Bad Boy Summer (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 5)

by Sylvia Pierce

  “I’m here, Dizzy,” Ash replied, as if it was a question he needed to answer.

  Pam lowered her eyes to the floor, her cheeks burning. She wondered if she should leave, give them some time to catch up. She was about to ask Lizzie if she could take the car when she felt Ash’s eyes on her.

  “Been a long time, Deeds.”

  The sound of her old nickname on his lips was like a time machine, one that made her thighs clench, her heart hammer behind her black bikini top. But she’d been down that road before, and indulging in those particular memories never did anything to fill the void in her life his absence had created. She forced away the memories, focusing instead on the gritty feel of the sand grinding into the floor beneath her bare feet.

  When she finally looked up and met his gaze, she saw fire in those hazel eyes—the same heat that was churning in her gut. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh.

  “Um. Hey,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Damn. Why hadn’t she put on a beach cover-up?

  “Hey yourself.” He was smiling at her, his brows lifted in the tiniest bit of surprise—that she was half naked? That she was being so wonderfully articulate? That she was standing there at all, dripping water all over the kitchen floor in the place they’d all spent their summers together? “Heard you’re a full-blooded Yankee now.”

  Pam nodded, but the words wouldn’t come. There were so many things she wanted to say to him—so many things she’d wanted to say over the years, all the way back to their last night together. But now that he was standing here in the flesh, looking at her like he hadn’t stopped thinking about her any more than she’d stopped thinking about him, all those words felt inadequate.

  “Would you two hug already?” Liz laughed, still wiping away her tears. “You're making this fucking awkward.”

  Pam hesitated, but then Ash smiled, set his beer on the counter, and took a step forward, erasing the space between them and wrapping her up in a hug, their bodies molding to each other as if they were made to do just that. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the masculine, spicy scent of him. His arms slid across the bare skin of her back, radiating heat. Against her will and every ounce of good sense she had left, her nipples tightened.

  Ten years, and he still had the power to rev her up with no more than a glance, a touch, a nickname spoken in that low, sexy growl.

  Still, beyond the heat between them, beyond the years of longing and wondering, Pam felt the solid, familiar strength of one of her oldest, dearest friends. A decade was a long time, but some things didn't change, and in that moment, she forgot about her bikini, forgot about Lizzie watching them, forgot about everything other than the feel of Ash’s arms around her back, his heart beating against her cheek as if it had been there all along.

  Pam smiled, everything in her suddenly warm and happy.

  After all that time, Ash’s embrace still felt the same.

  Like home.

  Chapter Three

  No matter how many women he’d tangled with, in the states and abroad, none had ever felt so damn right in his arms as Deeds. Not back then, and sure as fuck not now. The touch of her silky-soft skin, the sweet and fruity scent of her hair, the feel of her perfect breasts against his chest… Everything about her felt exactly as he’d remembered. With that one hug, the woman just erased the last ten years of Ash’s personal hell.

  Imagine what a night in bed could do?

  Ash quickly dismissed the thought. Thoughts like that were land mines—slip up once, lose focus for even a minute, and boom.

  “Good to see you, Deeds,” he said, breaking off their embrace before he set off that particular bomb. Wet, practically naked, those big blue eyes staring up at him… Jesus, another minute of close contact, and he’d have taken her right there on the buckled kitchen floor.

  “You, too.” Deeds finally smiled, first real one he’d seen on her since she walked in, and the sight damn near melted him.

  “So you’re really here to demolish the place?” Lizzie asked. “During our vacation?”

  Ash turned to look at his sister, who appraised him with suspicious eyes that reminded him of their mother. A fresh wave of regret slammed into his chest. Yeah, he’d called her on Christmas and her birthdays, but he hadn’t visited, hadn’t told her where he’d been living this past year. Hadn’t returned her emails. Hadn’t apologized for bailing on their mother’s funeral. Hadn’t explained a thing—didn’t think he had to.

  Until now.

  “I’ll try to keep the demolition to a minimum,” he said. “Stay out of your hair.” It wasn’t an apology—far from it. But it was the best he could do right now.

  Lizzie nodded and lowered her eyes, and for a minute he thought he was really in for it—the fight that had been ten years in the making. But instead, she said, “Well I hope you’re hungry. I’m cooking Mom’s risotto tonight.”

  Ash’s stomach grumbled. “With the baby shrimp?”

  “Of course.” Lizzie beamed, and that damn smile blasted two tons of worry from his shoulders. In the Burke family, if they were feeding you, they were forgiving you. Didn’t matter whether he deserved it or not—he was grateful just the same.

  Deeds, however, was another story. He turned to look at her again, still standing there in that sexy-as-hell bathing suit, fidgeting like she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands. She’d dropped the smile, and the way she was watching him now, he could practically hear the gears turning in her brain.

  Couldn’t get a read on her, though. Deeds had always been tough like that. Lived in her head a lot, and didn't walk around with her heart on her sleeve like Lizzie. The only time he’d seen her truly let go was when they’d been together.

  He wondered if she was still wild and uninhibited in bed. If she still liked a man to take charge. If she still made that breathy sound when she came….

  Ash’s eyes darted to her hands. No ring.

  He let out a breath. He wished he could say he didn’t care whether she’d gotten married, that he hadn’t thought about her at all, that he’d left her in the past the night he left California. But that would make him a liar on top of everything else.

