Chapter Four

Luci

 

I was cold from the moment we rushed out of the car. “We don’t need coats,” Blythe had insisted. “The party’s indoors.”

The moment the brisk air smacked our faces, I started shaking, and couldn’t seem to stop.

But I’m not cold anymore, not with all the warmth radiating from Landon’s palm.

His hand swallows mine whole. But neither my hand nor I will complain. Landon is . . . wow.

My fingers slide along his skin as he releases me slowly. I thought he was headed out and away from me, perhaps to meet some elegant socialite he was expecting. It could explain his disinterest in Blythe and all the stunning women on the cheer team. But here he is with no other woman in sight.

Except me.

Blythe told me Kiawah had a lot of wealth. I imagined pretty and classic southern homes with worn wooden siding overlooking the ocean, similar to those in coastal New England. I wasn’t picturing this modern masterpiece, nor was I expecting so much flash. No wonder Blythe dressed like she did. Like the other women flouncing around, she’s in a designer gown that appears spray-painted rather than zipped on, unlike the leftover bridesmaid dress I retrieved from the back of my closest.

She could have warned me. I thought she chose her dress simply to impress “the guy” the Cougar’s publicist wanted her to meet.

“The guy” who is evidently Landon.

“Luci?” he asks. “As in, You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille?”

I laugh a little. “No, Lucianna.”

The corners of his mouth curve slightly. It’s not much of a smile, but enough to add to his allure and more than enough to show me smiles don’t come easy for him.

“I like that better,” he says, his Southern accent outrageously thick and all-too sexy.

My shy smile widens, becoming more of a real one that maybe I’m not used to showing either.

I glance down. “Thank you.”

“For liking your name?”

“For that, but mostly for talking to me.” I motion around. “I don’t really know anyone. I came with a friend.”

“It’s all right. Most of these people aren’t worth noticing.” He shrugs. “But maybe some are.”

I think he might mean me until he averts his gaze. Perhaps he doesn’t see me like I see him.

I, conversely, noticed Landon right away. He’s the only man in jeans, but it’s his looks and beard that caught my attention.

It’s not one of those trendy beards men grow, the long ones carefully groomed to lay over clothes designed to appear earthy and casual. This is the type of beard men grow when they could care less about shaving, and even less about impressing anyone.

With dark brown hair and brown eyes, there shouldn’t be anything especially gripping about him. Yet everything is, from his classically handsome features to the hint of strength and muscle lingering beneath his plain black sweater.

“Would you like to join me at the bar, Luci?”

I glance from where the bartender is smiling at a man speaking low into her ear, to the great room. Blythe is cozying up to one of the football players. If it’s who I think it is, he’s married and she should be stepping away instead of stepping closer.

“You don’t have to,” he adds.

His tone gives me pause and lures my attention back to his face. He’s not angry that my attention skittered briefly. The casual way in which he spoke made it clear that life will go on regardless of whether I join him.

“It’s not that.” I glimpse at Blythe. “My friend that I came with . . .” I crinkle my nose when I realize how much I’m telling him. “She, um, was looking forward to meeting you.”

His playful smile warms my cheeks. “Doesn’t look that way to me.” He leans in, pretending to whisper. “Between you and me, I think she’s doing her best to meet Number Sixty-Nine.”

My mouth pops open. “She’s not really like that.” It’s what I claim, even though Blythe very much is.

Landon raises his brows. “You do know that’s the number on his jersey.” My beet red face answers for me. He smirks. “Guess not.”

I cover my mouth. “Oh, God.”

He bows his head, chuckling. “You don’t follow football do you?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Now, how can you live in the Carolinas and not watch America’s favorite pastime?”

“I’m from New Jersey,” I offer, in a way of an apology.

Oh, and there’s that smirk again. “Well then I suppose you have more problems than not watching football.”

“It’s not as bad as people think,” I counter, unable to suppress my smile.

We walk as one toward the bar. “Oh good, because I think it’s pretty damn bad.”

