Chapter One
THERE WERE A few things worse than being stuck in traffic and needing to pee, but after driving since the crack of dawn and sitting on the same stretch of highway for the past forty minutes—which was about thirty minutes longer than her bladder could handle—Emery Andrews couldn’t think of a single one. Her back teeth were floating, and if she didn’t find a bathroom soon, her car would become a swimming pool. She should have thought about weekend traffic before hightailing it out of Oak Falls, Virginia, and heading for her new home and workplace, Summer House Inn, in Wellfleet, Massachusetts. But thinking things through wasn’t Emery’s forte. She was more of a just-do-it-and-worry-about-things-later type of girl, as evident in her move to the Cape.
Now, if she could only get there.
She gazed out at the long line of brake lights in front of her and picked up her phone to call her best friend, Desiree Cleary. Desiree had been like a sister to her since they were five years old, and last summer, she had fallen in love, reconnected with her half sister, Violet, and decided to move to the Cape and open the inn, all in the space of a few short weeks. Desiree’s excitement was contagious. Every time they spoke on the phone, she raved about her new life with her fiancé, Rick Savage, and her plans for the inn, and it had sparked introspection in Emery. She realized she wasn’t living a life she was excited by in Oak Falls—and she had no one to blame but herself. After making a poor decision right before the holidays and going out with her boss at the Oak Falls Back Care and Rehabilitation Center, where she had worked full-time as a yoga back-care specialist, she’d ended up leaving the practice. Unfortunately, she’d signed a non-compete specifically for providing the one thing that brought her the most fulfillment and could no longer practice yoga back care within a fifty-mile radius of the rehabilitation center. In the small rural town of Oak Falls, her career, and her personal life, seemed to have stalled.
She’d needed a fresh start, and when Desiree had invited her up to Wellfleet to teach yoga at the inn, she’d jumped at the chance.
Desiree answered the phone on the second ring. “Hey, Em. I can’t talk. It’s changeover day. I have three customers waiting to be checked in and two on hold. Call you later?”
“Wait! I’m in Orleans, trying to get there. But—”
“Orleans? Really?” There was no missing the excitement, or the hesitation, in Desiree’s voice. “I thought you were coming next week. I don’t have an open room until this Wednesday. Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming early?”
“Because after quitting my job and packing up my apartment, the emptiness freaked me out and I was excited to get the heck out of Oak Falls and see you!”
Emery had always been the adventurous one, while Desiree had been cautious, thinking things through to the nth degree. But along with Emery’s boxed-up belongings came a big what if. What if she couldn’t find enough clients to make a living? And as she’d sat in her empty apartment contemplating that worry, she’d realized that leaving the only place she’d ever lived, and leaving her family, wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d imagined. But although she’d been sad about leaving them, her three older brothers had called her several times during her long ride up, making her glad to be moving out from under their watchful eyes. She knew if she had stayed in town for another week, they, and her other worries, would have driven her batty. She had never let anything stop her from doing things in the past, and she knew the only way to get over those fears was to plow full speed ahead—and plow she did!
“But with this traffic,” Emery said, “I’ll never get there. I’m stuck on the highway right before the rotary. Should I get a motel room until you have a vacancy?”
“Oh, Em, you’ll never get one. It’s peak season. Everyone’s booked. But don’t worry. I’m sure Vi will let you stay in her cottage.” Desiree and Violet had renovated the old Victorian and the four cottages that had once been owned by their grandparents. “I’ll mention it to Vi, but you might as well find someplace to hang out for a few hours until the traffic eases up. Maybe you can do some shopping in Orleans,” Desiree suggested. “I’m so sorry, but I really can’t talk right now. Will you be okay for a few hours on your own?” Before Emery could respond Desiree said, “Of course you will be. You love new adventures! We’ll catch up when you get here. And if you hang out in Orleans, be sure to bring me something from the Chocolate Sparrow!” Desiree blew a kiss into the phone and the line went dead.
The decadent chocolate shop had been closed when Emery had visited over the holidays, and the way Desiree talked about it, their chocolates sounded practically orgasmic.
I could use a few orgasms—chocolate inspired or otherwise.
She mulled over the idea of trying to make it to the chocolate shop as the cars ahead of her crawled into the rotary. Traffic was at a standstill getting off the rotary and onto the main drag in either direction—toward the Summer House Inn and toward the orgasmic chocolates in Orleans. She squeezed her thighs together. She’d worn her new bikini beneath her tank dress and had hoped to be lying out on the beach by now. The last thing she needed was to pee all over it. She spotted an exit on the opposite side of the rotary.
