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  let out a long, shaky breath. “I guess you also think I shouldn’t have come.”

  “You shouldn’t have, no,” she said. “I asked you for time. It’s the only thing I’ve ever asked of you.”

  Jase stared at her for a long beat, and then nodded.

  Becca rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes, which were filled with a hollow, haunted devastation that just about killed Sam. He had no idea how Jase could even look at her without doing everything in his power to fix this.

  “I’m sorry,” Jase whispered, but it wasn’t enough; it didn’t change Becca’s expression. If anything, it made it worse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after. . .Nathan—”

  Becca snapped upright, eyes glossy. “Stop.”

  He didn’t stop. “I didn’t get what happened. I honestly thought you two were back together, so I didn’t think—” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me most. I know that’s why you really left—”

  “You’re sorry I’m gone.”

  Jase stared at her for a beat. “Yeah. I’m very sorry you’re gone. I wish I’d paid more attention, that I’d really listened—” He broke off when she made a sound like a soft sob and covered her mouth. “Too little too late?” he whispered.

  “No, I. . .I don’t know.” She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  Jase closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have come,” he said again, and when Becca didn’t contradict this, Jase blew out a breath. “I’m going to text you the venue info for tonight, okay? Please, just think about it.”

  Becca unlocked the hut and stared at nothing, vibrating with so much energy she didn’t know what to do with herself. She couldn’t get her mind to wrap around anything, but surely there was plenty to do. Their Summer Bash was in a few days. There were a million things she could be doing.

  She didn’t do any of them.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, and she forced herself not to move. She knew Jase wouldn’t follow her in here, not after the things she’d said to him.

  He’d run tail.

  That was what he did. He’d wait her out and eventually come back, not referring to their fight or the things she’d said. He’d smile charmingly, sweet-talk, give her the I-can’t-help-myself eyes, and she’d sigh and forgive him. Help him. Whatever he needed. She’d seen Sam do this with his father, and she could do the same.

  She strode to the counter and busied her hands, forcing a friendly smile so she could greet their customer. But it wasn’t a customer at all. It wasn’t Cole or Tanner, either. It wasn’t anyone she could fool with her friendly smile at all.

  It was Sam.

  She didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice, plus there was nothing to say. She figured he’d heard a whole hell of a lot more than she’d wanted him to, but she couldn’t change that. She could, however, do her best to brush it under the table. She was off the clock, in fact. She could go home and lick her wounds in private.

  Normally when he showed up, he strode in with that innate, almost cat-like grace, always looking completely in control and completely at ease. But this time, he was still by the door, not moving toward her until she made eye contact. Then he walked to her, took her hand, and tugged her into him.

  “I’m not going to talk about it,” she said, muffled against his shirt. “There’s only one thing I will do, and it is definitely not talking.”

  Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to the top of hers, and she braced for rejection. But he kept ahold of her hand as he closed the big, sliding front door with his other, even though it always took her two hands and all her weight.

  “You’d better not be teasing me,” she said, as he took her to his warehouse. “Because that’d be just mean.”

  The big hanging door was closed. He bypassed the front and took her to a side door she’d never noticed before, guiding her down a hallway she’d also never noticed. The first door there was his office. He unlocked it, gently pushed her in, then shut the door behind them.

  “Sam—”

  “Shh a second.”

  Oh, hell no. She’d been quiet for most of her life—all of her life. She’d been good, and a people pleaser, and all sorts of things she could no longer be because they made her sink. So she opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his Shh, but he kissed her.

  Softly.

  Gently.

  She didn’t want soft and gentle, so she did what he’d done to her not all that long ago. She pushed him against the wall, trapped him there with her body, and tugged his face down to hers.

  His hands came up to her hips, his fingers tightening on her. He was going to push her away, let go of her, but if he did, she’d go under for the count and drown. She could feel it. “Sam,” she whispered, unable to say more.

  He must have heard it in her voice. That or he knew her well enough to read her mind because his arms immediately came around her, hard and warm. But his eyes. Damn it, his eyes weren’t filled with heat. They were worried and concerned.

  For her.

  The very last two things she wanted. “Hold me,” she said. Demanded. “Just for right now, hold me.”

  “Becca,” he said, and oh, God, it was in his voice. So solemn. Sliding a hand up her back and into her hair, he fisted the strands, pulling her head up to look into his face. He stared down at her, searching her expression, his own steady.

  “I’m not fragile.” She kissed a corner of his mouth, moving along his rough jaw to his ear, which she nipped, liking when he sucked in a harsh breath. “Don’t you dare treat me like I am. I’m not going to break, Sam.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  No. Hell no. “I just want to feel something good for a change,” she said. “Please, Sam, make me feel something good. Make us both feel something.”

  “I can’t.”

  She froze for a beat and then tried to shove free but he held on with a grip of inexorable steel. “I can’t do good,” he said softly, his mouth against hers, “but I can do great.”

  As payback, she nipped his throat. And then the crook of his neck.

  He let out a shuddery groan, lowered his head, and played her game. He took her lower lip between his teeth while she wrapped a leg around him and tried to climb him like a tree.

  He slid his hand beneath her other thigh and hoisted her up with ease.

  Then he turned and dropped her on the couch, following her down.

  “Now?” she whispered hopefully, flinging her arms around his neck.

  “Yeah. Now.”

  And he kept his word. He wasn’t good. He was great.

  Chapter 24

  It took a while, but when Becca finally retained enough muscle memory to move, they dressed, and Sam brought her into the small kitchen. Kicking a chair from the wood table, he gestured for her to sit and strode to the fridge.

  Still a little shaky—the aftershocks of emotional trauma compounded by really great sex—she sat and looked around. “You’re being awfully generous with the Man Cave today.”

  “Maybe I like the sight of you in it.” He brought her a soda and a cup of ice, setting them on the table in front of her. Then he kicked out a chair for himself. “Drink,” he said.

  She looked at the soda. “You got anything stronger? Say, a hundred proof?”

  She expected a smile but didn’t get one. “No,” he said. “I don’t keep it here anymore.”

  She opened the soda and poured it over the ice. “Anymore?”

  He held her gaze. “I used to like it too much.”

  “AA?”

  “No. Cold turkey.”

  She let out a breath and gulped down some soda. She set the glass to the table and wiped her mouth. “You decided to quit, and you quit. Problem solved. Why can’t everyone do that?”

  “You have to quit for the right reasons,” he said.

  Her gaze slid back to his. “What were your reasons?”

  “I decided I wanted to stick around for the rest of my life.”