Chapter Two
“YOU MIGHT BE even better at grilling than Desiree is at making breakfast.” Emery reached over and stole a pineapple chunk from Dean’s plate. He’d grilled shrimp and steak kabobs with chunks of pineapple and peppers for dinner, and they were eating at the table on the patio. After the garden debacle, she’d been relegated to the patio, the house, or basically anywhere that wasn’t green. “You know, that says something, considering Desiree’s breakfast skills are driven by her sex life.”
The running joke at Summer House Inn, where Dean, Rick, and the rest of their friends gathered for breakfast most mornings, was that the quality of Desiree’s breakfasts was determined by how hot her love life with Rick had been the night before. Emery had to admit, she was a little jealous that Desiree had a five-star love life while hers was practically nonexistent. She’d had plenty of experience over the years, but watching her best friend fall madly in love had opened her eyes to what she’d never known she was missing. Not that she was capable of having such a loving, stable relationship. Her parents had divorced when she was young, and although she still had a close-knit family and had grown up splitting time between both parents’ houses, neither she nor her brothers seemed capable of maintaining anything worthy of being called a relationship—much less finding everlasting love.
She pushed those thoughts away and snagged another pineapple chunk from Dean’s plate, having nearly licked her own clean. “By Desiree standards, you must be getting some pretty hot sex, too. That’s not surprising. I mean look at you.” She waved her hand at him. “You’ve got it all going on, with that killer smile, eyes that say, ‘I’ll take you and cherish you at once,’ and a body that turn women’s minds to mush from twenty feet away.”
He raised his brows in quick succession. “Give you any ideas?”
“Like you need me on your list of lovers?” She laughed and took a sip of his iced tea, as hers was already gone. Dean had spoken often about hanging out with friends and his work over the past few months, but he’d only alluded to going on a few first dates. She was curious about his personal life. “As I said, you must be keeping busy.”
He scoffed. “Hardly.”
“Seriously? You cook this well just because?” Cash wound around her feet, purring. She’d loved him up while Dean was grilling, and he’d been following her around ever since. “I’m not buying it.”
“I do everything well just because.”
Enjoying his cockiness, she said, “Careful saying that around women, big guy. They’ll want you to perform.” Her phone vibrated with a text and she began licking her fingers while simultaneously looking around for her napkin. She spotted it on the ground and bent to retrieve it. “Can you check that text for me?”
“I’m a little busy,” he said, eyeing her cleavage.
She glared at him and wiped her hands, but they stuck to the napkin. “Ugh. Still sticky. Maybe you could put your checking-out skills to better use and read my text for me.”
“You really want me to read your text?”
It was cute to see such a large, confident man worrying about what he might see on her phone. “It’s probably my brothers checking up on me. Come on, it’s not like it’s going to be a dirty text from a hot guy or anything.” Dean had met her entire family over Easter, when her older brother Austin had walked in on the two of them FaceTiming at their mother’s house. Austin had made a big deal of bringing the whole family in to meet Dean in a failed attempt to embarrass her. She didn’t get embarrassed over friendships. He’d deemed Dean Viking that night because of his beard and the stern impression he’d left on Austin. Before she’d taken off for the Cape, Austin had told her not to call him in a month and say she was shacking up with Dean, or he’d come out and teach the poor bastard a lesson. Yes, being out from under her brothers’ thumbs was a very good thing, though with her luck, there was no chance of making out with—much less shacking up with—anyone anytime soon.
She went into the house and washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Not all of us have great love lives,” she called out to Dean.
“I know your dating history, remember? I’m not checking your text.”
She came outside and grabbed her phone. “I love that whole disappearing-wall thing you have going on.” She read the text from Desiree. Where are you? Did you find a new BFF? “Des wants to know if I have a new BFF.” She read her response aloud as she typed it. “I’m with my number two BFF. You might know him. Big, bearded badboy with mad cooking skills.”