The heck with it. Desiree was always telling her about back roads the tourists didn’t know about. It was time for her first Wellfleet adventure.
She squeezed by the line of cars waiting to get onto the main drag and drove halfway around the rotary to a side road. As she pulled onto it, she realized it ran in the wrong direction, back the way she’d come. She scrolled through her contacts and called the man who had become her second best friend, Dean Masters. She’d met Dean when Rick, who was Dean’s business partner and one of his closest friends, had flown Emery in over the holidays to surprise Desiree the night he proposed. They’d hit it off right away, and they’d kept in touch after she’d returned home to Virginia. What had started as a storm of daily teasing texts about a big red ribbon she’d had tied around her body the night they’d met had turned into evening phone calls and morning wake-up messages, and eventually, into a friendship she’d come to trust and rely on.
“Hi, doll. How’s it going?”
Dean’s deep voice, and the endearment he’d used since the day they’d met, brought a smile, and just like that, the knot in her stomach eased. Dean had seamlessly filled the gap Desiree had left behind, binge-watching shows with Emery while they Skyped and talking until the wee hours of the morning about everything and nothing at all. They were so different, they shouldn’t have clicked. While Emery barreled into situations with little thought about repercussions, Dean was a thinker, careful and methodical, like Desiree. And, like Desiree, he’d become the yang to her yin.
“Hey, big guy. Please tell me you can get me to the inn from”—she glanced at the road sign—“Rock Harbor Road.” At the next corner, she turned off the main road and onto a residential street, hoping to find a back way to the inn or maybe one of those small-town shops Desiree was always talking about, so she could use their bathroom.
“You’re in town?”
“Yes! Please get me to someplace with a bathroom fast. Traffic is a nightmare, and I’ve got to pee so bad I swear I’m going to knock on the next door I see.”
“Okay, slow down,” he said with a serious tone. “Before you make some stranger’s day, follow my directions. Turn right onto Bridge Road.”
“Um…” She looked for road signs. “I turned off the main road already, and I have no idea what street I’m on now.”
“Of course you don’t.”
She rolled her eyes at the smirk in his voice.
“Why don’t you use your GPS?”
Two weeks ago, she’d called him when she’d gotten lost coming home from a concert and he’d walked her through how to use the GPS. Even with his careful instructions, she’d gotten frustrated and nearly thrown the darn thing out the window. “You know I hate that thing. The stupid voice tells me what to do way too late, and I can’t hear it with the radio on, and I really think it should have a male voice option anyway.”
He laughed.
She tried to concentrate on the narrow, windy road and not on her near-bursting bladder. “Don’t do that!”
“What?” He chuckled again.
She squeezed her thighs together. “Don’t laugh! If I laugh I’ll wet my pants.”
He was silent for so long she checked her phone for a signal. “Hello? Dean? Are you there?”
“Sorry. I muted you.”
“Why?”
“You told me not to laugh, and I’m picturing you bouncing in your seat trying not to pee, and…” His words were lost in his laughter.
And so went the next fifteen minutes as Dean figured out where she was and directed her to his house. By the time she got there she was ready to burst. She flew out of her car, tearing a path around gorgeous, overflowing gardens, and headed for Dean’s front door. He came around the side yard, shirtless, carrying an enormous rock that covered his entire torso. His jaw was clenched tight. Veins bulged in his thick neck, broad chest, and massive arms as he bent his knees and set the rock at the edge of a garden.
Her breath whooshed from her lungs.
Holy mother of hotness.
She’d almost forgotten how large and powerful, how commanding, he was in person, and how from their very first glance, he’d made her stomach flip and tumble. His hair was the same honey-wheat color as hers, cropped so short he looked military. And wow, he’d kept the beard he’d grown over the winter after all. He’d told her he usually went clean-shaven over the summers, but she’d pleaded with him to keep it. She’d told him the girls would love it, and she knew she was right. He looked even tougher than usual, and coupled with his perpetually serious expression, he appeared as if he were going to snap at any moment.
The big faker.
Beneath that big, bad facade was the most patient man she’d ever met. That trait had taken her by surprise, and now she found herself swallowing hard to silence the lascivious woman inside her who was preparing for a coming-home party.
No way. Not happening. She’d dated friends before, and it never ended well. She’d long ago put Dean into the off-limits section of her brain, whether her body remembered that rule or not.
