“I miss having adventures with you. We’re totally supposed to be at Ty’s wedding, right? Being all polite and smiley and miserable!”
“You’re smiling now and you don’t seem miserable.”
“Because I’m with you.” She pushed a piece of bacon around her plate. “I mean, you’re not an annoying wedding guest or annoying family. You’re Hawk.” She couldn’t help smiling bigger. “My best friend.”
After she said it, she knew she was blushing, but didn’t care. It was time to get some honesty off her chest…some of the truth that had been itching to get loose between them.
“Do you really feel that way?”
She nodded. Even though it wasn’t the truth. Well, it was but it wasn’t. It wasn’t the whole truth. That particular information would go to her grave. Especially now that she’d admitted he was her best friend. She’d never want to ruin that, nor for a second to jeopardize his dream job.
Even though Hawk had blown it off last night, she’d heard loud and clear what Phillip Knickerflicker meant. She might’ve charmed the hiring chair for a while, but if she and Hawk were really a couple, that would spell nothing but constant hassle for Hawk at that new school.
“Don’t you?” she asked, pressing the subject to see what would happen. “You and Ty go way back, and there’ll always be a bond between you guys, but…”
When he didn’t reply right away, she felt like an idiot. The few bites of pancakes she’d ingested started to make her stomach hurt.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I’m closer to you than to anyone. At least, I trust you more than anyone. I definitely tell you more than I tell anyone.” For a moment, it looked like he was going to continue, but then something changed his mind and he shook his head. “We all have secrets, though, you know. Not like deep, dark, ugly stuff, but things no one else knows.” He pushed back his plate and looked her in the eyes. “Do you get what I mean?”
Again, her only reply was a nod.
Boy, did she know. It was almost like he was reading her mind.
Back in the car with a little over an hour to kill, they chatted lightly about this and that, until after Hawk laughed so hard he nearly drove off the road, and blurted out, “I’m glad you’re here. That we’re together, I mean.”
Warmth spread through Ashton’s chest and she couldn’t help smiling.
“Glad we decided to not bring dates,” he added. “That would’ve only added aggravation.”
“Agreed,” she said. “Not to mention the expectations.”
He looked at her, brow furrowed. “Expectations?”
“With our plus ones. It’s a romantic setting, a wedding. Thanks to the essential oil aromatherapy candles set up in every room, love is literally in the air. It’s inescapable.”
“Does that mean whoever your caveman date might’ve been would’ve expected you to put out?”
“What? No.” She turned to face him. “It’s like going to prom. It’s supposed to be the most romantic, magical night of your high school life. You have to at least kiss, otherwise you’re tempting fate or whatever. Totally pawing each other on the dance floor is tacky—especially if you’re not dating—so you’re not expected to do that, but some semi-embarrassing making out is good. You get your full prom experience and no one gets hurt. As long as you talk about it first—get those expectations out in the open. No surprises. That’s the healthy way.”
“You’ve really thought this through.”
“I’m a psychological researcher. It’s what I do.”
“And you really think some seventeen-year-old guy is going to tell his date it’s only logical that he cop a feel because it’s expected on prom?”
She put on her sunglasses. “Why not?”
“Okee-dokee, then. In that case, I should tell you now that I expect us to make out at tonight’s stag party.”
For just a moment, Ashton’s heart stopped beating.
“Damn.” He reached out and pinched her chin between his thumb and finger. “You should see your face right now.”
Ashton could only imagine what she looked like. Shocked? Excited? Insulted? Willing?
A moment later, he turned back to the road. “See? Your theory is all wrong. Just because we’re quote-unquote dates doesn’t mean I can pull you into a dark corner, kiss your neck, slide my hands inside your dress, and expect to get away with it.” He sent her a quick grin. “Though I’d be willing if you are. I know how you love using me as a social experiment.”
After allowing herself a few seconds to envision such a rendezvous, she blinked it away. He was obviously teasing her, pushing her buttons on purpose. Was her tongue hanging loose at the thought of his mouth on her neck? Feeling her up in the dark?
“I used to love using you as a social experiment,” she amended. “I promised to never do that again, remember?”
Hawk frowned and exhaled. “Then I guess we should forget the whole thing. Too bad.”
Oh yeah, he’s definitely teasing now, which is perfectly clear to my brain, but someone please tell it to my heart!
By the time they arrived at Virtue Cove, the subject had been replaced by what Ashton thought about the bridesmaids. Okay, she’d raised the subject, curious to learn Hawk’s thoughts. Did he have his eye on anyone special? Inquiring, scientific minds wanted to know.
“I have no opinion,” he said as they took the walking trail with the view of the cliffs.
“Come on.” She jabbed his ribs playfully. “You notice things.”
“Ash, I was on the grounds for thirty minutes yesterday. Other than you pointing out the mother of the bride and her eight hundred dogs, I’ve met no one new.”
She grinned and twirled her hair around one finger. “I guess I’ve been pretty selfish with you.”
“Did I say I minded?” He took her hand and looped it through his arm. She drew as close to him as she could without it seeming weird. The morning sun made the gorgeous red in his hair and beard stubble shine like a ruby.
