“Then why are you here?” Kayla asked, still in complete shock over his angry admission. “Maybe if you can answer that, then your problems will be solved.”

“I really like to have complicated vacations,” he said. “Easy, laid-back days on the beach with a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other are not my idea of a good time.”

Kayla bit her lip, letting her gaze slide down his very muscular body. On one hand, she wanted to laugh, but on the other, she felt awful. He looked miserable, and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they last seen each other. Last kissed. Last screwed each other’s brains out in his Jeep.

She flushed hot at the images projecting in her mind.

“Ms. Kayla, I’m done in the...” Tommy’s voice trailed away.

She spun around in her chair. “Hey, yeah...thank you. I think we’re done for the day.” Damn, she’d forgotten about him being there. Judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t heard Bryce’s confession.

Tommy’s gaze bounced from her to Bryce and then back to her again. “I can stay longer.”

With a smile, she leaned over the counter and patted his arm. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“You sure? You don’t look okay, and he looks angry.” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving until he does.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she heard Bryce mutter.

“You’ve heard of resting bitch face, right?”

Tommy nodded, but he kept his eyes trained on Bryce.

“It doesn’t just apply to women.”

His gaze sliced to hers. “Seriously?”

Nodding, she said, “Afraid so. And the men who have it tend to be a little more verbal than your average bear.”

Tommy considered her words. “All right. I’ll head home, but only because I have homework.”

“See you tomorrow,” she called out as the teen shuffled to the door.

As soon as Tommy’s feet hit the sidewalk, Bryce closed the door and locked it. He turned to face her, lips twitching as he leaned against it. “I have resting bitch face?”

“Should I have called it resting pouting face? Or active throwing a temper-tantrum face because I didn’t swoon when you texted me the phrase ‘not my problem’.”

“There’s that sass.” Pushing away from the door, he walked slowly to her. “The last time I had to try this hard for a female was when I was fifteen and wanted to get into Melissa Dorian’s panties.”

“Bless your heart,” she cooed. She held her ground as he got closer. His sexy face had the look of a predator stalking his prey. The thought of being his prey made thrills of pleasure run all over her body.

“That passive-aggressive bullshit doesn’t fly with me. Neither does lying,” he said, crowding her into the back of the café. “Tell me to fuck off if you think I’m bullshitting you.”

“Newsflash, Detective. I already did.” She shoved against his chest. “You didn’t get the message that you keep saying is perfectly clear to you.”

His hand punched out, hitting the wall with a thud. Her heart kept time. “Maybe I’m a slow learner.”

“Maybe you don’t like being told you can’t have me.”

He leaned down. “Been there. In so deep that I want more,” he rasped against her ear. “Admit it, sweetheart, you want more, too.”

“What I want is irrelevant to our situation,” she protested, turning her head to one side. But that only gave him better access to her sensitized skin. “What I want,” she began and ended on a gasp, “is for you to...Oh God.” She shoved against him. “Stop. I can’t think straight around you.”

“That’s the whole point,” he said, worrying her earlobe.

“Bryce.” She sighed his name, enjoying the feel of him pressing against her. He made her feel so small, so dainty. She loved it. “We can’t have sex in my café.”

“We sure as hell can’t have it in your Bug. I won’t fit inside.”

Pulling away from him, she giggled. “Don’t you have a healthy ego?”

He grinned. “So turned on by the sass.”

She cocked a hip and traced the front of his shirt. “I’m sorry for lying to you. Last night happened way too fast for me.”

“That I understand. That I get,” he said, kissing her softly on the lips. “Why don’t we try having dinner at my place tonight? I promise to be a very good boy.”

She didn’t want him to be good. “Why bother? Having dinner with me, that is.”

“I like you.”

“You like what happened in your Jeep.”

He grinned. “That too.”

It was the grin that did it. And his honesty. “Still want me to bring my bikini?”

“Uh-huh.”

***  ***  ***

Kayla eased into the hot tub, submerging herself almost up to her shoulders. She groaned as the bubbles, heat, and jet streams worked together over her body.

Bryce handed her a glass of white wine. “Very good for sore muscles.”

She let her eyes roam over his body. Last night they’d kept almost all their clothes on, so she had only felt what he had going on underneath them. But now that he’d changed into nothing but a pair of board shorts that hung loosely on his hips...she was hot and needy.

His abs were like the antique washboard her grandmother had used to wash clothes. And that little sprinkling of dark hair in the center of his chest—yes, please.

