Runaway (Wolfes of Manhattan 3)

“I’m sure you must miss her.”

“Always will.” He didn’t meet my gaze.

Was it hard for him to talk about his mother? It seemed to be.

“Here’s something you’ll like.” He held the door open to the little shop next to his. “All antiques. Bess has a great eye. Dealers from all over Montana come here to look at her offerings.”

I smiled. “I love antiques.” I followed Matt into the shop and—

Tripped like an idiot over a step I didn’t see.

“Honey, are you all right?”

“Just embarrassed.”

Matt pointed to the sign outside the door.

Watch your step.

Nice. Too bad I hadn’t bothered to read it.

My purse lay on the floor, and several things had fallen out. Shit. Matt picked up my compact, my change purse, and my pack of cigarettes, stuffed them back into my purse, and handed it to me.

“You smoke?” he asked.

“No. I mean…only sometimes. It relaxes me a little.”

“Oh.”

As much as I’d learned to be a proficient liar, thanks to Derek Wolfe, I’d never developed a taste for it.

I especially hated lying to Matt. Plus, I was really bad at it.

For some reason, I wanted to be ridiculously truthful with Matt. Which was a stupid idea, because if he knew every bit of truth about me, he’d go screaming in the other direction.

Who wouldn’t?

Half the time I wanted to run away from myself.

Okay, not half the time.

All the time.

“You should quit,” he said.

“Trust me. It’s not a problem.”

Not at all. I never smoked. These cigarettes served a much different purpose.

“Then why do you carry cigarettes around in your purse?”

“What’s with the grand inquisition?” I demanded…a little more harshly than I’d meant to.

“I’m sorry. My uncle was a smoker. Lung cancer is what killed him.”

“Oh.” I felt the size of a pea. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’d hate to see the same thing happen to you.”

“It won’t.”

I’d smoked maybe twice in my life, and both times it had made me want to puke.

“Then you won’t mind if I take these.” He reached into my purse and grabbed the pack.

“As a matter of fact, I do mind.” I grabbed them back from him and stuffed them back into my purse. “You’re out of line.”

“Maybe. But I care too much for you to see you end up like Uncle Roger.”

“I told you. I don’t even smoke very much. It’s not a problem.”

He walked me out of the doorway of the antique shop and onto the sidewalk. He gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him. “Riley, what aren’t you telling me?”

A loaded question if there ever was one.

What I wasn’t telling him could fill volumes.14Matteo“N-Nothing.”

Pretty much what I expected. She’d known me for two days, so she wasn’t about to spill her guts. Not yet, anyway.

But I was nothing if not determined.

“All right. I’m sorry I overstepped my bounds. I just hated watching my uncle waste away. He was such a great guy. My hero, actually. He helped me get through…” Nope, wasn’t ready to go there. Not with her. Not with anyone. “Everything. My mom’s death. You know.”

“I understand. It’s okay.”

But she clutched her purse close to her body, as if that pack of cigarettes inside were a security blanket she wasn’t willing to part with.

Fine. Let her smoke herself to death.

Except that her wellbeing was important to me. More important than it should be at this early stage of knowing her.

Yeah, I wanted to get her into bed something fierce, but more than that, I wanted to know everything that made her tick. I wanted to know her favorite color. Her favorite flower. I wanted to know what made her happy and what made her sad.

I wanted to know her, and not just in the biblical sense.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked.

She cocked her head. “Pink. Why?”

“Just wondering. Favorite flower?”

“A rose.”

“Let me guess. A pink one?”

“Pink or red, yeah.”

“We’re taking a detour.”

“No antiques today?”

“Later, if there’s time. Come on.” I grabbed her hand and led her across the street to Kari’s Flower Shop.

The bell dinged as I opened the door for Riley and I walked in behind her.

“Hey, Matt.” Kari looked up from the magazine she was reading. “What are you up to today?”

“Did some work over at the Carson place this morning, and today I’m showing Riley around our little town. Riley, this is Kari Preston.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Riley said.

“You too. Are you visiting Matt?”

“No, just renting his cabin.”

“Got it.”

“I want the most amazing pink rose you have, Kari,” I said.

Riley blushed again. God, she was beautiful.

“I have some beauties.” Kari walked over to her greenhouse and pulled out a vase full of pink roses. She brought it back to the counter. “Take your pick.”

“My lady,” I said to Riley.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

“I want to. Which one do you want?”

She eyed me oddly. A woman like Riley was probably used to receiving two dozen roses at a time, and I was offering her a single bloom.