He looked up with surprise. “Aubrey. I’ve been thinking about you since you missed the meeting.”

Because she’d been in bed with Ben.

And in the shower.

And against the wall…“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Something came up. But I have”—she looked at her watch—“seventeen minutes, and I’ve got a problem that’s really much bigger than seventeen minutes, but I thought out of everyone I know, you’re probably the only one who could help me. I don’t know.” She blew out a breath. She was rambling. “Can I come in?”

“You already are,” he said with a smile. He rose and gestured to a chair. “Tell me the problem.”

“It’s actually more of a question. About making amends.” She hesitated, because now that she was here, she was nervous. Very nervous. What if she’d already screwed up too badly? What if there were no amends that could fix this one last thing on her list, the most important thing on her list?

THE HARD ONE.

“Sixteen minutes,” Mike reminded her gently.

“Right.” She drew a deep breath. “Okay, so say you have a secret, something you want to apologize for, but by coming out with it, you might hurt the very person you want to make amends to?” She stopped. “You know what? Never mind; I’m not making sense.”

“Yes, you are,” Pastor Mike said. “It’s just a hard thing to say. You’ve wronged someone. You want to apologize, but in bringing it out into the open, you might hurt the very person you wanted to apologize to. Do I have that right?”

“Yes.” She sagged back in her chair. “You’re very good at this.”

“Don’t say that yet.” He leaned in and met her gaze. “Aubrey, sometimes you have to go with your heart. The very soul of your heart, where all the goodness is.”

“You make it sound easy.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. That part of your heart is usually protected by pride and stubbornness.”

Aubrey let out a half laugh, half groan, and covered her face.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “you have to do the hard thing, not the easy thing.”

She dropped her hands. “But either way feels like the hard thing—on the one hand, telling him, and on the other hand, keeping the knowledge to myself.”

“Okay, so what’s the right thing?”

Aubrey drew in a deep breath and leaned back. The truth was, she’d known deep in her gut for a long time that not telling Ben what she’d done all those years ago was not the right thing.

Which meant she really did have to tell him.

She had to hurt him.

And then, once she came clean with him, when she freed herself of the burden of the truth, she’d lose him. He wouldn’t smile at her anymore. He wouldn’t make her day by just being in her day.

He wouldn’t be in her day at all.

To do the right thing, she had to destroy the best thing that had ever happened to her. “Sometimes,” she said miserably, “I wish there was a DELETE button in life.”

Pastor Mike smiled sympathetically. “Do you want to tell me what you did?” he asked.

No. No, she wanted to never ever tell anyone what she’d done. How she’d broken Ben and Hannah up all those years ago, for a stupid, selfish reason that didn’t even matter anymore. Thank God they’d managed to get back together two years later—that they’d had a few years before Hannah had died. But Aubrey knew it wouldn’t matter to Ben. All that would matter is that she’d screwed things up for him.

And there was nothing she could do or say to make that up to him.

Nothing.

Aubrey drove back to the bookstore. As she walked through, opening the place for the day, she came to a sudden halt at the sight of the dollhouse set up in the children’s section. Weak-kneed, she sat in front of it. Ben, of course. He’d done this—for her.

She spent a few long moments staring at it and then had to reapply her mascara before she greeted any customers.

That night Ben heard a persistent honking from out front of his duplex. When he opened the door to investigate, he found the local senior center dial-a-ride van out front. The door slid open, and a bunch of blue-haired ladies peeked out and waved at him.

The driver was his aunt Dee, though her hair wasn’t blue but a bright, shiny platinum blond. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her colorful wigs. He was just happy she was past the worst of the chemo and clearly no longer depressed.

“Get in,” Dee said, waving him over. “Tonight’s the Winter Festival, remember?”

He remembered, but he shook his head in the negative. Lucky Harbor reveled in its traditions, and Winter Festival was one of them. It involved a lot of beer and wine and dancing on the pier, made possible by stands of portable heaters that kept everyone warm—as though the festivities and alcohol wouldn’t do that on their own.

But Ben didn’t feel the need to go. Luke and Jack were both working the event, so he figured he’d stay home with Kevin and a movie.

“Ah, come on,” Dee coaxed. “We need a designated driver.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. “Why can’t he be the DD?”

At that, several male heads popped out, one of them being Ronald, Dee’s boyfriend. Another was Edward, Luke’s grandfather.

Shit. Everyone was looking at Ben hopefully. He didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t in a festival kind of mood. He’d worked hard this week, and he was physically exhausted. Mentally, too.

And Aubrey was avoiding him.

And maybe he’d been avoiding her, too, after she’d revealed her feelings. He had feelings, too, and not only wasn’t he ready for them, he didn’t want them. Fat lot of good that was doing him…

Relenting, he drove them to the festival. “Hey,” he said, holding down the door locks before anyone could escape. “This party is over in two hours, you hear me? You must be back at the van in two hours, or you’re walking home.”

This was met by a chorus of moans and groans. Dee released her seat belt and hugged Ben from behind. “That’s only ten o’clock, sweetheart. We aren’t pumpkins, you know.”

“Don’t you all need to get home to take your Metamucil?” he asked desperately, as Dee continued to hug him. There was no rushing a hug from Dee. He’d learned that years ago, when he’d first been dumped on her doorstep. She’d hugged him hello, she’d hugged him good-bye, she’d hugged him whenever she’d passed him in the hallway, and he’d squirmed over every single one. He knew she loved him. Just as he knew that sometimes she hugged him just to torture him and to amuse herself. That’s what family did—fuck with each other. And sweet as she was, she could give as good as she got.

