Seaside Hearts (Love in Bloom: Seaside Summers, Book 2) Contemporary Romance

by Melissa Foster

  He surveyed Jenna’s deck on his way to her door. He’d been on her deck hundreds of times over the years, but tonight he saw it all differently. The rocks that lined the railing had always been simply rocks. Now it struck him that these were rocks Jenna had chosen. Rocks that she’d seen something special in and refused to leave behind. He’d seen the picture of the ocean nailed to the balusters on the far side of her deck so many times he’d forgotten it was there. Now he saw the beauty of it and imagined Jenna taking great care as she chose the driftwood as her canvas and spent afternoons painting the peaceful scene. His eyes swept across the deck to the basket of neatly organized flip-flops. Everyone at Seaside knew of Jenna’s OCD tendencies, and as it had with the rocks, tonight his mind processed the information differently. He pictured her organizing the flip-flops with her brows drawn together, focusing on each color, lining them up, setting them neatly in the basket, then bouncing to her feet with the same wide smile he saw on her face now, as he approached the screen door and found her standing inside, watching him, with her palms pressed against the screen.

  She sizzled in a white halter dress with flecks of blue and green that accentuated her small waist and revealed the swell of her breasts. She was so damn beautiful that Pete was momentarily struck mute. His gaze didn’t remain on her enticing figure. It traveled north, drawn to the anticipation in her eyes. It felt natural to press his palms to hers and hold her gaze. She dropped her eyes to their hands, and her cheeks pinked up in a way he’d come to expect—and love.

  JENNA HAD ANTICIPATED this moment for so long that she hadn’t been able to sit still as she waited for Pete to reach the door. He looked soulful as he assessed her deck with serious eyes. She wondered what he thought of her crazy rock collection, and she suddenly realized that he knew all of her quirks. He’d hung the shelves in her closets and teased her about the way she color-coded her clothing and organized her shoes by heel height and color. And you still asked me out. He must be a glutton for punishment.

  His hands were twice the size of hers. His palms were warm, pressed against hers through the screen. She couldn’t stop herself from raising her eyes to his chest and staring at the space between the open buttons of his white button-down shirt. She’d seen his chest a million times, but somehow seeing just that patch of skin made her go all tingly inside. He was smokin’ hot in a pair of snug-fitting jeans, faded at the thighs, with his untucked shirt and rolled sleeves. Casually sexy, like he’d strolled out of a Hugo Boss commercial.

  “Hey there.” Gone was the demanding need that his voice held on the boat. His tone was soft once again, warm and inviting—and she was ready to walk right in.

  “Hi.”

  “You look amazing.” He held her gaze.

  Jenna had worried over her outfit for almost two hours, trying on nearly everything she owned. Amy and Bella had made the final decision. Sexy, flirty, fun, was how they described her above-the-knee dress that showed too much cleavage. Even so, Pete didn’t stare at her boobs, and that made her feel more comfortable. The way he was looking at her, like he wanted to climb through the screen and…hold her hand, made her feel even more confident. She worried that he’d be all about sex after their earth-shattering kiss and his whispered promises of erotic, sensual sex and begging for more. God knew she couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to be beneath him without the barrier of their clothing, but if she’d seen that look in his eyes, she would have worried that he wasn’t into her, but rather into sex with her. She wanted both.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed.

  “Can we open the door?” He arched a brow.

  “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry.” She dropped her hands from the screen, and as he opened the door and stepped inside, heat rushed in. Who knew a screen door could provide such protection? Pete reached for her hand and kissed her cheek. Holy moly, he smelled like he’d bathed in all things male and sensual. There were no words to describe the way his scent made her legs wobble. How would she ever make it through the date? He’d have to carry her if he was going to smell like that all night.

  He reached into his pocket. “I brought you something.”