She smiled at Dean and said, “We should get everyone together and go to that bar in Truro we went to at Christmastime. Do you think the traffic is gone yet? Can you give me directions to Desiree’s?”
“Undercover? Sounds good, and yeah, the traffic is probably gone. I’ll write down directions.”
Her phone vibrated with Desiree’s response, and she read it to Dean. “Tell the bearded cooker he’ll never take my number one spot. Come over so I can see you!”
“Tell her the competition is on,” Dean teased.
She smiled, imagining Dean trying to beat out Desiree as her very best bestie. How could he top more than twenty years of friendship? She sent a quick response to Desiree. Okay. Be there soon. We’re going to Undercover tonight. Can you and Rick come and bring Vi, Serena, and Drake? She was glad she already had a small group of friends here. Back home, if she’d asked friends to meet her at a bar, at least thirty people she’d known her whole life would show up. And, she realized, not one of those people knew her as well as Desiree and Dean did.
“I’d better get going if I want to shower before we go out.” She began clearing the table, wondering if people who lived at the beach just threw on a tank top over their bathing suits and headed out for the night? She waved at her bathing suit and asked, “I can’t go like this. Can I?”
“Not with your playful girls on display, you can’t.”
She smirked. “Maybe I should. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a hot date that way.”
He scowled and carried his dishes inside. He scribbled down directions to Desiree’s, mumbling something about getting herself into trouble, and Emery went to get her belongings from the table by the garden. She slipped her dress over her head, admiring their planting job. Three of her footprints were evident through the middle of the garden. Remembering how quickly and easily Dean had intercepted her holy-garden terror, she got down on her hands and knees and filled the holes in with dirt. She grabbed her keys, bangle, and one of her other bracelets, searching high and low for the third bracelet. She finally gave up and headed back to the house.
“I lost one of my bracelets,” she said as she joined Dean on the patio. “It’s silver and says, ‘Blame it on my gypsy soul,’ I think. It might say, ‘I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,’ and it might actually be gold not silver. I can’t remember which one I wore, but if you find it, can you hang on to it for me?”
“Are you sure you had it on when you got here?”
“Mm-hm. Pretty sure, anyway. It’s not that big a deal if you can’t find it. I have a ton of them.”
He handed her the directions and walked her out front.
“Don’t you want help cleaning up?”
“After seeing how you helped with the garden?” He cracked a smile, and he must have seen the guilt she felt written all over her face, because he touched her back and said, “I’m kidding, doll. The garden actually looks better now.”
“You’re the greatest for lying to me.” She set her things on the passenger seat of her Jetta. “Thanks for letting me hang here for the day.”
“Anytime, doll.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Mm. You smell good after a hard day of lounging around with me.” She climbed into the car and started it up. “See you at Undercover.”
“Looking forward to it.”
As she drove away, she felt like she’d been visiting Dean for a week, not just a handful of hours. Things were like that between them. When they talked on the phone hours would pass feeling like minutes. She was glad it was no different in person.
The roads were clear, and it took her less than ten minutes to get to the inn. This weekend traffic flow would take some getting used to. In Oak Falls heavy traffic meant it took seven minutes instead of five to get to work, and that was a rarity.
She parked beside Violet’s motorcycle, taking in the gorgeous gardens, which she knew Dean had helped with in the spring, the cute cottages lining the right side of the property, and the magnificent Victorian overlooking Cape Cod Bay. Desiree and Rick lived in the main house, and they rented out the other rooms, as well as two of the four cottages. They used one of the cottages as Devi’s Discoveries, the art gallery (with a lingerie and adult-pleasure shop in the back, which they called an adult-exploration shop) their flighty, vagabond mother, Lizza Vancroft, had left for them to run when she’d taken off for some sort of overseas meditation mission.
Emery climbed from the car feeling a thousand times calmer than she had when she’d left Virginia. Spending the day with Dean had centered her and eased her anxieties. Looking forward to her new adventure, she drew in a deep breath and grabbed a few of her bags from the trunk.
