Chapter 8

The platterfuls of picked-over crab shells down the middle of the table were all that was left of their enormous crab feast. Of course, they’d all worked up an appetite. The ACSs kicked off the day with a run on the boardwalk. Then a swim in the ocean, followed by volleyball, lunch, another swim, paddleboarding, and hilarious attempts to sit in an inner tube right in the breakers that flipped the guys six out of seven tries. Madison, Brooke, and Chloe had lain on the sand for most of the day, only joining them in the ocean for dips.

Summer spent the whole day thinking about sex with Riley. The possibility of sex with Riley. The inevitability of it. The chance of it happening here at the beach. The chance of it never happening, if not here.

How earth-shatteringly awesome sex with him would be, based on their makeout session in the ocean. How his lists of safety precautions now made her giggle instead of grouse. How his intensity at everything from spiking the volleyball to turning his corncob into a sharp-edged rectangle more than hinted at all that intensity coming into play in bed.

She figured all her wondering and musing had to have burned at least as many calories as Riley had with his frenetic beachy activities.

It had certainly worn her out.

Griffin tapped the wooden crab mallet against the table. “I have an announcement.”

“Chloe’s finally going to make an honest man out of you,” Knox suggested.

Instead of looking embarrassed, Chloe just smiled serenely. “Hints and prodding won’t hurry my plans along.”

“No, but they’ll rile Griff, which totally works for me.” The grin on Knox’s face was almost as bright as the parrots on his shirt. He had brought along Hawaiian camp shirts for the guys, tropical maxi-dresses for the girls. It was definitely the best vacation favor Summer had ever received.

Griff fished a crab leg from the pile and threw it at Knox. “First of all, we need to close out this evening with our traditional toast.” He walked to the cooler and lifted out five longnecks of Dogfish Head. “Who needs?”

As Summer raised her hand for a fresh beer, she wondered if she should slip back into the house. Avoid whatever this tradition was. She was a guest, a semi-outsider. But with dinner set up on the water side of a wall of beach grass and a dune, it’d be obvious if she left now.

“First, as always, we toast to our driver that fateful day, Santos, and his family left behind. Salute!” After a quiet sip, Griff raised his bottle again. “Second, as always, we toast to the Sesto Reggimento Alpini, who patched us up and got us back to civilization. Salute!” Another surge forward from everyone to clink, and then back to drink.

That was when Summer realized they were toasting to the memory of their decade-old tragedy in the Alps, of which she knew only the bare basics. The most basic of all being that they never talked about it. Now that they’d included her in this intimate and important ceremony, did it make her a full-fledged member of the group?

Because that would be…awkward.

Chloe was the only constant in her life. She’d never been a joiner. Well, not since the day that had changed up her whole life. Summer thought of herself as a professional flitter. Spending too much time with one group just meant missing out on the next bright and shiny opportunity that popped by. It was the same approach she took to dating. Nothing serious and nothing long-lasting—because nothing was guaranteed to last.

Come to think of it, that made sexing up Riley much more of a complication.

“Our third toast has to be to Summer.”

She almost dropped her beer. Looked around frantically in confusion at the handsome men all smiling at her. And then sent Chloe a glare loaded with the telepathic message of Why didn’t you warn me about whatever this is? “What?”

“You started off in this group just as Chloe’s friend, but now you matter to all of us. You’re the only woman we’ve ever brought here who isn’t expected to sleep with one of us.”

The five men all raised their glasses and said, “To Summer not sleeping with us.”

Chloe and Madison were giggling too hard to participate.

Summer did notice, however, that Riley did not drink. Did not in any way seal the toast.

Interesting.

She stood. Beamed at the men who’d befriended her bestie in a way that would always make her grateful. “Um, thank you. And I guess I should return the odd but warmhearted compliment and thank all of you for not expecting me to sleep with you.”

Hearty laughter rolled off the table to mingle with the crashing surf.

Riley didn’t laugh. He just sat there, with those green eyes, nearly black in the moonlight and the shadows cast by the lanterns in the center of the table, staring at Summer. She felt his gaze as firmly on her skin as if he’d stroked her with his hand.

With a bang of the crab mallet, Griff got everyone back under control. “I didn’t want to leave without letting you know about our next road trip.”

“If it’s going to the Redskins’ season opener, I vote no. Not going to Pittsburgh.” Logan grimaced. He pulled Brooke against him to nuzzle her hair, as if he needed the reassurance of her scent. It was such an inherently romantic, almost instinctual move that it made Summer’s heart flutter. “For fuck’s sake, I just spent three months in a dirt pit of a village in Kazakhstan. Don’t make me follow that up with a trip to Pittsburgh.”

