The problem with a handful of stolen Sundays, Erik learned, was that they went way too quickly.

By August ninth, he had spent almost every summer night at the Pamlico House and every Sunday sweeping Laire away to another Outer Banks destination.

They managed to find places to park in the dark where they could reach for each other with ever-increasing hunger, and once or twice, when Utopia Manor was empty, she had joined him there for a few hours too. His fingers had touched every peak and valley of her gorgeous body at this point, and somewhere along the way, she’d mustered up the courage to touch him back—her fingers tentative as they brushed against the tip of his cock, the gesture all the more erotic because of her inexperience and his sharp desire.

They still hadn’t been completely naked together, and Erik had no hopes for sex, but he loved her desperately, and being with her was worth it, no matter how blue his balls were when they said good-bye at the end of the night.

But the unfortunate and unavoidable reality was that summer was winding down, which meant that his time with Laire was coming to a close. And no matter how often he asked her about joining his family for Thanksgiving, she demurred every time with a “maybe” or an “I’ll think about  it.”

He began to understand that having her visit him at Duke was never going to happen, and when he received his courses over e-mail, he realized that coming down to the Banks with any regularity was going to be almost impossible. Besides his aggressive senior-year course load, he had been given a starting position with the Devils, an honor that he couldn’t turn down but that would mean weekend practices and Saturday games up and down the East Coast.

If she wouldn’t commit to Thanksgiving, he didn’t know with any certainty when he would see her again. But if they could just get over that hurdle together and commit to sharing their relationship with their families, he hoped the Cornishes would accept him and that she’d be able to come and see him when she wanted to, e-mail without fear of getting caught. Hell, he’d buy her a cell phone and a set up a hot spot so they could call and text too. He’d do whatever he had to, to keep her in his life. Maybe their families wouldn’t be happy about the relationship initially, but at least it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. When he was feeling especially hopeful, Erik even imagined their parents being so understanding that maybe Laire could spend the entirety of Christmas break with him in Raleigh. He had several thousand dollars saved up in his bank account from birthday and Christmas gifts—he could even buy her a used car so she could come and go as she pleased.

They just had to choose to make their relationship a priority and agree on the way to share it with their friends and families. And as far as Erik was concerned, Thanksgiving was not only ideal, but the first possible opportunity once their time this summer was over.

He refused to think in terms of saying good-bye to her or ending their relationship in any way. For starters, he couldn’t bear it—the thought of her with someone else made him physically ill—but also, Erik Rexford wasn’t a quitter. He believed in the strength of the feelings they shared. He believed they could go the distance—marriage, children, forever—if they could just hold on to one another. And he couldn’t imagine ever loving or trusting another woman the way he did Laire. Everything about her was genuine, and he wanted—no, he needed—her in his life to give it perspective and meaning and foundation.

So when his parents decided to drive Hillary back to the Asheville Christian School together on August tenth, tomorrow, leaving Utopia Manor empty for two whole days, he also knew it was his last major chance to convince her of his plans for them before he returned to school the following weekend. He had to get her to agree to spend some real time with him so he could sell her on Thanksgiving once and for all.

“’Evenin’, Erik,” said Ms. Sebastian, who’d finally stopped giving him the stink eye about three weeks ago.

“Hey, Ms. Sebastian,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

He knew that Laire not only looked up to Ms. Sebastian as a boss, but he sensed that she felt the sort of affection for the older woman that she had on reserve for the mother she’d lost. And although it had taken him most of the summer to win her over, he respected Ms. Sebastian. He appreciated the way she looked after Laire. In fact, part of him was counting on her to keep looking after Laire even after he’d returned to Duke.

“Headed back to school soon?”

He nodded grimly. “Next weekend.”

The older woman’s eyes flicked over to Laire, who was taking an order in the dining room. “She’s done well here this summer.”

She had done well. She’d stayed a busser for only a couple of weeks before her promotion to waitress, and he had it on good authority that she was Ms. Sebastian’s star employee.

“You’ve been good to her, ma’am.”

Her eyes nailed his. “She’ll miss you awful.”

“I’ll miss her too,” he said, a lump making his throat tight. “Any chance you could let her off early tomorrow?”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“My folks are leavin’ to take my sister back to school in Asheville. I’ll have the house to myself.”

“And you want her to . . .?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I just want time with her, ma’am. Nothin’ else.”

Ms. Sebastian searched his face, then nodded once. “If she wants to leave early, I won’t stand in her way.”

“Thank you,” said Erik.

She turned to leave, then pivoted back around. “Good luck at school, Erik.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

“You’ll come back?” she asked quickly. “To the Banks?”

He nodded. “At Thanksgivin’. I’m hopin’ Laire will . . .”

