Still the One Read online

  couldn’t take it if she did. “I’ll call them right now. Maybe they’re still in the area—”

  “Darcy,” he said gently, catching her hands. “It’s been eight hours. They’re gone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He looked at her for a long beat, as if assessing her ability to handle the truth. “I got an unhappy text, let’s put it that way,” he said. “It’s over. But it’s okay.”

  “How?” she demanded. “How is it okay?”

  “There are other people out there willing to get involved. I’ll find them.”

  She dropped her head to his chest. “Dammit, AJ. Why did you do it? You didn’t have to come for me. And you didn’t have to stay. I kicked you out.”

  “It didn’t take.” He slid his fingers into her hair, carefully avoiding her stitches, and tilted her head up so that she stared into his eyes. “And yeah, I did have to stay with you. And you already know why, but I’ll keep telling you until it sinks in.”

  She felt Xander start to get up from the bed and caught his hand. “You’re leaving?”

  He glanced at AJ and nodded. “But I’ll come back later if you want.”

  “I want,” she said. “You do know that you’re one of the most important people in my life, right? I need you to know that, Xander.”

  He slid a quick look at AJ and then came back to Darcy. “I do know it. And ditto, babe.”

  “So … we’re going to be okay?” she asked, her heart hitching. She wasn’t good at this, at asking for what she wanted. But she wanted him in her life.

  “We already are,” he said, his eyes still very serious, his mouth slightly curved. He leaned in and touched his lips to hers softly, giving a small smirk at the low growl that came from the other side of the bed. “I’ve got a client waiting,” he told her and stood. “But I could bring dinner.”

  “Pizza?”

  “Naturally.”

  Darcy felt more than saw AJ’s grimace, but her stomach growled with excitement. “Pepperoni,” she said. “Extra cheese.”

  Xander nodded and headed to the door.

  “And soda,” she called after him before she lay back and closed her eyes. “Not going to comment on my menu choices?” she asked AJ.

  “No.”

  “Are you being gentle for the crazy lady?”

  He slid her a look. “Have I ever gotten mad at you for your menu choices? Have I ever given you any impression I want you to be anything other than what you are?”

  “And what am I?” she asked softly.

  “Perfect.”

  She snorted and he smiled. “Okay,” he said, “perfect to me.”

  Her heart stopped just as it had when he’d said “I love you” with such ease—but there was something far more important than her own feelings right now. “AJ, the grant money—” She didn’t know if she could live with that, with what he’d done for her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “None of that matters.”

  She met his gaze. “What does matter?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  Twenty-nine

  Darcy hated that she felt so weak and pathetic that tears threatened at AJ’s words. Again.

  “Do you need a hint?” he asked. “Or my shirt to wipe your nose on again?”

  Words failed her so she went with her usual fallback. She flipped him off.

  He smiled. “Aw,” he said, and grabbed her hand. “You’re number one in my book, too.”

  She choked out a laugh. How the hell could he do that, make her laugh when she wanted to strangle him? She had no idea. And how could he make her laugh at all? But he always could, no matter what was happening. “I distinctly remember dumping you in the hospital,” she said. “Why won’t you stay dumped?”

  “Stubbornness. According to the captain, I was born with more than my fair share. Tell me what happened today,” he said softly.

  “You saw what happened.”

  “You got on the highway.”

  She let all her air out with a single whoosh. “Yeah. And then a big, stupid truck carrying live turkeys passed me and I panicked and swerved. It was all me. Again.” She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Which, by the way, hurt her head. It was really hard to be a proper drama queen with a concussion.

  AJ slid down into the bed to lie with her and carefully turned her to face him. “You got on the highway.”

  “Didn’t I just say so?” she asked, hands on his chest to hold him back. “I think I’ve got blood matted in my hair.”

  “You did it,” he said, his arms inexorable steel. “You overcame.”

  “Yeah. For Chance.”

  Hearing his name, the dog popped back up and jumped on the bed. He turned in a circle—three times—and very carefully plopped himself down by Darcy, setting his big head on her legs.

  Her heart melted. “You’re a good boy,” she said softly.

  AJ stroked the dog, his eyes still on Darcy. “You took a step past just surviving life; you took your first step toward living it.”

  His eyes revealed so much. Pride in her, for one. And affection. And that light she’d seen a few times before, the one that had made her fall for him. “Well, not my first step,” she said, wondering if he’d know what she meant.

  His eyes warmed. He knew.

  “But an important one,” he said. “Do you need aspirin or anything for the pain?”

  Confused at the subject change, she said, “No.”

  “Water?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Talk time.”

  Her stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies. “Wait. I might need something, after all.”

  “Too late,” he said. “Now I want to know why I’m dumped.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “You love to fight. Let’s have it.”

  Admit that she’d fallen for him and had gotten upset and mad and hurt because she was alone in it? That made her no better than Xander. “I was having a bad day.”

  “A bad day made you tear out of work like the hounds of hell were on your heels?” he asked.

  “I told Ariana I was sick.”

  He stared at her for a long beat. “You’re holding back.”

  And he wasn’t, which just about killed her. She gave him a smile and gave a very small—and careful—head shake, like Who me? I’m not holding back anything, and especially not the fact that I’ve fallen in love with you … “Listen,” she said. “I’m pretty tired so …”

  He shook his head. “Lame,” he said. “I’ve seen you lie much better than that. Try again.”

  “Let’s try you leaving.”

  “Sure,” he said and leaned over her, caging her in with a hand on either side of her hips.

  “What are you—”

  “It’s called a good-bye kiss,” he said, and covered her mouth with his.

  The kiss fried her brain cells—the ones she had left, anyway. There was nothing gentle or soft or careful about it, either. No, he was fierce and determined and definitely making a statement.

  She stared at him when he pulled back, completely thrown off her game—which had become the new norm around him. “Since when do we kiss good-bye?”

  “Since you decreed we were a couple.”

  “That was pretend,” she managed to say. “And we’ve never kissed good-bye.”

  “We do now,” he said, and leaned in and kissed her again, slower this time, sweeter, a kiss so achingly tender that she actually forgot her hurt and anger entirely. Hell, she forgot everything and let out a low moan while simultaneously trying to get closer. Finally, when she was a puddle of need and desire, he lifted his head and stared at her.

  “Yeah,” he murmured, rasping his thumb over her wet lower lip. “Much better. Now talk to me.”

  That was the last thing she wanted to do. Willing to set everything aside for a good-bye orgasm, she rocked the neediest part of her to the neediest—and, well, lo