His brow furrowed. “White’s fine with you?  If not, I have some red or—”

“It’s perfect. I love it.” Taking a gulp of wine, she let her head drop forward. It wasn’t classy, but her back and her butt hurt, and she almost got caught staring at him. “By the way, this tub and your super smooth way of getting me in it—major points. I’m never leaving. You’ll have to move my café here, and I’ll serve customers from this very spot.”

Tan, bare feet and legs were lowered into the water, followed by rock hard abs and muscular chest. Broad shoulders came into view, and Kayla forced her gaze downward again. “Guess I’ll have to start charging rent.”

“Name your price.”

Another round of bubbles jetted against her thighs, hitting another spot that made her sigh in pleasure. “Whatever you want.”

“Not sure if I approve of the uniform.” He toyed with the strap of her swimsuit as he scooted closer to her. “Although...green is my favorite color, especially when it comes on a string bikini.”

Their thighs touched.

Bryce started rubbing her neck.

She let out another appreciative moan.

“Do you know how hard it was for me let you go this afternoon? I hated driving separately. I fucking hated waiting for you to show,” he said.

His words made her stomach tumble. “I said I was coming.”

“You also said that last night.”

“I did come last night.”

He gave a soft snort. “You know what I mean. That text—so not you. You’re not a liar.” His fingers continued to work their magic, rubbing at all the sore spots along her shoulders.

“Why does it matter? You’re not looking for commitment. At least, not in Holland Springs,” she pointed out.

He dropped a kiss into her hair. “Is that what you want—commitment?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” She tilted her head to one side, and his lips coasted up her neck. “Eventually. I want a man who doesn’t clean out my bank account. Kids. Craftsman style house.  Trips to the beach on the weekends.”

“I’m an only child,” he said suddenly. “Lots of cousins, aunts, and uncles. This place belongs to my grandparents.”

*

Bryce bit back a smile as Kayla’s eyes popped to stare at him. Questioning. Yeah, he wanted in her head, but she was skittish. She’d been burned. Badly. Far worse than he’d ever been, and he needed her to get past that.

Not so they could finish out his vacation with lots of sex—though he wasn’t opposed to that. The thing was that he really did like Kayla, and no woman should ever have a man treat her like Brad had.

“We used to pile in three cars and drive down here in the summers. Wish I’d known you then. Pretty sure you would have fallen for my twelve-year-old charms.”

She laughed. “I’m sure I would have.” Her smile fell a little. “But you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to try. I’m an only child, too... My parents were protective of me. My dad especially. It wasn’t easy once my mom passed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago, when I was thirteen. She went to sleep one night and then didn’t wake up. The coroner said it was a massive heart attack.” She shook her head. “It’s been almost fourteen years,” she mused sadly. “She loved to cook, you know? Went to culinary school and everything. Shocked everyone when she came back to Holland Springs and settled down with my dad. Not many people leave only to come back.”

“She must have taught you a lot.”

Kayla nodded, loose curls slipping from her bun to fall on her neck. “It was our thing. I miss her.” Her warm brown eyes turned liquid.

“It’s amazing how grief hits you when you least expect it,” she added softly.

“Tell me about your day,” he said. “I’m surprised you let Tommy near the stove.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and took another drink of wine. “He’s good. Really good. Turns out he used to work at the Shake and Shack.”

“You thinking of hiring him permanently, and not just to help his family out?”

“Yes. If he keeps showing up on time and has a mostly good attitude.”

“Mostly good?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Teenager.”

His hands dipped lower, caressing the uppermost curves of her breasts. She tensed. “Relax. No sex. Just talking.” He kissed her cheek and nibbled on her jaw, pleased as anything when her grip tightened on the stem of the wineglass. “Did you go to culinary school, too?”

“No, I’ve never had formal training.” She leaned against him, curvy body making his cock stand at attention from the contact. “Growing up, I sucked at schoolwork. I always had a hard time concentrating and sitting still. I wasn’t interested in reading... You know, all the things that girls were supposed to excel in.

“But reading made my head hurt because all the words just ran together and sitting still was akin to being stuffed into a box and never let out. In school, I couldn’t breathe. I needed space and air. After I graduated from high school, I took off for a while, traveled the country. That’s how I met Brad. We met while I was a short-order cook in a diner in Kentucky. Then my dad suffered a minor stroke, and I decided it was time to come home. Brad followed. Made me think he was in it for the long haul.” She gazed at her wineglass. “The rest is history. History that I want to stay buried in the past. Preferably in a lockbox big enough for a man to lie down in.”

“How long ago was that?”

Her beautiful face became brittle, and then turned vulnerable. “Not long enough.”