Tyler shifted his stance. “Because you’re grinning like a damn buffoon while talking about my little sister. I don’t want to come off as some Neanderthal older brother, but do not hurt her.”
“I’m not,” Hawk said. “I wouldn’t. It was only pie.”
“I know, but… That guy she was involved with last year, he was different than her, didn’t support her in what she wanted to do—or in her philosophies. Not that most guys would, but she trusted him. When he ended things, it really messed her up. Hawk, man, you know all this.”
“I remember her dating someone for a while, but…” He was furrowing his brow so hard it was giving him a headache. “I didn’t know she took the breakup that badly. Dammit.”
“What?” Ty said.
“Until this week, we haven’t spent face-to-face time together in a year. I thought we…told each other everything. Shit, I failed her, as a friend. Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Everyone has secrets. Even pros like Ash have to keep some things hidden.”
Hawk wasn’t in a position to disagree. Still, he felt a brand-new aching inside for her. He’d gone through a bad breakup, too. Though nothing as rough as what Tyler described. Making Hawk’s heart ache even more, feeling deeper for her than he ever had.
“See you on the Stolen Virtue later,” Ty said, shaking Hawk awake.
“Absolutely. Attending the bachelor party on a private yacht is my number one duty as best man.” He made himself smile. “Everything was planned before I got here.”
Ty wagged his head good-naturedly. “My future in-laws love over-planning. I’m glad that gene skipped Laurel.”
“Yeah. Lucky.”
“See you at the dock—hey, hold up.” Tyler’s face was suddenly white and scrunched, his ears growing redder by the second. “You ended up spending the night in Bangor?”
Hawk swallowed and nodded, knowing exactly what Tyler was getting at.
“Meaning…Ashton did, too.”
“The road was closed. We had no—”
Tyler lifted a hand. “Just be straight with me, man. Did anything happen?”
Other than sleeping mostly naked in the same bed? Nope, not a thing.
“It was strictly platonic. We were stuck in town overnight and we dealt with it, that’s all. Nothing’s going on between us.”
That was kind of a lie. He’d been on that sandbar. He’d felt it from Ashton, the way she’d clung to him, looked him in the eyes, tipped her chin to meet his mouth…
“I know. I trust you, always have.” Ty put a hand on Hawk’s shoulder, which made him feel like a complete jackass. “Wedding’s stressing me out. Laurel puts on an act, but she hates the formal song and dance, too. We just have to get through the next few days.”
“Anything I can do?” Hawk asked, feeling like an even bigger jackass for ditching out on Ty.
His buddy shook his head. “No, it’s cool. Knowing you’re around makes it easier, though.” He gave Hawk’s shoulder another shake, then his face broke out into a huge smile. “Here comes my bride.”
Hawk watched him go. The way Ty had been smiling, like he was the happiest, most content being on the planet—it was because he was with the love of his life, the person he felt the closest to, trusted the most, thought of first.
The only time Hawk felt like that was when he was with…
Reckless thought, and one that could demolish practically everything good in his life.
With a new frustration bending his already throbbing brain, Hawk strode down the hall, sending only a passing glance at Ashton’s door before going inside his own room.
Chapter 8
“Nice dress.”
Ashton came face-to-face with Claire the Meanie, shiny blond hair all done up, rockin’ one killer dress. Where was the guy she’d seen her with earlier today? They looked cute together, though maybe a little tense.
Whatever. She didn’t have space in her brain to think about anyone else’s confusingly dysfunctional non-relationship when she had one of her own.
“Thanks,” she said. “I love yours. The color makes your eyes pop.”
Ugh, outside a sorority house, who said cheesy things like that?
“Are you going aboard?” Claire pointed toward the yacht’s gangplank, wedding workers, and other attendants parading onto the boat.
“In a minute,” Ashton said. Before leaving, Claire shot her what may or may not have been a snarky glare. Or maybe that had been all in Ashton’s head, too. She didn’t know anything anymore.
