One Summer Weekend

by Stacey, Shannon

  “As you should. You and Emily worked hard for this and it’s going to be perfect.”

  “Mostly Emily,” Jim said, and they both laughed.

  They were joined by a couple of other guys, including Jim’s brother and best man, Pete, who Noah had met several times at the office.

  While they talked, Noah looked around the room, checking out the other guests. He knew they were mostly family with just a few friends thrown in to keep the wedding more intimate and less expensive.

  His gaze was drawn over and over to Carly, which he supposed was natural since she was his date for the weekend, fake or otherwise.

  She was also the most beautiful woman in the room. He didn’t really have a type when it came to hair color or body type, but he’d always been drawn to confident, outdoorsy and fun women.

  And Carly was definitely all three.

  “I think you should have included more single women on the guest list,” Pete said to his brother. “This party got more exciting when the woman in the light blue dress talking to Emily and Sara walked in, but—”

  “She’s mine,” Noah said, probably more abruptly than the conversation called for.

  Pete’s eyebrows rose as he finished his sentence. “—then I found out she’s Noah’s girlfriend and ordered myself a consolation drink.”

  She’s mine. He’d said the words without thinking, so he couldn’t really tell himself he’d been keeping up the appearance of their fake relationship. He saw Pete looking at Carly and the words just popped out of his mouth.

  It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t remember a time when Carly hadn’t been his best friend, and he didn’t particularly want to. This was the first time they’d ever pretended to be a couple, though, and it was messing with his head. That was the only explanation for his reaction to the lace and the way he’d put his hand on her ass in the elevator.

  She had an exceptional ass.

  “How long have you and Carly been dating now?” Jim asked him. “About six months, right?”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  The guy standing next to Pete smirked. “You’re heading into the shit or get off the pot zone.”

  “You started ring shopping yet?” Jim asked.

  Noah felt heat prickling around the collar of his polo shirt. “There’s no rush. Neither of us are really there yet.”

  That was a lie. Carly definitely wanted to get married. Besides owning the bookstore, having a husband and a bunch of kids had always been high on her list. But it wasn’t totally a lie, he supposed, since she had no intention of marrying him.

  “She will be soon,” Pete said. “Come six months, her friends start asking if you’re going to move in together or if you’re going to pop the question and they start planning the wedding. They tell themselves it’s in a hypothetical sense, but still. Wedding planning starts happening.”

  Noah chuckled along with the other guys, though he didn’t have to worry about it. What he might have to worry about was a guy across the room who kept looking over at the group of women. He wasn’t sure if he was checking out Carly or Sara, but if he was a guest of the wedding, it sure as hell wasn’t Emily.

  Just in case it was Carly, Noah excused himself and made his way back to her. He didn’t want to give her an opportunity to forget she was taken for the weekend if a somewhat attractive, single guy started chatting her up.

  She’s mine.

  * * *

  “Admit it. This is one of the greatest plans I’ve ever had.”

  Carly shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the smile as she leaned against Noah’s shoulder. “It’s still one of the most asinine plans you’ve ever come up with, but it’s turning out okay, I guess.”

  This night was more than okay. They’d walked to a quiet spot on the shore away from the other guests for a few minutes. With cool, tangy night air washing over her skin, the ocean lapping at her bare feet, a drink in her hand and her best friend at her side, the night was damn near perfect.

  Sitting on her grandfather’s dock, watching the sun set over the lake, was her favorite happy place, but there was something about the ocean she loved. The gentle slapping of the waves. The endless expanse of dark water. It had a restorative power she could feel in her soul. But at the same time, there was a restlessness inside her that was growing, and she couldn’t tell if it was the ocean or Noah.

  She really didn’t want it to be Noah, and she turned her back on the ocean as she took a sip of her cocktail.

  “Your drink is very pink,” he said.

  She shuddered. “It tastes as pink as it looks.”

  “Why didn’t you grab a beer? There’s an entire cooler of them over there.”

  “I was going to, but I noticed all the women are drinking these and I didn’t want to stand out. Apparently it’s a special cocktail for the occasion so it seemed rude to refuse it.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t even know. Sara told me it’s called a ‘blushing bride’ which is ridiculous because if Emily blushed this color, we’d call an ambulance. She didn’t tell me what was in it, though, and I didn’t ask.” She took another sip, wrinkling her nose. “Vodka, definitely. And fruit juice. Grapefruit, maybe, and...something else. Something very pink.”

  “I remember the last time you drank vodka.”

  “I don’t.”

  He laughed. “It was years ago and that asshole with the Miata—I don’t even remember his name—tried to...well, be an asshole.”

  “Right, that guy. I don’t know what happened to him. I remember having a hangover the next day and I remember calling him, but he’d busted his nose and didn’t want to talk. He said something about falling off the deck, which I don’t remember, and then he stopped returning my calls. It was weird.”

  “Yeah. Weird.”

