At some point in her life, things had been bad, possibly worse than he could imagine. It wasn’t any of his business, and it certainly wasn’t his job, but that didn’t stop him from aching for her and Riley both. Amy didn’t want his sympathy. He knew this. Riley didn’t want his sympathy either, but she was in trouble. He knew it deep in his gut. He’d like to help but he held no delusions on his ability to do that for either of them.
He didn’t have a great track record when it came to fixing people’s problems. In fact, he had a downright shitty record when it came right down to it. He turned his attention to Riley. Clearly she was on the run, maybe from someone abusive, or at the very least, she’d been sorely neglected. She’d practically licked her plate clean, eating everything except for the cucumbers. Couldn’t blame her there. “Better?”
She answered with a nod, though she did smile when Amy delivered the pie. The way to a woman’s heart… dessert. Good to know.
Riley waited until Amy moved onto another booth. “Your piece is bigger,” she said.
“So?” Matt said. “I’m bigger.”
“Yeah, that’s not why your piece is bigger.”
Matt ignored this. When they’d finished, he paid the bill. The salads hadn’t been on it, which meant that Amy intended to pay for them out of her own pocket, so he made sure his tip covered the cost plus, then led Riley back to the parking lot. He could feel her anxiety level rising. “You have two choices,” he said. “You can tell me where your friends live so I can drop you off there, or I can run your ID and figure out your secrets.”
He was going to do that anyway, but she didn’t have to know it.
“I’m of age,” she said. “I don’t have to give you my friends’ address.”
“Don’t have to… or can’t, because there are no friends?” he asked.
She stared at him, the silence broken by the sound of someone clearing her throat.
Amy. She was standing in the parking lot, purse slung over her shoulder, keys in her hand. “I got off early,” she said. “I have a spare bedroom, Riley. It’s the size of a piece of toast, but it’s all yours for the night if you’d like.”
“No,” Matt immediately said. It was one thing for him to get involved with a troubled teen they knew far too little about, another entirely for Amy to do it for him.
“No,” Riley said, echoing Matt. “I couldn’t do that. But thanks. I just want to go back to the woods.”
“You’re done with the woods,” Matt said. “No more illegal camping. It’s not safe, and I can’t have you out there.”
“And besides, you don’t have to camp,” Amy said to Riley. “Just come to my place. You’d get a hot shower and a roof.”
Matt opened his mouth, but Amy gave him a small head shake. To Riley, she gestured toward her car, and to his surprise, Riley got into it.
Amy turned to him, her expression one of grim determination. He could see that Riley had stirred something inside of her. Protectiveness, certainly, but memories too, and it didn’t take a genius to see that those memories made her sad.
His fault. “Amy-”
“I’m doing this,” she said.
Clearly, whether he liked it or not. And for the record, he didn’t. “When I asked for your help, I didn’t mean for you to-”
“I know. But I can’t leave her here, Matt. I just can’t.” There was something in her voice, something that twisted the knife deeper within him. “We’ll be fine,” she murmured, and slid behind the wheel of her car. He stepped between her and the driver’s door before she could shut it, crouching at her side. “Be careful.”
“Always am.”
He paused, but he had no further reason to detain them so he stood and backed up, watching her drive off. He didn’t feel good about this, about sending a possible juvenile delinquent home with the woman he had a thing for. He wasn’t sure what kind of thing exactly, but it didn’t matter at the moment. This was his doing, and if something went wrong, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
So he followed them. He parked on the street outside of Amy’s building and watched them go inside together. A minute later, the lights came on. While he watched from his truck, he called Sawyer, requesting a search for a missing persons report on one Riley Taylor.
If Riley Taylor was even her real name…
While he waited to hear back, Matt spent the time keeping an eye on the building, and maybe playing solitaire on his phone.
When Amy knocked on the driver’s window, she nearly gave him a coronary.
“If you’re not going home,” she said through his window, “you might as well come in.”
She’d showered and was wearing an oversized T-shirt and tiny booty shorts that revealed her mile-long legs. Her hair was wet, her long, side-swept bangs falling over one eye. She smelled like shampoo and soap-and warm, soft woman. He followed her up the stairs, watching her ass in those short shorts. She could’ve led him right off a cliff and he’d never have noticed.
Her place was a tiny two bedroom, emphasis on the tiny. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were all one room that was not much bigger than his truck. Small as it was, it was also cheerful. Sunshine yellow paint in the kitchen, bright blue and white in the living room. Clearly the place had come like this because he was quite certain that Amy wouldn’t have picked such vibrant colors. Amy was a lot of things-smart, loyal, fiercely protective, beautiful, edgy-but not exactly cheerful.
Proving the point, she gave him a blanket, a pillow, the couch, and a long look that he didn’t even try to interpret. “Thanks,” he said.
She nodded and turned away.
Then turned back.
Their gazes caught and held for a long moment, and the air hummed with hunger and desire. Fuck it, he thought, tossing the blanket and pillow down, but just as he stepped toward her, she hightailed it into her bedroom.
Smart girl.
Two hours later, he was still tossing and turning on the couch that wasn’t wide enough for his shoulders and about two feet too short. What the hell was he doing here? Thinking of sex, that’s what he was doing. Sex with Amy, which he was no longer sure was a good idea.
In fact, he was pretty damn sure it was a bad idea now that he suspected Amy had an extremely rough past. A past he’d likely stirred up for her by bringing Riley into her life. He needed to stay the hell away from her, that’s what he needed to do. She didn’t need the complication.
Getting comfortable was impossible, so he sat up and put his feet on the small coffee table. Slightly better. Count sheep, he told himself, but when he closed his eyes, sheep wasn’t what came to mind.
Amy came to mind. Amy, straddling him.
Naked.
Damn if that wasn’t a hell of a lot better than sheep. But it wasn’t exactly conducive to falling sleep, so he rose, thinking a kitchen raid might work. A rustle warned him that he wasn’t the only one awake just as he collided into a willowy, warm body that his own instantly recognized. Amy. Catching her, he dropped backward to the couch, taking her with him.
She landed sprawled over the top of him, all soft, tousled woman, her breasts rising and falling against his chest with every breath. “You okay?”
Apparently she was, because she fisted both hands in his hair and kissed him, a really deep, wet, hot holy shit kiss. Yeah, this. This was what he’d needed all fucking day long. It was perfect.
She was perfect.
Instantly hard, he rolled to tuck her beneath him, spreading her legs with his to make room for himself, pressing into her so that he was cradled between her thighs. It was dark so he couldn’t see much, but he sure could feel. And what he felt just about stopped his heart. She appeared to be wearing an oversized shirt, panties, and nothing else, as he discovered when his hands slid beneath the shirt to cup her bare breasts.
Amy gasped his name, and he went still, realizing he had her pinned beneath him, a perfect breast in each hand. And he wanted to keep kissing her, keep touching her until she was too hot to stop him. Even the thought revved him up. But Jesus, he’d forgotten the reason he was even here-Riley was in the next room. With a Herculean effort, he managed to let go of Amy and rise to his feet.