And where was Hawk? Yes, Ashton was early, but she was waiting for him. What if he was flirting with some skeezy bridesmaid? Ah. So now she was jealous of an imaginary woman…with fake boobs and hair extensions who got buzzed off one whiskey sour.
Stop it! she screamed in her head. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not his keeper or even his therapist. I flat-out told him the sure fire way to relax was a little unbridled boots-knocking.
But…but that was before all these…feelings.
What if he suddenly decides to takes my advice?
“Good evening, gorgeous.”
Ashton gasped and spun around, fingers splayed over her chest in shock.
The tall, stunning hunk of Hawk stood before her. Hair clean, dry, and wavy. Freshly shaved and smelling like a sexy barbershop, wearing a light tan suit the color of a sand-blasted beach, and a lavender tie. In the hand that was stretched out to her, he was holding a single red rose.
“Hi,” Ashton said, relief sweeping up her body while her heart beat in her throat. “Is that for me?”
“Who else?”
She looked down to examine it under the fading twilight. “No thorns.”
“I picked them off as I walked over. I know you abhor all sharp plants.” He smiled. “Nothing but the best for my plus one.” While Ashton was busy sticking her nose inside the velvety flower, Hawk leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Almost too late, she registered the touch of his skin against hers, dry and solid this time. She noted how her breath had stopped, and how Hawk’s had, too. She also noticed how her legs felt like rubber.
Oh, crap.
He led her to a spot off to the side of the gangplank that was bathed in extra lighting. “Size?” he asked, positioning her in front of the line of skid-proof ballet flats.
“Seven,” she answered, actually feeling her eyes twinkle in delight as she gazed at the pretty ladies’ shoes. “This is a classy touch I never would’ve thought of. Props to Claire.”
“Try these,” Hawk said, picking up a pair of cotton-candy-pink flats.
After a giddy, girly seal clap, Ashton held on to his shoulders as Hawk undid the complicated ties of her strappy heels and slid on the flats. She couldn’t help turning her feet this way and that, watching the subtle metallic flecks sparkle under the lighting.
Drawing up from where he’d been kneeling, Hawk said, “Shall we?” He pointed his chin toward the yacht while offering his arm, oh so gallantly.
She couldn’t help exhaling another girly giggle as she took his arm, and together they climbed aboard. The yacht was beautiful, like the most lavish ballroom she’d ever been in. Twinkle lights, blue and coral flowers, and smart waiters carrying flutes of pink champagne. The evening air was clean and warm, with a light, briny breeze blowing off the ocean.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, eyes closed.
“Does that include me?”
She opened her eyes at Hawk. She wasn’t sure if it was the few hours they’d spent apart, or her little chat with Laurel, or her own renewed resolve, but the frustration she’d felt when they’d separated at the foot of the stairs was gone.
“You certainly don’t hurt,” she said, knowing her smile must’ve been huge.
“Then I hate to leave you even more, but I promised Ty I’d talk to the DJ, make sure they have the music he requested. He’s kind of anxious.”
“No problem. I promised Laurel the same thing. Not about the music, but she’s fra
zzled, too. I told her I’d keep an eye on the bar. Make sure the bartenders aren’t watering down the cocktails. Funny thing to be stressed about tonight, but that’s what she asked.” She made a small curtsy. “I’m here to please.”
Hawk cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure and find you later, then.”
Even though a little of that sizzling tension was back—because of Hawk’s comment, joking or not!—they both laughed like it was the biggest joke ever, and Hawk headed toward the DJ table in the far corner.
During the cocktail hour, the yacht remained docked. From their respective posts, Ashton barely took her eyes off Hawk. He wasn’t doing his best DJ supervising, either. They kept giving each other looks, especially when something funny happened to either of them. By the time the party set out into the harbor, they’d concocted their own primitive sign language.
Though they’d each been claimed by different groups while enjoying the buffet, throughout the meal, a subtler version of the language continued. When Hawk signed that the second-cousin someone beside him had three helpings of the oysters and an order to go, Ashton spit-laughed so hard she spilled her glass of water on the groomsman at her side.
