Story of Us Read online

  Adam took her hand, ensuring she didn’t fall. His pal was a worrier, but even that had lessened some with Megan at his side. He watched them leave, hand in hand, and wondered if he was fooling himself thinking he could find the person who made him feel like Megan made Adam feel. She’d literally made him a better man. A better father.

  Nothing wrong with my life the way it is. Yet, as he looked around the bar he’d brought to life through endless hours of sweat and hard work, he knew it wasn’t enough anymore. He didn’t want to go home to an empty house or jump from bed to bed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. If anyone had told him even a year ago that he’d want to settle down, he’d have laughed in their face.

  Sophia walked back out, and Declan’s muscles tensed up. Fuck. Maybe he needed to get more serious about finding forever. If he could focus his energy and attention on the actual settling part of settling down, it would take his mind off the fact that Sophia Strombi was the kind of woman he never thought he’d meet—one who could bring him to his knees.

  Chapter Five

  Sophia made a list of things she wanted to accomplish the next day as she bit back a yawn. Being tired and weepy made her feel weak, so she fought against it. When the letters on the page started to blur, she knew it was time to head out. Declan had insisted she didn’t have to stick around all day, but truthfully, she had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t that her parents wouldn’t be thrilled to see her. Oh, they would. But between the guilt trip they’d lay on over her leaving—because God forbid they let that go—and the expectations they’d have for her next steps, she just wasn’t ready.

  Putting the list in the folder she’d snagged from his filing cabinet, she stood and gave in to the need to stretch. She was so exhausted that lifting her arms above her head and arching felt like dragging herself backward through mud. Declan walked in mid-stretch, and his eyes roamed to her belly, then up to her breasts, before coming to her eyes. The hint of lust she thought she saw was gone in a nanosecond, making her unsure it had been there at all. Not that it mattered.

  Sophia had no desire—or room—to feel the sparks that fired through her body when they were in the same room. Not something she could have planned or prepared for. As if she didn’t have enough trouble hanging over her head.

  “I can’t believe you stayed all day,” he said, watching her lower her arms.

  He’d said goodbye to his staff and locked up, refusing her offer of wiping down tables. She hadn’t pushed it because her energy was already on empty. She liked that he closed early on Sundays. It made sense financially, since the start of the day was a lot busier than the end.

  “Didn’t you expect the person you hired as manager to put in full-time hours?” She closed the binders she’d gone through and started putting them away on the wall shelves behind his desk.

  “Of course. I didn’t think I’d get around to hiring anyone just yet, though. And definitely not on the first day of the new year.”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Well, you did, so it seems reasonable that you’d want me to work.” She appreciated that he’d given her a chance and mostly believed he’d done it based on her own merits and ability. But still, an unwelcome thought niggled. She turned to face him. “I don’t want special treatment because you know my family.”

  Covering another yawn, she turned and walked to the small couch to grab her bag. If she remembered correctly, the inn at the tip of Brockton had good rooms and decent prices.

  Declan was staring at her when she looked up from zipping her jacket. He shook his head and grabbed his winter jacket off the back of the door.

  “What are your plans?”

  “I’m going to get a room, maybe find some food, then crash. Between driving and everything, I’m tired.” More tired than she could put into words. She probably shouldn’t even get behind the wheel. But short of curling up on Declan’s office couch, what choice did she have? She eyed it appreciatively.

  “A room where?” He yanked his zipper up with a jerky movement. Frustration tipped his lips downward. Even that looked good on him.

  “Uh, I was thinking the inn. It’s still around, right?”

  He scowled. “That’s ridiculous, Sophia.”

  Eyes wide, she waited for him to continue. Stalking closer, which forced her to tip her head back, he lifted his hand, reminding her how good his embrace felt, but dropped it to his side.

  “You’ll stay at my place,” he said. With a firm nod, like he agreed with himself, he stepped back.

  A delicious shiver soared through her body, just from his proximity and the scent of his cologne. It woke parts of her that needed to stay slumbering. For good, where he was concerned. No need to tempt fate. Or lust. Or herself.

  “I’m not staying with you. You just gave me a job. I’m pretty sure you weren’t planning on offering a place to live as part of my benefits package.”

  She tugged her purse onto her shoulder. Sophia was in no mood to argue, but being the youngest kid in a family of four, she’d be able to rally if he pissed her off. She hated that her body responded so easily to him, just from a casual look or touch. He probably only offered out of some misguided loyalty as a friend of her brother’s. Sophia didn’t need to be taken care of.

  “Sophia. This makes no sense. I have a four-bedroom house. An actual guest room because Megan insisted I should have one. The only person who has ever stayed in it is Charlie. That’s Adam’s kid. I’m not offering you a place to live, but you just got back. You look exhausted, worked all day. You really want to drive up to the inn and see if there’s room and then drive somewhere else if there isn’t?”

  His voice had gone all husky and sweet, and her resolve dipped down to join her energy.

  “I could call ahead. See if they have a room,” she said weakly.

  His smile was indulgent. He tugged a lock of her hair, a move that should have been playful, but instead had her wondering what it’d be like to feel him tangle his fingers in it.

