Bayside Fantasies (Bayside Summers Book 6)

by Melissa Foster

  His chest expanded with a deep inhalation, and in the next second, he lifted her up and put her on the counter, wedging himself between her legs. He leaned in so close, his breath became hers. “So, you did set a date?”

  “No asking for details, remember?” she said sassily.

  “Tegan…” His warning was underscored by the heat of his stare.

  Courage bubbled up inside her, and she said, “You’re jealous.”

  “I don’t get jealous,” he said sharply. “I’m annoyed, and you would be, too, if I had made a date with some chick today.”

  She was about to deny it, but she couldn’t lie. Instead, she ran her fingers over his chest and said, “Admit it. You’re having as much fun being together as I am. We’ve connected.” She said connected low and sinisterly, like it was a bad word.

  “And I can’t wait to connect again.” He hauled her to the edge of the counter, grinding against her as he kissed her neck, sending rivers of heat through her core. “We are so fucking fun…”

  She pressed on his ass, and he grinded harder against her, creating delicious friction. She closed her eyes as he kissed and nipped at her neck and jaw. He palmed her breast, causing her nipples to pebble and burn. She felt herself go damp against his hard heat, and her thoughts began to fracture. She struggled to hold on to them and panted out, “Admit it. You like me.”

  “You know I like you, Tegs,” he said in a husky voice. “Or I wouldn’t be here.”

  He continued his mind-numbing assault. He lifted her shirt and bra and began kissing her breasts. He brushed his scruff over her tender skin and demanded, “Agree to the rule.”

  “Convince me,” she said breathlessly.

  He guided her hands to the edges of the sink and lowered his mouth over one breast. He sucked and licked, kissed and taunted, until she was hanging on to her sanity by a thread. He slid his hand between her legs, rubbing her over the top of her jeans, taking her up, up, up. So close to heaven she could taste it.

  “Agree,” he said harshly.

  “Yes! I agree. Just don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  He brought his mouth to her breast again, and she held her breath, readying for one of the explosive orgasms she knew he was capable of giving her. She had a fleeting thought about his parents waiting for them, but when he placed a single kiss on her nipple, those thoughts skittered away.

  “Again,” she said dizzily.

  But instead of his hot mouth on her skin, she felt him righting her bra and sweater. Her eyes flew open as he took a step back. “Why’d you stop?”

  He flashed an arrogant and way-too-fucking-sexy grin. “You were so good to me in the driveway earlier, I thought I’d pay it forward.” He reached for the door and said, “It’s never a good idea to try to outnegotiate the master.”

  He walked out, leaving Tegan hot, bothered, and planning her revenge.

  By the time she got herself cooled down and washed up, the table was set for dinner and Jett was nowhere to be seen.

  “There she is,” his father said. He’d changed into a pair of slacks and an expensive-looking sweater. “Jett’s on the phone with Tia out on the porch. How she keeps up with his schedule seven days a week is beyond me.” He picked up a bottle of wine and said, “Would you like a glass?”

  “Sure. Thank you.” As he poured the wine, she said, “I’m sorry I took so long. My sister called while I was washing up.” She’d come up with the excuse while she was running her hands under cold water, trying to take the edge off her raging hormones. Douglas handed her a wineglass. “Thank you. Can I help with dinner?”

  “Thanks, sweetie, but as soon as Jett comes in, we’ll be ready to eat,” Sherry said. “I’d love to hear about your family. How wonderful that your mother had two girls. I always wanted a little girl, but it wasn’t to be. Instead, I’ve been blessed with two wonderful daughters-in-law. Do you have any brothers?”

  “No, but if it makes you feel any better, my mom always wanted boys. My sister and I are really close, but when we were young, we argued a lot and we’d give each other the silent treatment. My mom used to say it would be easier to deal with shouting than silence.”