As part of traditional stag/hen parties, Hawk gave a good-humored and pretty dang hilarious roast of Tyler. Ashton hadn’t realized what a great public speaker he was, relaxed yet authoritative. Upon second thought, he’d received the Milken Educator Award of Excellence two years ago, donating the prize money to several urban Detroit charities. And now, if all went well with Knickerblobby, he was about to land a coveted post at a seriously prestigious private school. Of course he’d have amazing self-confidence.
In fact, his command over the crowd made her feel…
Before she could shoo that particular thought from her mind, in mid-speech, Hawk glanced her way and made the subtle sign that he wished he was drunk in an alley. Before he’d hit the punch line of the Tyler joke he was telling, Ashton broke into a fit of cackles.
“Sorry,” she said between gasps. “Go on.” She waved a hand at him. “Go on.”
“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” Hawk said, pulling at his collar, “is my cue.” He lifted a glass. “To the bride and groom!”
Ashton was still sniggering when the music started, and everyone broke from their positions.
“Nicely done,” Hawk said, sliding up behind her. “I was dying up there.”
“You were not.” She twirled around to face him, close enough to get hit with a whiff of his delicious aftershave. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah?” His eyebrows arched. “Sure you’re not drunk?”
“Hawk!” She elbowed him in the stomach and he pretended it hurt.
“Come on, beautiful.” He replaced her cocktail glass with his hand. “It’s boogie time.”
“No way. You won our famous dance-off at the lake fair and square, and I’m not about to do five straight rounds of the Macarena to beat you. They’d make us walk the plank.”
“I’ve learned a thing or two since then,” he said, lifting his hand over her head and leading her into a twirl. Then, positioned like ballroom dancers, he began box-stepping them in time to Maroon 5.
“Impressive,” Ashton said. She’d never been a great dancer, but Hawk made everything easier, seamless. Only when she found herself gazing into his eyes for a split second too long did they both misstep.
Maroon 5 turned into a classic Dolly Parton, then to Taylor Swift and Sam Cooke. Through all the songs, Ashton and Hawk stayed glued together. They talked, they laughed, then began adding words to the language they’d invented earlier. When Elvis’s velvety tones spilled from the speakers, Hawk pulled her close, dipping his chin so they were cheek to cheek.
“Willie Nelson’s version is better,” he whispered.
“Not even,” she replied, his breath fanning over her ear and neck, forcing her eyes to close so she could feel. Just feel…
When Hawk’s hand slid down her spine, settling on the very, very small of her back, Ashton’s entire body slowed, then lit up like a candle. They were pressed so closely she felt the buttons of his jacket, his firm body against her, expanding and retracting with each breath. Loosening her grip on his shoulder, she moved a hand down his arm and to his side, her fingers pressing into solid muscles.
For a while, they stayed exactly like that, moving their feet only enough to give the appearance they were dancing. When Elvis changed to bass-pounding R&B, Ashton pulled back. “I need some—”
“Air?” Hawk finished.
Judging by the way she felt, she probably looked flushed to the point of fainting, and she should’ve corrected him by adding that she also needed space and somewhere private to think straight.
Heading away from the dance floor, Hawk took her by the hand and led her to the side railing. The wind was blowing harder, and without her having to make the request, Hawk continued toward the shelter of the back deck.
“Need some water?” he asked when they stopped at the railing.
“I’m good.” The muscles in her stomach were clamped in nervous anticipation. But anticipation for what? They’d only slow-danced. Kids in middle school did that without becoming a screaming volcano of coiled hormones.
So much for openly expressing how she felt.
To fill the silence, she was about to say something about the dogs Bits had tried to get Laurel to bring aboard, when a couple neared them, speaking in hushed, agitated tones.
Hawk put a finger over her lips, stopping what he thought she was about to utter, then he tugged her into a dark corner.
Just like he’d said he would do…
“We shouldn’t disturb them.” His whisper tickled her ear.
