Page 24

M ullens brushed Athena’s lips with his thumb. They were red from kissing, her eyes bright despite her obvious fatigue. She’d been working too hard lately. It was Saturday and she was working. Always working.

Always running.

“Thanks for telling me about your sister and family,” she whispered, cuddling into his side and making him feel more at home than he had in several decades.

Earlier, when she’d stepped onto the bottom rung of her stool, lifting herself higher so she could better reach him over the counter during their kiss, he’d slid her across the surface and into his arms. That, it turned out, had been a smart move, as the kiss had gone on for a very long and wonderful time.

He was surprised how light he felt after telling Athena about his sister, his parents, his family. She hadn’t looked at him with pity or treated him like a dumb, wounded kid, and that filled him with gratitude.

“I’ll try to let you in more.”

“Okay.”

“But that means you need to let me in as well.”

Surprise and indignation flattened her expression. “I do!”

“Yeah? What are you running from?”

“I’m not running from anything.” She pushed away, clearly insulted, as if he’d touched a sore spot nobody was supposed to notice or acknowledge. She nudged the frames of her glasses higher on her face.

“You’re like me.”

“Yeah? How’s that?” She was facing him now, a challenge held in her posture.

“You find ways to bury the hurt. You keep busy. Obsess over details and rules. Leave no time to think or feel about other things.”

“And what makes you think I’m busy?” Her eyes twinkled and she flicked a hand toward the bookshelves to her left.

Hey, fair was fair. If she got to ask direct questions, he did, too.

“You obsess over your subscriber numbers and asked me to go beat up that person who unsubscribed.”

“That was a joke!”

He studied her for a long moment, knowing he was on dangerous ground, but that he needed to push if they were going to be real with each other. Truly and scarily real.

“Your mom’s in a wheelchair,” he stated. “Multiple sclerosis?”

She gave a tiny nod, confirming his guess that Mrs. Gavras had the autoimmune disease, and that it was slowly attacking her nervous system.

“Is she okay?”

Athena’s bravado crumpled, her shoulders rounding in, head bowing. His heart raced as he witnessed the sudden change. Tears streaked from under the lenses of her glasses as though someone had turned on a hose, and she started shaking with sobs.

He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her, shocked at the violence of the storm that tore through her. How had she locked all of this inside? There’d been no sign she was struggling so fiercely, other than the odd flicker of what he’d assumed was annoyance or exhaustion.

“Let it all out. I’ve got you,” he whispered.

“You’re right,” she mumbled once her tears had slowed. “I stay busy because then I don’t have to think.” Her body trembled in his arms. “Then I don’t have to feel.”

Boy, did he ever understand that.

“What are you avoiding the most?” He stroked her hair, marveling at its silkiness.

“I see multiple sclerosis stealing my mom and her identity, as well as her vibrancy. I feel guilty whenever I’m not there helping, but she doesn’t need me hovering and worrying.

” Athena nestled her cheek against his chest, then she ducked her head, swiping a sleeve across her face like a tissue.

“Will she still be strong enough to hold her grandbabies, assuming I ever find anyone who can put up with me?”

Sobs rocked her again, and Mullens held her through the storm, wanting to be nowhere else but here.

When Athena believed she’d cried herself close to dehydration, she pulled back from Chad, her eyes a swollen mess. She’d needed that emotional release far more than she’d realized, but now that it was over, she was horribly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely able to glance at him. He must think she was a disaster, unable to handle her own life.

And worse—the man had finally opened up about himself, and she’d collapsed in an emotional ball of fatigue, pouring her own pain all over him like he’d declared it open season.

Lonnie had played games, allowing her to think they were connecting when they weren’t. But Chad was different. This felt real . She’d let him into the deepest, darkest places she kept hidden from others. And he’d talked about things she’d never read about in any of his countless interviews.

She had to believe this was real. That they were trying to move toward something special. She had to trust. Him. Herself. This .

She swiped at her wet cheeks, knocking her glasses crooked.

Chad reached out, tenderly lifting the frames from her face. He folded the fabric of his Armadillo Day sweatshirt over the lenses, rubbing them dry one at a time while she wiped her eyes. Athena sniffed, then pulled in a deep breath to center herself.

She reached for her glasses when he re-aimed them at her, but he pulled back, not letting her take them.

She lowered her hands and held still while he tenderly placed the frames back on her face.

She fought the surge of welling tears. This man had the power to devastate and, despite her abject resistance, had found his way past her armor, rendering her completely vulnerable.

She didn’t understand it. She wasn’t even sure if she’d forgiven him for the way he gave her so much attitude at work, and here she was kissing him, wanting him, practically ready to keep him.

“You okay?” His head tipped to the side, his quiet calm making her love him all the more. No wonder those parents had cried on him at that conference. It was like he was a giant magnet, creating a healing current that pulled away a person’s pain.

She sniffed and nodded. “Sorry I made it all about me.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Crying on you. You ask me one little question and whoosh .” She swept her fingers through the air, mimicking her earlier deluge.

He gave a half shrug. “You opened up. I appreciate the trust.”

“And I appreciate yours.” She squeezed his arm, hoping he understood just how much she’d needed to hear him share more about himself. “So one other thing…”

“The women?”

The women? Oh, right. The ones always photographed with him. Smiling fans and cheek kisses. She knew that was just for show.

At least she was pretty sure it was.

“Now that you mention it…what’s the deal with them? It’s never the same one twice.”

“I haven’t had anything serious in a long time.”

“I know .” She groaned and rolled her eyes, feeling the sudden need to keep her hands busy.

“No, not like that.” He followed her to the kitchen, carrying a tray of dirty cups. “Really, Tina. Get your head out of the gutter. The pictures are called ‘feeding the social media machine.’ Staying relevant and such so I can keep getting deals.”

