It Happened One Summer

by Tessa Bailey

  But he definitely flexed that tricep a little.

  Piper hid her smile and moved to stand a short distance away, phone at the ready in portrait mode. “Okay, left hand on the sawhorse, pick up the drill in your right.”

  “Big tools!” Hannah called. “Yay, symbolism.”

  “This is ridiculous.” He looked around. “It’s obvious I’m not drilling anything.”

  “Distract them with your smile,” Hannah said, in between long sips of her fountain soda. “Show them those pearly whites.”

  “Who is them?” Brendan wanted to know. “Piper is the only one following me.”

  Everyone ignored that.

  “Post some content and I’ll consider it.” Sanders sniffed.

  “Smile like we’re hauling in a hundred crabs per pot,” Fox suggested.

  “We have done that. Do you remember me smiling then?”

  “That’s a valid point,” said Deke. “Maybe Cap’s just got resting asshole face.”

  Finally, Piper took pity on Brendan and approached the sawhorse. “I forgot to tell you something. It’s kind of a secret.” She crooked her finger at the man, gratified when he leaned down as if compelled. His sweaty warmth coasted over her, and she went up on her toes, eager to get closer. Maybe even requiring the added proximity. “I’ve been ordering your suggested dishes off the takeout menus, and you were right. They’re the best ones.”

  She caught his smile up close with the tap of the screen.

  “Look at that,” she whispered, turning the phone in his direction. “You’re a natural.”

  The corner of his lips tugged, taking his beard along with it. “Are you going to tap the heart on it?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Oh, she was openly flirting with the captain now. Did that mean the third wall was back up? Or was she in some undiscovered flirting territory that lay on the other side of the rubble? “I’d tap it twice if I could.”

  He made a sound in his throat, leaned in a little closer. “I know they don’t require a picture to keep your account active. This was about making you smile, not me.” His gaze fell to her mouth, taking its time finding her eyes again. “Well worth it.” With that, he set down the drill and pinned his crew with a look. “Back to work.”

  All Piper could do was stare at the spot he’d just vacated.

  Goose bumps. He’d given her goose bumps.

  * * *

  Throughout the course of the week, as Brendan constructed the pergola over the back patio, it was impossible for Piper not to feel a growing sense of . . . importance. There was a warmth in her middle working its way outward with every whirr of the saw, every swing of his hammer. She’d thought nothing could make her feel sexier than a pair of Louboutins, but this man building her something by hand not only turned her on, it made her feel coveted. Wanted. In a way that wasn’t superficial, but durable.

  So. That was terrifying.

  But it wasn’t just Brendan’s work making her feel positive, it was her own persistence. Piper and Hannah came down the stairs every morning and got started, hauling debris, hammering up the sagging crown molding, sanding the window frames and giving them fresh coats of paint, and organizing the storage spaces behind the bar. A warm glow of pride settled in and made itself at home with the completion of each new project.

  On Thursday, in the late afternoon, the sounds of construction ceased on the back patio, the hammer and saw falling silent. Hannah had gone to spend the afternoon with Opal, so it was only Piper and Brendan in No Name. She was sanding down some shelves behind the bar when his boots scuffed over the threshold, the skin of her neck heating under his regard.

  “It’s finished,” Brendan said in that low timbre. “You want to come look?”

  Piper’s nerves jangled, but she set down her sandpaper and stood. He watched her approach, his height and breadth filling the doorway, his gaze only dipping to the neckline of her tank top briefly. But it was enough for his pupils to expand, his jaw to tighten.

  She was a dusty mess. Had been for the last six days. And it hadn’t seemed to matter at all. In dirty jogging pants or sequins, she was still pergola worthy. Had he busted his hump simply because he liked her and not just how she looked? The possibility that he’d shown up to see her, help her, without anything in return, made her comfortable in her own skin—ironically, without any of her usual beautifying trappings.