Desiree burst out of Violet’s cottage. Her wavy blond hair was secured at the base of her neck, and her floral sundress swung around her thighs as she ran toward Emery. Emery squealed, dropped her bags, and plowed into her open arms, hugging, laughing, and talking at once as Violet sauntered out of the cottage and joined them.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Desiree said.
Emery’s cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. “Me either!”
“We’re going to have so much fun!” Desiree stepped back, holding Emery’s hands. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too. We need to have a slumber party and stay up all night catching up.”
“A slumber party?” Violet asked. She was the antithesis of Desiree, with long raven hair and colorful tattoos snaking down her shoulder and arm from beneath a black tank top. Her gray miniskirt revealed more tattoos on the side of her thigh. “Are you going to do each other’s hair and nails, too?”
Emery launched into Violet’s arms, squeezing her tight.
Violet wasn’t a hugger, but beneath the harsh exterior and verbal slaughter she’d dole out to anyone she pleased, she was a good, kind, and creative person who, Emery and Desiree believed, just needed love to soften her up. They were determined to break Violet of what they called her Wall of Warning.
“If you don’t hug me back, I’ll keep hugging you,” Emery threatened. “And it’s ‘we’ as in you, too, Vi.”
Violet sighed, her arms briefly circling Emery. “I thought we were going out tonight, getting our groove on…”
“We are! I can’t wait.” Emery went back for her bags. “Do you mind if I stay with you, Vi? Just until Wednesday, when the room in the big house is free?”
“Nope. Desiree already dropped that bomb on me. I just hope you brought your earplugs, because I plan to work off some stress tonight.” It was no secret that when it came to guys, Violet was of the opinion that less was definitely not more.
Emery followed them into Violet’s cottage. “Do you have a steady boyfriend?”
Violet scoffed. “Heck, no. You two better get moving,” she said as she headed for the kitchen. “That bar is packed on the weekends.”
“I promise to be fast, Vi,” Desiree said.
Emery followed her into the guest bedroom and dropped her bags. “Is Rick coming tonight?”
“Yes,” Desiree said. “Drake and Serena, too, but Mira and Matt are taking Hagen to the children’s theater, so you’ll have to meet them another time. And since they’re trying to get pregnant, I think they have better things to do at night anyway.” Mira was Rick and Drake’s younger sister. She and her husband, Matt, and their little boy, Hagen, lived in a cottage on the Bayside Resort property.
“I’ll have to remember to show Mira some fertility-boosting yoga poses.”
“She’d probably love that.” Desiree hugged Emery again. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here for good and you’re going to be working at the inn. Thank you!”
“Are you kidding? More like thank you for letting me crash your life.” Emery had missed her so much, she had to hug her again.
“Okay, Sappy Sues,” Violet called into the bedroom. “Move your pretty little butts or you’ll never get into Undercover.”
UNDERCOVER WAS ONE of the few happening night spots on the outer Cape, and as expected, it was jam-packed. Dean sat at a table with Rick and Desiree, while—like most of the guys in the bar—watching Emery and Violet dance like they were lovers: arms over their heads, breasts thrusting, hips gyrating, and sexy smirks challenging every man who tried to cut in. Emery looked like she might set the dance floor on fire in a skintight dress that showed every sinful curve. She’d done something with her makeup that made her eyes look too smoky and seductive. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Look at them,” Desiree said a little breathlessly. “Violet with her cutoffs and fringed belly shirt and Emery in that tight yellow dress. They look like they were put on this earth with the sole purpose to drive men crazy. I would give my left arm to be able to dance like that.”
Rick gave her an over-my-dead-body look. “If you danced like that I’d have to lock you up.”
Which is exactly what I’d like to do to little Miss Shake Her Booty over there.
Desiree leaned closer to Rick and said, “Careful.” Then, quieter, “I might like that.”
