Aftermath (37 page)

“I should go talk to him.” Lilly moved toward the door.

“That
’
s probably an unwise choice right now.” Amanda nudged the teen. “Why don
’
t you tell your mom what
’
s going on at school, while I deal with the
Hulk
out there?”

Ariana sighed as if she
’
d been asked to take out the trash during her favorite TV show. “It
’
s not what you think.”

“Then it shouldn
’
t be difficult to explain. We could always trade. I
’
ll sit in here and your mom and I can do fun girl stuff. You can deal with that.” Amanda pointed toward the half-open door.

The slap of what sounded like the refrigerator slamming closed, echoed into the bedroom.

“No, thanks.”

Too bad.

“It
’
s not something he told me, Amanda.” Lilly tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. Distress stretched across her face as if she
’
d lost something valuable. “I discovered the certificate by accident, the other day while looking for the car keys. I
’
m sorry. I didn
’
t plan to—”

“It
’
s okay.” Had Amanda ever said those words? Ever let Lilly know she was forgiven? “You
’
re sort of stuck with me, now. And he
’
ll get over it, because, let
’
s face it, neither of us wanted to do the Vegas thing.”

A whoosh of air left the other woman
’
s mouth. “Glad someone
’
s feeling positive.”

“He and I haven
’
t tangoed in a while. It could get dicey, which happens to be my specialty.”

Lilly let out a laugh-scoff. “You
’
re not mad?”

“Nope.” A little giddy with the possibilities. “But, if you haven
’
t noticed, he
’
s been in a piss-poor mood all day. So, say a little prayer for me.” Then she exited and shut the door behind her. Took a moment to get her head on straight.

Married.

With his back to her, Robinson leaned against the counter. She took her time moving across the apartment, then sidled up next to him as if a massive truth hadn
’
t been flung around with the abandon a college kid exercises on spring break. Folded her arms across her chest and stared at a container making rounds in the microwave. Leftover lasagna, if the smell of basil and tomato was any indication.

Wondered how many times the dish would go around before he said anything. Her upper arm brushed his. Sent a wave of his spicy scent in her direction, a million more times alluring than his food. Even if she
’
d been starving, that wouldn
’
t change.

“It
’
s nine at night.”

He shrugged. Tapped the prongs of the fork, in his hand, against his lips. “Fourth meal.”

“It
’
s amazing you
’
re not fat, Mr. No-Gyms.”

Not even a hint of a smile appeared on his face. Not surprising given the last few days. Outright confrontation might rile the beast.

“You
’
re lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it—I didn
’
t try to marry someone else in the last few months. Or find a new hero to fill your spot.” Amanda licked her lips. Naive Youngster obviously didn’t care if this situation was dealt with delicately. She didn’t, yet, realize neither of those things were possible. There was no outdoing the perfect imperfections of Baker Jackson Robinson.

That jet-black hair he managed into place, rock-solid. Eyes that always captured her attention and expressed so much more than words could ever convey. A smile that could erase the strongest misgivings; make her say yes to anything. A heart that didn
’
t know how to stop loving. A quirky personality wrapped his tall, handsome package with an unforgettable bow.

“If you’re going for humor, you’re failing.” The microwave beeped. He didn
’
t make a move toward it.

“Did you trade in The Jerk for Surly Stew? Because, I have to tell you, I
’
m not a huge fan. I prefer the other guy. He
’
s nothing, if not honest.”

This time a ghost of a smile flirted with his lips. He shook his head. Flicked a glance at her. And his shoulders relaxed. “You and your nicknames.”

“Keeps you entertained.” She grabbed his food from the appliance and placed it in his hands. “For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to dance around naked and sing a horrible rendition of a sappy love song to get you to cheer up. I could jump out of a cake or something for effect. It
’
s a little cliché, but...”

He paused, a forkful of noodles, sauce and meat halfway to his mouth. Those lips moved as if he wanted to come back with something as off the wall. He rested his utensil back on his plate, bite untouched, and set it aside.

A heavy lead ball landed in her stomach. This man ate through anything. Could talk his way through a storm of fire and brimstone. And, right now, he wasn’t doing either of those things.

“And then we
’
ll just move forward. As man and wife? No problem? No discussion? Don
’
t think so, A.J.”

Oh, come on. This was about so much more. Always had been.

She braced her hands on the counter behind her. Hoped to hold the remaining portion of her positive outlook with it. “You
’
re irritating me, Robbie.”

“Join the club.”

Okay. She wiggled the fingers on one hand in unison, as if beckoning him toward her. “Let me have it. Give me the good
‘
ol Robinson shake down. I can take it.”

One eyebrow rose higher than the other on his forehead. “What?”

“You’re holding back. You don’t ever do that. Our relationship is built on it.”

“Was. Seemed to work both ways back then.”

Amanda shifted and placed her hand on the counter next to her, then leaned on it. Managed to resist tapping her fingers against the surface. “Welcome to marriage. Land of compromises, growing together and constant changes. Love. Laughter.”