He rose to his full height of six-plus feet, spotting her. An amused look rose in his gunmetal-blue eyes, and she realized she was staring at him, with her thighs pressed together. Aw, heck! What could she do but laugh, which quickly sent an urgent sensation rippling through her bladder.
Dean jogged up to the front porch and threw the door open. “Go on, doll. Down the hall to the left.”
“You’re my hero.” She planted a quick kiss on his cheek. She’d asked him why he called her that the first weekend they’d met, and his response had been, No reason.
He smacked her butt as she ran through the door.
“I swear I’ll pee on your floor!”
“Not the response I usually get,” he called after her. “But if that’s what you’re into…”
She couldn’t stop grinning. It was so good to see him, so good to be back near Desiree and the other friends she’d made last winter. With her bladder finally empty, she washed her hands and took a moment to check herself out in the mirror. Yup, she looked like she’d spent all day in a car. Her hair was tied in a knot and secured with a pencil she’d found in the console. Several strands had sprung free, giving her a disheveled look. She pulled out the pencil, and her hair tumbled down her back. She cupped a hand over her mouth and breathed into it.
Ugh. Coffee breath.
She opened the vanity drawer and dug around looking for toothpaste. Floss, Band-Aids, deodorant, nail clippers, beard oil, beard balm. She picked up the beard oil and opened the top to sniff it. Mm. Cedar. She read the label. Organic. Nice. Scented with peppermint, eucalyptus, and lavender essential oils. Looked like her second-bestie treated himself well. She put the cap back on and set the beard oil in the drawer, then rifled through another drawer and found toothpaste. She squeezed a bit on her finger and scrubbed her teeth clean.
“Hey, doll. You okay in there?” Dean called through the door.
She pulled it open, held up her finger to indicate one second, and gathered her hair over one shoulder as she turned the faucet on and dipped her mouth under it. She rinsed her mouth and washed her hands as he watched with a curious expression.
“That’s so much better. I borrowed your toothpaste.”
He arched a brow. “Got a date?”
“Ha! I wish.” She threw herself into his arms, hugging him so tight she could feel his heart pounding against hers. “I’m so glad to finally be here!”
“Me too.” He set her on her feet. “Sorry about the dirt. I’m sure I smell pretty ripe, too.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m landscaping out back.”
She brushed the dirt from the front of her dress and dragged her eyes down his incredibly hot bod, wondering why he didn’t have some chick there with him. Desiree had told her that girls hit on Dean all the time. “You smell like your beard oil, which I might have snooped into.”
His eyes narrowed. “Snooped?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Of course! I needed toothpaste. Anyway, I like the way it smells, and it’s good to know you take care of yourself in ways other than just building these bad boys up.” She ran her hands over his bulbous biceps and he gritted his teeth. She laughed and patted his cheek. “You look like you want to growl at me.”
Having grown up with three older brothers, she got along better with guys than girls and had always had more guy friends than girlfriends. She’d learned at a young age that guys had a hard time holding anything back. If he wanted to growl, she’d let him growl.
“Something like that,” he said under his breath.
She followed him into the living room. “Why is your stuff in there anyway and not in the master bathroom?”
“Only one bathroom in the house.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. Why would a single guy need more than one bathroom? More importantly, I thought you weren’t coming up until next week. What happened?”
Ever since Desiree moved away and she and Dean had become friends, Emery had felt like her life was here now, too. “I felt like I was waiting for water to boil, and I was so excited to come and start my life here, and see you, Des, Vi, and Serena and everyone else, I said the heck with it!” Serena ran the administrative offices of the resort Dean co-owned with Rick and Rick’s brother, Drake. “And here I am! But with the traffic, I can’t get to Desiree’s, and she said it could be backed up for hours. Something about changeover day?”
“With only one road on and off the Cape, it’s one big traffic jam on changeover days. Saturdays are the worst, but Sundays can be a headache, too.”
“Do you know a back road to her place?”
He turned, brows knitted. “I can take you over on the Jet Ski.”
“Oh, fun!” Her excitement deflated as quickly as it had arrived. “But then I can’t bring my stuff.”
“Why don’t you hang out here and help me in my yard? We’ll throw something on the grill for dinner, and you can go over when the traffic clears.”
“You must landscape all the time. Your yard looks like it belongs in a magazine.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged and said, “Gotta do what you love, right?”
