by Zoe York
Dylan: Good morning, pretty girl.
* * *
Her cheeks flamed instantly. What the heck? No…no pretty girl. They had a mission to complete, nothing else.
* * *
Astrid: Are you still drunk? Did you swill champagne for breakfast?
Dylan: I do like a good mimosa… but no. I was thinking. We need to have another team meeting.
Astrid: Busy being serious over here.
Dylan: I’m entirely serious.
* * *
From the corner of her eye, Astrid saw Simone cant her head to the side and give her a curious look. “Who are you texting?”
“Uh…” Astrid looked down at the screen. “I have a friend who’s got connections for good flights. Kind of like a travel agent.”
Navy SEAL, travel agent. Whatever. She was going to best friend hell.
* * *
Astrid: Buy her a first class ticket for this evening.
Dylan: On it.
* * *
That was too easy.
She clicked her phone screen off and shoved it into her purse. “I think I can get you an awesome deal on a flight. And by deal, I mean free. It’s a long story. How about breakfast?”
* * *
“What do you mean, Dylan Van Doren wants to buy my flight home?”
Astrid had decided to go for partial honesty. If she was going to lie about the kiss—and that sucker was going to her grave with her—then the rest had to be totally above board. “Not just wants to. Is in the process of buying your flight home. It’s on him. Take it as an apology for his brother not being who you wanted him to be.”
Simone frowned. “I don’t want to owe them anything.”
“I promise it’s not like that. I think he has a lot of air miles or something.” Frankly, she didn’t care how Dylan was covering the ticket. She believed him when he said he just wanted Simone gone from the East Coast.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea…”
Astrid leaned across the table. “Honey, what if you run into Garrett?”
Simone frowned again, this time a little deeper. “Well…”
“Do you want to see him this week?”
“No.”
“There you go. The easiest way to avoid that is to not be on the same twenty mile stretch of sand.”
“I suppose…”
Astrid nodded like this was a done deal. Fake it ‘til you make it. “Now how about we head back to the motel and get you packed up? I brought your other suitcase with me.”
* * *
Dylan didn’t hear from Astrid again all day. He’d texted her the flight details, a Tampa departure because it was where he could get Simone a first class ticket on short notice. He’d asked if they needed an airport shuttle or limo or something, and she’d texted back that she had a rental car and it was fine. Then she’d gone radio silent.
So he did what any normal man would do—he staked out the parking lot on the edge of the resort and waited for her to return. She finally pulled in just after dusk.
She looked tired.
“Astrid!” He called as he jogged toward her.
She stopped and peered toward him in the growing darkness, then shook her head. “The best man…”
“What, we’ve fallen off first name basis now?” He pulled astride and gave her a lopsided grin.
“Well, our mission is over. So thank you for organizing the flight. Now…” she waved her hand in the air. “Now we can go back to that whole setting a chill example.”
“Who said we should do that?”
“You did. One day ago, in fact.”
“That guy was crazy.”
“You’re crazy. What’s gotten into you?”
That kiss had gotten into him. He wanted more of Astrid now, in a way that turned him into a giddy schoolboy. “Can’t a guy just be happy to see a girl?”
She laughed. “Sure. But it seems out of character for this guy.” She pointed at him and he wanted to nip at her fingertip with his teeth.
“You make me playful.”
“I think you’re just sleep deprived. I know I am.” She pointed down the path toward one of the haciendas that housed regular hotel rooms. “That’s me. Good night.”
“Whoa, hang on.” He reached out, not touching her, but pushing his hand into the warm air between them. Asking her to stop, but not making her.
“What?” She tipped her head to the side and gave him a look. Part curiosity, but now that they were standing under a lamp, yeah, he could see she was exhausted.
Playfulness didn’t have any place here, no matter how silly she made him feel.
“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Just…if we’re saying good night, we should do it right.”
Chapter Five
Astrid’s breath caught in her throat as Dylan brushed his fingertips against her cheek, then stroked down her throat before tucking under her curls to cup the nape of her neck.
Banter back and forth she could hold her own on—and hold him at bay.
When he looked at her like she was a cupcake? She had no hope.
“Oh,” she said softly, swaying toward him. “Well, okay then…”
He held her head as he lowered his mouth, brushing his lips against hers. Lightly at first, a tease, then harder. A kiss that refused to be ignored.
She pushed up on her tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck.
“Sleep tight tonight,” he whispered against her mouth as his hands roamed up and down her back. “Sweet dreams, too.”
Oh, she was a fool for falling for this, the oldest trick in the book. But a happy fool, too, because Dylan’s words lit her up from the inside out. “I will, on both counts.”
“Any plans for tomorrow?” His voice was rougher now, his body echoing that hard edge as his hold on her tightened. The rest of the question was clear, if unspoken. Could they do this again tomorrow? Push the attraction a little further?
She really didn’t know if that was a good idea.
