Aubrey had been operating under the assumption that she was the jealous sister. And she was jealous as hell and always had been, because Carla had had it all: brains, the big fancy medical degree, not to mention their father’s pride and adoration. But in feeding her green monster over the years, it’d somehow escaped her attention that Carla might have been jealous as well.
She didn’t know what to make of that.
“I lost the internship,” Carla said, “and had to wait an entire year to get another shot at it. Dad was fit to be tied. He’d set the interview up in the first place. He said—” She broke off, clearly tempering herself.
“What?” Aubrey asked. “He said what?”
“That I’d acted like you.”
Aubrey absorbed the unexpected hit and nodded. “Well, then, I imagine he was quite pleased to know it was me who screwed up and not you.”
Carla’s smile was brittle, and Aubrey wondered if she smiled like that, too. “I never told him,” Carla said. “How could I? I’d gone on and on about how you were changing, how you were maturing. How I could count on you.”
Aubrey winced. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
Carla gave a small laugh. “How? How could you possibly do that?”
“I don’t know,” Aubrey said. “We still look like twins. Maybe you have another conflict of interest, and I could—”
“What? Operate for me? Meet a patient and discuss treatment?”
Aubrey met her sister’s eyes. They were hazel, like her own, magnified slightly from the glasses Carla had worn since grade school. They only added to the smart image.
She wasn’t going to get forgiveness—she could see that now. And she probably didn’t deserve it anyway. “No,” she said quietly. “I can’t do any of those things. We both know that.”
And there was the problem. The big flaw in her grand scheme—and there was always a flaw. She didn’t know how to make things right. And anyway, who would forgive her? She certain didn’t deserve forgiveness. Holding in the despair that this thought brought, she turned to go.
Carla didn’t stop her.
It was dark outside when she got back to the Book & Bean, and she stopped short just outside the door. She’d locked up when she left and turned off the lights.
But the door was unlocked now, and the lights were on. She went still, then pulled out her phone and dialed 911. She didn’t hit SEND, but kept her thumb hovered over CALL. Taking a step inside, she paused. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
The low, slightly rough voice wasn’t what had her heart pumping. That honor went to the fact that there was a man on a ladder in the back of her store.
Ben.
He was in jeans, wearing a tool belt slung low on his hips, his T-shirt clinging to him. He seemed a little irritated, a little sweaty, and just looking at him Aubrey got a whole lot hot and bothered in places that had no business being hot and bothered by this man at all. “What are you doing in here?” she asked.
“I work here.”
“What are you talking about? Get out.”
“Sorry, Sunshine.” He wasn’t even looking at her, but using some sort of long, clawlike tool to pull down a ceiling tile above the wall she’d been working on. And his tool worked way better than hers.
His movements were agile and surprisingly graceful for a guy his size. Not that he was bulky in any way. Nope: That tall, built body was all lean, tough muscle, and it screamed power. And with each subtle movement, his body made it clear that it knew exactly what to do with all that power. “The owner of this building hired me,” he said. “Said you were making a mess of things because your pride was bigger than your wallet.”
This caught her completely off guard, both the insult and the information. “My uncle owns this building,” she said.
He smiled thinly. “Yep. Happy birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Then happy you’ve-got-a-great-uncle day.”
She pulled out her phone and punched in her uncle’s number.
“He left on a month-long cruise with Elsie,” Ben said.
Damn it. That was true. He’d just recently started dating again and was seeing Leah’s grandma Elsie. Aubrey tossed her phone and purse aside and went hands on hips, giving off the intimidation vibe that worked with just about everyone. Except, apparently, Ben, who didn’t even take a bit of notice. Instead, he reached down with that claw tool in his hand. “Hold this a minute,” he said.
Was he kidding? “I don’t take orders from you.”
“I imagine not, since you don’t know the meaning of taking orders.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he gave the tool a very slight jiggle in her direction.
The motion was filled with such authority and innate demand that she walked toward him to take the thing before she even realized her feet were moving. It was heavy, and she let it fall to her side as he pulled himself up with nothing more than his biceps and vanished.
She stared up into the space. “Hey.”
He didn’t answer, and she got worried. “Ben?”
There was a slight rainfall of debris, and then he was back, lowering himself out of the hole like an Avenger, shoulder and arm and back muscles bulging and defined as he dropped lithely to his feet.
She let out a breath.
He brushed off his hands and turned, and then nearly tripped over Gus.
Meow.
“Watch out,” Aubrey said. “He doesn’t like—”
Ben squatted low and stroked the cat. Gus plopped onto his back with a grunt, exposing his belly for a rub.
“—to be touched much,” Aubrey finished, and then rolled her eyes as Gus soaked up Ben’s affection, even sending Aubrey a “be jealous, bee-yotch” look from slitty eyes.
Her cat was a man ho.
When Ben stood again, he looked at Aubrey for the first time. The briefest of frowns flashed on his face. Still dirty, still a little damp, and still complete sex on a stick, he took a step toward her.
Thinking he wanted the tool, she thrust it out at him. But he didn’t take it. Instead, he stepped into her personal space and crowded her both physically and mentally.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Chapter 4
If Ben knew anything about Aubrey Wellington, it was that she was one cool, tough, hard customer. He’d once seen her stare down an entire pack of mean girls at school with no fear—at least none showing. She didn’t back down from much.
But she backed away from him and turned so he couldn’t see her face. She definitely wasn’t on her game at the moment. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been…crying? Unable to imagine what could have rattled her so badly, much less bring her to tears, he moved closer to take the tool from her, tossing it aside as he turned her to face him. “You’ve been crying.”
She looked away. He put a finger under her chin and brought her face back to his. “You’ve been crying,” he said again.
She blew out a sigh and slapped his hand away. “You’re a man. You’re not supposed to notice,” she said.
He took another step toward her, and he had no idea why. Maybe because those usually razor-sharp hazel eyes were soft now. Soft and maybe even warm. She was vulnerable, and it was bringing out some crazy instinct in him to try to soothe or comfort her. And then there was the fact that he’d clearly affected her. When he’d come close, her breathing had hitched audibly.