  At the last second, he moved so she could slide through the doorway, and it took all of her self-control not to run her hands up Muscle Mountain. Or lean in and take a hearty drag of real, actual male exertion. God, with every passing day, she was growing less and less enamored of the groomed and coiffed men of her acquaintance. She’d like to see them try to operate a table saw.

  Piper stepped outside and looked up, startled pleasure leaving her mouth in the form of a halting laugh. “What? You . . . Brendan, you just built this?” Face tipped back, she turned in a slow circle. “This is beautiful. Amazing. This patio was a jungle on Sunday. Now look at it.” She clutched her hands together between her breasts. “Thank you.”

  Brendan cleaned the dirt off his hands with a rag, but he watched her steadily from beneath the dark band of his beanie. “Glad you like it.”

  “No. I love it.”

  He grunted. “You ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “For me to ask you to dinner yet.”

  Her pulse tripped all over itself. Got up. Tripped again. “Did you think you needed to build a pergola to convince me?”

  “No. I, uh . . .” He tossed down the rag, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I needed something to keep me busy while I worked up the nerve to ask.”

  Oh.

  Oh no. That worrisome little flurry in her belly went wild, flying in a dozen directions and careening into important inside parts. She needed to do something about this before . . . what? She didn’t know what happened with serious men. Men who courted her and didn’t just go putting their arms around women all willy-nilly. “Wow. I—I don’t know what to say. Except . . . I will absolutely have dinner with you, Brendan. I’d love to.”

  He averted his gaze, nodded firmly, a smile teasing one corner of his mouth. “All right.”

  “But . . .” She swallowed hard when those intense green eyes zipped back in her direction. “Well. I like you, Brendan. But I just want to be up front and say, you know . . . that I’m going back to LA. Part of the reason we’re fixing up the bar is to impress Daniel, our stepfather. We’re hoping the display of ingenuity will be a ticket home early.” She smiled. “So we both know this dinner is casual. Friendly, even. Right? We both know that.” She laughed nervously, tucking some hair into her ponytail. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

  His cheek ticced. “Sure.”

  Piper pursed her lips. “So . . . we’re agreeing on that.”

  A beat passed as he considered her. “Look, we both know I like to put things into neat little boxes, but I . . . haven’t been able to do that with you. Let’s just see what happens.”

  Panic tickled her throat. “But . . .”

  He just went along packing up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night. Seven.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked into the bar, toward the exit.

  She took a moment to internally sputter, then trotted along after him. “But, Brendan—”

  One second he was holding the toolbox, the next it was on the ground and he was turning. Piper’s momentum brought her up against Brendan’s body, hard, and his boat captain forearm wrapped around her lower back, lifting her just enough that her toes brushed the concrete. And then he bowed her backward on that steel arm, stamping his mouth down onto hers in an epic kiss. It was like a movie poster, with the male lead curling his big, hunky body over the swooning, feminine lady and taking his fill.

  What?

  What was she thinking? Her brain was clearly compromised—and it was no wonder. The mouth that found hers was tender and hungry, all at once. Worshipful,
but restraining an appetite like she’d never encountered. As soon as their lips connected and held, her fingers curled into the neck of his T-shirt, and that arm at the small of her back levered her upright, flattening the fronts of their bodies, and oh God, he just devoured her. His lips pushed hers wide, his workingman’s fingers plowed into her hair, and his tongue snuck in deep, invading and setting off flares in her erogenous zones.

  And he moaned.

  This huge, gritty badass of a man moaned like he’d never tasted anything so good in all his life and he needed to get more. He brought them up for a simultaneous gasp of air, then he went right back to work, his tongue stroking over hers relentlessly until she was using her grip on his collar to climb him, her mouth just as eager, just as needy.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  They were going to have sex, right then and there. That was the only place a kiss like this could lead. With him moaning for an entirely different reason, those sturdy hips of his holding her thighs apart to take his thrusts. How had they been orbiting each other for over a week without this happening? With every slant of his hard mouth, she was losing her mind—

  The door to No Name opened, letting in the distant sounds of the harbor.