No, correction: she knew that was a terrible idea.
“No plans,” she murmured.
“Then let’s do something.”
Something. How ambiguous. “Play Go Fish, maybe?”
He laughed. “Table tennis.”
“Cribbage.”
“Lawn darts.”
“Lawn bowling.”
Now he was full-on belly laughing, and so was she.
“That’s a winner, isn’t it?”
He nodded, his forehead brushing against hers as he gazed down at her. “Definitely.”
“Dylan…”
“Don't say no.” The urgency in his voice surprised her and she pulled back, trying to see his whole face. It was hard when his dark gaze was so compelling, so…overwhelming.
“You’re incredibly sexy,” she blurted out.
“Good to know.”
She blushed. “That’s not what I meant to say.”
“But you should keep going along that path, it’ll probably take us from lawn bowling to even more enjoyable activities.”
She closed her eyes. That was the only way she’d get through this—not looking at him. “And I knew that going in. The sexy part. That I can handle.”
“Please do. Handle it however you want. Repeatedly, even.”
“Stop it.” She giggled. “But the silly…I didn’t expect that.” The laughing together. Where had that come from? “And I don’t know how to handle it, to be honest.”
He was silent for a moment, then his lips brushed her forehead. “I’m not known for being fun, Astrid. If I’m being a goofball, it’s because you’ve got me off-kilter in a good way.”
She blinked in surprise. She had him off-kilter? “That makes two of us,” she whispered.
“Here’s a crazy idea,” he murmured as he cupped her face with his hand. “Let’s have as much fun this week as we can handle. Maybe even more fun. Let’s be crazy and laugh as hard as we can and not worry about why this is happening.”
“Might be just what we both need.”
The idea that someone like Dylan might need any part of someone like her blew her mind. She leaned into his touch and he kissed her again, his lips on her skin a promise this wouldn’t be one-sided. He’d said as much, but somehow the brush of his mouth against her temple and the quick, almost imperceptible, inhale spoke more directly to her soul.
And all of that was a long of emotional processing for a vacation fling, but she hadn’t had one of those before. Wasn't sure she even knew how, and it probably wouldn't be a fling in any sense that Dylan would recognize. She should probably clarify that for him. She took a deep breath. "The no-strings thing…"
"Just fun," he whispered. "No expectations."
"I'm not a casual kind of girl," she breathed, her lips brushing his, desperate to make a liar out of her.
He kissed her back. "I got that. No worries."
This week had started with a disaster, but it was suddenly looking up.
Astrid felt a momentary pang of guilt that her good fortune seemed spun directly from the bad luck of her friend, but then Dylan kissed her again and thinking dropped too low on the priority list to continue.
* * *
Another night spent alone. Not that he could complain. Astrid had drawn a line at going too fast, and even as her warm breath brushed against his mouth the night before, he'd been making a firm promise to the universe that he'd remember what she wanted—and what she didn't. And there was nothing wrong with standing in the warm night air and kissing her over and over again, and sharing secret little jokes in between.
Not at all. Last night had been…God, it had been glorious. Like making out should have been as a teenager, but he’d been too nervous back then, too unsure of where to put his hands.
Now he knew exactly how to touch her. How to caress the curve of her hips, the nip of her waist. To show her he wanted more, but knew restraint. To map her body with his hands so he could fill in the gaps in his dreams.
All of that didn’t change the fact he went to sleep frustrated and woke up halfway to an embarrassing release.
He threw himself in the shower—a cold one—and thought about what they could do today.
All the options he came up with were clothing-optional. His self-control and confidence might be all grown up, but his imagination was still that of a teenage boy.
As he towelled off, his phone vibrated.
* * *
Astrid: So I may have just been roped into going fishing?
Dylan: May have?
Astrid: I’m not sure. Any chance you want to come with me if I can’t get out of it?
* * *
Fishing didn’t sound clothing-optional. This wasn’t that kind of resort. It also didn’t sound private, and he didn’t want Astrid clothing-optional for anyone else.
An oddly possessive thought for a vacation fling, but Astrid made him think all sorts of odd things. She made him crack dorky jokes, for goodness sake.
So they’d go fishing. No shortage of kidding around potential there. And maybe he’d get a chance to stand behind her and show her how to cast on.
* * *
Astrid had panicked. She didn’t want to spend the day out on the water without Dylan—not when they just had a few days for their fling—but she hadn’t thought through the implications of inviting him along.
They couldn’t touch, for one. No flirting, for another. The boat was full of wedding guests, all of whom made sympathetic noises about the fall out of Garrett and Simone’s non-wedding. She couldn’t risk that sympathy turning to judgement if she was all cuddled up with Dylan just two days later, and he seemed on the same wave length. He joined the group in the lobby as if by accident, bumping in to someone on the far side and wrangling himself an invitation that had nothing to do with Astrid.