  “I think your mother and I should compare notes. Our boys were thick as thieves when they were young. Our house was always noisy and impossible to keep clean. Dean came inside every day with half the earth in his pockets, and he was always planting something. Doug, our oldest, used to bring home injured animals to heal and dead animals to bury.” She held up her index finger and said, “But not before first cleaning them in the kitchen sink. I always thought he’d become a vet, but he followed in his father’s footsteps instead.”

  “Remember the snake?” Douglas asked with a chuckle.

  “How could I forget?” Sherry said. “It was lost in the house for days before Dean found it in the toy box and shrieked bloody murder.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Tegan said. “How did you get rid of it?”

  “Our fearless boy got to it before I was even down the stairs.” She pointed out the patio doors at Jett, pacing with a serious expression as he talked on the phone. “He would have taken on Godzilla if it was threatening one of his brothers.”

  “Was he into animals or nature?”

  “No. Jett was busy cataloging and organizing his baseball cards with his father. Oh, how he loved checking them off their lists and memorizing the stats on the back of the cards. Jett used to do anything he could to earn money just so he could go to Bud’s Sports with his father and get a pack of baseball cards on the weekends.”

  “That must have been fun.” Tegan tried to imagine Jett and his father being that close.

  “It was,” Douglas said in a way that made Tegan think he missed those days. “But things change. Bud’s is long gone. They went under years ago.”

  She wondered if Jett missed those days, too. “Does Jett still collect cards?”

  “No, he stopped when…” Sherry’s voice trailed off as she opened a cabinet.

  “When he was a boy,” Douglas said, moving beside Sherry. He touched her hip and said, “I’ll get that.” He withdrew a stack of bowls and set them on the counter. His eyes lingered on Sherry’s, and a silent message Tegan couldn’t read passed between them, but the heaviness of regret seemed to remain. He squeezed her hand, then turned a lighter expression to Tegan and said, “While the house was loud and hard to keep clean when the boys were little, nothing compared to three testosterone-laden teenagers playing every sport known to man. Our house became a veritable locker room.”

  Sherry began filling the bowls with soup. “All of our boys were good at sports, but Jett was truly gifted. He was recruited by Boston College to play baseball.”

  Wow, that was news to her.

  Jett came through the door and put a hand on Tegan’s back, looking skeptically at his parents, and said, “Sorry I was on the phone so long. Tia got me a flight out of Hyannis tomorrow morning instead of leaving from New York.”

  Disappointment knotted in Tegan’s chest. She’d forgotten he was leaving so soon.

  “That sounds better than driving to the city,” his mother said.

  In an effort to quell the longing burrowing inside her, Tegan said, “I had no idea you played college baseball.”

  “Who told you that lie?”

  “Oh, Jett,” his mother said. “We were just telling Tegan that you were recruited. We hadn’t gotten around to saying that you turned down the scholarship to study business.”

  “Do you regret not playing?” Tegan asked, and his parents’ eyes moved to Jett.

  Jett scoffed. “Not even a little. Nobody has any claim on me. I could buy a frigging baseball team if I wanted to.” He picked up two bowls and said, “This smells great, Mom.”

  Tegan followed him to the dining room with the other two bowls. As they set them on the table, she said, “Why did you stop collecting baseball cards?”

  “I outgrew it,” he said curtly as his parents carried in Tegan’s glass of wine, the wi
ne bottle, and three more glasses. He shot a dark look at his father and said, “You didn’t tell me the treehouse got damaged in the storm.”

  “Given your dislike of all things nostalgic, I actually thought you might be pleased that I’ve decided to have it taken down.” His father handed Tegan her wineglass and said, “Would you like a glass of wine, son?”

  Jett’s eyes never left his father’s, tension buzzing like flies between them. “I’ll pour myself a glass of whiskey.”

  “I think I will, too,” his father said, stalking after him toward the kitchen.

  Tegan felt sucker punched. She had no idea what had gone wrong. She looked at Sherry and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize asking him about when he’d stopped collecting cards would put him in a bad mood.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s not what you said. I can’t remember the last time we spent an entire day with Jett, and I’m sure you’re the one who deserves the credit for that.”