“Will . . .?” She raised her eyebrows in question.

“I hope she’ll be ready to tell her father about us by then so we can . . . spend the holiday together. Move forward.”

“Ah,” said Ms. Sebastian, grimacing. She took a deep breath and sighed, her eyes heavy with concern. “Well, good luck,” she said again softly before heading back to the kitchen.

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, he thought.

Laire approached the bar with a tray and set it on the busing counter at the corner. “I’m almost done.”

He took a twenty out of his wallet and slipped it under his glass. “Meet me at the chairs?”

She grinned at him and nodded. “See you there!”

***

Usually, after making out with Erik for an hour after work, the wind on her face felt like a blessing, cooling the heat of her body and bringing her back down to earth before she arrived home.

But not tonight.

Tonight her cheeks burned with longing and guilt, want and shame—and more than anything else, the sharpest frustration she’d ever felt.

Erik’s house would be empty tomorrow night.

And he’d invited her to stay the night.

After her initial wave of sharp desire to spend a whole night in his arms, she’d gotten angry—at him and at herself.

Why would he invite her to do something she wasn’t able to do? The only reason her double life had lasted this long was because they’d followed a strict set of rules. On weekdays and Saturdays, she left her father’s dock at three o’clock in the afternoon and returned by eleven o’clock at night. On Sundays she left at nine in the morning and returned by eleven in the evening. As long as she didn’t deviate from that plan, he didn’t ask questions, aside from an occasional “How’s work, li’l Laire?” which she always answered with a chipper “Just fine, Daddy.” And somehow—she chose to believe it was grace—she hadn’t been given away by either Mr. Mathers over on Ocracoke or Kyrstin, who covered for her regularly with little comments about how well she was doing at work.

But with such a carefully constructed web of deception, how in the world was she supposed to leave at three in the afternoon per usual and not return until the next day? It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible. Her father would notice if she wasn’t at home the next morning, and her sisters, who knew nothing about Erik, wouldn’t cover that big a lie for her. No. She couldn’t do it.

But it wasn’t fair how desperately she wanted to.

She wanted a night in Erik’s arms.

She wanted the memory of falling asleep beside him.

She wanted to know what it felt like to see him when her eyes opened first thing in the morning.

As their time wound down, he talked constantly about seeing her over Thanksgiving break, but he didn’t seem to understand that she still couldn’t conceive of telling her father about their relationship. With Buxton and the Pamlico House, Sundays with Erik, and being intimate with a dingbatter, there were too many lies.

For her to ever introduce Erik to her father, she’d need about a year to lay the groundwork.

First of all, after Erik went back to school, she would tell her father she’d found a year-round job on Buxton. He’d hem and haw, but she thought he might be okay with it after letting her work all summer, and plus, he’d regard it differently since it was off-season work. Jobs off-season were hard to come by—she didn’t think he’d stand in the way of her making money over the long, hard, cold months of fall and winter.

She could, perhaps, meet Erik for the first time over Thanksgiving break, and again over Christmas break, casually mentioning in front of her uncle that the governor’s son had recognized her waitressing at the Pamlico House and asked her out on a date.

Once or twice over the spring, she could mention Erik’s name again, and maybe, maybe by next summer, she could tell her father that she’d gone out with him a couple of times. By then, he’d be accustomed to her working away from Corey, and he’d have had time to let Erik’s name, however unwanted, become a part of her life. He still wouldn’t like it. He’d still raise the roof, but it would be better—so much better—than telling him at Thanksgiving, when he’d know she got involved with Erik while lying all summer.

She wanted Erik to understand, but every time she tried to tell him her plan, he circled back around to Thanksgiving again, insisting it was the best way. But she didn’t agree. Erik didn’t seem to understand that “pulling off the Band-Aid” wasn’t the way to communicate with Hook Cornish. And if she did, her father would stonewall her for sure.

With a heavy heart, she cut the engine close to home, floating softly up to the dock by her house and jumping soundlessly onto the dock. She tied up the boat, surprised to see the orange glow of her father’s pipe in the screened porch. Hmm. He was rarely up at this hour.

“Daddy?” she called through the screen as she walked up the flagstones.

“’Evenin’, Laire,” he said, his words garbled from the pipe he held between his teeth. “Waited up for you.”

“Everything okay?” she asked, trying to control the sudden bolt of panic that made her heart race and her hands go clammy.

“Aye-up. Issy came by with the baby for a spell. He’s a nice little thing, but he’s got his days and nights reversed.” He grinned at her. “Like you.”

“Me?” she asked, breathing easy as she sat down in her mother’s rocker.

He looked out at the water, nodding. “You. Up all night screamin’ like a banshee. Sleepin’ like a lamb all day. Put yore mama through the ringer. Fair mommucked every mornin’, she was.”