Jamie Fraser got nothin’ on you, George Hawkins.
With no tie, his shirt was loose at the throat and open three buttons down, sleeves pushed up, so when Ashton clung to his arm, they were skin on skin, hard ropes of muscles and tendons flexing beneath her happy hand.
“I know you’re not the gossiping type,” he said, steering her toward the house. “But I also know you’re dying to spill something. Go ahead.”
Ashton couldn’t help it, and was grateful Hawk also knew about the immature and downright unprofessional side of her.
“Not that I’d normally say anything...” She grinned up at him. “But the daughter of the groundskeepers—I guess she’s super tight with Laurel, having grown up together—she’s been trying to hide some guy. Not very successfully, I’d add. No idea why, but it’s pretty funny to watch her every time he shows up somewhere.”
“That all ya got?”
She laughed as they headed up the grand staircase. “Okay, so meanie non-wedding planner Claire? I told you about her. She’s so freaking uptight. Yeah, I know, I’ve only been around her for one day, but the sexual frustration wafting off her is like heat waves and icicles. Not to mention she’s kind of a wench in general. The woman needs a serious release, like now.” She shrugged. “In my professional opinion.”
When they got to their doors, instead of going straight in, Hawk stopped. “Didn’t you tell me last night that not everything revolves around sex?”
“Um.” She rubbed her nose then glanced toward the sky. “My mind is blank of any such conversation.”
Hawk exhaled a chuckle at the ground. “I’m asking, not judging.”
“Well, except for a few things, life revolves around sex. You being a guy should understand that.” It was a lazy reply that had nothing to do with true psychology, but she refused to admit that everything right now had to do with sex because she couldn’t stop thinking about Hawk in black boxer briefs.
He opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but didn�
��t. “Okay. But we’re talking about half the population. What about women?” He held up a hand to stop her. “Know what, never mind. I sense what you’re going to say and there’s no way to argue with you about it. You think everyone has sex on the mind and that it’s perfectly healthy and, in fact, we should all be in-your-face open about it anytime we feel like it.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t appreciate the sarcastic tone, but I see nothing wrong with that theory.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, and for just a moment, regret over something seemed to shadow his face. By the time he looked at her again, or before she could ask about it, that expression was gone.
Repressed, she thought. So classic Hawk. If I got him alone for twenty minutes…
Boom!
“I’ll meet you at the beach,” he said, bringing her back to reality.
“Do we have to go?”
“It’s on the agenda.” He gestured at her phone. “And, Ash, last night you missed the bonfire—”
“The clambake was first.”
“In other words”—he paused to eye her—“yes, you have to participate in your brother’s wedding.”
“Technically, I don’t. You do.”
“If we’re playing it that way… Since you’re my date and certain things are expected…”
“Fine,” she said, before she could allow herself to think about any other kind of expectations.
She wanted what he’d jokingly suggested earlier. She wanted to kiss him in some secret corner, hold him, gaze into his eyes, talk for hours about nothing, just be together in any way she could and for as long as she could. Hawk. And her.
But would that make these new feelings for him stronger or simply satisfy a curiosity?
“Do you not want to hang out at the beach?” he asked. “Or do you not want to hang with me?”
The absurd assumption shot a blast of ice through her body. “No! I mean, well, yeah—yes. But no.” After that impressive vomit talk, she hid her hands behind her back and dug her nails into her palms. “And I hate my bikini.”
Chill the eff out, Ash.
“Just, um, find us a good spot down there,” she added, her imagination getting so carried away that a kind of sadness threatened to break her mood. “In the shade, please. I don’t intend to end up looking like a catcher’s mitt when I’m forty.”
“Whatever you say, Ms. James.”
Once inside her room, Ashton flopped onto the bed, stomach down. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she called into the fluffy comforter. “You cannot possibly be falling for your best friend!”
If the reason Ashton didn’t want to be on the beach was because she didn’t like how she looked in a bathing suit, the girl was out of her mind. He hadn’t recognized her at first. Mostly because when he’d first spotted her at the top of the dunes, for a second, he’d actually thought some high-class magazine was doing a photoshoot.
And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Practically every male’s attention was turned toward the knockout in the white bikini, rather inelegantly—yet sexily—trudging down the sand.
If he hadn’t been nuts about her before…
“Who’s the babe?” he heard one guy ask another. Before either could speak, Hawk turned on the two horn dogs, shooting each such a glare that even he imagined the laser-beam heat coming off his eyes.
A moment later, he hopped up and met Ashton halfway, examining, at first, the way the tiny amount of fabric left just enough for the imagination. When his imagination instantaneously began removing those bits of fabric, he snapped awake.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, using his body to block as many angles as possible. “You can’t wear that thing.”
With a puzzled expression, Ashton looked down at herself. “It’s a bathing suit. In certain countries where public nudity is still illegal, if one wants to swim, one must don the proper attire.”
“Swim?” He chucked sarcastically. “You’re not getting that thing wet. It’ll turn completely see-through.” He paused to run a hand up the back of his neck and exhale a long breath. “I mean, it’s not—”
“What?” Ashton cut in. “Proper? Seriously, Grandpa George, lighten up. It’s a bathing suit made specifically for swimming.”
