“Dude!” Sam Ellsworth slurred to Vaughn as he stood in the doorway of the gym where Winter Ball was being held. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight?”

Vaughn’s gaze skittered over Sam as he searched the room for her long dark hair. It only took him a moment and he had her in his sights.

“Sorry, I have something to do,” Vaughn muttered to his drunk classmate before he stalked into the room, heading straight for the dance floor.

It was worse than he’d imagined, seeing her in Lance’s arms. It was a slow song playing, some ridiculous thing by Taylor Swift, and they were pressed together, T.J.’s head on Lance’s shoulder as his hands ran up and down her sides slowly, moving lower and lower with each pass.

Mother. Fucker. Vaughn was possessed with the overwhelming desire to remove Lance’s fingers one by one, possibly using a serrated knife to do so.

He sped up, determined to reach them before those hands got to T.J.’s lovely and very round ass.

And as if she could sense his approach, her head lifted and she looked right at him, her eyes widening with each step he took toward her. His gaze locked onto hers, and his jaw tensed, but in a flash, he was standing so close that he could see the flecks of gold in her dark irises, and smell her vanilla perfume mixed with Lance’s cheap cologne.

She stepped away from Lance, and Vaughn’s throat nearly closed, leaving him to take in one shuddering breath as he looked at the vision of T.J. in an ice-blue dress that bared her shoulders, sculpted her ample breasts, and skimmed her narrow hips and long legs. It was some sort of shimmery fabric, and her skin even looked shimmery as the material clung to every perfect curve, complete with a slit that ran from ankle to thigh, exposing a tantalizing strip of well-formed leg.

All self-control left him, and before he knew it, he’d reached out, grabbed her by the wrist, and snarled, “Outside. Now.” before tugging her away from her date, the dance floor, and the friendship they’d shared since they were five years old.

* * *

He’d been watching her for an hour. She’d paddle out, lie on the board a while, soaking up the rays, then eventually grab a slow, sweet wave, her timing and form perfect as she rode it into shore, diving off before she could get thrown, and surfacing like a sleek seal coming out of the water.

T.J had never been serious about surfing, but as with everything physical, she had an easy grace with it, her long limbs becoming one with the board. T.J. was one of the most naturally gifted athletes Vaughn had ever seen, and watching her do anything, be it swinging a tennis racket, riding a wave, or sitting astride a horse made his heart soar like nothing else.

They’d been seven the first time Vaughn’s dad had taken Vaughn and T.J. out to learn to surf. He’d left Cade and Ty at home despite their protests, saying only, “Today is Vaughn’s day, and he wants T.J. there. You two know how to surf. Now it’s his turn.”

Even as a second grader, Vaughn had been perceptive enough to see that T.J. was a natural. And truth be told, she took to it faster than he did. He was introspective, fearful of making a mistake and looking like a fool, so he’d been too cautious, waiting a couple of seconds too long before trying to stand, giving up on the ride a few moments sooner than he needed to. Following his dad’s instructions to the letter rather than experimenting and discovering what worked for him.

T.J., on the other hand, had listened to his dad carefully during the instruction period, then promptly ignored everything and just followed her instincts. And her instincts were amazing. She was smart but fearless, controlled but willing to try things out. And she never seemed to worry for a moment about what she looked like, whether she was impressing anyone or not.

By not caring, she’d done nothing but impress. Vaughn’s dad had been full of pride at how well she’d done, and while Vaughn probably should have been jealous, he was only proud of her as well. Seven-year-old Vaughn knew what twenty-four-year-old Vaughn could still see out there on the rolling waves—T. J. Brisco was a natural.

She came out of the water, her long hair streaming down her back, and the little bikini she wore showing miles of silky sun-kissed skin. His heart sped a touch, and his cock followed suit. God, she was beautiful. Even from the distance of the boardwalk, when he couldn’t see her big brown eyes or soft smile, he was entranced by her. The way she moved, loose-limbed and confident, the way she carried her board up the sand, strong and tall, the way she turned and gazed out at the water, her stance contemplative but so free.

He rubbed at his chest, the ache that was lodged there constantly growing stronger. As she turned and picked her board back up, heading toward the parking area, he sighed and resumed his walk so she wouldn’t see him stalking her like a creep.