She knew that in addition to being co-owner of the resort, Dean maintained a few clients with his own landscape business—the hospital where he used to work as a trauma nurse and the local assisted living facility, where he worked in the gardens with the residents. Emery liked to tease him about his elderly fan club. Dean was great at keeping his emotions close to his chest, which made him difficult to read sometimes, but whether they were texting or talking on the phone, his passion for his work always came through loud and clear.
“Very true.” She loved what she did for a living, but lately she’d craved more than the yoga classes she’d been teaching at a gym since leaving the rehab center. She hoped one day to return to being a yoga back-care specialist and to turn her passion for yoga back care into something more meaningful. But those were plans for another time.
One major life event at a time.
To distract herself from her thoughts, she focused on Dean’s cottage. She took in the hardwood floors and wood-paneled walls that ran the length of the open living room and kitchen, which were separated only by a table for two. A black cast-iron oven and cooktop and fridge complemented earth-toned granite countertops atop rustic wood cabinets. Long, rough-hewn wooden shelves held dishes and cups, giving the place the brawny feel of a bachelor pad.
“I saw glimpses of your place when we FaceTimed and Skyped, but”—like seeing you in person again—“experiencing it firsthand has a much stronger impact. This is incredible. So earthy and rugged. I love it.” She ran her fingers over the simple oak table.
“Thanks. This is the original house built on the property. When I renovated, I wanted to preserve the rustic feel, so I used old, sun-bleached scaffold boards for the walls and floors. Check this out. It’s my favorite feature.” He went to the wall that faced the kitchen, unhooked something near the top and then near the bottom, and slid the entire wall into the living room wall, like he would a pocket door. “These are barn doors I repurposed from another property.”
At least ten or fifteen feet of wall space disappeared before her eyes, opening the small kitchen to a magnificent trellis-covered patio, with potted plants overflowing with life on top of enormous rocks, like the one Dean had been carrying when she arrived. Comfortable-looking rockers and two oversized loungers had a gorgeous view of more impeccable gardens.
“Wow, Dean. I’ve never seen anything like this.” She followed him outside, where low stone walls lined either side of the patio. A fireplace anchored one end, and she spied the telltale wooden stall of an outdoor shower just beyond. Her gaze swept along the gorgeous pavers, and she imagined how wonderful it would be to meditate there in the early mornings, when the rest of the world was asleep. She’d seen the hardscaping he’d done at the resort, but this was even more breathtaking.
They walked along a rocky path between two garden beds. She recognized some of the flowers and was happy to see roses and lavender, which she could use to steep tea. As they wound through the path surrounded by vibrant flowers, with the sun shining down on them, it felt like she’d stepped into his private paradise.
“Sort of coaxes you into thinking about a simpler lifestyle, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Definitely. If I lived here, I might never want to leave. But what landscaping are you doing? Everything already looks gorgeous.”
His hand pressed against her back as he guided her around a wall of bushes. She’d forgotten how often he’d done that the weekend they’d met, and how nice it felt. Most guys just said they’d show her something and expected her to follow. Her burly buddy might look standoffish to some, but he was the most gentlemanly guy she knew.
“Thank you for letting me use your bathroom and hang out for a while.” She put her arms around his waist and hugged him. His entire body felt like one giant muscle. His hand moved up her back, returning the embrace. It wasn’t the rushed embrace of a man looking to get lucky—which she was all too familiar with. It was a gentle yet powerful loving embrace that spoke volumes about their close friendship, and it made her feel like she’d come home instead of having left it all behind.
“Anytime, doll,” he said. “And if it’ll earn me hugs, then use my bathroom as often as you’d like.”
They walked around more garden beds, and nestled between a rock garden and a grassy area with lounge chairs and a small table, there was a patch of tilled earth with all sorts of weeds growing around the edges.
“This is my latest project.” The edges of his lips tipped up. “Are you in? Or do you want to sit in traffic?”
“Heck, yes, I’m in. But I warn you, I have a black thumb. I can kill a plant just by looking at it.”
He laughed. “I highly doubt that. I’ll go grab another trowel and a couple of cold drinks. Be right back.”
Helping weed his garden was the least she could do. After all, he was the one who’d convinced her to give this move a go. During one of the many nights when they were FaceTiming, she’d mentioned that she was thinking about coming up for the summer to see if she could get a seasonal yoga business off the ground, hoping it would not only be a nice change of pace for her, but that it would also bring added value to the inn for Desiree and Violet’s customers. Dean had asked, How can you succeed at anything, giving only half an effort? She’d seen it as a huge step, moving away for the summer, not half an effort, but then he’d followed that question with one that had stopped her in her tracks. Are you always afraid to commit, or are you worried you’ll miss your family? And she’d found herself retracing the last few years of her life and realizing that maybe, just maybe, he’d figured out what she never had. And the more she’d thought about it, the more convinced she’d become that she had been the adventurous one, but only within the safety of her small hometown. It was time to blaze a new adventure and blow that girl out of the water.