“Not when it’s a sweet lovers’ quarrel,” she whispered back. Though it was dark on the back deck, she thought she recognized the couple. Yep, it was Claire and that guy, all right. Ashton was about to sneak a closer look when Hawk made a sound, causing her to turn to him, instead.
His lips were puckered, yet his gaze was off to the side, finger tapping his chin. “Bew… Oo-loo,” he said in a low voice.
“What?” Ashton whispered.
“Kiss,” he said, leaning in closer. “Our new language. We haven’t thought of a word for kiss. Bew-oo-loo.” He drew out each oooo sound. “Try it.”
“Boo—”
“No, bew.”
She held in a giggle. “Bew-oooh.”
“Wrong.” He took her face in one hand, squishing her mouth into a forced pucker. “Repeat after me: bew.”
“Bew,” Ashton breathed out, barely able to move her squashed lips.
“Oooo… You gotta draw it out. Oooo.”
“Oooo.” Her stomach hurt from wanting to laugh.
“Looooo. Really draw out that one. You gotta feel it, Ash.”
“Looooooooo.” She gripped both his arms, whole body spasming with giggles.
“Let’s put it all together.”
“Bew-oo-looooo,” they said in unison.
“Say that to the right guy,” Hawk said, lifting a grin, “and you’ll get…”
As he trailed off, his eyes turned dark and intense, zeroing in on her waiting mouth. A second later, his lips touched hers. For one tiny moment. Then he drew back, half a breath away. His hold on her cheeks loosened so her mouth was freed. Free for Ashton to suck in that half a breath and continue the kiss as if it hadn’t stopped.
Sparks passed between them, sharp and bright and electric. His cheeks were warm and his mouth was hot. When they’d both run out of breath, they stopped.
“We just kissed,” Hawk said, his breath brushing her skin.
“I know. I was there.”
One arm slid around her back. “I have to do it again.”
“Who’s stopping you?” she said, leaning forward until he met her halfway, covering her mouth with another wave of kisses. “We’re at a party. It’s practically expected.” She felt the moment his lips curved into a smile. “Loosened inhibitions and all that.”
> He leaned away to look her in the eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“No. Are you?”
“Not a bit.” His gaze on her was penetrating and addictive. “So no loosened inhibitions, then? No preconceived expectations because we’re at a wedding?”
“No,” she admitted. “I want this.”
She felt his frame relax, as if he’d just released a breath of relief. His other arm went around her. “Kiss me again.”
Ashton obeyed, swept up in the romance, the darkness, the whispers and breaths, the feel of his mouth, his smooth chin, his hands touching her, steadying her, sliding everywhere.
“I wanted to do this in the water,” he said, kissing around her ear.
“I know.” She smiled and placed her hands on his cheeks. “I did, too.”
They exchanged a poignant look, one that Ashton didn’t have the brain capacity to interpret, but for some reason, knew exactly what it meant. Then he swept her in, his sweet mouth crashing over hers, sending her spirits spinning and twirling in circles.
“Oh, boy,” she said, holding the back of his head, tipping her chin so he could kiss her neck. “This is so wrong.”
“So wrong,” he echoed, moving to the other side of her neck, making her knees nearly buckle.
“It’s Tyler’s wedding. If we get caught…”
“Total annihilation.”
“He’ll think I’m using you.”
Hawk’s body shook with a laugh. “He’ll think I’m using you.”
“Why are we talking about my brother?” she said, giving his earlobe a little bite.
“I can’t remember.” Hawk’s breath was becoming more labored, matching hers. “Something about a wedding?”
“Hmm, could be.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, all the way to the back of his head like she’d always wanted to do. “Though I choose to ignore all such conventional commitments.”
“You’re so full of it.” The look he gave made her knees wobble again, and her brain turn to mushy mush. If she didn’t kiss him again, right now, she’d—
“Shit,” Hawk said into her hair. “We’re back at the dock.”
Ashton stared toward the lights of the house, suddenly as close as before. “For how long?”
The Last Plus One Page 22