“Right.” He shook his head, trying to ignore the heat that was hotter than the noonday sun swirling in his chest, dropping lower by the second.
That thing that barely covered her was made for something, but definitely not swimming. It was made for some lucky guy to tear off with his teeth then have the best night of his life.
“Nice knees,” Ashton said, swatting the bottom of his trunks.
He cleared his throat and turned toward where he’d laid their towels. “Thanks. Um, we’re this way.”
Ashton probably didn’t notice the eyes glued on her as they crossed the sand, but Hawk sure did. On one hand, he wanted to yell at everyone to keep their damn eyes to themselves. But on the other hand…when Ashton looped her arm through his, he couldn’t help feeling like the proudest damn guy in all of Maine.
“You brought me a picnic?” Ashton exclaimed, clapping her hands while she gazed down at the basket on the edge of her towel.
“Everyone got one. It’s part of the wedding spread. That woman, Claire the Meanie, gave it to me as I was leaving the house. It’s not like I made it.”
“Ah, but you picked it up and not one grain of sand is in the chicken salad. And you found me shade.” Down on her knees, she was looking up at him with such comical admiration it made him dizzy. “My saving hero again!” she said in a loud voice, her chin tipped toward the sky.
Chuckling, while also hoping to get her to use a more public-appropriate voice, he joined her down on the sand. “I’ll take credit for being your hero any time I can.” He grabbed two bottles of water and passed her one. “You look amazing.”
Her face brightened and she fluttered her lashes. “I knew you were joking before.” She gave his arm a nudge. “Thanks for noticing.”
“I didn’t say I noticed,” he corrected, back-pedaling as she was adjusting the straps of her top.
“Hey, remember earlier when we were talking about Maggie, the caretaker’s daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…” She leaned in closer, heavy, dark hair tumbling over one bare shoulder. “I heard something juicy.”
Hawk had no interest in wedding party gossip. And even though it was out of character for Ashton to gossip even more than before, he sat back and listened, engrossed in the way she so animatedly spun her tale of rich guy meets poor girl, something about blackmail and getting Senator Ramsey to use his congressional influence to land a big contract. Sounded more like a Grisham novel, but the woman sitting across from him was mesmerizing.
“Isn’t that wild?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hawk, were you even listening?”
“Sure. I am constantly entranced by your mouth.” It might’ve seemed like a strange thing to say, but why not be truthful when he could?
“Hawk.” The open grin she gave him was dazzling. “I’m so proud of you.”
“For…?”
“For being honest like that.” She reached out and took his hand, not like a lover might, but like a kind aunt. At least, that was how it felt to Hawk. “See how much I’ve taught you. I swear, a year ago, you’d never admit something like that.”
Not trusting his voice yet, he exhaled a casual, self-deprecating laugh. “I love how you take anything decent I do as a direct credit to you.”
She squeezed his hand then let go. “It’s the overpowering influence I have over you.” She leaned forward. “You’re a slave to my power if and when I choose to use it.” She winked, then tilted her head to one side, examining him.
“What?”
Instead of replying, she reached out and cupped his cheek.
Hawk couldn’t move.
“I like this, the stubble,” she said, running
a thumb across his jaw. “It really works on you. Some guys can’t pull it off.”
“I need to shave,” he said blankly.
She smiled and withdrew her hand. “Can’t even go a full twenty-four hours, can you?” After taking a peeled orange and handing him half, she sat back, tipped her chin, and swished her hair around her shoulders.
After watching her for sixty seconds, Hawk felt it was a very good time for a swim.
“I’m going in,” he said, already heading toward the water, in need of a major cooldown.
“Wait for me!” Ashton was on her feet, running straight toward him. She bumped his shoulder as she passed, and then dove into the first wave. Fearlessly. Seemed everything she did was fearless. Not that Hawk was afraid of the water, but he sure could take life lessons from Ashton about going with it, having fun.
Before diving all the way in, Hawk took a second to watch Ashton splashing in the waves, happy and so damn carefree. If he could borrow that feeling, he would.
“Come on!” she called out. “Race you to the sandbar!”
Hawk didn’t need another invitation. There’d always been a fun competition between the two of them. “You’re about to get schooled,” he called back, running then diving in headfirst. It wasn’t much of a contest, because Hawk had been on the swim team at Hillsdale, but he kept his pace slow so he wouldn’t leave Ashton in the dust.
She was panting by the time she could stand on the sandbar, maybe thirty feet from shore. When he’d first claimed their spot on the beach, the sandbar was the most populated destination in the water. But now, they were the only two out that far.
“I can stand on my hands,” Ashton said, still a bit breathless. “Look!” Where she stood was about waist deep, and she managed to do a pretty stellar handstand. When she came back up, she wore a proud, watery grin. “What tricks can you do?”
“Sink to the bottom and sit.”
She splashed him.
“Hey, you know the rules: if you start a water fight with me, you’ll lose every—” He didn’t get another word out before she splashed him in the face.
“Are you declaring war?”
Another splash, bigger than the first. “Shot heard round the world, baby.”
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