Dean slid his gaze back to Emery and ground his teeth together as another guy approached her. He was tall, built, and about to get his butt kicked if he brushed against her again.
“Wow, Dean,” Serena said as she arrived at the table with a pitcher of beer and Drake on her heels. Drake’s six-plus feet dwarfed her petite frame. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear and said, “You look like you’re about ready to kill someone.”
Dean’s fingers curled around his glass, mentally driving daggers into the jerk who was now deep in conversation with Emery.
“Why don’t you go out there and stake your claim instead of drooling from here?” Serena suggested.
Dean was glad Desiree was too busy with Rick to have heard the comment. The last thing he needed was to have the girls pushing him or Emery, when he knew it might only cause Emery to run like the wind.
Drake grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her away from Dean. “Causing trouble again?”
“Nope. Come on.” Serena grabbed Drake’s hand and tried to pull him toward the dance floor. As one of Mira’s best friends, Serena had grown up with Drake and Rick, too. When they’d bought the resort, she’d been between interior design jobs and had agreed to temporarily help them get the resort under control and manage the office. That was three years ago.
Drake plunked himself down in a chair and poured a glass of beer. “Thanks, but I think I’ll hang with the guys.”
“You stinker.” Serena turned pleading eyes to Desiree. “Dance with me?”
Rick gave Desiree a quick kiss and swatted her butt as she pushed to her feet. “Go, have fun.”
“She’s right,” Drake said to Dean, eyes tracking Serena, who had stopped to talk to a guy by the edge of the dance floor. “You should dance with Emery. You know you’re into her.”
“Look who’s talking.” Dean chugged his beer. He wasn’t sure if Drake was bluffing or if he was as transparent as his friends made him seem, but he’d never admitted his feelings for Emery to either of them. And if he was that transparent, then Emery must be the only one wearing blinders.
Drake scoffed. “Not even close. Besides, I don’t dip the pen in the company ink.”
“Neither do I,” Dean said, silently reminding Drake that next week Emery was on their payroll. “I just don’t want her getting hurt by some jerk.”
He watched the girls dance to a few more songs, every minute more painful than the last, as Emery amped up her dirty dancing, catching the eyes of the few men who hadn’t already been leering at her. Maybe he should fire her before she started working for them and make a move after all.
Shoot. The whole friendship thing would still be a problem.
Drake and Rick began planning the group’s next tubing adventure. They’d enjoyed just about every water sport available on and off the Cape since they were kids. The three of them were always planning one adventure or another, but Dean could no more concentrate on their conversation than take his eyes off Emery.
“Dean?” Drake said sometime later. “Can you make it? Tubing a week from Thursday?”
He was only half listening. “Yeah, count me in. Are the girls coming?” If the girls were going to be there, chances were, Emery would be there, too.
“Yes. That’s why we’re going in the afternoon. Des has to be at the inn in the morning.”
“Perfect.” Dean’s phone vibrated, and he took it out of his pocket, saw his father’s name on the screen, and sent it to voicemail. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his overbearing father’s bull about getting serious and going to medical school. Not today. Not ever. It was bad enough that he’d have to spend the night of the benefit dinner pretending to have a pleasant relationship with his father.
Dean gazed out at the dance floor, struggling to push those harsh feelings aside. By the time the girls made their way back to the table, hanging on to each other and giggling, he’d come out from under his father’s shadow.
Emery sat down beside him and took a drink of his beer. He struggled to resist the urge to drape an arm around her and send the message to the rest of the jerks in the bar that she was taken.
But she wasn’t taken.
And if he made a move, she’d probably give him a hard time for putting a damper on their friendship.
In other words, he was trapped.
“Emery has a date tomorrow night,” Violet announced while pouring herself a drink.
Dean felt Rick’s and Drake’s eyes on him, but he was too busy grinding his back teeth to react. “A date?”
Emery pointed across the dance floor to the guy he’d mentally slaughtered. “I’m going out with him. He’s pretty hot, right?”