“Block off the weekend of September twenty-ninth.” Griff drumrolled his palms on the table. “We’re going to New London, Connecticut.”

It didn’t strike Summer as a big tourist destination. Since she’d never heard of it. Still, she didn’t want to ask why and seem ungrateful, especially since all the men were nodding knowingly.

“The Coast Guard asked me to speak at the Academy’s homecoming. And I want you all there for it.”

“Wow. That’s a big fucking deal.” Knox high-fived him. “Is it because of the promotion you didn’t want and we convinced you to take?”

“Not entirely. And quit trying to take credit for my decision to stop doing rescues, or I’ll kick your ass the next time I miss flying. Which is pretty much once a week, minimum.”

“Why do you want us there?” Riley asked quietly.

“The Coast Guard became a second family to me. But you’re all my family first and foremost. I don’t want to celebrate one without the other.”

His heartfelt words packed a wallop. Tears stung at the edges of her eyelids. This group took friendship to a whole new level. It was exactly what she shared with Chloe, but had never expected to find anywhere else. On the other hand, tragedy had been what escalated her and Chloe’s bond. And these men had certainly shared a life-altering tragedy of their own.

Josh fist-bumped Griff across the table. “We wouldn’t miss it, G-Man.”

“I’d go just for the chance to see all those men in uniform,” Madison said with a flirty smirk and a batting of her thick lashes.

If the girl wanted to window-shop, Summer sure wouldn’t make her do it alone. “Why wait for Connecticut? I’ll take you to Annapolis. You grab a cocktail, sit on the dock, and watch the cadets pass by.”

Knox grabbed Madison’s hand and brandished the enormous canary diamond on her ring finger. “How can you miss this ring? It means no ogling.”

Evidently you could take the ex-teacher out of the classroom, but not the classroom out of the ex-teacher. Because Brooke raised her hand, wiggling her ocean blue–tipped fingers, to grab his attention. “Aren’t you having a party to watch the Miss America pageant? All men? All ogling?”

The reminder earned her a steely glare from Knox. One that bopped around the table to encompass everyone in a dress. “You’re all a bad influence on my woman. I blame you the most, Summer. You’ve got that streak of reckless naughtiness I like so much.”

She raised her glass in a silent toast. Because Knox lived a lot like she did. He wrung every last ounce of possibility and fun out of life. “I do my best.”

“Cleanup still has to get done, and Jerry’s probably already glued to a barstool with his feet in the bay at Seacrets. Riley, Summer, how about it?” Griff said, covering his mouth and making a noise like a fake yawn. Which would’ve played a lot better if he hadn’t simultaneously brushed Chloe’s side boob—quite obviously—with his knuckles.

“Great. We’ll take dinner cleanup,” Logan said. Brooke and Logan rushed out of the room, his arm at her waist and her clamped to his side tighter than plaid on a tartan.

“No reason Jerry should drink alone.” Josh pulled out his phone and started texting. “I’ll either hook up with him or hit a bar in Dewey. Don’t wait up. And don’t expect me to be conscious by breakfast.”

Knox made an elaborate show of checking his watch, a TAG Heuer that cost more than the rent on Summer’s shop for an entire year. “Yeah, I’ve got a conference call scheduled with a company in Australia. Walk me up, Madison?”

Just that quickly, Summer and Riley were left alone with the guttering candles. She looked at the rise of the dune everyone had just raced over. Just the rolling crash of the surf, the loud rasp of crickets, and the dim crescent of a moon overhead. It was the perfect setting, the perfect time for a man to make a move on a woman.

“I think the two of us are being thrown together by our well-meaning but romance-drunk friends.”

The corner of Riley’s mouth pulled down. “What gave it away? The fire drill exit? Or the fact that while it is, in fact, noon in Australia, it’s noon on Sunday?”

“Ha. I didn’t even realize.” But she kind of loved that Riley had. The fact that his mind ran nonstop, leaping ahead and working angles, had allowed him to catch Knox’s slipup. She stood. Began to gather the paper plates and dump them in the metal trash can a few steps away.

Riley rolled up the tablecloth with all the cups inside it. It crinkled loudly. Then he squashed it with his hands, packing it tight. As though trying to fill any possible pocket of potential conversation. After stuffing it down into the can, he faced her. “Cleanup is done. But we should probably hang out here a few more minutes. Just to let everyone else feel like they accomplished something by leaving us alone.”