He pulls out a stool for me before taking a seat and reaching for his beer. I cross my legs. “I’ll have you know there are a lot of great things about New Jersey.”

He drums on the bottle, but doesn’t quite take a sip. “Name one.”

“We have the shore,” I point out.

He makes a face. “Yeah, I’ve seen the show.”

I laugh. “Not that shore, the rest of it. The whole Jenkin’s boardwalk is pretty and fun, a great place to be a teen and hang out. Oh, and Sea Girt, Bay Head, and Stone Harbor are pieces of paradise you never want to leave.”

He tilts his head toward the wall of sliding glass doors. “I don’t know there, Luci, I can’t imagine anyplace better than Kiawah.”

I grin. I can sense how much he means what he says. “Have you always lived here?’

“Born and raised and hope to die here,” he says. He takes a swig. “No place like home.”

“If you’ve always lived here, how do you know there aren’t better places?”

His grin takes him from a man jaded by the world, to one still hoping the world might be better than it is. “I’ve been everywhere,” he replies. “That’s how I know this is where I’ll spend the remainder of my days.”

“Tell me where you’ve been.”

He frowns, as if he doesn’t really believe I want to know.

“Come on,” I say, motioning with my hands. “Wow me.”

“Wow you?” He rubs his beard. “I don’t know, that’s a lot a pressure to put on a man, but I’ll give it my best seeing how you were nice enough to help out my sister.”

I expect to hear Switzerland and France based on the atmosphere. I don’t expect all the places he rattles off. “Vietnam, Bosnia, Thailand, Israel, Egypt, and about every country in South America with the exception of Cuba because we weren’t sure we’d get out.”

“Not Europe?” I ask.

“I’ve been there, too,” he says. “France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria, Hungry, Sweden, and all of the U.K.”

“But also the other places you’ve mentioned?” He nods. “Why?”

“My parents volunteered all over the world and thought me and my sister should volunteer with them.” His focus flickers over my face as if trying to gauge my reaction. “They wanted us to see and know life outside of Kiawah.”

“To show you the imperfections outside your perfect world?” I ask quietly.

He pauses with the tip of his beer at his lips. “Something like that.”

In the time that follows, only silence comes, and a lot of him eyeing me when he doesn’t think I’m paying attention. I’m not a person who’s uncomfortable with silence. I prefer it to the noise people make when they speak words that say nothing and mean even less.

Perhaps Landon feels the same.

My focus wanders back to Blythe who is closing in on a different player. I almost think I should take her aside and tell her not to try so hard, that it’s not so bad to be alone. But I’m no longer positive that’s true.

Being next to Landon is nice, even though he’s not saying a word.

“You have something on your collar.”

At least he wasn’t.

I turn to find him pointing at my neck. “There, right there,” he says.

I know he’s messing with me. I don’t bother to look or remind him my dress is strapless. “Are you trying to tweak my nose?”

“Yes.” He shrugs when I laugh. “It always works on my nephew.”

“I’m not your nephew.”

The corner of his mouth curves in a way that should be illegal. “Oh, I know that.”

His face reddens slightly, the color probably matching mine. “Are you trying to flirt with me?” I’m not typically so bold, but he’s charming, regardless of the hesitation I sense.

He hangs on to his lopsided smile. “Yes.”

“Oh.” I reply so quietly, I’m not certain he hears me.

He leans in, careful to keep a respectable distance, but close enough that I can smell his cologne. It’s fresh, lightly sweet, but absurdly clean and masculine. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s been a long time since I flirted with a pretty lady. Toddler humor is the best I have.”

“It can’t be so bad if it makes me smile.” I point to my mouth. “See?”

This time when he grins, the sadness and resentment I first noticed dissolve into the pool of his dark eyes, leaving an attraction he couldn’t mask in his silence and one that draws me further in.