  You brought me something? Jenna was like a kid when it came to gifts. She didn’t just love them; she adored them, and it didn’t matter what they were. A pair of cheap flip-flops would make her bounce with excitement as much as a set of diamond earrings. Well, she assumed they would, as she’d never actually received a set of diamond earrings.

  Pete opened his palm and displayed a jet-black rock. She glanced up at him, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “Peter.”

  “When we were at the Bookstore Restaurant, I heard Amy say you were collecting black rocks this year.”

  “You…heard her say it? And you remembered?” Her heart melted a little more. The rock was warm from being in his pocket and was perfectly smooth, save for a tiny ridge across the center. She held it in her palm for him to touch.

  “You have to feel this. It’s so soothing.”

  “I just did.”

  “No, you gave it to me. Now concentrate. Close your eyes and feel the soothing qualities.”

  “Soothing?” He closed his eyes as he brushed his fingers over the rock. His brow furrowed, then relaxed. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. “I can see how that would feel soothing.”

  She didn’t expect him to have the same connection as she did with rocks, but the fact that he’d brought her a rock and he wasn’t mocking her meant the world to her.

  “I wasn’t sure how you chose your rocks,” he explained. “So if you don’t like it, don’t feel pressured to keep it. I know you’re particular about the ones you keep.”

  Swoon! “It’s perfect.” It could have been purple for all she cared. It was from Pete, and that made it the most precious rock she’d ever owned. She hooked her finger in his jeans for leverage and went up on her toes to kiss him. Pete met her halfway, and the moment their lips touched, her legs turned to jelly and she fell back on her heels. Pete caught her with one strong arm around her waist and deepened the kiss.

  She was floating again. Time stood still. She must be in heaven. Bliss. Delicious.

  When their lips parted and their eyes connected, his darkened, intensifying the passion in them. Jenna’s pulse quickened as he lowered his lips to hers again in a tender, slow joining that reached deep inside, drawing heat straight through her core and claiming a piece of her. It was such a powerful feeling, as if they’d each had half of a soul embedded deep inside them that finally found its match.

  He slid his lips to her cheek and kissed her again. “Baby, I’m going to keep a collection of rocks on hand at all times.”

  Her laugh came out as a mew. She held the rock in her fist as he rose to his full height again, and she tried to focus on where to set the rock he’d given her.

  “Where should I put it?” Kiss me again. Kiss me. Kiss me now.

  She watched as he eyed the coffee table, with a bowl full of rocks she’d found in Chatham three summers earlier and the ostrich-egg-shaped rocks on the floor by the edge of her couch.

  “How do you choose?” he asked.

  “I have to feel drawn to the place where I put the rock.”

  He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on a painting she’d made a few years earlier. It was one of the most difficult ones she’d ever done, a scene of rocks in a puddle. Getting the movement of the water just right had taken her weeks.

  “Why don’t you ever paint anymore?” he asked.

  “Too busy collecting rocks, I guess.” She was shocked that he even remembered when she used to paint.

  He nodded, then glanced at the rock in her hand.

  “Oh.” She remembered that she was telling him how she chose where to put the rocks. “I usually hold the rock for a while, and if it doesn’t hit me, then I put it in this basket.” She went to the kitchen, opened a cabinet beneath the sink, and pulled out a step stool. She held on to the counter and ste
pped up, then reached over the refrigerator to the cabinet and used her fingertips to fling it open. Pete put a hand around her waist.

  “Why don’t I get it for you?” He reached up and grabbed the basket that she would have had to climb onto the counter to reach.

  “Thank you.”

  He set the basket on the counter, then took the rock from her hand and set it inside. Jenna standing on the stool brought them much closer to the same height. She didn’t think Pete could look any sexier, but being almost eye level with him brought a whole new perspective. His chin was more chiseled, his lips fuller, and his strong, stubbled jaw begged to be touched. She could barely think past the bees swarming in her stomach as his eyes searched hers, but she wasn’t befuddled or at a loss for her voice any longer. Last night’s kiss had set her free. Pete was the man she’d wanted for as long as she could remember, and she wasn’t taking any chances of him not knowing it. She brought her hands to his cheeks and met his gaze as he settled his big hands on her slim waist.

