That was good, though. At least, she thought it was. He’d lost interest in his career once it had become clear that Alyssa wasn’t going to beat the cancer. Seeing him worrying about it was a positive sign in Bree’s mind.
“I don’t know how the writer/agent deal works but if she had problems with you taking some time away, wouldn’t she have to let you know she was going to…I dunno… Can she fire you?”
Colby grinned at her. “No, but she could drop me from her list of authors. And I don’t really see her doing that because of this but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be all that thrilled with me either.”
“Colby, your wife died. Only a heartless bitch wouldn’t understand that you might need some time to deal.”
As soon as she said it, she wished she could yank it back. She’d been so fucking careful not to put Alyssa between them like that and then she had to go and shove her foot in her mouth. Hell, not just her foot—halfway past her ankle, probably.
His smile faded and he laid the fork down, bracing his elbows on the table. “I know she’ll understand but that doesn’t mean I’m necessarily going to get my career back on track. Authors disappear all the time. All it takes is not getting a book out often enough.”
Bree slid off the stool and went around to stand behind him. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pressed her cheek to his. “Readers haven’t forgotten about you, Colby. They want more from you. Your agent’s a smart lady. It will be okay.”
She wanted to say more but her cell phone started to ring. Recognizing the tune, she rolled her eyes and grabbed it from the counter. It was Joey, one of the college kids who helped part-time throughout spring, summer and fall. He was a great worker, people liked him, he rarely complained but he was one of those people who things just happened to.
A minute later, she disconnected and looked up and found Colby watching her over his coffee cup. “Flat tire.” She grimaced. “I’ve gotta go pick him up. The jobs today will take twice as long if he isn’t around.”
“Still think you’ll get done fairly early?” he asked, reaching out and catching her hand. His thumb stroked along the inside of her wrist as he lifted it up and pressed a kiss to her palm. He hadn’t shaved and his roughened cheek rasped against her flesh.
“Should be. Why?”
He shrugged and tugged her to stand between his widespread thighs. He had one bare foot braced on the floor, the other on the rung of the stool. Wearing nothing but his jeans, he looked entirely too good to walk away from. His eyes were still heavy with sleep and the early morning sun filtering through the window did amazing things to his body. She found herself fantasizing about sliding her fingers through the hair on his chest, tugging just a little before she continued on downward and unzipped his jeans.
Fantasizing to the point that she was practically drooling and she hadn’t heard a damn thing he’d said, she realized, jerking her eyes up to his face. A sexy smile curled his lips as she said dumbly, “Huh?”
“I was thinking maybe I could take you out tonight. Something nice.”
“How nice?”
He grinned. “Nice as in I’m going to see if I can find a tie, maybe talk you into wearing a dress…and not wearing any panties.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks. Heat curled in her belly. “How does me not wearing any panties have anything to do with how nice a place you take me to?”
He slid a hand between her thighs and cupped her, rubbing the heel of his palm against her. “Well, I don’t guess it would be fair if I said I’d only take you out if you leave the panties off but it sure as hell would be fun for me to think about you being naked under some sexy black dress.”
She cocked a brow at him, tried for a cool smile but ended up whimpering as he pressed his finger against her, pressing through the layers of her shorts and panties. “I think I can find something black and sexy. And panties are overrated.”
He hauled her against him and kissed her, quick and rough. When he let go, they were both breathing hard and heavy. “Clothing is overrated, if you ask me. Especially considering how damn good you look without any.”
Colby stood in the doorway, staring into the room.
It looked bare.
Over the past month, he’d slowly been getting rid of all of Alyssa’s things. All of her clothes had been donated to a local church group. Other things, like books, her knick-knacks, the fairies and dragons she’d collected had been boxed up and given to DAV.
All that remained in their room now was the furniture. A guy who worked for Bree was taking the bedroom set. He was coming over tomorrow to pick it all up and then the room would be empty.
It was hard, but not as hard as he’d expected. Instead of a driving grief, he’d been able to go through her things with a sad sort of acceptance. His wife was gone. In the past month, he hadn’t even heard the whisper of her voice and he supposed it was because he had finally come around to accepting it—and getting back to some sort of life.
Life.