“You didn’t like that idiot hitting on you in the kitchen, did you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Well, Miss Luci, I didn’t much care for all those women Becca tried to pawn me off on, including your friend. What’s say you and me make a deal?”

I don’t know what he’s offering, that doesn’t mean I’m not ready to say yes. “What kind of deal?”

“I’ll keep the idiots off you.” He points in the direction of the couch where a few men gathered a collective frown, muttering low and turning away in a huff. “And you keep the women trying to make me their sixty-nine far away from me.”

I didn’t realize anyone else had noticed me, but Landon did. Just as I noticed more than one gorgeous woman in an all-too gorgeous gown, cast a smile his way. I offer a hand. “Deal.”

He shakes it, smiling. “How about some romance?”

He chuckles when my jaw falls open and points to the purple drink the bartender is mixing. “That’s the name of the drink.” He holds out his hands. “But if you don’t like romance . . .”

I gnaw at my bottom lip. “How about a shot of courage instead?” I turn to the bartender. “May I please have two shots of Tequila? One for me.” I glance over my shoulder at Landon. “And one for my bodyguard.”

 

~ * ~

 

I bat my hand as the shot burns its way down my throat. “Take a lime. Here, here,” Landon says passing it to me.

I pull it off one of those mini-plastic swords and suck hard. “Oh, that’s strong.”

He coughs into the back of his hand, laughing. “This was your idea.” His tongue flicks across his lips, gathering the drops of Tequila that dripped out when we tossed back the shots and he caught the look on my face. “What do you think, one more?”

“Okay,” I say, which only makes him and me laugh harder.

“Two more, please,” he tells the bartender. He pulls out his wallet and drops what looks like a Benjamin into the tip jar. “Want a Corona to go with the shot?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yes,” I assure him. “And a bottle of water please.”

“Good call,” he agrees.

The bartender nods in his direction, affirming she heard us, despite the horde of drinks she seems to be working on, and the man she can’t seem to stop flirting with.

“All right, my turn to ask the question,” he says. “What’s the worst date you ever had?”

I blow out a sigh. We started out simple enough, favorite foods, mine, sushi, his Thai. Favorite music, both of us fist bumped when we agreed on classic rock. Landon is a die-hard Springsteen fan, but he gave me props for my love of the Eagles. Now, we’re getting personal. I don’t mind. Maybe this is better.

I re-cross my legs and fan the skirt around me. “All right, here’s a good one. I’m sixteen and all beside myself because this cute guy from my science class wants to take me out for a slice.”

“A slice?”

“Yes,” I reply, wondering why he appears so perplexed. “A whole pie would have been too much.”

“He took you to eat pie?” he asks, slowly.

“No, pizza,” I clarify. “We call pizzas ‘pies’ up north.”

He cocks a brow. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did I confuse the good ol’ Southern boy?”

He grins. “So now I’m a good ol’ Southern boy?”

“Don’t worry,” I say, patting his hand. “We all can’t be from Jersey.”

“Well thank Christ for that,” he says.

I giggle at his remark, exactly as he intends. “Okay,” I continue. “So I was stressed about what to wear since I didn’t have a lot. I begged my cousin to lend me something. She gave me this pretty dress with flowers on it that I absolutely loved. I was giddy, and excited, and for once in my teenage life, actually confident. I walked into the pizzeria with my head up, smiling when I saw him and absolutely beaming when I sat down across from him.” I make a face. “That was the highlight of the story. From there, everything pretty much goes to hell.”

He cracks open the bottles of water and passes me one. “Why?”

“Turns out the cousin who lent me the dress, was the girl he actually wanted to date.”

“Ouch,” Landon responds. “How did the pie lovin’ Romeo screw that up?”

“My cousin and I were at the mall when he and his friend saw us. He told his friend my cousin was hot, and his friend falsely assumed he was referring to me.”

Landon lowers his bottle. “Oh.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say. I swallow a few gulps of water and some of the pride I lost that day. “The best part is, guess who were assigned as lab partners the following week?”