Unfortunately, that meant that Simone’s aunt Penny latched on to him as they boarded the boat, making all sorts of kind inquiries about Garrett but Astrid was pretty sure she was hunting for gossip.
“He’s laying low,” Dylan said super casually. “But he’s around. He appreciates the kind thoughts, for sure.”
Another guest took the spot on the other side the best man. Maybe an uncle on their side? The conversation faded against the roar of the boat’s engines, and she glanced away, not wanting to stare—or at least, not wanting to be caught staring. She wanted to look at Dylan all day long. Lean, bunching muscles, big and bulky in all the right places, poured into low-riding board shorts and topped with nothing more than bad boy aviator sunglasses? It was almost a crime not to gobble him up with her eyes.
When she let her gaze drift every so accidentally back in his direction, he was gone.
She jerked her head around the other way and found him grinning at her, just for a second. Busted. She was glad she was wearing her own oversized sunglasses. Maybe he would be the only one who correctly translated the colour in her cheeks as embarrassment and not the kiss of the sun.
But just to be safe, she pulled out her hat.
“Do you burn easily?” Asked the guy next to her. Simone’s friend from college…Colin? Calvin? Colton. Call me Colt. No thanks, Colt.
“I did the SPF 60 dunk before I left the hotel room,” she said easily. “But I brought extra if you want some?”
He glanced at her open bag, where two bottles—one cream, one spray—peeked back up at him. “Uh, I’m good.”
A shadow moved over the bag.
She looked up.
Dylan scowled at Colt. “Did I hear you say you’ve got extra sunscreen?”
She stared up at him.
“Is it Amanda? Ashley?”
“Astrid,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Ah. Right.” He grinned. “The maid of honour.”
“You might remember my name if you’d managed to make it to the rehearsal dinner,” she said breezily. In fact he’d flirted up a storm at the rehearsal dinner, but not just with her, and mostly with the other bridesmaids, although nothing like this. A little private play acting, their secret.
He just shrugged, playing along. “Had a sunscreen emergency that night, too.”
She leaned back, looking over his golden torso. This was so not believable. Colt the Dolt, however, was buying it hook, line, and sinker. He stood up and gestured for Dylan to have his spot, so Astrid and the best man could continue their dorky sunscreen discussion.
That wasn’t what Dylan had in mind at all, though. He gave Astrid a wink as he sat down. “Hey, could you get my back? Never can be too careful.”
“I hardly think this is being careful,” she muttered under her breath as her hands willingly did what her mind was screaming was a bad idea.
Surely someone was watching them. Judging them.
But nobody screeched across the boat. Nobody castigated her for touching a good looking man and being all happy when her friend was going through such a rough time. Or whatever Simone was going through…
It was the whatever in that sentence that really got Astrid thinking as she desperately tried not to get turned on by the play of Dylan’s muscles under her fingers.
She felt bad that Simone’s wedding plans had gone sideways, but did she really owe it to her friend to be miserable right along side her? And leaving Garrett had been the right call. Sooner or later, Simone would be happy again, and Astrid didn't need to wear a hair shirt in the meantime.
Nobody else on the boat felt that way. It even looked like Aunt Penny was having a good ol’ flirt with the gentleman Dylan had left her with.
So she leaned into the broad shoulders in front of her, stroking her fingers wide, all the way to the bulky curve of his shoulders, then up along the muscles that curved into his neck and back down the midline again. Over and over until the cream was absorbed i
nto his sun warmed skin.
He glanced at her over his shoulder when she finally stopped touching him. “You sure I can return the favour?”
She wasn’t sure at all. Of anything.
Chapter Six
For a clothing-mandatory outing, fishing had proven to be a lot of fun. First there had been the slow, careful application of sunscreen. Hot and fun, if frustrating.
Then they’d pretended to fish, but mostly just rubbed against each other.
But when they returned to Barefoot Bay, Astrid had been swept to dinner, and just as he was prepared to invite himself along, his brother had yanked him down a hallway, insisting he needed to hang out with one of the other bridesmaids.
Dylan had been about to tell Garrett to shove it when he’d caught the look in his brother’s eye. For whatever reason, this was important to him. And no matter what, when the chips were down, they had each other’s back. Always.
But no sooner had they landed in his old hotel room—where Garrett was now staying—than his brother up and disappeared again.
So it was important, but not? Or important… nah. His brother wouldn’t be trying to set Dylan up. For one thing, they weren’t girls. For another, whether Garrett knew it or not, he looked at this bridesmaid…Callie…like she was his next meal. Given that the guy was just three days out from his non-wedding, that probably explained the feverish desperation in his eye.
Poor shit didn’t know what to do with the fact that he wanted to bone this woman.
She was cute, too, and seemed nice, as she talked to him about this and that and pretty much nothing.
Dylan wasn’t paying attention, though. He wanted to say, “Good luck with my brother. He’ll be good to you, if you can get over the fact that he almost married the wrong woman.”