Page 31 of Just This Once

“Nothing.” She reaches for the candy first, tossing a bunch of Swedish Fish into her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, wanna tell me why you’re in here beating up the laundry?”

“Not particularly.”

I step into the room and close the door, shutting out the sound of the crew working, keeping out the lingering smell of sawdust and paint, leaving only Taryn’s soft breaths and the smell of coffee and sugar. I close the distance between us and set her coffee down on the washer behind her then place my hands on the machine, boxing her in. Her mouth parts, pupils dilating, and it would be so easy to duck my head and taste the skin of her throat, suck on that spot under her jaw that makes her moan so sweetly.

She is so sweet.

Even when she’s angry.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re a terrible liar, duchess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t tell me everything’s fine when it’s not. How can I help?”

“Jesus,” she snaps. “What is your deal?” She shoulders past me, bumping me out of the way, and turns so her back is to the door. “Why are you so pushy?”

I don’t expect her to trust me implicitly, but after working together, I would think we’re at least on friendly terms. More than acquaintances. And after I fucked her in her bed, I would hope she believes I wouldn’t hurt her.

But whatever series of unfortunate events has led her to be this untrusting can’t be undone in a few days, so I try again. “Listen. If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that if it’s something about this place—” I circle my hand, encompassing the whole of the bed-and-breakfast “—I’ll help you with whatever you need. And if it’s something else, I’d be happy to lend an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on or a fist if we need to go take care of business. Know what I mean?”

The corner of her mouth twitches, and I smile, chucking two gummy worms her way. She catches them, biting into one viciously. She chews and swallows before twirling the bottom half in the air as she explains, “My tenant got engaged last night.”

“And we’re not happy about that?”

She stuffs the rest of the worm into her mouth with a cute little growl. “No. I’m happy for her.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it.”

She throws her second worm back at me. “She wants to move in with him now, which is great, I guess.”

I muffle my laugh by eating the candy. “So great.”

Much to my satisfaction, she crosses the room to stand next to me, picking up her coffee, sipping from it with an even more satisfied sigh. Her shoulders drop, eyes close. And Ifeel eighteen feet tall for how I’m able to provide her even a few seconds of comfort. I wait, silently observing, her throat working as she drinks, the shake of her right foot that she has crossed over her left, and I wonder if the action is her nervous tic, her sign of stress.

“I was counting on that money,” she says eventually. “I’ll need to find a new renter.”

I wrench away. “You need to find a new renter?”

She frowns at me as if she doesn’t understand my sudden grin.

“I can be your new renter.”

“What? No. Uh-uh. No.What?”

I move in front of her, my hands on her shoulders. “I can be your renter.”

She shakes her head, adamant. And, honestly, does she not know me by now?

“Come on, babe, you need the money. I need a place to stay. It’s a win-win.”

“First of all,” she says, knocking my hands away, “don’t call me babe.”

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