Guilty Needs (6 page)

He really didn’t want to see her or talk to her.

Not all of it had to do with the fact that seeing her was going to rub salt into open wounds. He could deal with reminders of Alyssa. Hell, sometimes he went out of his way to find things that reminded him of his dead wife.

What he had a harder time dealing with were all the guilty needs that punched through him on the rare occasion that he let himself think about Bree.

With the anniversary of Alyssa’s death coming up in less than a week, he definitely didn’t need his mental mess about Bree raining down on him.

But apparently fate had other plans.

He heard the truck coming just a little while later as he sat in his office going through his accounts. The records were meticulous, notes made in a neat ledger about each deposit, listing the amount, the payer and the date deposited. The checks had been from his two publishers and the check stubs had been filed accordingly.

Also filed away were several letters, some that had come via postal mail, others that had come through email and all of them were from either his agent or his editors. The last one was dated six months ago. He wondered briefly if they’d given up on him and then he paused to wonder
if he even cared. The answer to that was no. At least not now. He didn’t have a story in his head and he had no desire to try forcing one.

He’d finished up the books he had left on his contract a while back. He’d been ready to start discussing a new contract right about the time Alyssa found out she had cancer and he’d hadn’t been able to think about anything other than her at the time. At least he didn’t have to worry about breach of contract.

Colby blew out a breath as the truck headed up the drive, pulling up behind his beat-up old car. He’d sold the Lexus a few months ago when money had been really tight. The clunker in front of the house definitely didn’t seem to fit. Pushing back from the desk, he headed out of the office and saw Bree.

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.

“Colby, I did it because I wanted to, not because I felt like I had to.”

Then she lowered her glass and slipped out the back door. Moving to stand at the door, he watched as she jogged down the steps and drew a pair of gloves from her back pocket. Colby stared at the perfect, round curve under the faded denim and swore. Thunking his head against the glass door, he muttered under his breath, “You’re fucked up, Hutchins. Seriously.”

Colby
…

Shit, she couldn’t believe he was here. That he was back. Her heart had yet to settle back to normal and it was a miracle she hadn’t stuttered every time she had tried to speak to him.

Even now, she couldn’t get herself under control.

Of course, it didn’t help that she knew he was watching her. She could feel it, feel his eyes on her as she worked in the flowerbeds, pulling up stubborn weeds, thinning out the day lilies that were already blooming in a riot of yellows and pinks. She’d thought maybe she was just imagining the weight of his stare but as she finished up in one flower bed and moved to another, she saw him standing at the window.

Staring.

It was a weird look, intense, probing, as though he was trying to see clear through to her soul, but at the same time, it was almost like he didn’t really see her. Bree started to wave to him but then he turned on his heel and moved away from the window.

Finally
, she thought. Maybe now she could focus on the job at hand instead of thinking about him, worrying about him…dreaming about him. All of that could happen later, when she was home, safe and alone. Where she didn’t have to worry somebody might look at her and see all the secrets she tried to keep hidden.

Bit by bit, she relaxed, losing herself in the pleasure of the job. Hers wasn’t an easy job—it was hard, manual labor, very often of the back-breaking kind. But she loved it. Loved planting things and watching them grow.

Sweat trickled down her forehead as she finished the particular flowerbed she had been working on. Absently, she swiped the back of one gloved hand across her brow, inadvertently leaving a streak of dirt. She blew out a satisfied sigh and then looked back at the flower beds she had yet to do.

And found herself staring at Alyssa, or rather, through her.

After a year, she’d finally learned to stop jumping when she saw Alyssa’s ghost. But today wasn’t a normal day and she just barely muffled her yelp. “Damn it, Lys.”

Alyssa smiled. “Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Bree, you really do need to lighten up. Live a little.” Her voice had a weird echo to it, rather like she was talking from the bottom of a well.

“So says the ghost,” Bree muttered, shaking her head. Grabbing her work tools, she headed to the next flowerbed. Sinking to her knees, she started weeding with a vengeance and hoping that if she ignored her, Alyssa might go away.

But it hadn’t ever worked before—wasn’t going to start working now. Alyssa plopped down right in front of Bree, so suddenly that Bree ended up sticking a hand right through her as she grabbed a pair of pruning shears from the bucket she kept her tools in.

Hissing, she jerked her hand back and glared. “Don’t you have some harp-song-on-a-cloud date to keep?”

Setting her jaw, she started pruning a Knock Out Rose bush. Alyssa snickered. “Harp song. How boring. You really think dying is about playing harps?”

“Oh, geez.” Since Alyssa didn’t seem interested in moving her transparent tail away from the rose bushes, Bree abandoned her pruning shears and moved on to thin out the pansies that were threatening to overtake one of the many small flowerbeds.

“He missed you.”

The sad honesty in Alyssa’s voice caused a knot to form in Bree’s throat.

“I know you missed him.”

“Him missing me doesn’t account for much.” Sighing, Bree tugged off her gloves and stared down at her hands. They weren’t a lady’s hands. Strong, capable, with palms calloused from her work and nails she kept cut brutally short. Her skin was a smooth shade of soft, mellow gold, a gift from the mother she’d lost back when she was a baby. Her gray eyes came from her father—though she didn’t know him either. He’d dumped her on his sister within a few months of having her dumped at his doorstep and he hadn’t ever looked back.

But it was his eyes she saw staring back at her from the mirror. Her aunt Cara had eyes the same shade of dark gray. Cara hadn’t been prepared to suddenly become mama to a two-year-old child but she’d done the best she could.

Bree didn’t suffer serious self-esteem issues. She knew what she looked like. She was attractive and when she put half a mind to it, she might even be beautiful. She preferred jeans over just about anything else and kept her hair cut short just so she didn’t have to spend as much time messing with it. Still, she was pretty.

But she wasn’t Alyssa.

She wasn’t the woman Colby had fallen in love with.

She was a friend. In his eyes, that was all she’d ever be. Delusional ghosts… Bree figured being grounded in reality wasn’t much of a concern for them anymore. Quietly, she repeated, “It doesn’t matter if he missed me. Yeah, I missed him too. But he missed a friend, Lys. That’s all I ever was to him. That’s all I’m ever going to be.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Man, you are so stubborn.”

Bree blinked, then snickered. “Me? You’re the one hanging around here, determined to play matchmaker. A year, Lys. It’s been a year. And you’re not showing any signs of moving on.”

With a melodramatic sigh, Alyssa said, “I can’t move on until I know you’ll be happy. Both of you.”

Tugging her gloves off, Bree shoved her damp hair back from her brow and then fisted her hands on her hips. “You can’t force this to happen, girl. Things happen because they are meant to, not because you force them.” Rising, she strode away, determined to get a little peace and quiet.

Of course, the way her luck ran, Alyssa would just follow her.