She heard a phone ring in the house, jarring her from her memories. Shrugging off those thoughts, she set to work ripping out the weeds.
DEAN PRESSED HIS cell phone to his ear, trying to hurry his older brother, Jett, off the phone. But Jett was busy apologizing about having to be in Argentina to close a major investment deal, which would cause him to miss the upcoming benefit dinner for the Pediatric Neurology Foundation their late grandfather had established. It was just another in a long line of Jett’s excuses, even if this one sounded valid. Their father was going to be a keynote speaker at the event and, as usual, Dean had given in to his mother’s plea and agreed to attend in support of the family, while Jett did his own thing. Dean wasn’t looking forward to attending the stuffy event, but he would put on his best face, if only to keep from hurting his mother’s feelings. After all, their oldest brother, Doug, wouldn’t be at the event either. Doug had married right after medical school and was working overseas. Being a physician, he had a very different relationship with their father than Jett or Dean, but that didn’t affect his relationships with them. Although Dean was close to each of his brothers, equal parts of him respected and resented Jett’s choices.
“I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Jett promised. As a real-estate investor, Jett owned plenty of properties in and out of the country, including a waterfront he’d purchased several years ago in Wellfleet, though he had yet to build on it. He stayed at whichever of his properties was closest to his current business, which meant he never stayed in any one place for very long.
“Whatever, dude. I’ve got this.” Like always.
Dean had been dealing with the aftermath of Jett’s distancing himself from the family for years. Jett had never forgiven their father for briefly separating from their mother when he and his brothers were young. To this day, Dean had no idea what had led to their father’s leaving or what had transpired to bring him back home beyond being told that his parents had hit a rough patch. But that brief three-month separation had destroyed Jett’s trust in their father. When Jett had gone off to college, rarely coming back to visit, and their oldest brother, Doug, was getting ready for medical school, Dean had taken it upon himself to make sure their mother didn’t feel abandoned. He’d buried his own dark feelings toward his father in order to help smooth things over in the wake of Jett’s rebellion.
“What’s happening with the chick from Virginia?” Jett asked. “She comes next week, right?”
Dean loved his brother, but after months of getting to know Emery, and endless nights spent fantasizing about what it would be like when they were together again, she was finally within reach. He’d much rather spend time with her than explain to Jett that if anything were to develop between him and Emery, who’d sworn off dating friends, it would take a lot of finesse. Or a miracle.
“Listen, dude. I’ve got tons of work to get done today and I have to run. Hit me up when you return to the States and you can pay me back for attending the dinner from hell.”
After he ended the call, he poured two glasses of iced tea, wishing he had fresh lemons, since he knew Emery’s favorite drink was ice water with fresh lemon slices. He carried the drinks out to the yard, grabbing an extra trowel from the shed on his way.
He didn’t know how he’d gotten lucky enough to be Emery’s emergency bathroom stop, but he was in no hurry to get rid of her. When she’d first told him she was moving to the Cape, he’d thought he was the luckiest guy on earth and hoped he had a chance at convincing her to give up that nonsense about not going out with friends. Or more specifically, not going out with him. But he knew he had to bide his time. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off. And to make matters worse, when she’d come to him and his partners about the idea of offering yoga to their customers, he’d been torn. While it would mean she would be around more often, she’d told him months ago about how much she had loved working as a yoga back-care specialist with the elderly before she’d gone out with—then broken up with—her idiot boss and she’d been forced to resign in order to escape his stalkerish ways, and in doing so, she’d lost the career she’d loved. The bastard. Dean knew she wouldn’t find that type of fulfillment teaching yoga to vacationers at the inn or the resort. But his desire to see her again had selfishly won out, and he’d agreed to the arrangement even though everything inside him had wanted to push her to take the time to network and figure out how to get involved with what she really wanted, despite the fact that it might have meant delaying her arrival.
He was a strong man, but Emery had become his Achilles’ heel, and his best intentions and desires had been pushed aside in order to have her nearby—but that didn’t mean he’d look the other way forever about making sure she didn’t forgo the career she really wanted.