  “I’m going to have to kiss you again,” he said in a husky voice.

  Jenna’s heart was beating so hard she thought she might explode with anticipation. “If you must…”

  He laughed as he brought his lips to hers and pressed a soft kiss to them, lingering just long enough to leave her wanting more. She leaned forward, and he held her up with one arm, kissing her in the middle of her tiny kitchen. She loved kissing him in the kitchen! In her kitchen! She’d imagined this very scene a million times in her head, and reality was so much better than fantasy.

  “We might never go on a date at this rate,” he said against her lips.

  She smiled and gave him another quick peck, before arching back so she could look at his face. Vera was so right. There were so many adjectives flying through her mind about Pete—sexy, safe, possessive, sensual, caring, amazing, sweet, powerful, smooth, delicious—that she could never pick just one.

  “We’d better go, or you’ll be the talk of Seaside.” Jenna felt him lowering her to her feet and she clung to his biceps. Mm. He had great biceps.

  “Baby, I have a feeling we’ll be the talk of Seaside for a very long time to come.”

  THEY PARKED AT Pete’s house and walked down the beach to the crowded weekly beach jam, where local bands came together and played for the evening. The town of Eastham only allowed charcoal fires on bay beaches, and the group that ran the weekly beach jam had enormous hibachis custom-made by Pete’s brother Hunter a few summers earlier. Hunter worked with steel. His passion was making sculptures from raw materials, but he made functional items from steel and stone for a living, and his uniquely sized and shaped hibachis were well known on the Cape. Pete liked having that family connection associated with his first date with Jenna.

  He and Jenna held hands, and it all seemed so natural, being there with Jenna, surrounded by crowds of people smiling and dancing, that he was no longer nervous. Jenna gripped his hand so tightly that he wondered if she was.

  “I’m glad you agreed to go out with me tonight,” Pete said as they stood among the crowd.

  Jenna turned in to him and brought her hands to his hips. “Me too.”

  “I probably should have taken you to dinner, or the drive-in.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. This is perfect. I’m not a wine and dine girl. I’m more of a…”

  “Rock girl?” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

  She flushed at the intimate gesture. “Yes, and a marshmallow girl.”

  Pete noticed an elderly couple struggling to carry their chairs. “I’m sorry, babe. But I’ll be right back. I just want to help them.” He nodded in the couple’s direction.

  Jenna pressed her palm to his abs. “Go. I’m fine.”

  Pete helped the couple carry their chairs down to the water and turned back, watching Jenna load a stick with marshmallows as she talked to a group of people around the bonfire. Pete’s heart swelled, knowing that as badly as he’d wanted to be closer to her this summer, he finally could—even if it would be hindered by his father. He wondered again how he could have overlooked their connection for so long.

  Pete had spent last night thinking of all the things he’d learned about Jenna over the years. Jenna was spontaneous, and despite her shyness around him before their kiss, she was one of the funniest women he knew. She wasn’t high maintenance, craving glamour and glitz. Jenna wore colorful plastic rings and bracelets like they were diamonds, and she pulled them off like no one else ever could. She loved to laugh, and she seemed to like any type of music that she could dance to. And, of course, she loved the beach. He’d noticed that she also enjoyed being around people. As much as he wanted to keep Jenna all to himself tonight, there would be plenty of time for that. It was more important that she feel comfortable on their first date, and by the looks of her, smiling and chatting away, her hips swaying side to side to the beat of the music, it appeared she was very comfortable.

  “Petey!” Jenna wiggled her insanely sexy hips from side to side in a little dance that he was sure was meant to look more cute than sexy by the way she was beckoning him over with her hand, but it captured the attention of every man who had come to the beach jam tonight.