“Shit,” he says. He tosses back his water, putting down the half-empty bottle on the counter a few seconds later. “Want my take on this?”

I play with the cocktail napkin in my grasp, trying to appear casual even though I’m worried about what he’ll say. “I’m all ears.”

He holds out a fist and counts off his fingers. “One, he’s a dumbass. Two, he’s a rude dumbass.” He works his jaw, as if he doesn’t want to admit the rest. “Three, his friend was right in thinking you were the hot one.”

I cover my mouth, trying to hide my surprise and delight. “You don’t even know what my cousin looks like.”

His gaze locks on mine, the intensity and heat behind it causing my hand to drop away. “I don’t have to,” he says, adding a wink.

The deep thrum of his voice and the oh-too sizzling way he looks at me makes me fall eerily still. For a moment, I don’t even breathe, waiting for him to turn away or take it back. Instead he keeps his eyes on mine, assuring me he means what he says.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“My pleasure,” he replies.

The insecurities that I walked in with tumble to my feet, fading away and leaving only Landon behind. The quiet that first greeted us when we sat down returns, but instead of finding someplace else to look rather than forcing ourselves to speak, our full attention remains on each other.

Landon is ridiculously good-looking, not in a way most would immediately notice, but in a way no one could ever forget. I should be embarrassed by the way my smile widens the longer I stare, and maybe I would be if he wasn’t doing the same.

In his eyes, I see the woman in me who remains, the one who’s young and whose future is yet to be determined rather than the woman who buries herself in work and stows her fears away.

The shots appear, as well as the beers. He motions to the bar with a tilt of his head. “You still feel up to it?”

This will be my second shot and my first beer. I’m feeling the effects of the first for certain, but I’m feeling the effects of Landon more. He wants to make sure I’m okay, adding more sexy points to the ones spilling across his broad shoulders. “I’m ready if you are.”

“Well, then, far be it for me to tell a lady no.”

I lower my gaze and I give the back of my hand a flick of my tongue, pausing when I meet Landon’s gleaming stare. I think he’s going to say something, instead his tongue passes over his skin in a swirl, the motion widening my eyes.

Good. Lord.

He cocks his head. “Something wrong?”

“No,” I say, or rather, whimper.

He chuckles and lifts the bottle of salt, sprinkling the crystals onto my lick spot and his. “Bottoms up?”

I clink my glass to his. “Salud.”

We taste the salt, slam back the shot, and suck on the lime. My face scrunches as that familiar burn rips a line of fire down to my stomach. Landon cracks up, reaching for his phone and snapping a pic.

I dab my mouth with a fresh cocktail napkin. “What are you doing?” I ask.

He taps away on his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just setting up my new wallpaper.”

I gasp. “Don’t you dare! I look awful.”

“No, sweetheart. You look fucking adorable.”

I wince. “I doubt it.” I pass my fingertips over my throat. “I seriously think this last shot put hair on my chest.” I tilt up my chin, exposing my throat. “Are there any hairs growing? A real friend would tell me.”

I lower my head when he doesn’t answer, my lips parting when I see the way he’s watching me. A sense of desire I’m not familiar with reflects in his gaze. I only recognize it because it mimics the sparks firing within me.

“You don’t have any hairs,” he manages.

“Good,” I stammer. The timer goes off in the oven, saving me by the bell, although I’m not certain I want to be saved.

He clasps my hand when I slide off the stool. It’s not hard, just enough to keep me in place. “Where are you going?”

“I have to check on the crab cakes your sister made.”

He starts to rise. “I’ll help you.”

I place my hand over his chest. Although my touch is gentle, this time I’m the one keeping him from moving. “No, I’ll take care of it. Will you . . . will you save my seat?”

He turns my hand, curling it in his and lifting it to his lips to kiss. “Darlin’, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

It takes some effort to step away, my chest hurting from how hard I’m gushing. When I finally do, I work quickly to fill the serving plate Landon’s sister left. “Ma’am, would you like these at the buffet?”