  “He wanted to come. I’m just here to support him.”

  “Mm-hm. So you two claim. It’s hard to believe that once upon a time Jett was the apple of his father’s eye and his father was his knight in shining armor. They’re two of the hardest-working, deepest-loving men that I have ever known. Unfortunately, they’re also two of the stubbornest.” She sipped her wine. “They’re at war with themselves, but they insist on taking it out on each other.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would Jett be at war with himself?”

  “He’s spent so much time running from any ties that might slow him down, he’s gotten himself all tangled up in knots.”

  Jett and Douglas came out of the kitchen, drinks in hand, faces mirror images of discomfort.

  “Beneath those ruffled feathers are two incredibly good, loyal men,” Sherry said in a hushed voice. She turned her back to them and added, “Jett will push you away like you’re the enemy, but trust me, honey, he’s worth holding on to.” She gave Tegan’s arm a supportive squeeze and sauntered around to her seat.

  “Shall we eat?” his father said.

  Jett pulled out a chair for Tegan, and as she sat down, he leaned closer and whispered, “Sorry you came yet?”

  She met his gaze as he sat beside her. The regret in his eyes tugged at her heartstrings. He put his hand on hers beneath the table, squeezing it as his mother had squeezed her arm, and in that moment, she swore the regret turned to something more like longing or hope. At war, indeed. “Not even a little,” she said honestly, wanting to understand him now more than ever.

  Relief pushed away the regret she’d seen, and as they ate the delicious meal his mother had prepared, the tension hovering over them like a dark cloud eased. His parents told stories about Jett and his brothers, most of which Jett denied, all of which were touching and painted pictures of close-knit brothers.

  Jett nudged Tegan’s arm and said, “If you learned how to cook like this, I might hang out with you more often.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Tegan teased, earning a hearty laugh from his father.

  Jett scowled.

  “I’m sure a vivacious, smart woman like Tegan has plenty of friends who are willing to cook for her,” his mother said, which only intensified her son’s scowl. “I had the best time getting to know you, Tegan. Thank you for helping so many people today.”

  “It was amazing to see the community working together,” she said. “It reminded me of home.”

  “Where are you from?” his father asked.

  “Peaceful Harbor, Maryland. It’s a small coastal town, and the community is very supportive, like yours.”

  “That’s quite a move for you,” his father said. “Has it been a difficult transition?”

  “I’m thinking of it as an adventure. It’s not difficult, although the house is lonely without my uncle, and it’s a little scary to try to fill my uncle’s very big shoes. But I’m giving it my all. I’ll be going back to Maryland in October, then returning in the spring. I met a lot of really nice people today, many of whom knew my uncle and had been to the theater. That helps, knowing I’m carrying on something people enjoy.”

  “Jett mentioned that you were Harvey Fine’s niece and had inherited his amphitheater,” his father said. “He was a remarkably kind man, and I’m sorry you lost him. He gave generously to the Pediatric Neurology Foundation and helped many families.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know anything about the foundation, but my uncle chose his philanthropies very carefully, and I hope to carry on his legacy with the same spirit and generosity.”

  “That’s very nice of you. Jett’s grandfather was one of the first pediatric neurosurgeons. He started the foundation to—”

  “Dad, please don’t try to sell her on the foundation.”

  His father nodded. “Forgive me. There was a time when I believed I had to have my finger in every pot of my practice and in every aspect of the foundation simply because our family name was on it, and unfortunately, my family paid the price for that dedication.” He met Jett’s steely gaze and said, “But things have changed.” He returned his attention to Tegan and said, “I wasn’t trying to sell you on the foundation. I’m so used to educating people about the value of the programs, I don’t realize how it must come across outside the medical community.”

  “It’s okay.” She looked at Jett and said, “I’m sure you’ve probably heard about the foundation a million times, but I know nothing about it. And now that I know it was founded by your grandfather, I’m interested in hearing more. Do you think you can sit through it one more time?”

