added it to her plate.

  “I do know. But I also know I want my family back. I’m ti
red of being the outsider. The disappointment. I just want them to see me, you know? And not hate what they see.”

  Her voice cracked at the end, but she shoved a bite in her mouth and stared down at her plate.

  Declan leaned closer. “They don’t hate you, Sophia. Give it some time. It’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded but didn’t look up.

  “If I haven’t said it already, I’m really glad you’re back.” He wanted to say more but didn’t have any of the words to match everything rioting around inside his chest.

  “Thanks, Dec.”

  They ate in silence and cleaned up the kitchen together. She moved around his house with ease, and it was different, not needing to fill the silence, not wanting anything except to be in the same room as her.

  “I should head up to bed. You’re on the late shift at the bar tomorrow. I have Lisa scheduled, so I’m hoping I can smooth things out with her.” She folded the cloth over the middle of the two sinks.

  Declan caught her hand and pulled her around to face him. “You have nothing to smooth over. Everything else aside, you’re her boss. She answers to you. I don’t know what’s up with her attitude, but if it’s an issue, I’ll speak with her.”

  “See? Complicated. Nothing good comes from workplace hookups.”

  He’d used the word hookup more times than he could count, but hearing Sophia suggest that if they were to get together, it’d be termed as such, grated over his skin like gravel.

  “You’re not a hookup, Sophia. Don’t say shit like that.”

  She nodded. “I should get to bed.”

  “Can I have ten more minutes?”

  Her smile spread slow, and fire shot through his blood. Damn. She had a great smile.

  “Ten minutes? That’s not a long time. And here I thought—”

  He laughed. “Jesus, you’re feisty.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and kept her hand in his. He liked the way their fingers fit together. Of course, thinking about fitting together was a dangerous path to let his mind wander down…

  They detoured through the living room and grabbed her bags. He dropped them on her bed and led her to his bedroom.

  “Uh, Dec.” She hesitated, pulling on his hand.