As he came around the bushes, he shoved those thoughts away and said, “Hey, doll, I brought iced—” Holy. Smokes.
Emery lay on her back on a lounge chair in a skimpy yellow bikini top and barely there brown bottoms with cutouts over her hips. Her body was sleek and toned, and so sexy he had to stifle a groan. Her long, golden-brown hair was spread out around her just like in his midnight fantasies, save for that itsy-bitsy bikini. A thin leather necklace rested against her tanned skin, two small silver charms lying between her breasts. He’d give anything to take their place.
She opened one gorgeous hazel eye, shading it with her hand. “Hey there.” Her gaze flicked to the drinks. “Oh! Iced tea?” She jumped up from the chair, flaunting her gorgeous figure as she grabbed a drink from his hand and took a sip. “Mm. Needs sugar.”
“Sugar,” he mumbled, trying to untangle his lust-addled thoughts. The trowel dropped to the ground.
“No worries. I’ve got it.” She bent over to pick up the trowel, and her butt cheeks peeked out from beneath her bikini bottom.
He turned away and bit his knuckle, hoping the spear of pain might keep his libido from rising any further.
When he turned around, she was taking off her bracelets. “I got your weeding done. It wasn’t so hard after all,” she said as she set several bracelets on the garden table and fiddled with a thick silver one.
He was vaguely aware of her speaking—weeding?—but that itsy-bitsy bikini revealed too much for him to concentrate, and he pretended to focus on her unscrewing something on her bracelet so she wouldn’t catch him lusting after her. She tipped the bracelet over and poured white powder into her palm from some secret container within the shiny silver bangle.
His stomach sank. “Em, what is that? You’re not into drugs, are you?”
A mischievous smile played on her lips. “You have known me for five months. Don’t you think you’d know if I were a druggy?”
She was right. He would. Emery wasn’t the type of woman who held back her thoughts. Most of the time she had no filter whatsoever. He’d asked her about her candid comments once, and she’d said growing up with three brothers did that to a girl. She’d explained that she’d learned to speak her mind so she wouldn’t get walked all over. Dean didn’t have a sister, but he took Emery at her word. After all, she didn’t seem to know how to do anything but tell the truth.
They’d shared hundreds of texts and late-night phone calls, during which she’d told him about everything from her work woes to her dating life, filling him in on more details than he could handle in some cases. He was surprised by how much he wanted to know everything about her—including the details of botched dates that made him want to kill the guys. Even if through gritted teeth, he loved talking with her. He liked knowing that her favorite shows were offbeat, and sometimes scary, adventures, and her favorite movies were sappy love stories, despite her not believing in true love. And he found her likes and dislikes in people interesting. She didn’t shy away from aggressiveness the way some girls did. She seemed to thrive on it, which he’d learned had set her up for heartache too many times for his liking. He knew how lonely she’d been after Desiree had moved away, and in the hours they’d spent talking about it she’d unknowingly revealed the sensitive woman behind that tough-girl persona. Yes, Emery Andrews might be a complicated firecracker, but she’d been an open book from the moment they’d met. That was just one of the things he loved about her. He’d had his fill of women who played games.
Unfortunately, they’d become such good friends, and with her recent swearing off of dating friends, he had a feeling that’s all he could ever be to her.
She licked her finger, then dipped it in the white powder and held it up to his mouth with a playful glimmer in her eyes. “Open.”
Like a trained pup, he opened his mouth, wanting her to jump in. She put her finger in his mouth and rubbed it over his tongue. He grabbed her wrist and sucked her finger clean, puckering at the saccharine taste.
She pulled her finger away, laughing.
“What the heck was that?”
“Splenda!” She tapped the powder into her glass and set the bangle on the table beside her other bracelets. “I hate Equal and that’s about all anyone ever has. I used to carry sugar, but I needed too much of it. So…Splenda it is. Do you want some?”
“Depends what you’re offering,” he said under his breath.
“Splenda, silly.” She took a long drink, and his entire body came alive as she licked her plump lips. “Mm. That hit the spot.”
I’d like to hit your spot.
He needed to get a freaking grip. It had been much easier to control himself when Emery was hundreds of miles away. He set his drink on the table and cleared his throat, as if that might help to scatter his dirty thoughts.
“Aren’t you happy that I weeded?” she asked cheerfully. “Now you can just sit back and relax with me.”
He followed her gaze to the garden, remembering something she’d said about weeding earlier, when he’d been too busy checking her out to process it. His stomach knotted at the sight of the plants he’d spent all morning planting lying in a pile on the dirt.
