River had never considered a career in acting, but realized now she might have been shortsighted. Even after months of preparation for Vaughn’s return—yes, she’d gone back to blonde and refused to apologize—she hadn’t really expected to pull off a warm greeting. After all, this was the man who’d left her broken, bleeding, and sobbing on her knees while he sped off into the night. A woman could take a lifetime to recover from something like that, but in River’s case, she thought it might take three. Because while she stood there, smiling up at the son of a bitch, a metal crowbar was doing its damnedest to pry her ribs apart.
Why did he have to be so ruggedly gorgeous? His dark blond hair was finger combed, longer than the last time she’d seen it, when he’d rocked an army crew cut. Scruff darkened his cheeks, only adding gravity to his soulful, deep brown eyes. Vaughn had always been in good shape. She remembered watching him do pull-ups on the doorframe of her bedroom, pushups on the floor beside the bed, on nights when he snuck in through the window, or afternoons her parents weren’t home. Burning energy, he’d called it. Later, she would realize he was working through a reservoir of sexual frustration, but he’d never once pressured her, never made her feel guilty for his painful condition.
River shook the bittersweet memory loose. Yes, Vaughn’s arms had always been carved in marble, but they’d expanded beneath the woven together tattoos, barely fitting into the sleeves of his gray T-shirt. His body had settled into manhood with a vengeance, maturing in ways that were not convenient when River needed to remain focused on the plan.
Right, the plan. Get Vaughn to turn around and leave Hook, secure in the knowledge that his presence wasn’t needed. Free to go about his business, whatever it was.
He’d fallen off the face of the Earth forty-nine months and three days prior. Unreachable. A lot like he’d been, even when standing right in front of her, all those years ago.
When they’d met in high school, Vaughn’s closed off nature had been mysterious. Then she’d graduated Hook High and spent two years taking night classes at the local community college while Vaughn fixed cars to make money—before he’d surprised her by enlisting in the army, staying away for two more years, before returning to Hook and leaving her for good, on the very night of his homecoming. That air of mystery had grown stale by then, but she’d been too stubborn to quit attempting to reach him. To beat those walls down with love.
Vaughn rolled his neck, a lot like a boxer entering the ring. If River didn’t move soon, one of two things would happen. The crowbar would finish the job it was doing on her ribs, and she’d collapse like a corpse on the floor. Or Vaughn would take on the entire lounge in the most unbalanced fight of the century.
“I know it goes against the De Matteo code,” River started, “but I’d appreciate you living to fight another day.”
He rolled his big shoulders, appearing to evaluate the approaching men in order to decide on his first victim. “Why is that?”
“I’m the one who cleans up the blood here.” She swallowed hard, feeling her mask slip a little. “And I need this job, Vaughn.”
“You clean up…” He trailed off, taking a long, shuddering breath. “Riv, I can’t let you stay here. You know that, right? You know two decades from now, I still won’t be over seeing you in this disgusting place.”
“Vaughn—”
His gaze was half apologetic, half uncompromising. “Either you quit or I take on all comers. Either way, the mother of my kid isn’t working in this place.”
Thank God her boss chose that moment to interrupt, because River could hardly breathe under the first acknowledgment of them having a child together. Two invisible pillows pressed against her ears, muffling the bar sounds. Vaughn must have experienced the same shift of gravity, because the intensity radiating from him was palpable.
Destructive.
But it had nothing on the low, brutal hum of guilt that had existed in River’s breast since the night Vaughn left.
Focus. She could make up for her impulsiveness if she just stuck to the course of action she’d laid out.
“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend, River,” her boss said, in an unfortunate choice of words. At least the man staved off the encroaching wave of customers by holding up a staying hand.
“River having a boyfriend is none of your concern, now is it?” Vaughn massaged one his wrists, the tension packed around him like an aura, growing stronger by the millisecond. “Not that I wouldn’t mind hearing an answer myself.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she sputtered.
Her boss huffed, pacing back and forth behind River. “It is my concern when that boyfriend comes in and assaults me.”