Dean wanted to wipe the floor with the guy’s arrogant grin. “You just met the guy.”
“So what?” Emery said. “He’s a pretty good dancer, and it’s not like I have anything better to do at the moment.”
“Don’t you mean anyone better to do?” Violet waggled her brows. Then her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Emery. “I had to move out of the big house because Desiree and Rick kept that headboard banging at all hours of the night. If you’re staying with me, just keep that kind of noise to a minimum.”
“I’m not a skank, Vi.” Emery reached for Dean’s beer again. “Besides, you’re the one who told me to bring earplugs.”
“I was kidding,” she said unconvincingly.
“Sounds like mixed messages to me,” Serena said.
Emery took another sip of Dean’s beer. He filled a glass and set it in front of her.
She wrinkled her nose, looking adorable. “I hate beer.”
“You could have fooled me.”
She put her hands around his glass and flashed the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “It tastes better because it’s yours. It’s like eating a salad you make yourself and taking care to use all the same ingredients that they use at your favorite restaurant. No matter how you cut the lettuce and veggies, it’s never as good as the salad you get at the restaurant, because someone else made the other one.”
Why did her ridiculous rationalizations make him smile? “I didn’t make the beer,” he pointed out. Not that he minded sharing with her. The first time he’d met her she’d sucked down his entire drink and that weekend she’d eaten half of nearly everything he had on his plate.
Emery rolled her beautiful eyes. “Same idea.”
“Dean, what’s going on over there? Are you trying to steal my best friend?” Desiree asked. “She used to drink my drinks.”
Stealing doesn’t come close to what I’d like to do to her. “Hardly.”
“First you keep her at your place all day,” Desiree said. “Now she’s sharing your drinks. I think you’re definitely trying to move into the number one BFF spot.”
“I told you I couldn’t get to the inn because of the traffic,” Emery reminded her.
“Dean lives on Bayside Resort property,” Desiree pointed out. “It’s about a five-minute walk from his place to my front door. Why were you able to get there—” Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. Are you two…?”
“What? No.” Emery sat up straighter, putting distance between her and Dean. “Wait. You live on the resort grounds? I didn’t see the resort.”
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face to try to hide his smile.
Rick belted out a laugh. “If you had followed the path through the tall bushes at the back of his yard, you would have come out near the far end of our property, near Matt and Mira’s cottage.”
Emery swatted Dean’s arm. “What the heck, Dean? You said you’d have to take me on the Jet Ski!”
“Uh-oh,” Drake said with a laugh.
“What?” Dean tried to play it off casually, as if it were no big deal. “I had no idea where the keys to the golf cart were, and it’s a long walk with all your stuff. I was only thinking of you.”
“Thinking of me, my butt,” Emery said.
“Darn right he was thinking about your butt,” Violet said.
“C’mon, Vi.” Dean met Emery’s angry gaze. “Is there something wrong with wanting to spend time with my friend? You said Des was busy anyway.”
“She was, but you could have been honest with me.” Hurt replaced the anger in Emery’s eyes. “Besides, why did you give me directions all the way back to Route 6 if you’re on the same property?”
Drake and Rick cracked up again, but the hurt in Emery’s eyes cut him to his core.
Before he could answer, Desiree said, “You gave her the long way? Em, all you had to do was go out his driveway and turn left. It’s literally a three-minute drive.”
Dean shrugged. “I thought it might be best if she learned how to get there from the main road.”
“You get more girls with truth than lies, Dean,” Serena added.
“It wasn’t a lie, and I wasn’t trying to get Emery.” He put an arm around Emery and pulled her closer. When she resisted, he tugged harder, unwilling to let this come between them. “I’m really sorry for wasting your time, doll, but is it a crime to want to spend time with the woman who texts me at two in the morning?”
“She texts you at two in the morning?” Serena slid Desiree a curious look.
