Author: Jill Shalvis

Again he just looked at her for a long beat. “It’s in the same vein as mechanics. I locate a problem and…rectify it.”

“But…not on cars.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not on cars.”

Huh. He was certainly not saying more than he was saying. Which wasn’t working for her. “And the leg?” she asked.

“I was in a crash.”

He hadn’t hesitated to say it but she sensed a big inner hesitation to discuss it further. “I’m sorry,” she said, not wanting to push. She knew exactly what it felt like to not want to discuss something painful, but she was definitely wishing he’d say more. And then he did.

“I’m in Lucky Harbor until I’m cleared,” he said. “Matt and I go way back. He set me up in a house to recoup.”

“Are you…recouping okay?” she asked softly.

“Working on it.”

She nodded and fought the ridiculous urge to hug him. He wouldn’t want her sympathy, she knew that much. “The leg is giving you pain. Are you taking anything for it?”

“No,” he said, and with a hand on the small of her back, led her into the arcade. Conversation over, apparently. He handed some money over to the guy behind the first booth.

Shooting Duck Gallery.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to shoot some ducks. And so are you.”

“I’m not good at shooting ducks,” she said, watching him pick up the gun like he knew what he was doing. He sighted and shot.

And hit every duck, destroying the entire row.

“Show off,” she said, and picked up her gun. She didn’t know what she was doing. And she didn’t hit a single duck. She set the gun down and sighed.

“That’s pathetic.” Ty handed over some more cash and stood behind her. “Pick up the gun again.” He corrected her stance by nudging his foot between hers, kicking her legs farther apart. Then he steadied her arms with his.

This meant he was practically wrapped around her, surrounding her. If she turned her head, she could press her mouth to his bicep. His very rock-solid bicep. It was shocking how much she wanted to do just that. She’d bet he’d taste better than her ice cream.

He went still, then let out a low breath, his jaw brushing hers. “You’re thinking so loud I’m already hard.”

She choked out a laugh, and he pressed himself against her bottom, proving he wasn’t kidding. “How do you know what I’m thinking?” she asked, embarrassingly breathless. “Maybe I’m thinking that I want another ice cream.”

“That’s not what you’re thinking. Shoot the ducks, Mallory.”

With him guiding her, she actually hit one, and her competitive nature kicked in. “Again,” she demanded.

With a rare grin, Ty slapped some more money onto the counter. “Show me what you’ve got,” he said to her, and to her disappointment, this time he remained back a few steps, leaving her to do it alone.

She hit one more out of the entire row, which was hugely annoying to her. “How do you make it look so easy?”

“Practice,” he said in a voice that assured her he’d had lots. “Your concentration needs some work.”

Actually, there was nothing wrong with her concentration. She was concentrating just fine. She was concentrating on how she felt in his arms, with his hard body at her back.

She liked it. Far too much. “Maybe I don’t care about being able to shoot a duck.”

“No problem.” He tossed down another few bucks and obliterated another row of ducks himself.

“Dude,” the guy behind the counter said, sounding impressed as he presented Ty with a huge teddy bear as a prize.

Ty handed it to Mallory. “My hero,” she murmured with a laugh, and he grimaced, making her laugh again as she hugged the bear close, the silly gesture giving her a warm fuzzy. Which was ironic because nothing about the big, tough Ty Garrison should have given her a warm fuzzy.

She knew he didn’t want to be her hero.

He dragged her to the squirt gun booth next, where he proceeded to soundly beat her three times in a row. Apparently he wasn’t worried about her ego. He won a stuffed dog at that booth, and then laughed out loud at her as she attempted to carry both huge stuffed animals and navigate the aisles without bumping into anyone.

Ridiculously, the whole thing gave her another warm fuzzy, immediately followed by an inner head smack. Because no way was she going to be the woman who fell for a guy just because he gave her a silly stuffed animal that she didn’t need. You’re not supposed to fall for him at all, she reminded herself. “This is very teenager-y of us,” she said.

“If we were teenagers,” he said, “we’d be behind the arcade, and you’d be showing me your gratitude for the stuffed animals by letting me cop a feel.”