Laire chuckled softly. Her father didn’t speak of their mother much, so it was music to her ears to hear this little piece of information.

“I miss her,” she said.

He nodded. “Aye-up. She was a good’un.”

For several moments they sat in silence before her father spoke again. “Brodie Walsh come into Triton today. Had some early yellowfin. Nice.” Laire clenched her jaw hard, staring down at her knees. Her father cleared his throat. “You ever think you might like a li’l’un like Issy’s got?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Not with Brodie Walsh.”

Her father looked at her askance. “Been some talk about you and him this summer.”

“Lies,” she said firmly.

“Maybe,” said her father, sighing. “Heard you told him off at Kyrstin’s weddin’.”

“I did. And he admitted he lied about me.”

Her father puffed on his pipe. “Still and all, talk is talk. Yore name be wrapped up w’ his now, Laire.”

“I don’t want Brodie Walsh. He’s full of himself. He lies. He’s immature. He drinks. He’s not . . .” Erik.

“Just wants a nice gal like you to make his life sweet.”

He wasn’t hearing her at all.

Staring straight ahead, at the Sound, her eyes burned with frustration and injustice, with longing for Erik, hatred for Brodie, and a sharp desperation for the mother who might have understood her better.

“You got yore nice fashions. Done a little waitressin’. Time to think about settlin’ in, li’l Laire. Find a nice boy. Let him court you for a spell.”

She felt bile rising in her throat.

“I’m mommucked, Daddy,” she said, standing up. “Think I’ll go to bed.”

She reached for the door when his voice stopped her.

“Oh, Laire! One other thing. Me and yore uncle’s headed out tomorrow afternoon to Harkers Island. Crabbin’s strong down there this year. We’ll stay the night on the boat and be back Friday afternoon.”

Wait! “W-what?”

“No need to make my dinner for tomorrow. Nor breakfast for Friday.”

“You’ll be . . .” She cleared her throat and tried desperately to remove any blatant enthusiasm from her voice. “You’ll be gone until Friday afternoon?”

He shrugged. “Might be back afore you head out to work Friday, might not. Hopin’ for a decent haul.”

Standing behind him, Laire clenched her fists by her sides as a wave of pure, unbridled, unadulterated joy swept through her. She was free. For a whole night. She could have a whole night with Erik.

“Yes, sir,” she said softly as tears of happiness pricked her eyes. “Take care now.”

“Aye-up,” he said. “Night, Laire. Consider what I said. ’Bout Brodie Walsh and you.”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured, letting the door shut behind her as she raced into her room, her cheeks wet from tears of silent celebration.

***

Laire was as mad as Erik had ever seen her when they parted ways yesterday.

They’d been cuddling on the Adirondack chairs—she was sitting cradled in his lap—when he asked her if there was any way she could spend the night with him tonight. He knew it was a bold request, but damn, he just wanted the time with her, and he’d been quick to add that sex was definitely off the table. He wasn’t looking for that. He just wanted hours and hours with her.

Suffice it to say, it hadn’t gone well at all. With a mix of anger and frustration, she’d leaped off his lap and stared down at him, hands on her hips, lecturing him about how staying overnight wasn’t an option and how could he—knowing her precarious situation—ask it of her? He’d tried to calm her down before she left, and they’d kissed and hugged good night, but he could tell she was still upset.

And now? As he zoomed over to the Pamlico House at six o’clock, he wondered if he’d pushed her too hard last night, and his heart clutched with misgivings. He felt like he’d fucking die if she was still mad and wouldn’t come over at all tonight, when it was their last, best chance to be alone before he had to go back to school.

Everything was winding down around him—Hillary had already gone back to school in Asheville. Pete, who was expected for three weeks of football camp before classes, had left for Chapel Hill this morning, giving Vanessa a ride back to Raleigh. She was chairing her sorority rush and would meet some of her sisters for preplanning at Wake Forest next week.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks dodging Van after the party at his parents’ house in July. He’d been beyond grateful when she left for a four-week tour of England and Scotland with her aunt and uncle. When he’d seen her last Saturday afternoon for an end-of-season BBQ at Utopia Manor, she didn’t seem nearly as pushy as she’d been before leaving, and even mentioned some guy in England whom she was “seeing.” Whether or not this was true, Erik breathed a sigh of relief. His mother still had some vague idea that he and Van were together, but if Van had moved on to this new guy, at least he could stop feeling bad about leading her on for a spell.

Erik’s biggest problem was time. He had a week at most before he had to leave the Banks. He could maybe push his departure to next Thursday, but his parents would insist on seeing him in Raleigh for a weekend before he left for Duke.

There was no time left.

No fucking time.