  The way he said it made her turn to look at him again, but his expression gave nothing away. She arched her eyebrow, trying to wait him out, but she got nothing. She could usually read him better than that.

  “What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “No reason.” She took another small sip of the pink drink. “I should have had a beer.”

  “Want me to grab you one?”

  “You don’t drink beer after vodka.”

  “Depends on how much vodka you’ve had, I guess.” After a few seconds, he frowned. “How many of those did you drink tonight?”

  “Not enough to make me say something I shouldn’t, so stop scowling at me. How many of those have you had?” She nodded at the beer in his hand and raised her eyebrow.

  “Not enough to make me forget you’re my girlfriend.”

  Maybe it was the sea air or the pink drink or the way Noah’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, but for a moment Carly forgot she was playing a role and embraced the warmth that flooded through her.

  It escalated from warmth to heat when he put his hand on the small of her back, paused for a few seconds, and then slid it down to her ass. Again. Only this time, it was a far less casual touch and almost cupping.

  “Is somebody watching us right now?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because you’re touching my butt again.”

  “I’m a little drunk and you have a really great butt.”

  “I’ve always had a great butt and you’ve been drunk within arm’s reach of it before without your hand getting involved.”

  “But now I’ve actually touched your butt and I’ve spent all night thinking about just how great it is. And that makes me want to touch it again. It’s a vicious circle, really.”

  “You touching my butt wasn’t part of the agreement.” Not that she minded. Or maybe she did. Her reaction to it was unexpected and confusing and she didn’t want to think too much about it. Or about the fact he’d basically just confessed his hand roam
ing south of her waist wasn’t entirely about the role they were playing.

  “It wasn’t specifically addressed, so therefore it’s not covered by the agreement at all. You wanted free food and shitty music. You never said anything about keeping my hand off your ass.”

  “The agreement also doesn’t address me kneeing you in the balls in front of your boss and his soon-to-be-bride.”

  His hand moved and Carly regretted the smart-ass comeback because she hadn’t really minded his hand on her ass—and she didn’t even know what to make of that realization and would have to think about it later—but now he thought she did.

  “I’d rather you didn’t knee me in the balls at all, but especially not in front of Jim and Emily.”

  “And they’re looking this way,” she said, turning to him with what felt like the fakest smile ever on her face. “Stop frowning at me or they’ll think we’re arguing.”

  “We are. You threatened to knee me in the balls. That’s something I’m always going to argue against, just on principle.”

  “Stop arguing and kiss me.”

  Chapter Five

  Noah didn’t think. He just did what he was told and kissed her.

  Carly’s mouth was soft and sweet with the taste of her fruity pink cocktail. For a brief second she stiffened in his arms as if she was surprised even though she’d given him the command, but then she moved in closer to him and her lips parted.

  Even as his tongue flicked over hers, he tried to remember this was Carly he was kissing. Carly who was sighing against his mouth. Carly whose fingernails were pressing into his back.

  But he didn’t care. His body didn’t care. His hands skimmed up her back and he slid two fingers under the strap of her dress.

  She made a sound—not quite a moan—and nipped at his bottom lip. All the blood rushed to his dick and...

  A heavy hand slapped him on the back.

  “I’d tell you two to get a room,” Noah heard Jim say as he and Carly separated, “but I think some of my guests are enjoying the show.”

  The show had been on its way to needing a for-mature-audiences-only warning, so Noah was reluctantly thankful for the interruption. He managed a somewhat hoarse chuckle and looked at his costar.

  Carly was staring at him, wearing an expression one would expect to see on the face of a woman who’d just been thoroughly kissed by her boyfriend.

  Only somebody who knew her as well as Noah did would notice that her eyes were a little too wide and her smile slightly forced. He could see the holy shit, what was that in her eyes, and he guessed she could see it in his.

  Because holy shit, what was that?

  Then Carly looked at Jim and the eye contact was broken. “It must be the inn and this beach. It’s the most romantic place I’ve ever stayed and I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to get married.”

  Noah snorted. “Your next boyfriend better have deeper pockets than your last one did, then.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he’d made a critical mistake. He didn’t need to see the questioning look on Jim’s face or feel Carly’s bare foot crushing the top of his to know that was a really weird thing for a boyfriend to say to the woman he’d been dating for six months.

  “I’m kidding,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and yanking her close to him. “I’m not letting you get away.”

  “And I already told you I want to get married on my grandfather’s dock with the lake and fall foliage behind me...uh, us.”

  They needed out of this conversation, Noah thought as Jim gave him a look that loosely translated to start saving up because your girlfriend’s planning your wedding, just like we said. “That sounds like a funny bride-in-the-water video waiting to go viral.”

  “Don’t dig yourself too deep a hole,” Jim cautioned. “All the rooms are booked and it would suck to sleep in your truck in the parking lot.”

  “Trust me, I know how to put her in a good mood,” he said.