  “Sure,” Jett said, sending another silent message to his father. This one felt a little less tense.

  Tegan listened as his father described how the foundation served pediatric patients through advocacy, education, research, and support initiatives. The pride in his voice was palpable, and it quickly became clear how big a role he played in the foundation and how important it was to him.

  “We have an annual fundraising event coming up in a few weeks. I know Jett is usually tied up with business when it takes place, but I’d be honored if you’d consider attending as our guest. You can meet the people who run the foundation and decide for yourself if it’s the type of program you’d like to support.”

  “I would love that,” Tegan said excitedly. “Thank you. Is it formal? Should I wear a little black dress, or…?”

  “It’s black tie, but don’t worry about running out to buy a fancy dress. Just wear something comfortable. I’m so thrilled that you’ll attend,” his mother gushed. “You’ll sit with us, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  “I make most of my dresses. I think I know exactly which one to wear,” Tegan said.

  “How wonderful. You really are multitalented.”

  “When is it this year?” Jett asked gruffly.

  “The first Friday in June,” his mother answered.

  “I’ll be there,” Jett said. “I’ll take you, Tegs.”

  Hope fluttered like a bird in her chest, and she didn’t even try to calm it.

  “Are you sure, Jett?” his father asked. “I know it’s difficult for you to break way. Tegan will be in good hands with us and your brothers. I’m sure Susie and Emery will enjoy having her there, too.”

  “I’m sure,” Jett said sternly. “I’ll make it happen.”

  His mother put her hand to her chest and said, “This is so exciting. You haven’t attended one of your father’s events in so long, I feel like I might cry. With Doug and Susie flying in this year, it’ll be a reunion.” She held up her glass and said, “Here’s to new beginnings and new friends.”

  They lifted their glasses, and though Jett appeared stressed again, his parents looked elated.

  “Tegan, did you ever go with your uncle to the hospitals when he volunteered?” his mother asked.

  “Yes, several times. He always took me and my sister at least once when we were in town. He said it was good for us to help others.”

  “I thought you looked familiar,
and now it makes sense. I make rag dolls for children with terminal illnesses, and I think I met you and your sister one summer. You were just a little girl then, maybe seven or eight. Does your sister have brown hair?”

  “Oh my gosh! That was you? I will never forget that day. You were in a patient’s room when we walked in, and a boy was reading to her. You gave me a doll and told me a story about how each doll held a little bit of magic, and you said the story he was reading was about the doll you gave to the little girl. I still have my doll. You were the inspiration for my bald baby tribe.”

  “That little boy was Jett,” his mother said softly. “He was twelve or thirteen, and broody as could be. I dragged him with me that day to give him a little perspective on life.”

  “No way.” Tegan turned to Jett, who looked like he was caught between intrigue and holy-shit-what’s-going-on. “Do you remember that?”

  “I don’t know. This is all very weird. What’s a bald baby tribe?” Jett asked.

  “That’s what I call the baby dolls I make. I started making them for my niece, Melody, when she was really little, and then her friends wanted some. Now I make them for my friends when they have babies, and I bring them to kids at the hospital in Peaceful Harbor around the holidays.”

  “But why are they bald?” Jett asked.

  “To avoid anything that could come loose and be a choking hazard. I draw the faces, too.”

  “It was meant to be,” his mother said. “Fate.”

  Fate…Tegan thought of her uncle, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been pulling strings again.

  “Well, son,” his father said with a nod. “I think this is a sign that you’ve chosen a very special friend.”

  Jett shifted in his seat, pressing his hands to his thighs, looking as uncomfortable as a lion caught in a trap. Tegan wondered if that past connection was too much for him, crossing too many lines of familiarity. Did he regret saying he’d attend the event with her?

  Jett’s phone rang, as if the powers that be knew he needed an out. He whipped it from his pocket, glanced quickly at the screen, and rose anxiously to his feet. “I have to take this. Excuse me.” He escaped to the patio without so much as a backward glance.