“Well?” She blinked up at him with a proud, enthusiastic expression. “Great, right?”
A disbelieving laugh fell from his lips, and he turned away. He pushed a hand through his hair, stroked his beard, and ground his back teeth together in an effort to quell his frustration. When he faced her again he hoped his expression was casual enough to mask his irritation.
“Oh no. Did I do it wrong?” Her eyes shifted to the plants she’d dug up.
She sounded devastated, and it took his frustration down from Holy cow, my plants to wanting to take her in his arms and make her smile again. Before he could think of the best way to handle the situation, she bent over in front of him, reaching for the plants—and exposing her gorgeous butt again.
“Should I have put them in a bucket or something?”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. “No buckets. Didn’t you have clothes on before? I think you need to put something on.”
She looked up at the sky. “Why? It’s gorgeous out. And you don’t have a shirt on.”
He muttered under his breath. “Never mind.” The confused look in her eyes turned his insides to mush. “Okay, doll, time to teach you the difference between three-toothed cinquefoil and weeds.”
“Three-toothed what?” She put her drink down and set her hands on her hips. “Oh no. I killed your weeds and you wanted them, didn’t you? I’m so sorry!” She threw her arms around his waist, crushing her softness against him. “I told you I have a black thumb. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
Heat radiated from every point where their bodies connected, lighting him up like a bottle rocket. He reluctantly peeled her arms away and guzzled his drink. When that didn’t cool him down, he dug into the glass for ice and rubbed it over his chest.
Her eyes opened wider. “You’re so mad you’re sweating? I really do suck. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and knelt beside the pile of plants, trying not to think about her sucking, or that slinky little bathing suit, and patted the ground beside him. “It was an honest mistake. I’m not mad. Come here, doll.”
She squatted, resting her forearms on her thighs, which pushed her breasts together and made them nearly pop out of her top.
“Don’t look at my boobs.” She adjusted her bikini top, which did nothing to help. “The girls always want to come out and play.”
“Geez, Em. Put a shirt on.” Before I take them up on their offer.
“I’m not the one with overzealous tatas.”
She smiled. “Did you just call my boobs ‘tatas’?”
“Would you rather I said ‘jugs’?”
“No. I hate that word.”
“Boobs? Breasts? Knockers? Melons? Cupcakes?”
Laughter burst from her lungs.
He loved her loud, boisterous laugh and tried to prolong hearing it. “Hooters? Fun bags? Love apples?”
She fell to the side, holding her stomach. “Stop! Stop! I’m gonna pee!”
Laughing right along with her, he sat on the dirt. Dean had spent years as a trauma nurse, and it had changed his outlook on life. He’d always been pretty serious, but trying to save people on death’s doorstep changed a person. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost himself in laughter.
Oh wait. Yes, he could. It was Valentine’s Day, when he and Emery had FaceTimed. She’d been filling in for a friend, delivering singing telegrams, dressed up like a cupid in a skimpy red leotard complete with wings and foam arrows. She’d insisted on acting out every single telegram she’d delivered, and the recipients’ reactions to them. What had started as a holy-cow-you-danced-around-in-that conversation had turned into rip-roaring hilarity.
“You should do that more often,” she said, wiping happy tears from her eyes.
He reached over and wiped a tear that had slid all the way to the edge of her jaw. “Do what?”
“Smile.”
Their eyes connected and his world halted, the temperature spiked, and the very air seemed to hum. But just as quickly as hope filled him, she pushed up to her knees, breaking the spell.
“Okay, boob man. Tell me about three-toothed squirrels.”
He knelt beside her, wondering if he’d imagined the heat.
“Cinquefoil.” He grabbed a plant, focusing on it instead of his overactive desires. “See the woody stem and evergreen leaves? They’ll grow little white flowers.”
“Sorry, Dean, but they still look like weeds to me.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that, because they’re small. They’re for groundcover, and really beautiful when they flower.” He picked up the hand shovel and gave it to her. “Dig a hole.”
“A hole? How big?”
“Big enough to replant this.”
She thrust the shovel into the dirt deep enough to bury a small animal. He reached around her, stilling her hands.
“The earth is already tilled,” he explained. His gaze caught on the glimmering gold bracelet on her wrist. The one he’d sent her for her birthday with the tiny delphinium flower charm. He slid his gaze to her other bracelets on the table. “Why didn’t you take that bracelet off?”
