beat Ben to the punch while Libbie’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“My dad and his brother married his mom and her sister,” he quickly said.
He noted the desperate look on Ben’s face, so Allan quickly threw in, “It was a double wedding.”
Libbie was looking at him and missed the arched brow and warning look Ben gave him from across the table. When she looked at Ben, Allan sent him an apologetic shrug.
“What?” she asked.
“Two brothers married two sisters,” Ben added. “Sorry, he always says that confusing. We’re double cousins. Our fathers are brothers and our mothers are sisters.”
“Oh,” she said, not looking like she was any less confused. “Does that happen a lot?”
“It apparently does in Nebraska,” Allan muttered as he took a swig of tea.
If Ben could, he’d reach across the table and slap the crap out of his brother.
So much for keeping it simple.
“They grew up in the same town,” he added as he glared at Allan when Libbie focused on his brother again. “Small town outside of Omaha,” he quickly added when he remembered they were supposed to be from Omaha.
“I imagine the winters are cold there, huh?”
“So do I,” Allan said. “I mean, yeah, you’re right, they are,” he quickly added upon spotting Ben’s frantic warning look.
“Well, I guess that explains why you both look so much alike,”
she observed. “Makes sense.”
“Yeah, we’ve gotten that all our lives,” Ben said. He hoped they made it through dinner without blowing their cover. The guys would It’s a Sweet Life 79
never let me hear the end of it back at the station. I made it three years in a New Jersey mob family, just to have a baker find out the truth in one dinner because my brother’s an idiot.
“Any brothers or sisters?” she asked.
“Nope,” Ben said. “We’re both only children. We grew up like brothers, though. Very close.”
“Ah. Oh, I was curious. I noticed you didn’t have a Nebraska plate on the front of your car when I went out. Are they like Florida and just use one tag?”
Ben didn’t dare risk throwing a glance Allan’s way because he sensed his brother had frozen up. “I hit the tag office first thing this morning,” Ben said before taking a swig of tea to buy him some time.
“Already changed them.”
“Oh.”
“Ready for soup?” Allan quickly asked to change the topic.
Ben breathed a sigh of relief and hoped he could steer the conversation clear of their fictitious families of origin and license plates that didn’t exist. He mentally smacked himself in the head. The truck they’d borrowed belonged to another retired cop friend of his, one he knew was clean, who lived in Palm Beach. His own car was safely stashed in his friend’s garage. Stupidly, in the rush to get out of Miami, he’d forgotten that little detail about license plates.
I need to get my head on straight. Ben stood and picked up his salad bowl, offering to take hers as well since she’d finished.
“Thanks.” She gave him a warm smile with more than just a hint of sadness coloring her features.
His heart raced. For a moment he wasn’t able to make his feet move. “You’re welcome.” Man up, Donohue. This isn’t like you. He pulled himself away from her green gaze and joined Allan in the kitchen.
They were too close to the table for them to say anything to each other, so he stomped on Allan’s foot instead.
When Allan looked at him, Ben made a “quit fucking this up” face 80 Tymber Dalton
at him. Well, he hoped Allan interpreted it correctly.
For all he knew, maybe his twin would think he was constipated.
They managed to make it through the rest of dinner without any other glaring gaffes regarding their supposed roots. Ben refused to let her help clean up. “No, you stay there and talk with Charles about the bakery,” he admonished, sending Allan a look over her head and staying him in his seat.
She’d put on a good show for them, but Ben hadn’t missed the way the corners of her eyes pinched close in pain, or how when she stuck her hands under the table that her upper arm muscles flexed and moved as she rubbed her hands, even to the way she gripped her silverware.
The woman was in a lot of pain. Probably a lot more than she let on.
As he stood at the sink and did the dishes, he listened to them talk.
“I definitely could use the help on Wednesdays,” she said. “That’s the day my wholesale order comes in. Bags of flour, sugar, stuff like that. I try not to keep too much extra on hand so we’re not horribly overstocked in the storeroom or the walk-in cooler, but it would be nice to have an extra set of hands on board. I always feel guilty that Grover jumps in to do so much of that.”
“I’ll be more than happy to,” Allan told her. “I…uh, do my best art work later in the day anyway. That means my mornings are all yours.”
Smooth, Counselor. Ben barely concealed his amused laugh. The party playboy of South Beach getting up at oh-dark-thirty? This I can’t wait to see.
“Well, I definitely don’t expect you to work every day. I’d be happy just to get a little extra help on Wednesdays.”
A lot of people would be taking advantage of any free help they It’s a Sweet Life 81
could get. I really do like her. He thought about that for a moment.
Then again, I’m not used to seeing the better side of people in general, lately.
All throughout dinner, the more Ben learned about Libbie, the more he liked her. He understood and sympathized with the loss of her parents, even if he and Allan couldn’t really tell her about their own.
In many ways, she was as alone as they were.
He wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with her rat bastard of an ex-husband, either.
At the end of the evening, when they bid her good-night, he felt his heart leap again when she leaned in to hug both of them. The feel of her soft, auburn hair against his cheek pulled at his heart.
I could easily get used to this. He killed that line of thinking.
Stop it!
He watched as Allan hugged her, too, and they didn’t close their door until they saw she was safely in her own apartment and heard the lock click home.
Ben closed the door and leaned against it, blowing a long breath out. Allan stood there, motionless, watching him.
“What?” Ben asked.
Allan silently shook his head.
“What is it? Just say it.”
“If the look on your face means the same thing that I feel, I have a feeling this is going to be a really long six months.”
Ben felt himself slump in defeat. “Yeah,” he softly agreed.
Libbie let out a happy sigh as she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Gay, gay, gay-gay-gay.
I don’t frakking care.
Two sets of strong arms to give her hugs, even if it meant 82 Tymber Dalton
unrequited panty dampening would ensue as a result, and she didn’t have to share them with any other women.
I hope they decide to stay longer than six months.
She had a full tummy, a nice evening with Ken and Charles, and now she could go to bed, indulge in some sexalicious vibratory visualization, and hopefully sleep well.
It only took her a few minutes to go through her nightly routine.
To scoop Galileo’s box, top off his food, wash out and refill his water bowl, and brush her teeth. She grabbed one of her smaller, battery-operated vibrators from the bedside table drawer and dragged it under the covers with her.