There he went, being all thoughtful. Considerate. Just like when he’d gotten ice—without being asked—for the elbow Josh had whacked on his paddleboard earlier after seeing his friend wince. And when he’d steered the conversation away from a story about a Father’s Day soccer outing with Logan’s dad. The man who happened to be Madison’s father as well—even though their father hadn’t acknowledged it or her for more than two decades.

Riley noticed…well, he noticed everything. Then he took whatever steps were necessary to improve or fix each and every situation. His competence was quiet, but astonishingly thorough. All that attention to detail impressed Summer. Kind of made her panties wet, too.

In the past—a whole month ago, say—it would’ve bored her to tears. But now she saw it, and him, in a different light. The way he always got things done, the way he made her feel so taken care of and utterly…safe…

God.

Summer fisted her hand at her stomach, because the emotional punch to the gut sure felt real. She hadn’t felt wholly safe since that April day three bullets tore into her body. Not a single day went by without a shiver up her spine. A bone-deep knowing that the worst could happen at any minute, and she both couldn’t stop it and definitely wouldn’t be able to deal with it again afterward.

But it hadn’t happened today. Or yesterday, come to think of it. Because she’d been with Riley. Riley of the forest green eyes and the surprisingly ripped abs and the deep laugh who made her feel safe.

What was she supposed to do with that revelation?

What could she do but jump at him feet first, like she did at everything else that made her happy?

Summer braced her hands on the back of the wooden folding chair. “What if we are being paired up? Would that be the worst thing in the world?”

Riley’s head shot up. He opened his mouth, then closed it. She’d seen him do that before. She’d snapped at him for doing it before. Told Riley to spit out the words without embarking on a trek to climb a damn mountain, get God to chisel just the perfect ones onto stone tablets, and then hand them over so he’d know what to say.

Now, though, Summer appreciated that he was taking the time to be precise in his answer. She didn’t want a knee-jerk response. An auto-answer with zero thought behind it. In fact, she’d happily wait all night to hear the answer he’d have to dig in his heart to find.

The ocean breeze ruffled his thick brown hair, lifted it off his brow. A few steps brought him hip to hip with her. Shoulder to shoulder. Ankle to ankle. They were lined up head to toe. Barely touching, but touching everywhere. Summer felt his nearness like an electric shock.

In a low voice, Riley finally said, “I don’t know anymore.”

It wasn’t an open door.

It wasn’t a locked one, either. “You knew you didn’t want to parasail. You liked it, though, when I made you try it. Right?”

“Yes.” He put his hand on top of hers. Simultaneously covering her and holding her in place. And both sensations absolutely thrilled Summer. Made the panties a tad damper, too.

Looking up at him from beneath half-closed lids, she asked, “So why not try this?”

On a guttural laugh, Riley said, “Want to elaborate on what ‘this’ is?”

“Not really. I’m more than a little afraid that if we talked about it, we’d go round in circles. Or start fighting.”

“I don’t want to do any of that.”

Thank goodness. There was probably a 60 percent chance they were on the same page. Given their volatile and bratty, bickering-filled past, there was a 40 percent chance Riley would rather sort the recycling (as he was totally the kind of man who’d do that) than stand in the soft summer air with her another minute.

No point just wondering. She turned her chin into her shoulder. Fixed her gaze down on his big, sexy, bare feet. “What do you want to do?”

“You.” Riley kept his hand in place but moved behind Summer, pinning her against the chair with his big, hard body. Hard pecs against her back. Hard thighs caging hers together at the sides. And a rock-hard length nestled in the cleft of her ass.

His other hand started down at the middle of her thigh. Slowly, Riley gathered up her dress, handful by handful, until her leg was bare to him. He tucked the cotton skirt into her belt. Then he stroked. First with only his fingertips. Softly enough to raise goosebumps. Not just on the thigh he touched, but jumping over to the other one as well. Funny how Summer had always thought the inside of her thigh to be the sensitive, erogenous zone. Because the outside of her thigh—when Riley touched it, anyway—seemed to have twice the number of pleasure receptors. It was almost as good as if he were stroking her nipples. The faint touch zinged heat down to her toes. Up to her chest. Straight to her already overheating core.

With a slow scrape of his nails that excited her even more, Riley recentered his attention. He kneaded her ass. Palming it. Squeezing it. Plumping it. Every contraction of his fingers created an equal contraction between her legs. The rasp of his calluses—and what did he do to earn those, sitting at a desk in the NTSB all day?—scratched just enough to make it interesting. To make it clear that sex with him would not be soft and predictable. To provide a hint of his well-hidden rough edges and hardness.

The anticipation was driving her crazy.

And Riley had only been touching her for two minutes.

“Come on, cowboy,” she urged. “Let’s get this party going.”