Those beautiful blue-green eyes watched her in silence for a moment. “You gonna sell a Hallmark card with that, Nettles?”

That was better. “Maybe. You want part of the credit?”

“And look like a sap? No, thanks. It’s all yours.” He sighed. “I expected you to be mad. Prepared for that. What am I supposed to do with this?” He gestured to her from head to toe.

“Seems like the cake idea makes it obvious.” Naive Youngster smirked without remorse.

He let out a half groan-sigh and clasped both hands behind his head. “No more cake talk, A.J. Not tonight.”

“Why?” She moved in front of him, but clasped her hands behind her back. If she took a step closer, she’d be in his arms. Kissing him. Proving that everything would work out.

As if waiting for her to pounce, he watched her with a gleam in his eyes. “Maybe pretend like you
’
re mad.”

Why wasn
’
t she? Seemed like he
’
d had ample time to corner her. And yet, she knew she could be difficult. Just like he could be surly. After their New Year’s encounter, she
’
d made it her mission to avoid him. It had seemed easier than resisting his searching gaze and handsome smile. And less like walking uphill in a massive, blustery hailstorm.

“Furious. How dare you actually be married to me—someone seriously needs to explain how that happens. Crime alert. Code Happiness. Glitter and fairies imminent.” She leaned toward him. The spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of his laundry soap.

“No more TV for you.” His gaze shot to her mouth.

It sent a burst of electricity through her. “Okay. Rainbows and ponies?”

Another ghost of a smile pulled at his lips as he shook his head. “No.”

“Fine.” She leaned closer. “Handcuffs and—”

His lips crashed over hers, his hands moving from the back of his head and threading through her hair. For a moment, she couldn’t move, the warmth of his mouth holding her in place.

He pulled away. Left her wanting to follow him much farther than the space would allow. She opened her eyes. Didn’t remember closing them.

Robinson’s gaze roved over her face, intense and focused. He trailed his hands from her hair to cup her cheeks. “No sprinkles, fairies or ponies. No sexy cake explosions. No handcuffs.” As if he were in agony, his voice was a hoarse whisper.

“I’m not sure what kind of
cake explosions
you’ve had in the past, but what I had in mind was the farthest from sexy.”

His hands moved to her shoulders. A twitch started near the corner of one eye. “Stop talking.”

“Sounds counterproductive to what we’re trying to accomplish, here.”

He shook his head. Dropped his hands.

“So
how
does one end up married, in this type of situation.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “A well-meaning church secretary filed it. Assumed it had been misplaced. Hadn
’
t heard about our debacle.”

Because they
’
d all, herself, Robbie and the pastor, signed it beforehand. She
’
d been unsure about how long her mom
’
s mind would hold out. Been pretty positive the Alzheimer
’
s demon was riding high on the older woman
’
s back. And they
’
d both been prepared to miss a good chunk of the reception.

Not the most important part of the wedding.

God bless well-meaning secretaries.

“I didn
’
t get it in the mail until New Year
’
s Eve.”

That explained everything. The way he
’
d cornered her with nervousness. Kissed her with complete intensity. As if he were hoping to convince her of something via lip-lock.

“Jordan told me you were still going to the party. I decided to try my luck.”

The phone in her grasp rang. Davis
’
number flashed across the display.

“And much like now, we were interrupted.” There was no annoyance in his stance. Only understanding in his eyes. While tonight it might be her phone disturbing their important matters, tomorrow it might be his. Life didn
’
t come with guarantees.

Meanwhile, the phone wouldn
’
t quit. She could ignore it one more time. Just this once.

The packet of papers on the counter caught her eye. Robinson followed her line of sight.

The information didn
’
t change anything. The girl was still missing, relation or not. Didn
’
t matter how or when the facts had been gathered. Or
who
had requested it.

Robinson grabbed her hand, his fingers twining through hers, the callouses on his palm resting against her skin. Tenderness emanated from every pore and flooded her system in warm waves. He searched her eyes as if memorizing every fleck of brown within her irises.

“For the record. I could pick you out of a lineup filled with millions of your look-a-likes. There
’
s only one you.” He pulled her toward him. Rested his lips over hers, feather-light. The contact zapped awareness through every cell in her body. And then it was gone, sooner than she wanted.

Her phone started ringing again.

“Better get that, A.J.” His breath whispered across her face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“WHAT DO YOU mean she ran out into traffic?”

Amanda
’
s stride outshone Davis
’
by a good distance, even with her injury. The shorter detective managed to keep up, anyway, as they swerved between the emergency personnel lining Third Avenue, outside the precinct. An ambulance and fire truck had parked on either side of the road, four cruisers blocking both ends of the intersection.

“Just what I said.” Davis
’
voice was clipped. “She came into the station. Had a young boy by the arm and demanded to see you. Wouldn
’
t talk to anyone else. Brink got involved. I
’
m not even sure what he was doing here, since he wasn
’
t on duty.