It was weighing on him, the fact that she wasn’t speaking to him. It was what he’d wanted, but now that it had happened, he had to admit it didn’t feel freeing at all. Rather, it made him feel like he was missing a hell of a lot more than a limb.

“You watched her for fifty-eight minutes and eighteen seconds.” Janelle’s voice was sharp and heated as she spoke from above him on the deck of the coffee shop. He stopped walking and looked up, his eyes at the same level as her knees where she sat facing the beach T.J. had just been on.

“Hey, Janelle,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

“When I heard you weren’t going to do PT anymore, I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.”

He sighed. She was T.J.’s best friend—a title he no longer had the right to claim—but that didn’t mean he wanted to deal with her. “The end of what?” He turned away from her, watching the water so he wouldn’t have to see the accusations in her eyes.

“The end of you tormenting her.”

He spun quickly, pinning her with a glare. “Don’t beat around the bush or anything.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know what you do to her. Jesus, you two have been at it for nearly twenty years.” She stood, coming to the railing of the deck and leaning over, resting her forearms on the redwood. She stared right back at him, her gaze not as angry but just as intense.

“Vaughn, you know how she feels about you, and I think it’s pretty obvious at this point that you don’t feel the same. Let. Her. Go. Please.”

The anger burned through him, bringing his blood to a boil in moments. Fists clenched at his sides, he narrowed his eyes before he answered her in clipped words, his voice flat and cold as hell.

“Whatever T.J. and I do or don’t feel about one another is none of your damn business. We don’t need the rest of the town to decide what’s right for us and what isn’t.”

Janelle shook her head. “Actually, that’s exactly what you need.” She paused, letting out a long breath. “Look, I know you’re not a bad guy, Vaughn, but you’re also not in any position to play with T.J.’s heart. Anyone can see you’re fighting your own demons—you have been for years.”

Vaughn’s gut churned. He knew what the town thought about the Jenkins brothers—damaged goods, every one of them. Cade pining after his surfing career, Ty raising a little girl by himself, Vaughn avoiding settling down with T.J. and now limping around with half a leg. But damn if it didn’t hurt to hear it said out loud, to his face.

“You really need to stop holding back,” he scoffed at Janelle.

“I won’t when it concerns my best friend’s happiness,” she snipped. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but I can’t stand by and watch you do any more damage than you already have. You sent her packing two weeks ago. She’s ready to move on. Let her.”

He blinked up at her for a moment, then resignation washed over him. He knew she was right. He needed to stay the course, no matter how hard it was proving. He’d let her go. He needed to let her stay gone.

“You don’t have anything to worry about from me,” he said softly. “And neither does T.J.”

Then he walked away, wondering the whole time if he’d finally be able to do the right thing. Whatever that was.

* * *

The Big Sur market was packed with tourists, and T.J. wondered if she should have driven to a convenience store and gotten a frozen dinner in a carton instead of braving the madness of the town’s trendy local market on a Friday afternoon.

She picked up a handbasket and made her way to the produce section, hoping she could get some baked potatoes and salad mix fast and get out.

Narrowly avoiding a toddler pushing a miniature shopping cart that would have given her a bruised shin the size of Texas, she scooted around a group of teenagers arguing over which donut flavors to get and made her way to the organic veggies that lined one wall of the moderate-sized building.

“Well, today must be my lucky day,” a deep voice said over her shoulder as she reached for the tongs to gather the salad mix.

She turned slightly to look at the voice’s owner and found herself face-to-face with Drew, who stood a tad too close and grinned a touch too big.

She felt a flush work its way up her cheeks and turned to face him fully, thinking maybe he would take a step back, which he didn’t.

“Hi,” she said, holding her shopping basket between them like a shield.

“Hi,” he parroted back, still grinning. Flirty bastard. He loved that he was making her blush.

“Are you working here in town today?” she asked.

“I am. For the next three days, in fact.” He put a hand on her basket and gently took it from her, holding it to one side so he could step even closer, pinning her between him and the cooler behind her. “I texted you all about that, but you didn’t answer.”

T.J. cleared her throat and tried to look serious, but it was impossible not to smile with Drew looking at her like that.

“That was only this morning. I’ve been at work and came straight here, so I didn’t get a chance to text back.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, watching her lips intently. “So will you have dinner with me tonight? We can cook something at your place, if that’s not too presumptuous?”

