“Comfortable?” he asked dryly, tipping his glass for a sip.
She grinned. “Actually, I am. This is a really comfortable couch. If I’m not out on the deck enjoying the view, I’m usually here in the corner with a book or something.”
He realized that sounded pretty lonely. He lived alone, too, and the quiet, while welcome most of the time, could get a little too quiet. “What about Charlie? Do you spend a lot of time together?”
She shrugged, drank. “Some. But she’s busy with her husband. I don’t like to intrude.”
“You’re her best friend. It wouldn’t be intruding. Especially with Charlie.” He leaned back against the cushions. “She was pretty excited you were coming for the summer, you know.”
Lizzie smiled again. “Okay, then let me put it this way. I’m not all that fond of third wheeling.”
She looked a little too knowing as she said that. He regretted now ever telling her anything about Tom and Erin. He had probably been a bit transparent tonight.
When he didn’t say anything, she put her glass down on a side table. “Josh?” His name was gentle on her lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” He raised an eyebrow. Kept his expression deliberately bland.
She slid over on the couch and put her hand on his knee, the soft pressure warm and more welcoming than it should have been. “Not long ago you found me on the beach, upset because of my mom. I know what pain looks like, Josh, no matter how you try to hide it. And Abby and Tom’s news hurt you tonight. I just don’t know why. You mentioned once that you’d wanted children but that Erin hadn’t. Does that have something to do with it?”
He debated telling her, but only Tom knew the most humiliating secret of Josh’s marriage to the woman they’d both loved. And since they’d reconciled their friendship, Josh knew Tom would never laud it over him. Josh had hated his cousin for a long time, but he’d always known that Tom would never be cruel.
“Josh? Why don’t you talk to me? I really do have a good ear.”
“I don’t need an ear.” He handed her his glass. “Thanks for the drink, Lizzie, but I shouldn’t finish it if I’m going to drive home.”
He got up and got as far as the door to the kitchen when her voice stopped him, low and silky. “Do you want to go home?”
He hesitated. That was his first mistake. Considered what she was asking. That was his second. He should keep going, straight out the door, back to his house, and sleep on his thoughts so he could have a better head on his shoulders tomorrow. Sleeping with her when he was this upset simply wouldn’t be smart.
Instead he could only think of the softness of her skin, how it was both sweet and salty, and how much he’d love to have her in his arms again.
He turned around. She was standing by the sofa, his glass still in her hand. She lifted it and tossed back the liquor. “There. Now you don’t have to worry about the drink.”
God almighty, she was a sexy little thing. He let out his breath and went back to where she was standing, close enough that she had to tip her chin way up to meet his gaze. “Are you asking me to stay, Lizzie?”
“Maybe. If you tell me what’s eating at you.”
He wrinkled his brow and stepped back. “Sex as a bargaining tool. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Not at all. I just think if you’re going to take me to bed, the air should be clear. Because if you’re with me, Josh, you’re only with me. Not with whatever or whoever got you tied up in knots tonight.”
He hated that she was right.
“It’s not really something that promotes … you know.”
“‘You know’?” She chuckled softly. Reached up and smoothed a piece of hair away from his temple. “What are you saying, Josh? That you spilling your guts is going to kill the fun boner?”
He couldn’t help it; he snorted. It sounded so funny coming from her pert little mouth. She grinned wickedly and twirled the slight curl of hair around her finger. “Okay, I admit that I’m not sure what I’ll do if you cry. But I think you need to get whatever it is off your chest.”
He sighed.
She retrieved her glass from the table and handed it over. “You look like you could use this first,” she suggested.
Josh took the glass and tossed down the rest of the alcohol, the mostly melted cubes tinkling back into the bottom. He took a deep breath, met her eyes, and decided he might as well just say it. Maybe—and he figured it was a very small chance—she was right and he’d feel better.
But damn. It was hard for a man to admit he hadn’t been enough for his wife.
* * *