“Would it kill you to call me by my name?”

“Probably.” He was so serious she laughed. “Isn’t Tina short for Athena?”

“Nobody calls me that.”

“Nobody calls me Chad. Or Chadwick.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Please don’t.” His tone was surprisingly tender.

“Okay. I won’t.” She turned to him. “Out of curiosity, though—why not?”

“I hate the name.”

“Oh, lovely,” she said drily.

“No, it’s okay when you call me that.”

“Really? Why?”

“It grounds me. Reminds me who I am.”

She blinked at him with a wryness that caused him to shrug helplessly. Adorable.

Seriously. There was no way to stay mad at this man, or even keep a barrier of any sort between him and her stupid softie of a heart.

“Is that why you call me Tina? You think it grounds me or keeps me humble?”

His smile was warm. “Maybe. You do have a pretty big ego.” There was a playful, wicked glint in his steely eyes.

“You do it because it annoys me!” She batted him with a tea towel, but he grabbed her, tucking her into his arms, holding her so close she couldn’t fight him.

It was heaven.

He dropped a light kiss on her lips. “You’re the only woman I want, Tina.”

“Who’s Tina?” Athena frowned as though upset, and to show his remorse, or maybe to make it clear who he meant, he gave her another kiss that wiped her brain clear of any argument she’d been meaning to start.

“It’s you,” he murmured, his lips trailing a tingling path down the side of her neck. “Always you.”

Mullens didn’t want to leave Athena; didn’t want to go home and have this evening end.

He was stretched out in an armchair in the middle of her shop, with her in his lap and her arms around his neck. And the kisses. The kisses were pretty amazing.

No, scratch that. Beyond amazing. It was as though everything before Athena had been nothing more than a distraction, a lie. This was the real game. The big leagues.

The real thing.

There was no turning back from Athena Gavras.

She was smart, sexy, curvy, and had one heck of a mouth—both in the way she called him out on his crap as well as in the way she kissed. She was part demanding, part tease. Keeping him guessing and always on his toes.

He never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again.

Never wanted to stop.

Something nudged his calf, and he shook his leg, jostling Athena.

“Am I too heavy?” She pulled away, and he tugged her right back, kissing her again.

But it did feel as though something was trying to climb his leg.

The puppy.

It had the worst timing ever.

He broke the kiss and reached down to scoop up the dog, depositing it in Athena’s lap. “I think I may have accidentally adopted this guy.”

“So weird,” she mused, her lips a ruby red from all that kissing. Irresistible.

He leaned closer, kissing her again until the dog yipped at them.

“Know where that Brant guy might be? Dylan thinks I adopted this pup, but I thought I was just holding him for a bit.”

Mullens rubbed the dog’s ears. It unsteadily circled Athena’s lap twice before curling up. Athena stared at the dog, then at Mullens for a long moment.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Tell me? Did I get punked or scammed or something?”

“No, it’s just that Brant doesn’t give a dog to just anyone. Even if it’s ugly.”

He covered the pup’s ears and shot her a look. “Like your big-headed cat is much better.”

“Hey!” She choked on a laugh, the cheery mood a good look on her.

“So this Brant guy?” he pressed. “He’s the local vet and animal control officer who takes in rescues…and then just leaves them with people?”

“Usually he’s really careful and particular.” Athena had that odd look again.

“I make a good impression,” he said with a cheesy grin. Immediately he recalled her first impression of him and internally winced, amending his claim. “Usually.”

“Do you even want a dog?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled her in, close enough to kiss. “But I know that I want you.”

She tried to hide that smile he loved so much. “We’re not talking about me.”

“But I’d like to be talking about you. You and me, to be specific.”

“Yeah?” she said, her tone full of doubt. “Trying to avoid discussing your future?”

“I thought I was?”

Suddenly she was way too focused on the dog in her lap, and he wondered if she believed that he’d told her a lie earlier: that when it came to women, it was always her.

She was the one he thought about when he woke up, when he cooked or ate. When he worked out or chose an outfit for the day. It was her. Always her.

“Is there a you and me?”

He caught the glint of fear in her eyes and she looked about ready to flee if he gave the wrong answer.

“There sure is. I’ve even been asking about rentals in town. Landon gave me some stuff that was horribly out of date, but I was—”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“A place for me to stay here in Sweetheart Creek. So we can hang out more without me imposing.”

“Imposing?” She slid off his lap and deposited the dog in his arms, laughing. “Chad, I’m not… We’re…” She let out a huff of disbelief.

“Too fast?” he asked weakly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve kind of been crushing on you for a long time. I’ve been trying to ignore the way you make my heart race, and how stupid things come out of my mouth just so I can stand there having a conversation with you.”

Her brow furrowed.

“What?” he asked, feeling a stirring of alarm. “What are you thinking?”

Her eyes were filled with unanswered questions, ones he wished she’d ask. Worries he wished he could lay to rest.

If she wanted to know why he’d been such a jerk the first time they’d met, he’d tell her. He’d give her blood, tears, sweat and confessions.

He steadied himself, knowing he had to be honest, not change the subject or pass it off as a joke. He might get only one shot at this.

“You suck the air from rooms,” she said quickly.

He blinked, trying to sort out her words and what they meant. Was sucking the air from rooms a bad thing?

“You have this way of sweeping in with your hypnotizing charm, and everyone just stops thinking and falls at your feet.”

He started, surprised at how wounded she sounded.

She leaned over him, hands on the chair’s armrests, her body intoxicatingly close. “How do I know this is real?”

He forced himself to look up from her curves, to stop imagining what it would take to have her lips back on his, making his fantasies come true. “What does your heart tell you?”

“It tells me to be scared.”