I look at the server, a young man likely in his teens. “Yes, please. But if you’re able to, would you save some for the hostess? It’s my understanding they’re her favorite.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll set some aside.”

“Thank you.” I finish placing the lemon wedges when Blythe appears.

“Hi,” I say.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

Blythe doesn’t return my smile and appears upset. I glance back to Landon where he’s finishing off his water. “Ah, sure.”

She leads me into a small hallway. A door to a bathroom opens beside us and a young woman steps out, hurrying into a billiards room just past a large dining area.

“You look like you’re having a good time,” Blythe says.

Her tone seems off, and at first, I think she’s angry that I’m spending time with Landon. “I’m sorry, we started talking and—”

“I met someone,” she interrupts. She gives a small laugh. “Okay, that’s not entirely true. I met him before, but now we’re actually talking.”

“That’s good,” I say, wondering where this is heading.

She passes me her glass of wine, taking a moment to adjust her breasts beneath her gown. “The thing is, he’s here with other people. It’s complicated and, well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if he and I went back to our hotel room.”

“Wait, where am I going to stay?” Because I’m certainly not staying with them.

“There’s the pull-out couch,” she reminds me, referencing the suite she booked. “But I realize that may be awkward.”

“You think?” I ask.

“Luci, please don’t be mad.”

“Blythe, you invited me. I was perfectly happy staying home.”

“If you’d stayed home, you wouldn’t be warming up to the man I was supposed to hang out with,” she counters.

“You mean you and the entire cheer squad,” I point out. She presses her lips into a firm line appearing insulted. I continue, “Don’t blame me for something you think I did to you. Not when you walked away from Landon and on to the next man who caught your interest.”

I’m not certain what she’s more bothered by, that she wasn’t the only one Becca had planned to introduce Landon to, or that I was the one he chose to speak to.

She glances toward the end of the hall, where a man and woman are speaking quietly. “Look, I’m sorry,” she says. “And I feel terrible about putting you on the spot. I spoke with Becca, she has a ton of space and offered one of her bedrooms to you. It’s upstairs, the one at the end with the dark blue linens. It’s private, you’ll have the whole suite to yourself. There’re toiletries and everything you might need.”

I shake my head. Blythe is many things, animated, beautiful, and athletic, but not much more. I should have known she’d do this.

“It’s safe here, Luci. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t leave you.”

She’s already made her decision. There’s no sense in arguing. “Fine,” I say, even though it’s not.

“I’ll be back for you tomorrow afternoon,” she adds. She knows I’m angry. Yet it’s not enough to keep her from doing what she wants. “Becca says to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“You’re leaving, now?” I ask.

Guilt and maybe something else passes along her features. “He’s ready to.”

“Then I suppose you shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Luci,” she says.

I step away and into the bathroom, shutting the door a little too harshly. I wash my hands. As I dry them, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

The small amount of makeup I applied remains in place and my hair is still behaving. I’m dressed for a party and a fun time. As I think of Landon, I’m reminded that’s where I am and what I’m having.

Blythe won’t ruin my night, not when it’s gone so well without her.

The smile that faded in her presence returns when I think about who’s waiting for me. I ease out of the bathroom and return to the kitchen, but Landon is gone. So is my purse and . . .

My heart falls to my belly, only for it to quicken when a hand presses gingerly against the small of my back.

“Are you hungry?” Landon asks. He motions to the corner where a set of heavy curtains sway in the breeze. “I figured with all that we’re drinking, we should get something to eat.”

“That would be lovely,” I say, realizing how much I mean it.

He passes me my clutch and leads me forward, a server slips out from behind a curtain with an empty tray. He nods at Landon. As he passes, Landon slips something into his palm.

“Thank you, sir,” the young man tells him.

Landon winks when I look up at him. “After you,” he says.

