There was a lot bothering him. He was a first-class asshole, as Jack had made clear. Jack was a lot of things, but as much as Ben hated to admit it, one of the things Jack almost always was was right.

Yes, Aubrey had taken away two years of time that Ben might have had with Hannah. Might. Because the truth was, he’d made the most of those two years. He’d enjoyed the hell out of himself, and an even bigger truth was that he wouldn’t want to take that time back. He’d been too young for a serious relationship with Hannah back then, and only in hindsight could he see that. If they’d stayed together, he’d have blown it anyway.

All on his own.

And then there was Hannah herself. Ben had loved her—he’d loved her with everything he had, and she’d loved him. But she’d never have come to his house in the middle of the night and thrown rocks at his window to demand his attention. She’d never have yelled at him or made a scene. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have fought for him. She hadn’t fought for him, when it had come right down to it.

Instead she’d let him go without so much as the truth. Or any words at all. She’d tossed him away.

As he’d done to Aubrey.

He dropped his head and thunked it on his desk a few times.

“Careful, you’ll shake something loose.”

Ben lifted his head and found Lucille standing there watching him. “What are you doing here?”

She showed him a flyer for Aubrey’s grand opening, and he had to smile at the image of Aubrey as Wonder Woman.

It fit.

“I’m making sure people remember to go to her grand-opening party,” Lucille said.

Ben nodded. “You’re a good person, Lucille.”

“I am,” she said. “And I thought you were.”

“What does that mean?”

She just looked at him with her rheumy, knowing eyes.

“You’re going to have to give me a hint,” he said.

“How about a couple of hints?” Lucille said. “Such as since when do you judge someone for making a mistake? You’ve made plenty yourself, Benjamin McDaniel. Remember when you and Jack and Luke broke into the Ferris wheel’s machine room and set it running in the middle of the night? Or how about when your aunt had the entire search and rescue team looking for you when you’d gone night surfing? Everyone thought you’d drowned, but there you were on the harbor, right on the beach, sleeping through your own rescue.”

He winced. “I was young and stupid.”

She gave him a baleful stare.

“I’m not going to discuss Aubrey with you,” he said flatly.

“No, of course not. We’re discussing your stupidity. Your assness. Your—”

“I got it,” Ben said tightly.

“Yeah? Then do something about it, big guy.”

“For the record,” he said, “I was just getting ready to handle this situation.”

“Well, could you speed things up a little bit?” she asked. “Our girl doesn’t have all damn day. Right now she’s all alone in her shop surrounded by nothing but books and cupcakes that no one’s eating.”

He didn’t like that image. “No one came?”

“Her friends Ali and Leah came,” she said, with an emphasis on friends, as though he should be ashamed of himself for not being one of them. “Her sister showed up, too,” Lucille added. “But no one else. Lucky Harbor thinks it needs to be mad on your behalf.”

Hell. That was not what he wanted. “It’s none of anyone’s business. What happened is between me and her.”

Lucille crossed her arms. “Are you referring to way back, when she got mad at Hannah and told her a lie about the two of you? Are you seriously going to tell me that when you heard why Aubrey did it that it didn’t make a difference to you?”

Ben went still, thoughts spinning in his head so fast he felt whiplashed.

Lucille was staring at him. “You didn’t even ask Aubrey why she told Hannah that lie, did you?”

“I asked,” he said. But she hadn’t answered.

And he hadn’t pushed.

“Oh, for Peter, Joseph, and Mary’s sake!” Lucille said, exasperated. “I need to be paid for this job.”

“What job?”

“Matchmaking. You young people don’t even know how to communicate. Listen to me very carefully. Aubrey caught Hannah in a lie—a big one—that caused someone else a lot of problems. It pissed Aubrey off, because at that time she wasn’t getting away with diddly-squat.”

Ben shook his head. “What lie could Hannah have possibly told that would have upset Aubrey? They weren’t even friends.”

Lucille was clearly over this. “Remember that car accident she was in?”

Ben did remember. Hannah had been in the passenger seat when her best friend had gotten in an accident. Later that friend had been sued by someone in one of the other two cars involved. Thankfully, Hannah had been unhurt, but she was devastated over her friend’s troubles from the fallout. “Yes. I remember.”

Lucille’s expression softened. “Honey, this isn’t easy to say. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. Hannah was driving that night. The two girls switched places before the police came because Hannah had been drinking. She’d had a scholarship to lose and a father she was terrified of. A DUI couldn’t happen for her.”

Ben stared at her. “That’s crazy. Hannah would never have let someone else take the blame.”

“But that’s exactly what she did,” Lucille said quietly. “And Aubrey saw it.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because that someone else is my granddaughter.” Lucille patted him on the arm. “She said that Aubrey confronted Hannah about the accident, and Hannah denied it.” She gave Ben a long look. “Hannah used Aubrey’s bad reputation against her, to discount anything Aubrey might say. And then Aubrey let her mouth run off with her good sense when her temper got the best of her.”

Ben didn’t know what to make of any of this, and he wasn’t at all sure that the details mattered at this point. It was in the past, and it would stay there. It didn’t matter—none of it mattered; he knew that now. Standing, he headed to the door, but then he stopped to go back for the flyers. Lucille plowed into the back of him. Her hands came up, and because she was scarcely five feet tall they ended up on his ass. He craned his neck and looked down at her.

“Sorry,” she said, but didn’t remove her hands. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she gave him a little squeeze.

“Lucille,” he said ominously.

“I know.” She pulled her hands away—rather reluctantly, he thought—and sighed. “It’s just been a long time since I had my hands on buns that firm.”