And it was killing him to leave Laire behind without a plan in place to pick up where they were leaving off.

They needed to talk. They needed to figure out how to keep this good thing going during the one hundred days they’d be apart between now and Thanksgiving. And Erik felt an urgency to figure it out tonight, even if he had to fight her for the time.

Pulling into a parking spot by the inn, he strode inside, a man on a mission.

But the moment he saw her, he knew something was up. As he sat down in the bar, two hours earlier than usual, she came right over to him, something she’d never done before.

“We need to talk,” she whispered near his ear.

He sucked in a tight breath as his heart sank. Those four words were possibly the most dreaded combination in the English language.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why did you push her so hard yesterday?

He swallowed, grinding his jaw once. “Okay.”

“Follow me,” she said, walking briskly from the bar to the reception area. Without looking back or stopping, she continued up the stairs, to the second floor, and then up more stairs, to the third. At the third floor, she opened a door that led to a steep, dark staircase and she continued up with him following behind. At the top, she opened another door, and Erik quickly realized that it led directly outside.

Erik had never been upstairs at the Pamlico House, but suddenly he found himself alone with Laire on a widow’s walk four stories high and almost two hundred years old.

With new planking and enough room for four lounge chairs, it was a beautiful spot for guests to sun themselves, except he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to break up with him, so he couldn’t possibly enjoy it. He stopped just inside the door and waited to hear what she had to say, his insides turning with a fear that made him feel nauseous.

When she turned around, her face was split with a smile that surprised him, and he relaxed a little, stepping forward.

“I can come!” she said, her eyes alive with excitement. “Tonight. I can stay with you.”

He’d been holding his breath, but now he exhaled in a loud whoosh, reaching for her and pulling her roughly into his arms.

“Fuck, Laire,” he muttered into her hair. “I thought you brought me up here to break it off.”

“To break things off with you?” she asked in a rush.

“I fuckin’ pressured you last night when I promised I never would.”

“You didn’t really. You just asked. I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just . . . I wanted to stay over, but I couldn’t figure out how!”

His heart was finally returning to normal as he leaned away and looked down at her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she answered, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him.

And he wanted to kiss her—and goddamnit, he planned to kiss her all night long—but right now he needed to understand. “How? How did you manage it?”

“My daddy’s going crabbing down by Harkers Island tonight. Just told me yesterday. Won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

He cupped her face, feeling a burst of laughter bubble up from deep inside. “Just like that?”

She nodded, grinning up at him. “Just like that.”

He bent to kiss her softly. “All night.”

“All night,” she murmured against his lips. “But . . . Erik . . .”

“What, darlin’?”

“We can’t . . . I mean, we can’t . . .”

“I know,” he groaned softly, nuzzling her nose. “I meant what I said last night. I just want time with you. We go at your pace, remember? Always.”

“But what if . . .?”

Her voice trailed off, and he drew back, putting his index finger under her chin to lift her eyes to his.

“What?”

“What if I say I want to?” she asked in a rush.

He swallowed. “To have sex?”

She nodded, her eyes wide and fraught.

“Are you ready for that?” he asked, searching her face.

Her shoulders lifted just a little. “When I’m with you, it’s like I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I want to do everything, experience everything, with you.” She sobbed softly. “I need your help to be good.”

“You want me to put the brakes on?” he asked. “Is that what you’re askin’?”

Her lips trembled before she nodded. “Yes.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the way it tickled the insides of his lips as he exhaled. Could he make this promise? Could he promise her that he would stop them, even if she was begging him for more?

He wanted to believe that he could. He desperately wanted to believe that, for Laire, he could do anything.

“Okay,” he said, pulling her against him again. “Okay. I promise.”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him like the world would end if she didn’t, then nuzzled his nose with hers. “But anything else we want to do is up to us.”

“Being . . . naked?” he asked, grinning at her because she could barely say the word naked a few weeks ago.

She giggled softly. “Uh-huh.”

“Touchin’ you . . .” He cleared his throat. “Down there? With my tongue?”

She leaned back, her eyes wide and shocked. “Do people do that?”

He grinned at her expression. “Hell, yes, darlin’.”

She dropped his glance, thinking for a moment. “Can I do that to you too?”

“Ahh,” he groaned, all the blood in his head racing to his cock at the mere thought of her lips sucking him. “Yeah. You can.”

With a soft whimper, she reached for his face and kissed him again. “Ms. Sebastian said I can leave early. Said you asked last night.”

“I did,” he admitted. “I hoped.”

“Then I’ll see you at eight?”

“At eight. And then you’re all mine.”

She kissed him again, giggling against his lips as she wiggled from his arms, ran back to the door, and disappeared.

Two hours.

His cocked strained against his shorts in anticipation.

Lord, it felt like an eternity.