“In your dreams,” she quipped, but her nipples went hard.

They competed in a driving game next, the two of them side by side in the booth, fighting for first place. Ty was handling his steering wheel with easy concentration, paying her no mind whatsoever. Mallory couldn’t find her easy concentration, she was too busy watching him out of the corner of her eye. When she fell back a few cars as a result, Ty grinned.

Ah, so he was paying attention to her. Just to make sure, she nudged up against him.

His grin widened, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “That’s not going to work, Mallory. You’re going down.”

Not going to work, her ass. She nudged his body with hers again, lingering this time, letting her breast brush his arm.

“Playing dirty,” he warned, voice low, both husky and amused.

But she absolutely had his attention. She did the breast-against-his-arm thing again, her eyes on the screen, so she missed when he turned his head. But she didn’t miss when he sank his teeth lightly into her earlobe and tugged. When she hissed in a breath, he soothed the ache with his tongue, and her knees wobbled. Her foot slipped off the gas.

And her car crashed into the wall.

Ty’s car sped across the finish line.

“That’s cheating!” she complained. “You can’t—”

He grabbed her, lifting her up so that her feet dangled, and then kissed her until she couldn’t remember what she’d meant to say. When he set her back down, she would have fallen over if he hadn’t kept his hands on her. “You started it,” he said. He gave her one more smacking kiss and then bought them both hot dogs for dinner. They sat on the pier, she and Ty and the two huge stuffed animals, and ate.

“So what are you doing to recover from the crash?” she asked.

“Swimming. Beating the shit out of Matt.” He took the last bite of his hot dog. “Who’s Karen?”

If her life had been a DVD, in that moment it would have skipped and come to a sudden halt, complete with the sound effect.

“I heard your mother say her name,” he said, watching her face carefully. “And you got an odd expression, just like now.”

“Karen’s my sister.” She paused, because it never got easier to say. “She died when I was younger.”

Concern flashed in his eyes, stirring feelings she didn’t want to revisit. Thankfully he didn’t offer empty platitudes, for which she was grateful. But he did take her hand in his. “How?”

“Overdose.”

His hand was big and warm and callused. He had several healing cuts over his knuckles, like he’d had a fight with a car part or tool. “How old were you?” he asked.

“Sixteen.”

He squeezed her hand, and she blew out a breath. “You ever lose anyone?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. She turned her head and looked at him, and found him studying the little flickers of reflection on the water as the sun lowered in the sky. “I lost my four closest friends all at the same time,” he finally said and met her gaze. “Four years now, and it still sucks.”

Throat tight, she nodded. “In the Army?”

“Navy. We were a crazy bunch, but it shouldn’t have happened.”

“All three of my siblings are a crazy bunch,” she said. “Not military, of course, just…crazy.”

He smiled. “Not you though.”

“I have my moments.” She blew out a breath. “Well, moment.”

“Us.”

She nodded.

“So I really am your walk on the wild side.” He paused, then shook his head. “I’m still not clear on why you chose me.”

“I’m not clear on a lot of things about myself.” She met his gaze. “But in hindsight, I think it’s because you’re safe.”

He stared at her, then laughed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Mallory, I’m about as unsafe as you can possibly get.”

Yeah. But for some reason, she’d somehow trusted him that night. She still did. “If you’re swimming,” she said, “you must be healing up pretty good. When do you get cleared to go back to work?”

He looked into her eyes, his own unapologetic. “Soon.”

“And it won’t be in Lucky Harbor,” she said quietly. She knew it wouldn’t, but she needed to hear it, to remind herself that this wasn’t anything but an…interlude.

“No,” he agreed. “It won’t be in Lucky Harbor.”

The disappointment was undeniable, and shockingly painful. She’d really thought she could do this with him, have it be just about the sex, but it was turning out not to be the case at all. With a sigh, she stood. He did as well, gathering their garbage and taking it to a trash bin before coming back to stand next to where she was looking out at the water.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

“I want to but I—”

“It’s okay.” He brushed a kiss over her jaw and then was gone, proving for the second time now that he was, after all, her perfect Mr. All Wrong.