“I don’t know,” she said absently. “I never take it off.”
He wanted to read far more into that than she probably meant. Knowing Emery, the extra safety clasp he’d had put on the bracelet was just too much of a pain to fiddle with.
“You only need to cover what’s left of the roots. Like this.” He guided her efforts, his bare chest pressed against her warm, soft back. She smelled like sunshine and lavender, feminine and pretty, just like she had the weekend they’d first met. That weekend had passed in a whirlwind of celebrating Desiree and Rick’s engagement. Dean had grown up with Rick and his siblings, Drake and Mira. The weekend of the party, they had all hung out together in a group. And although he and Emery had spent nearly every minute by each other’s side, flirting like there was no tomorrow, he’d refrained from trying to take it any further because she was only there for a weekend and he wasn’t looking for a quick, meaningless lay. But then they’d kept in touch, and the desire to be closer to her had grown. And now all he wanted to do was soak all of her in.
She dipped her chin, and her hair brushed against his shoulder. He imagined it sweeping across his chest, spread out over his pillow, brushing over his thighs…
Torture. Pure torture.
He put a few inches of space between them, hoping to temper his desires…again.
“Good job.” He handed her the plant, giving him something else to focus on. “Now put this in and push the dirt around it.”
“Put it in the hole,” she said as she did it, “and pack it in good.” She smiled up at him. “How’d I do?”
He was still hung up on putting it in the hole and packing it in good. He cleared his throat and said, “Great. See? You don’t have a black thumb, just a confused one. Now we have to do the rest of them.”
They worked side by side replanting the garden and teasing each other as they’d done for months long-distance. This was so much better. Their friendship was easy and natural, and as much as he wanted more, he knew if he pushed for it, he could ruin everything. If he could keep himself in check, at least he had a chance for something more developing naturally.
That was a big if.
When they finished planting he brought out the hose and watered the plants.
“What now?” she asked, surveying their work.
“Now we pray they don’t go into shock.”
“Oh no, really? I feel horrible, but they actually look prettier now. Not so much like weeds.” With a hand on her slim hip, she said, “They obviously needed my touch.”
He was pretty sure he’d look better if she had her hands all over him, too. He sprayed her with the hose and she shrieked, taking off right through the garden they’d just planted. He dropped the hose and thrust his hands out, catching her around the waist and lifting her straight up before she could trample the plants, her legs still moving. He tossed her over his shoulder and carried her toward the house.
“Hey! I’m sorry! Dean! Where are you taking me?”
“Keeping the chaos away from my gardens.” If she were his, he’d carry her straight into the bedroom and keep her busy so she couldn’t cause any more trouble. But she wasn’t, and she’d told him enough horror stories over the last few months about dating friends to know better than to even try. He stopped at the patio and set her on her feet.
She crossed her arms and narrowed her beautiful eyes. “Are you calling me chaos?”
He was sure she meant to look mean, but she looked so cute, and he couldn’t help but smile. “You said it, whirlwind, not me.”
Tango, one of his two kittens, wound around her feet. She scooped him up, holding him against her chest and nuzzling his head. “I am not chaos or a whirlwind. Am I, little guy?” She glanced at Dean, rubbing her cheek against the area of the cat’s head where his ear should have been. “I can’t believe I can finally hold Tango. I wanted to so badly when I saw you feeding him and Cash on Skype.”
In early spring, when he was out for a morning run, Dean had found the two kittens down by a marsh. They were nothing but skin and bones, shivering, with barely enough energy to lift their heads. Both had been severely injured. Tango, a calico, was missing one ear, and the wound had become infected. Cash, who was all gray, had an open wound on his tail. He’d taken them directly to the vet, and they’d clung to him like a lifeline. He’d bottle-fed them and cared for their wounds. They’d recovered well and had become mischievous little guys, and they’d been sleeping on his bed ever since.
She rubbed noses with the kitty and set him down. “Where’s Cash?”
He shrugged. “Probably out prowling around somewhere.”
“Speaking of prowling around, why aren’t you out chasing hot chicks on your day off? You do landscaping all week long. Don’t you want some prowling time?”
“Do I seem like the prowling type to you?” He had women hitting on him all day long at the resort, the assisted living facility, the hospital, and at the beach. Once upon a time, he’d enjoyed that availability to the fullest, but ever since getting to know Emery, there had been only one woman on his mind.
And at the moment, she was bending over to pet Tango, giving him an eyeful of her playful girls and driving him out of his ever-loving mind.