Was it? Should it be? She wasn’t sure, but she knew he was polite, could tell that while he might flirt till the cows came home, he’d never push her to do something she wasn’t ready for. And wasn’t this what people who dated did? Hung out, ate, talked, got to know one another? She gave a nervous giggle. God, she sounded like a fifteen-year-old trying to flirt with the star quarterback. She needed to stop that.

“I think that would be fine,” she responded, standing taller and reaching for her shopping basket.

He held it out, dangling from one finger. “You can have this back or I can be your manservant and carry it around for you while we pick out what to cook,” he joked.

“Ooh, I’ve never had a manservant.”

He grinned again. “You’re going to love it.”

* * *

Vaughn pressed the Bluetooth button to answer his phone while he drove through the middle of town. He’d been at the hardware store picking up items for some repairs to the family barn, something he could do without any interference or help from his brothers.

“Hello?” he answered as he slowed before a crosswalk where a slew of tourists with cameras were trying to get to the boardwalk to take pictures of the surf crashing against the rocks below. The beach petered out on this end of town, and the famous Big Sur cliffs took over, steep, rocky, and, as he well knew, dangerous as hell in a rainstorm when your car went off the highway.

He shook his head a touch, and then his aunt’s voice jolted him out of the memory.

“Are you still in town?” Lynn asked, her voice tinny through the car’s speakers.

“Yeah, just left Handel’s, why?”

“I need you to stop off at the store and grab a few things for dinner.”

He sighed as he looked in his rearview mirror before making a U-turn back to the town market.

“Text me the list,” he said.

Five minutes later, he walked into the chaos that was Big Sur market on a Friday during tourist season. Children were careening around, carts nudged, swerved, and rattled, the satellite radio station played Muzak versions of the Beatles, and Dolores, the cashier who’d worked there Vaughn’s entire life, was yelling at a kid bagging groceries so loudly, you could hear her in aisle ten.

Vaughn took a deep breath, commandeered a small cart, and started into the melee.

He rounded the corner into the first aisle, looking for the specialty pasta Lynn wanted. His gaze scanned the rows of fettucine, angel hair, linguini, and vermicelli, until he found the one he needed. But as he reached out to snag the package from the shelf, he heard a familiar laugh, one that haunted him at night when he was in his bed alone. One that made his skin tingle and his dick stand up and take notice like a dog being presented with a juicy bone.

His head swiveled to the right, and there at the end of the aisle stood T.J., her long hair swung over one shoulder, as the asshole from the Shark Tooth pointed out various items on the shelves in front of them. He’d point and whisper things to her. She’d giggle. He carried a basket that they were obviously sharing, and she looked—happy.

Vaughn swallowed the rage that coursed through him like a tidal wave and watched in silence. They moved with a heightened awareness of each other, brushing arms and hands every so often with intention. T.J. blushed when the douche bag lifted her hand to his lips and gave a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. Then he took one of those long, shiny locks and ran it between his fingers as he talked to her, looking into her eyes, focused entirely on her. And she was focused entirely on him, her gaze fixed, her body turned into him, her voice only for his ears.

Vaughn felt the prick of nausea and knew that he was intruding, he needed to turn around and leave, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it, couldn’t quite get his legs to move, his cart to roll, his heart to let the fuck go.

Then it happened. They turned and started walking toward him, still so wrapped up in their conversation—in each other—that they didn’t see him, until it was too late.

T.J.’s gaze locked with his, and he swallowed, watching as her expression went from happy to shocked, then guilty, then angry and sad, all within a split second. And Vaughn’s heart cracked yet again, threatening to simply fall into pieces that could never be glued back together.

This was what he did to her. Where another man made her smile, laugh, glow, he made her sad. Made her want to run the other direction, made her look at him as though he’d taken the most precious thing in the world from her and destroyed it.

Made her walk right past him without a word.

What. The. Fuck.

Vaughn stood staring after her as Asshole glanced back at him, a slight frown on his face. Vaughn scowled at the guy, and he turned away, his attention focused on T.J., who was quickly moving to the end of the aisle and then turning the corner, away from him, away from the misery he brought to her doorstep, and apparently away from the fact that not only were they over in every way possible, but she was no longer even speaking to him. And if he’d thought losing his leg hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain that sliced him in half, standing there in the aisle of the Big Sur market on a Friday afternoon.