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“Travel agent.” She made a face. “Right up until I realized most travel agents don’t actually travel that much. There’s nothing quite as agonizing as planning someone else’s trip over and over again while stuck in a crappy office surrounded by four beige walls.”
He was inclined to agree, though the travel bug had never bitten Aaron. “You were just down in the Caribbean not too long ago, right?”
She missed a step and shot him a look. “Right. I forgot. You and Roman are friends.” If anything, her expression became more agonized. “Allie’s going to want a double date before too long—mark my words. And once she decides on something, no one in their right mind gets in her way.”
A double date didn’t sound like the hell she seemed to consider it, but he chose to keep that opinion to himself. “She’s good for Roman. He’s been more relaxed since they started dating than I’ve ever seen him.”
“Regular sex will do that to a man,” she muttered.
“And to a woman.”
She chose not to comment on that, which was just as well. They reached the taco truck and got in line behind a mother and her two kids. Because they were standing so close, Aaron could feel the tension bleeding back into Becka’s body until she stood rigid against him. He studied her, trying to figure out what the issue was. The mother? The woman was in her midtwenties, and though she looked tired, she was handling herself well and both her young children were relatively well behaved. They collected their tacos and disappeared down the street, leaving Becka staring after them.
He bided his time, waiting until they’d ordered, collected their food and eaten it at one of the benches not too far from the truck. Only when she crumpled her paper napkin did he sit back and say, “What was it about her that bothered you so much?”
She gave him the courtesy of not pretending she didn’t know what he meant. “I don’t know if you guessed it, but my family life was hardly idyllic growing up. Lucy was the bright spot, of course. She still is. But my parents were a hot mess from day one, and they only seemed to get worse over time. My mom never would have done something as simple as that.” She waved her hand in the direction the mother had gone. “That’s sad, right? I’d more or less made my peace with it, but the whole impending-motherhood thing has the ghosts of my past banging on my closet door again.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m a mess.”
“No apologies necessary.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Were they...”
“Abusive? No, nothing like that.” She stared at the people walking past, but she didn’t take her hand from his. “They were just selfish assholes who were more wrapped up in themselves and their petty dramas than they could ever be in their children. I don’t think they ever planned on staying together, but Lucy was an oops baby and the only thing to do at the time was get married. I don’t think my mom ever even wanted kids, but one thing led to another and then she had two.”
Not too difficult to read between the lines. Benign neglect was one thing, but it sounded as if Becka had been reminded on a near constant basis that she wasn’t wanted, that perhaps her parents’ lives would be so much better if she wasn’t in them. He didn’t tell her he was sorry, didn’t offer her sympathy she might mistake for pity. “I’m glad you had Lucy.”
“Me, too.” She finally looked at him. “She was always there. For nearly every game, for every important event. Even after she went to college, she was never too far or too busy to be there for me. I don’t deserve her.”
“She loves you.” For most people, it was as simple as that. They loved someone, they showed up. At least Becka had that influence in her life, even if the people who should have been there for her above all others...weren’t. He hesitated, but finally asked, “Have you told her yet?”
She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but seemed to change her mind and shook her head. “I’m getting kind of cold. Mind if we go back now?”
The opportunity slipped through his fingers like water. He couldn’t force her to open up to him. The fact she’d told him even as much as she had was a small miracle. It was progress, which was a positive sign. Though it might not be enough, it was a start.
Aaron could be a patient hunter when the situation called for it and the stakes were high enough.
With Becka, they’d never been higher.
9
BECKA WAS ON edge the entire trip back to the penthouse. She kept waiting for Aaron’s tension to translate to more questions or pressing her for further information, but he just walked next to her with his arm around her. He respected her emotional retreat, if not a physical one.
They walked through the front door and she had to smother her first instinct, which was to flee to her bedroom and barricade herself inside. Even if they’d danced on some of her buttons during their short walk, on the whole it’d been pleasant. More than pleasant. She liked walking down New York City’s streets with Aaron’s arm wrapped around her waist and the warmth of his body soaking through her sweater. She liked teasing him about his intentions. God, she even liked the reserved way he’d watched her when she spoke about her parents, as if he knew exactly how hard it was for her to confess even those small details and he didn’t want to do anything to spook her.
Damn it, I like him.
And because her emotions hamstrung her retreat, she said, “You promised to ply me with drinks.” When he opened his mouth, no doubt to quote some statistic about pregnant women and alcohol, she cut in, “I’ll take cranberry juice.”
“Cranberry juice,” he repeated, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
“Yep. I picked some up yesterday. It’s in the back of the fridge.”
“I see.” He guided her to the bar stool with his hand on the small of her back. She could feel the tiny touch even through her sweater, and it was everything she could do not to arch into his hand like a cat begging for strokes. Aaron pulled out two wineglasses, retrieved the container of cranberry juice, and poured some into both. “You know I can provide whatever you need, minx. You only have to ask.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from snapping back. As a result, she sounded only mildly irritated when she said, “It’s cranberry juice, not a college fund. It sounded good, so I got some on the way home. Simple as that.”
“Home.”
She opened her mouth, reconsidered and shut it.
Aaron nodded as if she’d spoken. “I’ll try to relax. I just have more than enough money, and it’s silly for you to spend your limited funds when I can take care of it.” He held up a hand. “That came out wrong.”