Shaking his head, he grabbed the flyers and strode out of his office. He stopped at every person he saw, thrust out a flyer, and demanded that person’s presence at the bookstore. “There’s going to be stuff to eat,” he said, and glanced at Lucille for confirmation.

She nodded. “Goodies from the bakery. And also hotties with buns of steel.”

After Ben got everybody to leave their desks and head down the street, he took a picture of the flyer with his phone and attached it to a text message, which he sent to everyone in his contacts list who lived in Lucky Harbor—and to a few who were close enough to get their asses in a car and drive here. Then he hit up the fire station, not surprised to find that Jack had already sent everyone down to the bookstore.

Then Ben headed that way as well, stopping at every place in between. He even hit up Sam, who was working alone in his harbor warehouse, sanding away on a gorgeous boat.

“You want me to go to a party?” Sam asked in disbelief, straightening. He was covered from head to toe in sawdust.

“Yeah,” Ben said.

Sam stared at him, and then let out a slow smile. “So the rumors are true. You’ve fallen for the bookstore chick.”

“Shut up and get your ass to the party.”

By the time Ben walked into the Book & Bean, it was filled, the crowd noisy and happy. The best sound of all was the sound of the register steadily ringing.

He was stopped by Mr. Wilford, who was shocked to report that he actually had pumpkin plants growing—in late winter.

Dee was there, too, and gave him a big hug. Just about everyone he knew was there, except the one person he wanted to see. He strode quickly through the store, completely ignoring anyone else who tried to talk to him.

He finally found Aubrey behind the coffee and tea station, serving a line of customers. She was flushed, looking relieved to be serving at all. She wore a pretty dress, her hair was up, and she was smiling.

She hadn’t fallen apart. She’d picked herself up and carried on. He loved that about her.

He loved her.

Chapter 29

At the hush in the crowd around her, Aubrey looked up, her smile slipped, and all the air vacated her lungs.

“Hey,” Ben said, eyes calm and on hers, his voice quiet. “I’m looking for a book recommendation.”

“A book recommendation,” she repeated, heart pounding so loudly she couldn’t hear herself think. Their rapt audience didn’t help much. “You want a book recommendation.”

“Yes. I need one on male groveling. I thought maybe there might be a Relationships for Dummies or something.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of this, so she lowered her voice. “Listen, about the other night. I wanted to apologize—”

He shook his head. “You already apologized. Several times, in fact.”

“But—”

“It’s enough,” he said, and lithely vaulted over the counter. “And now it’s my turn.” He stepped closer and put his hands on her hips. I’m sorry, Aubrey.” His fingers tightened on her. “I’m sorry I was such an ass that I couldn’t see past my own insecurities and fears.”

Around them, their audience gave a collective “Aww,” but Aubrey ignored them, not taking her eyes off Ben. “Go on,” she said cautiously.

“You said you fell for me.”

She flushed, thinking about everything she’d flung at him that night, including rocks. “Ben—”

“You also said I fell for you. I blew that off, but you were right, Aubrey. I did fall, hard and fast, and”—his mouth twisted wryly—“a little bit against my will.”

She tried to pull free, but he held tight. “I liked it,” he said. “Too much, to be honest. So when you told me about your list, I used it to back away from you. You were right about that, too. Probably we should start a new list now, of all your rights.”

Thoughts rolling in her head like tumbleweeds, heart aching, she shook her head, afraid to hope. “Where are you going with this, Ben?”

“I want you,” he said. “I’ve wanted you every single minute of this entire winter. I also need you. From the bottom of my flawed heart.”

Their audience “aw’d” again, but Ben paid them no more mind than Aubrey did, his gaze still on her. “I can remember every single smile you’ve given me,” he said, “every word you’ve ever said to me.”

She melted a little at the sweetness of his words, but shook her head, unable to give up the doubt, the fear that this wasn’t going where she so desperately hoped it would.

Unperturbed, he smiled. “I also remember every eye roll. And every single time you went toe-to-toe with me and drove me crazy.”

A few people tittered and giggled.

Aubrey tried to free herself again, but he held on to her with shocking ease, even laughing softly, the bastard. He gestured to the store around them. “Hell, Aubrey, I dragged this job out to twice as long as it should have taken,” he said, “just so I could keep seeing you.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Lucille whispered to someone. “I was beginning to think the boy didn’t know what he was doing.”

Ben slid Lucille a look before turning back to Aubrey. “I loved watching you work. It might’ve been the pretty dresses that promised a softer side to you, a side only I got to see, but I loved watching you run this world—your world. I loved watching you find your place. I loved watching you take me on and calling me on all my shit.” He ran a finger along her temple and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I love your spirit, your passion. I love everything about you. I love you, Aubrey.”

The crowd sighed in unison, and as if they were watching a tennis match, their heads all turned toward Aubrey for her reaction.

She had plenty of reactions, the biggest being the fact that her heart suddenly didn’t fit inside her rib cage. But she wasn’t one hundred percent ready to believe. “You said you liked quiet,” she said. “I’m not quiet.”

“I said I was used to quiet. But I’ve learned something about myself. I also like not quiet.” He smiled. “A lot.”

And just like that, the little kernel of hope she’d so ruthlessly tamped down finally found room to breathe and grow. “Yeah?”

There was a smile in his eyes now. And relief. “Yeah.”

Lucille leaned over the counter toward Ben and stage-whispered, “I don’t think you need a book recommendation at all. You’re doing pretty darn good.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“But the two years I stole,” Aubrey said. It hurt her to even say it, but she had to get it out, all of it. There could be no more secrets. “What about them?”