“I can’t very well text Desiree anymore, can I?” Emery answered. “Rick would have my head on a platter.” She leaned back, giving Dean an eyeful of her girls, as she said, “Besides, Dean doesn’t mind. He texts me all the time, too.”
Mind? He waited with bated breath for those texts.
“Sounds like the cold winter nights were warmed with sexting frickery to me.” Violet pushed to her feet and headed for the bar. “Speaking of frickery, I see an old friend. Catch y’all later.”
“Frickery?” Amusement rose in Drake’s eyes.
“Not my choice of words,” Violet said as she eyed Desiree, “but my sister doesn’t like the term fu—”
“Don’t!” Desiree snapped.
Violet laughed. “Can we get back to the sexting between Emery and Dean? That’s much more interesting than my toning down my language.”
“We were not sexting!” Emery grabbed Dean’s beer and took another drink.
“In any case”—Serena waved toward the dance floor—“I think Dean owes you a dance.”
The last thing he needed was to dirty dance with Emery. He’d be aroused in seconds and Drake and Rick would have a blast teasing him about it. “I don’t want to dance,” he said sharply.
“Tough toenails. You owe me.” Emery hauled him out of his seat and toward the dance floor.
Who was he kidding? He’d let her lead him around by the nose if she wanted to.
The song “Hands to Myself” began playing, and Emery fell into a hip-swaying, shoulders-rolling dance, singing about wanting him all to herself. Her voice—and those words—were as intoxicating as tequila. Her arms moved like graceful snakes over her head as she turned in a circle, her butt brushing against his hips. Man, the girl could make a dead man come alive. She glanced over her shoulder, her long hair curtaining one eye. A sultry smile curved her lips as she sang about not being able to keep her hands to herself and wanting his all.
I’ll give you my all, all right—and then some.
She turned, her hips brushing against his, and he hauled her against him, matching her every move with a bump and grind of his own. He wedged his thigh between hers and guided her arms around his neck, bringing her soft, pliable body against him.
“Thought you couldn’t dance,” she said as he settled his hands on her hips, never missing a beat.
“I said I didn’t want to dance. There’s a difference.” Now that he was deliciously wrapped up in her, he wasn’t about to let go. “Hold tight, baby doll.”
He dipped her over his arm and she followed his lead, arching and swaying, her hips pressed tightly against his. When she rose upright again, she held his gaze. Her hands played over his pecs and then wound around his neck, driving him out of his mind one touch at a time. She dragged her fingernails along the back of his neck, and he imagined dozens of dirty ways he could get those sexy nails to dig deeper.
“You’re quite a dancer, big guy.”
Her voice jarred him from his fantasies, but it was like swimming to the surface of a volcano. Every touch, every glance, brought more wicked desires. His hands slid down her hips, up her back, and into her hair. He loved her silky hair. Their eyes connected, holding for a long, sizzling moment. He was vaguely aware of the song ending, the beat changing, but he continued dancing, unwilling to break their spell. She licked her lips, and he was sure she was right there with him. She arched back again, holding on to his arms, her hair fanning out behind her as she swayed in an arc. He struggled to keep himself in check, but as she rose, her chest grazed his and his restraint snapped. He couldn’t keep from lowering his mouth toward hers, to finally claim the kiss he’d dreamed about for so long. Her eyes closed, her shoulders rocked, and just as his lips hovered over hers, she dipped back again, headbutting him in the chin.
“Son of a—” He swallowed a string of curses.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I was so lost in dancing, I didn’t see your face there.” She reached for his cheeks, stroking his beard. “Wow, that’s so soft. That beard stuff really works, huh?”
He groaned. How could their bodies be so close, the heat be so intense, and their thoughts be that far apart? “I didn’t know I needed a chin guard.”
“How many times have I told you that I can be oblivious to things? I’m buying you a football helmet to wear around me. I’m so sorry. I just got carried away.” She fluttered her sexy lashes and said, “Take it as a compliment. It means we connected.”
Not exactly the connection I was hoping for.