  Unfortunately, he said it just as Carly took a sip of her drink and she choked on it. Noah took her glass so she wouldn’t slop pink booze all over her dress while she coughed. Since he still had his beer in his other hand, it meant he had to take his arm away from her shoulders, which he did with inexplicable reluctance.

  Once she’d caught her breath, she gave him a dirty look before smiling at Jim. “The truck has a five-and-a-half-foot bed. He can curl up a little.”

  “Guess he’ll have his work cut out for him tonight,” Jim said, not even trying to hide his amusement at his friend’s predicament.

  Noah decided a little more alcohol might help but he was so on edge, he accidentally took a mouthful of the pink vodka concoction and came close to doing a damn fine reenactment of Carly choking.

  “Emily’s calling me,” Jim said. “I’ll catch you two later.”

  Noah lifted his beer in a weak farewell, but his thoughts were still on the taste of the pink cocktail. The taste of Carly’s lips and the kiss that shouldn’t have blown his mind.

  It was Carly. His buddy. His pal.

  And yet here he was. Mind blown.

  “You almost blew it,” she said when they were alone again, and then she laughed as she took her drink back. “It was fun to watch, though.”

  “Now they’ll think I’m a shitty boyfriend.”

  “They must not have seen you touching my butt.”

  “Smart-ass.” They started walking along the edge of the water, taking their time as she skimmed her feet through the soft waves. “Why did you tell me to kiss you?”

  “I was afraid we weren’t looking like a couple and I panicked.” She poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Was it that bad for you?”

  No, it wasn’t that bad. It was anything but that bad, and that was the problem. “Remember that one time we kissed? When we were like twelve or thirteen, and then we laughed and swore we’d never do it again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This time was better,” he said.

  “That’s probably why we’re not laughing. You’ve really upped your kissing game since then.”

  He happened to glance over at her at the exact moment she looked at him and their eyes locked for a few seconds. She looked the same—the Carly with the smile always hovering at the corner of her lips who’d been his best friend his entire life—but the whatever-it-was crackling between them was new. And weird and a little bit scary.

  “You think so?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned her head to look out over the dark ocean. “Must be all the practice you’ve had.”

  He’d dated a lot in the past. Who didn’t? Especially when you were a good-looking guy in a tourist town. But he’d slowed down over the last couple of years. They were reaching an age when a lot of the women were looking to settle down—like Carly was—and he wasn’t there yet. He wasn’t really sure he ever would be, so he was being a lot more selective about relationships.

  “They’re watching us to see if we’re fighting,” she said, and he cast a quick glance over to the fire pit, where Jim and Emily were with a crowd of family members, but were both watching them.

  “Or waiting for us to kiss again,” he said, and she chuckled.

  “Maybe it does help sell the story if you touch my butt.”

  She didn’t have to ask him twice. He didn’t know what her dress was made of, but it felt like silk gliding under his hand as he traced the curve of her back and settled his palm over the curve of her ass. His fingertips pressed against her hip, pulling her closer.

  Again he felt the change in the chemistry between them, along with the very-not-faked pang of want that didn’t make sense after all these years together, but he tried not to think about it too much in case he started frowning again.

  He was all for touching her butt and putting his arm around her, but there w
as no way in hell he’d survive another kiss like that from his best friend.

  * * *

  Carly brushed her teeth and washed her face in front of the mirror, which was a hard thing to do without looking her reflection in the eye.

  That kiss. It should have been an easy thing, a quick coming together of their lips that would be something they’d joke about for years to come.

  Instead, it had changed everything. The alcohol buzzing through her hadn’t had nearly the impact on her senses that Noah’s kiss had, and the two mixed together were making her feel as if the ground had shifted somehow. She wasn’t supposed to want Noah.

  He’d touched her butt. She’d told him to kiss her. She’d invited him to touch her some more. And now she wanted to shove him against a door or a wall and taste every inch of him.

  To taste Noah, for crap’s sake.

  And to really put the frosting on the sexual-tension cupcake, in a few minutes she was going to have to go climb into bed with him. Wearing a T-shirt she’d stolen from his suitcase, no less. And she was going to have to stay on her own side of that big bed. And sleep.

  As if that was going to happen.

  But she couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night. And maybe, if she was lucky, the beer had caught up with Noah and she’d find him sprawled on the bed, snoring. His snoring wouldn’t help her fall asleep any faster, but at least she’d be spared wondering whether the silence in the room was the awkward kind or just the going to sleep kind.

  Luck wasn’t her friend tonight. Noah was in bed, but he was plugging in his phone to charge and had his back to her. Since his lamp was the only light left on in the room, she rushed to the bed and slid between the covers, turning her back on him.

  The mattress shifted under Noah’s weight as he moved, but the light didn’t go off.

  “Is that my T-shirt?”

  Busted. “I forgot my pajamas.”

  “Who forgets to pack something to sleep in?”

  “Somebody who usually sleeps in nothing.”