  “Then you’ll have to figure out what to do for dinner. I have minestrone soup in the crockpot. It’s been simmering all day,” he said.

  Did he just move closer? His words made her stomach growl, and when he glanced down and laughed, she groaned with embarrassment. Her appetite was hit or miss lately, but at the mention of food—homemade soup no less—her belly jumped fully on board.

  “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.

  She tried to stay strong. “Declan, seriously, you don’t need to take care of me. You wouldn’t do this for any person you hired off the street.”

  When he stepped closer, so their bodies were lined up perfectly—it was hard not to just lay her head against his chest—he stared down at her intently, his brows furrowed.

  “No. I wouldn’t. But you’re not just anyone. You’re the little sister of one of my oldest friends. I won’t push you to go to your parents’, since you seem hell-bent on not going, but it’s stupid for you not to crash at my place until you figure things out.”

  With a heavy sigh, she lost the rest of her arguments against the idea. “Okay. If you’re sure. And only because I wouldn’t want to be stupid.”

  He grinned and stepped back. “I didn’t say you were. The idea was. Plus, the minestrone?”

  Her smile reappeared. “I had you pegged as more of a body shots kind of guy. Definitely not as a crockpot user.” Not that she’d let that sway her. If the way he looked in those jeans and his rumbling laugh weren’t enough to veto her ban on men, then she wasn’t getting pulled under by soup.

  Declan’s laugh was rich and tickled the nerve endings along her skin. “If you tell anyone, I’ll make you clean the deep fryer.”

  They walked out the back, still laughing. She went for her car and said she’d follow him, but he held tight to her hand. She stared down at their clasped fingers, and he let go quickly, like he’d just realized they were still touching.

  “You’ll follow me?” He looked down at her like he was searching
for secrets.

  “I will. Maybe you should give me the address in case you still drive like Vin Diesel.”

  Declan feigned insult. “I’m a great driver.”

  Sophia poked him in the hard belly, trying to lighten the mood. It was something she’d do to her brother. But she didn’t feel anything remotely sibling-like toward Declan. Unfortunately. She could feel the muscles even through his Gore-Tex jacket. “My oldest sister, Viola, had a major crush on you back in the day. My mom always told her that none of her girls would be riding around with Declan the Speed Demon.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Your mom loves me!”

  “Sure. If you’re not driving her daughters.”

  Declan arched his brows playfully. “Viola had a thing for me, huh?”

  Unexpected jealousy over the thought that this might please him made her frown.

  Declan laughed at her expression. “Was she the only one?”

  Oh, this is a bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. Sophia was exceptionally good at making bad decisions. But that stopped when she’d packed her things and headed for home. She wouldn’t wander down any more paths that said one-way. And Declan James, crockpot and four-bedroom house aside, had always been a no-strings-attached guy. Truthfully, Sophia had so many strings hanging off her at the moment, it was a wonder she didn’t trip herself.

  “I’ll see you at your place,” she said.

  The drive gave her time to center herself, a little. In between yawning and watching the road—which was mostly empty—she felt the tug of her past. She’d grown up on these quiet streets with their shops and businesses that had sat in the same place for generations. There were new shops she’d never been in and ones that surprised her, like a Starbucks on Main Street—Brockton Point had officially arrived if there was a chain store on the main drag.

  But every place she passed, new or old, reminded her that she’d loved it here. She loved her family, contrary to her father’s harsh accusations when she’d told him she wasn’t sticking around to be part of the restaurant. At eighteen, Sophia had felt like a human doll—she did what she was told, wore what was expected, dated only those few boys approved by her father, and never stepped out of line.

  “And now you’re back,” she muttered, following Declan’s sleek black Cherokee.

  She’d expected something…flashier. But it suited him. Large, capable, it had presence like the man himself. This morning, when she’d finally rolled into town, she hadn’t been sure how her day would end up. Marcus had told her a few weeks ago that Declan was looking for a manager. It was just casual conversation—mostly him talking about the craft beer venture, his excitement over it, and him worrying about telling their dad he wanted to devote more time to it. Marcus probably hadn’t given a second thought to the offhanded comment that Dec needed someone. That’s how life went, though. Things that were meant to be nothing could be game changers.

  Something clicked for Sophia, and she knew it was time to lay down her cards and walk away from the mess she’d made. It was time to go home, to see if there was any truth to the old adage “you can’t go home again.” Even if things hadn’t gone so far sideways, the decision to come home had felt…inevitable. All of the things that had happened over the last several months had culminated in the feeling that if she ever wanted to truly belong anywhere, she needed to go back where she started.

  Declan’s signal went on, pulling Sophia from her thoughts, and she turned right, following him up a quiet, winding road lined with snow-covered trees and lawns. At the end of the street, he turned left into a driveway, and she pulled up beside him. Grabbing her purse, she pushed the door open with one hand, nearly knocking it into him. He skirted the door and stood in the opening, offering his hand. Sophia looked up, her breath caught in her chest, and slid her hand into his. He was her brother’s friend. A family friend. Someone she’d grown up with. He was thoughtful, gallant in a world that seemed to have forgotten manners. It means absolutely nothing.