  Petey? He hadn’t been called that since he was a kid. Hearing the nickname brought back happy memories of his mother, which brought his mind to his father’s recent issues. Pete drew in a deep breath and forced those thoughts aside. This was his night with Jenna, and hopefully it would remain that way.

  Pete had walked away for only a minute, maybe two, and Jenna had already corralled an entire group of couples around her.

  “Pete, this is Chuck and Kerri, Wendy, Bob, Butch, and Lisa. This is Pete.” She wrapped a hand around his forearm.

  Pete loved her possessive move. He and the others exchanged hellos, and as the other couples began settling their marshmallows over the fire, Jenna thrust an empty stick toward him.

  “Roast marshmallows with me?”

  The band played another calypso song, and Jenna swayed to the music again. Pete forced himself to focus on her question rather than the urge to pull her hot little body against him.

  “I don’t eat them, but I’ll cook them for you.” There weren’t many sweets Pete enjoyed besides chocolate. And Jenna.

  Jenna grabbed his shirt and pulled him down so they were eye to eye. “Are you sick? Should we go to the doctor?”

  He laughed with a shrug. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”

  She released his shirt. “Marshmallows aren’t really sweets. They’re…”

  He arched a brow.

  “Marshmallows.” She wiggled her butt again. When he reached for the stick with the marshmallows on it, she pulled it out of reach. “You can’t cook mine.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m really picky, and you’ll take me home and never ask me out again.” She looked up through her thick lashes with serious eyes.

  “Aw, come on. You can’t be that picky.” He reached for the stick again, and she let him take it.

  “Okay, but I warned you.”

  He knelt by the fire’s edge and reached for her hand, bringing her down beside him. “How do you like it?”

  She looked so damn cute, elbows on knees as she crouched on her heels, eyeing the marshmallows. “Golden brown. Not golden. Not brown. Golden brown.”

  Pete thought of her rock collection, her spotless cottage, and the way her closet was organized—by color, style, and length of the outfits.

  Oh shit.

  Golden brown.

  The marshmallow caught fire and he blew it out before it charred. “Good?”

  Jenna shook her head and stuck out a pouty lip. “Too dark. Here, let me show you.” She reached for the stick and he held tight.

  “Golden brown. I’ve got it.” He tossed the marshmallow into the fire and loaded up the stick again.

  “Not golden, not brown. Golden brown,” she reminded him.

  He held the stick over the fire, turning it sl
owly until the edges were brown and slightly bubbled, and then he offered it to Jenna. “Golden brown.”

  She inspected the marshmallow and shook her head. “See the white on the ends?”

  “No one gets the ends, it’s all about the middle.” His competitive nature was kicking in. The ends? How the hell was he supposed to roast the ends and not burn the rest?

  She smiled and settled a hand on his thigh. “You sure you don’t want me to do it?”

  If he could practically build a boat from scratch, he could damn well roast a fucking marshmallow. He’d get this right if it killed him.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” He leaned in and stole a kiss.

  When their lips parted, her eyes remained closed. “Mm. If only you could cook marshmallows like you kiss.”

  She opened her eyes, and he teasingly narrowed his and glared at her.

  “I warned you that it wasn’t easy to cook a marshmallow for me. Golden brown is not as easy as it sounds.” She traced the seam of his jeans along his thigh.

  “I have a feeling nothing with you is easy.” He smiled to let her know he was only kidding. Sort of.

  He cooked three more not-good-enough marshmallows as Jenna danced around him, calling out instructions: Turn it before you burn it! Yes, perfect! Turn it again! Oh no, too dark. Each time her smile faded anew; then her excitement would reappear as he loaded the next marshmallow on the stick. The other couples had long since finished roasting marshmallows and were standing among the crowd by the band.

  Jenna planted her chin in her palms. “It’s okay, Petey. Some people are made for kissing instead of cooking marshmallows.”

  “I’m made for both,” he practically growled. He set to work on another marshmallow.