For one second, his heart all but stopped at the sight of her. Tall, her short hair tousled around her pretty face, her body clad in the simple, casual work uniform she wore—a green T-shirt and khaki shorts. Shit, the things that woman could do for clothes. Colby suspected she could wear sackcloth and ashes and he’d still feel his heart stutter in his chest at the sight of her.
Swallowing, he took a deep breath and hoped he could manage to speak around the knot in his throat. Moving closer, he watched her through the windows framing the front door.
Through the glass, he saw her reaction when she caught sight of him.
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. She slicked her tongue across her lips as she slowed to a stop.
For a moment, neither of them moved and then he made himself take a step forward just as she did the same. She reached the door before he did, but instead of coming inside, she just waited. Frowning, Colby opened the door and stood to the side, studying her. “Since when don’t you just walk in?”
She swallowed. He could see her throat work under the smooth gold of her skin and he had the urge to bend down and press his lips to that soft, smooth skin. Her shoulders moved in a restless shrug. “I dunno.”
He gestured for her to come inside and finally, she did, but he got the impression she really didn’t want to. “You’ve been taking care of things for me.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him and shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
He opened his mouth to say something—he didn’t know what—but Bree took off down the hall, leaving him standing there with his jaw hanging open. He jerked it closed with a snap when he realized he was watching the slow, lazy sway of her hips as she headed away. She had a pair of work gloves tucked into her back pocket but nothing could detract from the absolute perfection of that ass.
“When did you get home?”
Forcing himself to uproot his feet, he followed her into the kitchen and watched as she poured herself a glass of water. “An hour ago.”
She paused in the middle of raising the glass to her lips. “An hour ago…” she repeated.
Then she shrugged and took a sip. “If you had let me know you were coming home, I could have bought some groceries and stuff for you.”
He shook his head and settled on one of the scoop chairs nestled up against the breakfast bar. “I can’t really say I’ve come home. But it’s time I figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Did the lawyer finally catch up with you?”
Colby blinked. “Lawyer?”
“Fred What his name? Whoever was taking care of things for Alyssa. He keeps calling me and reminding me…” her voice trailed off.
“About the will?” Colby asked.
She nodded, focused intently on her glass. As though sensing his scrutiny, she looked up and lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I know he’s got a job to do, but I really don’t want to keep hearing about her will, ya know?”
“Yeah.” Grimacing, Colby dragged a hand through his hair. The thick, black strands of it had gotten so long, they hung in his eyes. He desperately needed a haircut, but he just didn’t care enough to mess with it. “Shit. You know, I never even thought about that. I just wanted to get things settled with the house.”
He blew out a sigh and lifted his gaze, studied the kitchen. It was bright and cheerful, full of little touches that Alyssa claimed would make it a fun place to cook, though Colby had suspected she had more fun thinking about cooking than she would actually doing it. “I came back to sell the place. I just don’t think I can live here.”
She was quiet for a minute. She licked her lips and Colby found himself following the path she took, eying the plump, wet curve of her lip. When she finally spoke, he cursed silently and made himself focus on her words. “So where do you want to live?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
Finally, the somber look fell away from her lips and she drawled, “Well, it might be wise to think about that before you do much else.”
Colby shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve been doing all sorts of things the past year without thinking them through in advance. It’s actually not too bad.”
She lifted her brows. “Colby being impulsive. Now that’s a switch.”
He had another impulsive urge just then, to go around the bar and corner her against the counter, press his lips to hers. See if that body of hers felt as good as it had in his dreams. See if she tasted half as sweet. Instead, he pushed away from the counter and went to get a bottle of water from the fridge. Taking his time to open it, he said, “I’m sorry I just disappeared like that. I’m sorry you felt like you had to step in, the way you did.”
“Colby.”
He didn’t want to look at her.
Every time he did, those guilty needs of his reared their ugly heads and he wanted nothing more than to grab her and haul her close. Then do it. He hunched his shoulder defensively as the whisper sounded right in his ear. Turning away from it, he faced Bree and wondered if she’d heard.
No. The look on her face was one of calm patience, not confusion or fear.
Besides, he reminded himself, why would she hear it? The voice was just a guilt-induced hallucination. Just guilt—not actually the voice of his wife. No reason for anybody else to hear it.