He parts the curtain, allowing me onto a small terrace surrounded by tall glass dividers that repel the wind and allow a magnificent view of the ocean. There’s not much room, but what’s here is enough.

A rectangular fire pit radiating with turquoise glass warms the small area, while a table and two chairs press horizontally against the dividers. To our right, people laugh from a larger, more open terrace one level down. They can’t see us well, and I don’t really care to see them.

Our beers and two unopened bottles of water are placed beside two empty plates. At the center of the table is a large serving dish toppling with food.

“Becca likes to eat breakfast out here when she’s home,” Landon says. “But she’s not using it and I didn’t want to waste the view.”

“It’s amazing,” I say, taking in the splendor.

I didn’t expect to see the ocean this far into the shore, especially at night. But with the moon as bright and as low as it is, its light spills across the waves, illuminating the water and casting a glow along the sand.

Landon pulls out my chair. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I asked the staff to bring a little of everything.” He pauses. “You’re not one of those crazy vegans are you?” I laugh. “If you are, I can ask them for some of that crazy vegan food you people like to eat.”

“My people like everything,” I assure him, watching him take a seat in front of me.

“So do good ol’ Southern boys,” he replies.

We spend an outrageous amount of time talking, and even more simply gazing at each other, smiling softly when the words don’t quite come, and laughing when they finally do.

It’s only when Rihanna’s Love on the Brain begins to play that Landon tears his attention away from me and back in the direction of the party. “Don’t you hate it when everyone is dancing, and you have no one to dance with?” he asks.

I glance down, playing with the fabric of my skirt. “I think it’s worse when the wrong person asks you, and you’ve been waiting for the right one.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grins when I nod. “I suppose I should ask you, before the wrong person gets a chance.”

He doesn’t really ask. He doesn’t need to. I place my hand in his when he opens his palm.

He pulls me up and into him, wrapping his arms securely around my waist as mine circle his neck. He smiles as he gazes down into my eyes. I look into his beautiful browns, losing myself in his warm stare.

We move in unison to the beat as if we’ve danced a hundred times, despite that what I’m feeling is a slew of firsts.

The first time his hard muscles press against me.

The first whisper of his breath against my skin.

The first touch that has no inkling of innocence.

And the first stroke of desire.

His fingers drag along my back as the bass pounds deeper, his body appearing to crave more. “It’s almost midnight,” he murmurs against my bare shoulder.

I shudder when his lips graze over my skin, not quite touching, trailing just enough to tease. “Almost,” I agree.

The allure in his voice robs me of air. “I didn’t plan on having anyone to kiss.”

I almost reply, but the way Landon’s mouth hovers over the sweep of my neck keeps me silent, as does the way he draws an invisible line to my ear with his lips.

My heart thuds mercilessly as I wait for his next words.

“But I guess I didn’t plan on you either,” he adds, each word softly tortured.

His mouth feathers over mine as the song ends and the countdown to New Year’s begins, opening and closing tentatively, giving me a chance to pull away.

I don’t. I can’t. Not when he feels this good and not when his large frame curls protectively around me.

Urgent voices and anxious steps echo from inside as the countdown reaches ten and people rush to find partners to kiss.

Landon and I aren’t waiting. His tongue dives deep, prodding possessively.

He grips my hips, pulling me closer, turning the sweet, tentative kiss passionate and daring.

I’m no longer simply kissing him, I’m moaning.

And I’m not alone.

A rumble builds in his throat, ending in a long, dragged out groan.

My body trembles with need, responding to the rough caress of his palms along my spine.

The clock strikes twelve, people are cheering, bottles of champagne are exploding, and the waves crash harder against the shore. I barely hear them. I only hear Landon when he pulls away, his breath labored like mine, his intensity welding me in place.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here,” he says, his voice gravelly and his tone harsh. “I was supposed to spend the night alone.”

I nod, recognizing a loneliness in him I only ever knew in myself.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore, not tonight. Will you come home with me?”

There’s no hesitation. “Yes,” I reply.