“Midnight,” she said now, in her soft but steely voice. “Okay, baby? We’ll owe you.”

Since he couldn’t imagine needing a favor from the seniors of Lucky Harbor, he just disentangled himself and unlocked the doors. “Midnight,” he agreed reluctantly. “Be here. I mean it.”

As Lucille padded by, she patted his shoulder. “Saw your girl yesterday at the rec center. She was volunteering at Reading Corner.”

“Reading Corner?”

“Sure. Craft Corner is Tuesdays and Fridays; Reading Corner is Wednesday. Volunteers come in and read to the kids. She was good, too—did all the voices just right. The kids ate her up.”

Ben looked into Lucille’s eyes and saw something sly. “What are you up to?” he asked warily.

“Who, me?” she asked innocently.

When the van was empty, Ben stared out at the pier, which was lit up like the Fourth of July. Yeah, the people of Lucky Harbor took their Winter Festival very seriously. The last time he’d been here for the festival, he’d had Hannah with him, and at that thought he braced for the usual stab of agony through his heart. But there was no sharp pain at all, just a sweet ache and the memory of Hannah dragging him out onto the dance floor, which made him smile.

But he still didn’t want to go. So he put the van in gear and hit the gas. There was really only one place he wanted to be tonight, and only one person he wanted to be with.

Alone, Aubrey sat on her bed in a big T-shirt she’d stolen from Ben. Every other item of clothing she owned was either at the dry cleaner or in her laundry basket, waiting for a trip to the Laundromat. Her grand-opening party was only a few days from now, and she was working on the plans. The store calendar had filled up so nicely, with something happening just about every day of the week, that she actually had a shot at making this work.

Too bad she didn’t have a shot in hell of making her private life work nearly so neatly. She’d promised herself that the very next time she saw Ben she’d tell him the truth. That he was on her list. She was pretty sure how things would go from there.

South. Fast.

Restless, she rose and started a game of darts. If she got a bull’s-eye, she told herself, she’d tell Ben now. She’d get into her car, drive straight to his place, and just spit it out.

Which would effectively ruin the best thing that had ever happened to her…

She got a bull’s-eye on the second try. Damn it. “Two out of three,” she said out loud, and gathered the darts.

She startled when the single knock sounded at her door. She knew that knock, and even if she hadn’t, the way her ni**les hardened told her exactly who was on the other side of the door.

He didn’t knock again. This was because, as she’d learned, he had the patience of a saint.

Not that there was anything remotely saintly about him.

Still, she glanced through the peephole. Though she hadn’t made a noise, Ben looked right at her, brow cocked.

If you open the door, you have to tell him.

On the other side of the door, Ben lifted the bag he held. It was from the Love Shack.

Her head said, Danger, Will Robinson, danger! But her stomach growled, and apparently her stomach was the boss. She pulled open the door. “Ben. I—”

He pushed inside as though he owned the place. “Why aren’t you at the Winter Festival?”

“I’m…busy.”

He glanced at the darts in her hand. “Yes, I can see that.” The corners of his mouth quirked but his eyes remained serious. “You up for a game?”

“With me?”

“Three darts,” he said. “Highest points combined wins.”

“What does the winner get?” she asked.

His gaze ate her up. “Winner’s choice.”

Her heart took a treacherous leap. Her choice would be to never have to tell him what she’d done, but she knew that was no longer a choice at all. “Are you any good?” she asked.

He shrugged and made himself at home, setting down the bag he’d brought and turning to the dartboard. “Ladies first,” he said.

“I stole your T-shirt,” she said inanely.

“I can see that.” He eyed her from head to toe and back again, lingering, making her very aware of how thin and see-through the shirt was, a fact he was clearly enjoying. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me,” he said, voice low and sexy. “Play, Aubrey.”

She threw her darts. Two hit the twenty, the last hit the bull’s-eye. Trying to hold back her smug smile, she turned to him. “Sixty-five points.”

“You’re good.” He slid his hand around to the nape of her neck and tugged her in for a quick, hard kiss. “But I’m better,” he said silkily against her lips.

Every erogenous zone in her body stood up and danced. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

“Don’t tempt me.” He kissed her again, and then nipped at her lower lip. Then he pulled the darts from the board, stood at the line, and shot.

For a moment her eyes were on him, on the long, lean, hard lines of his body, and she didn’t see his first throw. But his second throw caught her attention.

Triple twenty, just like his first. Uh-oh.

Turning his head, he looked at her, and then threw the third dart. Another triple twenty. He hadn’t gone for the bull’s-eye. He’d gone for the maximum points on the board. One hundred and eighty, to be exact.

“Hmm,” she said. “You’re better than good.”

“Yeah.” He gave her another kiss, this one a little longer, a little deeper, and a whole lot hotter. She was completely melted into him when he pulled back and gave her a light swat on the ass. “Hungry?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the bag of food and sat on her bed. He pulled out a burrito and unwrapped the foil, making steam rise. He wafted it in her direction.

Her stomach growled again.

He smiled and patted the bed.

“What about your spoils?” she asked.

“Later.”

She crossed her arms. “Now. I want to know what devious angle you’re working.”

“Devious,” he repeated. “Wow. I’m wounded.”

“Is it going to be sexual?” she asked, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice. “Because I should have specified—if it’s something sexual, it can’t be from my taboo list.”

He laughed. “Sunshine, we obliterated your taboo list the other night.”

Oh, yeah. Damn.

“Come eat.”

She sat next to him, carefully tucking the shirt around her for modesty, which cracked him up again. “You’re full of laughs tonight,” she said.