  With a little tug from him, Sophia stood and then released his hand as quickly as she could. She didn’t want to feel the vulnerability tumbling around in her chest, and if he kept being so…sweet…she wasn’t sure if she could keep her emotions wrapped tightly.

  “You have luggage?” He closed the door behind her and went to the trunk.

  She followed. “I do, but I can just bring in my overnight bag.”

  When she popped the trunk, he grabbed both suitcases and left the bag for her, his arched eyebrows daring her to complain. She grinned and closed the trunk. Following him up the drive, she stopped and took a minute to appreciate the house.

  Declan glanced back at her. “I moved in about four months ago. I took one look at the porch and was hooked. Then I saw the view from the dining room and knew I couldn’t walk away.”

  There was a detached garage to the left of the little bungalow and a small path between that and the house. Though the shrubs and trees were dusted with a thin layer of snow, she could imagine how lovely it would be in the spring, flowers and blossoms lining the little path. The whitewashed porch railings, arched roof, and dark shutters on the windows gave the house a storybook feeling.

  “It’s incredible. Even on a street with other houses, it feels removed. Like its own little world.”

  Declan gestured with his chin toward the front door. “Let’s get in. Your jacket doesn’t look warm enough to hold out the chill.”

  She walked toward him, and he gave her a smile that tipped her stomach upside down.

  “Rookie,” he muttered as she passed in front of him.

  Laughing, she took the steps up and waited for him to unlock the door. “I might have to add to my wardrobe. Arizona isn’t exactly known for the chill in the air.”

  He nodded, pushed the door open, and let her go through first. Once he set her two suitcases down, he shut the door behind him and threw his keys on a table next to the door. She heard him shrug out of his jacket and turned to see him hang it on the coat rack. She pulled hers off and passed it over when he held out a hand.

  He gestured to the wide-open space. “This is my house. And yours as long as you need it to be.”

  Her throat grew thick, and she focused on looking around. She would not cry just because an old family friend who thought of her like a baby sister was showing so much kindness. Maybe if you hadn’t surrounded yourself with jackasses and jerks in the last several years, a little kindness wouldn’t feel so overwhelming.

  “This is beautiful, Dec.” Directly in front of her was a wide white staircase. Four steps led to a landing that led to another out-of-sight set. To the right, glass French doors revealed what looked like an office. Between the stairs and his office, she could see pieces of the kitchen—the edge of a large island and a couple of stools. The living room was to her left, the back of an oversized plush gray couch separating it from the entryway. A huge television hung on the wall above a low fireplace surrounded in small gray bricks.

  There wasn’t much furniture, but the house was welcoming, like a hug. The soft gray walls and wide crown moldings showed attention to detail. There was a small arched doorway leading from the living room to another area, and she couldn’t wait to see if it connected with the kitchen on the other side.

  Declan put a hand to the small of her back, and she inhaled deeply. Fatigue and hunger battled for first place inside of her. She wanted to see the rest of the house, but lately, those two feelings made a lot of her decisions.

  “Upstairs are the bedrooms. There’s a bathroom there.” He pointed down a small hallway before the kitchen and to a door on the left side. “The other door goes to the laundry room.” He nudged her through the large molded opening into a gorgeous kitchen with a view of the water that stopped her in her tracks.

  “Oh my,” she whispered. From one side of the large room to the other, the wall was lined with windows. His decent-sized, fenced yard was a cliff of sorts. It overlooked a large outcropping of rocks and the ocean, where the waves were
currently pounding against the rocks, cresting and retreating in a lulling rhythm that drew her nearer. Walking past the giant island in the center of his kitchen, she stopped at the windows.

  She could almost feel the spray of the ocean, smell the salty fragrance she’d grown up loving. Declan stood close to her, his arm grazing hers, and watched the waves with her. The moment was so close to perfect, tears threatened. She swallowed them down and kept staring at the waves.

  This. She’d come home for this—the peace that came with being surrounded by what she knew.

  Her parents were still angry with her, but she’d make them see she was happy with the person she’d become. Nothing was perfect, but she wouldn’t change who she was and wouldn’t be that person now if she hadn’t chosen to follow her own path.

  Declan nudged her with his hip. “Pretty awesome, huh?”

  Turning, not thinking about how close they were, she tilted her head back. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

  He stared at her, and she didn’t miss the way his eyes wandered to her lips. She licked them, suddenly nervous, and heard his sharp inhale. He stepped back, and it wasn’t until she was standing alone that she realized his delicious scent had overridden the one coming from the kitchen.

  “Mmmm. It’s been so long since I had a good minestrone,” she said. Pretending her eyelids weren’t feeling heavier by the minute, she walked to the crockpot while he went to the fridge.

  “I’ve got some of those crescent roll things. I’ll pop them into the oven and then show you where you’ll sleep.”

  Inhaling the aroma of spices, she turned with a smile. He was pulling a bottle of red wine from a built-in rack next to the stainless steel fridge. He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard next to the rack, and Sophia’s stomach cramped.

  “Uh, do you have any ginger ale?”

  He looked up through lowered lashes, a teasing smile on his lips. “I won’t tell your parents if you have a glass of wine.”