There was a long silence. “You tell Bryce yet?” Josh asked.
“Not yet. You dealt with Mike before, and you’re her brother.”
“And you’re sleeping with her.”
Rick swallowed. He’d known this would eventually come up. “I think I love her, Josh. I think I have for a long time. I just don’t want to rush things and screw it up.”
“And having sex isn’t rushing?”
He glanced toward the bedroom—no sign of movement yet. “Give me a break here. We’re figuring things out. We’ve both got bigger issues than sex to get over.”
“She’s my sister,” Josh said hoarsely, as if that said it all. Because it did.
“And I’d die before I let Mike Greer lay a finger on her again. You can trust me on that.”
“I believe you. I might not be entirely happy about how things are, but I believe you.”
“And you’ll talk to Bryce and Tom?”
“You can count on it.” There was a pause. “Look after her, Rick. She’s had enough to contend with. Don’t you hurt her, too.”
With his past history, Rick knew he shouldn’t be offended, but he was just the same. He forced back the defensive words that sprang to his brain and said instead, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Another beat of silence and Josh asked quietly, “So you love her, huh?”
Rick swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”
“Well, goddamn.” There was a low chuckle. “Keep me posted, okay?”
“Will do.”
Rick clicked off the phone and moved to the window, staring out at the inky shape of the cove and the docks jutting into the water of the harbor. There was something else he had to do, too. He’d been putting it off long enough.
But not tonight. Not now. He’d pick a better time. Right now he just wanted to crawl back into bed with Jess and pull her warmth against him.
When he did that, he felt like everything would be okay.
* * *
Rick made a habit of staying as close to Jess as possible during the days that followed, insisting that she needn’t look for extra help when he could lend a hand. He spent most of his nights there, holding her close in his arms, and when he ran out of reasons to see her during the day, he brought his paints over and worked on some candle and ornament projects—she was selling out of them at a surprising rate and the holiday festival was fast approaching. The light in her living quarters was great, and Jess set up an area for him with a worktable and stool. Quite often he’d go out and pick up lunch for the two of them and bring it back, and on the nights she taught her classes he cooked something simple and had it ready for when she was done.
It was all very domestic and homey and Rick knew he should be running in the other direction as fast as his feet would carry him. And yet he didn’t, because being with Jess felt disturbingly right.
But Mike was still out there, and until that whole problem was resolved, Rick would keep his real feelings to himself. They had time. Besides, he told himself, it wasn’t like Jess was in an all-fired rush to make any huge declarations either.
One night after they’d made love, Rick traced his finger over the line of Jess’s scar, running diagonally across her stomach. “You ever going to tell me the story behind this?” he asked. He leaned over and kissed the pink, slightly puckered skin. “And not the edited version you gave your folks?”
Jess put her hand on his hair and sighed. “The night I left Mike … he cut me. Not badly, and Josh stitched me up. But it was scary. I knew then that I could never be tied to Mike in any way ever again.”
“Jess,” he whispered, awed.
“Don’t look at me like that. I was so blind. So foolish and … God, I made so many mistakes.”
He studied her face, seeing the hesitation there and something more. Fear? “It can’t be that bad, Saint Jess.” He tried an encouraging smile.
“That name.” She frowned. “I’m so far from being a saint, it isn’t funny. I’ve done things…”
He waited. Let her explain on her own terms and in her own time. She’d done the same for him and he owed her the same courtesy.