  “Oh! I’m sorry . . .” Hannah said sheepishly. “Um, I’ll just . . .”

  Brendan had broken the kiss, his breathing harsh, eyes glittering. He stared at her mouth for a few long moments while Piper’s brain struggled to play catch-up, his hand eventually dropping away from her hair. No, she almost whined. Come back. “Tomorrow night,” he rasped. “Seven.”

  He kept his eyes on Piper until the last possible second before disappearing out the door. At which point, she staggered behind the bar and uncapped a beer from the cooler. Thank God they’d had the foresight to fill it with ice. Piper drank deeply, trying to get her libido back in check, but it was no dice. The seam of her panties was damp, her nipples stiff and achy, her fingers itching to be twisted once again in Brendan’s shirt.

  “I’m going to need your help, Hanns,” she said finally. “Like, a lot of it.”

  Her sister stared back, wide-eyed, never having seen Piper knocked sideways by a man. “Help with what?”

  “Remembering that whatever happens with Brendan . . . it’s temporary.”

  “Will do, sis.” Hannah came around the bar, opened her own beer, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Piper. “Jesus. I’ve never seen you this worked up. Who knew your kink was outdoor living spaces?”

  Piper’s snort turned into a full-fledged laugh. “We have a date in approximately twenty-four hours. You know what that means?”

  “You have to start getting ready now?”

  “Yup.”

  Hannah laughed. “Go. I’ll clean up here.”

  Piper kissed her sister’s temple and jogged up the back stairs, going straight to her closet. She pressed the mouth of the beer bottle to her lips and perused her choices, wondering which dress said I’m not the settling-down type.

  Because she wasn’t.

  Especially not in Westport. She just needed to remind Brendan of that.

  With a firm nod, she chose the emerald-green Alexander Wang fit-and-flare velvet minidress. If she was just here to have fun, she’d have the most fun. And try to forget how involved her heart had been in that kiss.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brendan adjusted the silverware on his dining room table, trying to remember the last time he’d had reason to use more than one set. If Fox or some of the crew came over, they ate with their hands or plastic forks. Piper would be used to better, but that couldn’t be helped. Instead of dipping his toe back into dating after a seven-year hiatus from all things female, he’d plunged right into the deep end with a woman who might be impossible to impress.

  Sure, he was intimidated by the level of luxury Piper was used to, but he couldn’t let making an effort scare him.

  Trying was the least he could do, because . . . Piper Bellinger got to him.

  He’d soaked up every second watching her work in No Name all week—and he’d come to find the high-maintenance-socialite aspect of her personality . . . well, adorable. She owned it. Wasn’t apologetic about hating manual labor or her love of overpriced shoes and selfies. And fuck, every time she cringed about the dirt under her fingernails, he wanted to lay her on a silk pillow and do all the work for her, so she wouldn’t have to. He wanted to do the spoiling. Badly.

  It was obvious that she hated construction, yet she showed up every day with a brave smile and got it done. Furthermore, she made time in the afternoons to bring Hannah to see Opal, and he witnessed her growing comfort, day in and day out, with the fact that she had a grandparent. Noticed the way she’d begun weaving Opal into conversations without sounding stilted or awkward. She was trying new things and succeeding.

  If she could do it, so could he.

  Brendan opened the fridge and checked the champagne again, hoping the high price meant it was halfway decent. He’d tasted her unbelievable mouth yesterday evening, and his pride demanded only the best on her tongue. He’d have to stretch beyond his normal capabilities for this woman. She wasn’t going to be happy with beer and burgers and a ball game at Blow the Man Down. Not always. She’d make him work to keep her content, and he wanted that challenge.

  It hadn’t been like this the first and only other time he’d dated a woman. There’d been no urgency or anticipation or raw hunger that never let up. There had been acceptance, understanding. All of it quiet.

  But the thump of his heart as he climbed into his truck was not quiet.

  No Name was within walking distance, but Piper would probably be wearing some ridiculous shoes, so he’d drive her to and from his house. Leaving home at this hour was not part of his usual routine, and everyone who saw his truck raised their eyebrows, waving hesitantly. They knew he’d be leaving tomorrow morning for crab season and probably wondered why he wasn’t heading to bed early with two weeks of treacherous sea in his future.

  There was a woman to see to first. That was why.

  Brendan parked at the curb outside of No Name. He tried the front entrance and found it unlocked, so he went in and climbed the stairs to her door. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her dressed to kill a man, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she answered with a flirty smile and smelling exotic, like smoke. In a dress so short, he’d see everything if he went down two steps.

  He almost swallowed his fucking tongue.

  “Hey there, sailor.”

  “Piper.” Brendan exhaled hard, doing everything he could to prevent his instant hard-on from growing unmanageable. Jesus, the date hadn’t even started yet, and he needed to adjust himself. “You know we’re just going to my house, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She pouted at him. “You don’t like my dress?”

  And in that moment, Brendan saw right through her. Saw what she was doing. Making tonight about sex. Trying to keep things casual. Categorizing him as a friend with benefits. With a less determined man, she would have succeeded, too. Easily. She was paradise on legs, and probably a lot of weak-willed bastards wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from taking anything she was willing to give.

  But he remembered their kiss. Would likely remember it for the rest of his life. She’d hidden nothing while their mouths were touching. She’d been scared, surprised, turned on, and scared again. He could relate. And while he had no idea if he could offer this woman enough to make her happy, he wasn’t letting Piper classify him as a casual hookup. Because what she made him feel wasn’t casual. Not one bit.

  “You know I love it, Piper. You look beautiful.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “And you’re not wearing your beanie.” She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, her nails lightly grazing his scalp. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all of this from me.”

  Christ. He was in danger of swallowing his tongue again.

  It wasn’t just that he hadn’t been touched by a woma
n in seven years. It was that this woman was the one doing the touching. “There’s a chill in the air. Do you have a jacket or do you want to borrow mine?”

  Hannah appeared behind her sister in the doorway, headphones looped around her neck. She dropped a black sweater over Piper’s shoulders and sniffed. “Have her home at a reasonable hour, please.”

  Brendan shook his head at the younger one and offered his hand to Piper. “Not much choice. We leave for Alaska in the morning.”

  Hannah hummed for a second, singing a song under her breath about the bottom of the deep blue sea, but he didn’t recognize it. Seemingly caught up in the words, Hannah patted her sister on the shoulder and closed the door.

  Sliding her hand into Brendan’s, Piper made an amused sound. “She’s probably already making you a sailing-themed playlist for the trip. She can’t help herself.”

  “If we’re not setting traps or pulling them up, we’re trying to get a few hours of sleep. Not a lot of time for listening to music.” He cleared his throat. “I won’t tell her that, though.”

  He opened the front door, and Piper smiled at him as she passed through. There were a few customers waiting outside the Red Buoy across the street. When they saw him helping Piper into his truck—and sure enough, she was wearing those ice-pick heels again—they elbowed each other, one of them even running inside to relay the gossip. He’d been prepared for a reaction. Didn’t mind it at all, especially with him going out of town for two weeks. Right or wrong, it would ease his mind if the town knew she was spoken for.

  Even if Piper wasn’t aware of it yet.

  They drove the three minutes to Brendan’s house, and he pulled into the driveway, coming around the front bumper to help her out. He didn’t have a hope in hell of keeping his eyes off her legs when she turned all ladylike in the seat, using his shoulders for balance as she descended from the passenger side of his truck.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, running a finger down the center of his chest. “Such a gentleman.”

  “That’s right.” He tipped her chin up. “That’s exactly what I’m going to be, Piper.”