  He wondered if she still thought about him, but hell. Going down that path? Nothing but more land mines.

  Ash needed to get his thoughts in check.

  “I’ll let you two get back to it.” He knocked back the last of his beer, then grabbed his list from the counter. “I need to finish checking the place out, then make a supply run.”

  “If you pass by Trader Joe’s, will you pick up some whipped cream?” Lizzie asked. She opened the fridge, rummaging through the drawers. “Better get some more wine, too. And an avocado. Make it two. No, three. And don't be gone more than two hours—dinner waits for no man.”

  “You got it, Dizz.”

  “Oh, before you go, get Pam's stuff out of my car? It’s parked up at the beach lot.”

  "Liz,” Pam said, “it's fine. I can go get it.”

  “But why would you want to when you can relax with a glass of wine, and my strapping young brother can bring in the heavy stuff?” Lizzie laughed.

  Volunteering him for all kinds of shit he didn't sign up for? Yep. Just like their mother.

  “Anything else I can do for you, princess?” he asked.

  “It’s queen,” she said, grabbing her car keys from a hook in the mudroom and tossing them to Ash. “And not at the moment, but we’ll definitely keep you posted. I have a feeling you're going to be very handy around here this summer.”

  Ash shook his head, catching Pam’s eye on his way out the door. With a smirk, he said, “Oh, I have absolutely no doubt about that.”

  Chapter Four

  In the parking lot of Jackson City Lumber Company, Ash loaded $500 in newly cut lumber into his pickup, then reviewed his supply list. After he’d scoped out the rest of the house, he’d taken three more pages of notes on everything broken, rotten, chipped, warped, or just plain destroyed, and knew with a
sinking feeling that this wouldn’t be his last visit to the lumber yard.

  Ash groaned. The job was getting more unmanageable by the hour.

  At least it would keep him busy—keep his mind off Pam. Seeing Lizzie all grown up was one thing—she was his sister, and he’d always known he’d see her again someday, and she'd be older, just like he was. But Pam? The last night they’d been together, he’d locked her up in his memory just as she was in that moment—her blue eyes filled with tears, skin flushed and glowing after he’d made her come for the last time. She was only eighteen then, and for Ash, that's how she was supposed to stay.

  Shit. He wasn't supposed to see her again. To interfere with her life.

  But now she was there at his family beach house, just shy of thirty, the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her hair was shorter now—just past her shoulders instead of down to her waist like he’d remembered—her body more curvy. All traces of the girl he’d once chased naked into the midnight surf were gone. She still had the same beautiful, sky-blue eyes, but they were more suspicious now. Harder.

  He wondered what she’d seen, what she’d done, what life had been like for her in New York while he’d been trying—and failing miserably—to outrun his demons in the mountains of Afghanistan.

  That memory of her running naked in the moonlight, water streaming over her bare breasts, her smile lighting up the black night… it had gotten him through some of the worst nights of his life—nights when he was sure he wouldn't live to see another sunrise.

  But he was alive, and he was out. Out of the Rangers, out of every war-torn hellscape he’d endured, back in California with his sister. Sleeping under the same roof as the woman he should have—

  Shut it down, asshole. That was the past. Get your head on straight.

  Ash shoved his list into the glove box and started up the truck. Clock on the dash said six; he hadn’t even hit that kitchen joint yet. It’d taken him almost two hours just to get the lumber, and he still had to stop and get Lizzie’s groceries.

  Fucking avocados. Better be some homemade guacamole in my future, all I’m saying.

  By the time he got back to the house, dinner was just about ready, Pam was M.I.A., and his sister was working on a pretty good buzz all by her lonesome.

  "I see you really missed me," Ash said, setting the grocery bags on the counter. He’d gone a little overboard, but he wasn’t a freeloader. Least he could do was pitch in. “At this rate, you’re gonna pass out before dinner.”

  “What do you think this is, amateur night?” Lizzie reached into the fridge and grabbed him a beer, then went back to stirring the big pot on the stove. The whole house smelled like a restaurant. “How’d the supply run go?”

  “I think the old man underestimated just how much work this place needs.” Ash took a seat and cracked open the beer, grateful to be back. The table was already set with a green salad and a basket of rolls. He helped himself to one, shoving it down in a single bite. With a full mouth, he said, “Not to mention how much money shit costs.”

  “You’re going overboard, as usual.” Lizzie looked around the kitchen and shrugged. “I think it just needs a little sprucing up.”

  “Exactly why dad didn't hire you to fix it up. This place is a hot mess, Dizz.”

  She got real quiet, working that risotto spoon like her life depended on it. Ash wondered if she was upset that their father was selling. When they were younger, they used to talk about taking vacations here with their future families, every summer turning into some big Burke family reunion, just like his mother had wanted.

  He didn't bother pressing the issue. No point. Their mom was gone. Dad was selling. And from the looks of things, neither of the Burke siblings had gotten the hang of the whole spouses-and-kids thing, anyway.

  “Okay. I think this risotto is just about done.” Lizzie brought the spoon to her lips and took a bite. “Go tell Deeds dinner is ready.”

  “Where’s she at?”

  “Bedroom. She wanted to take a nap before we ate.”

  Ash closed his eyes. The thought of walking in on Pam in bed, asleep, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling… Holy fuck. Ash was fucking paralyzed.

  “Go,” Lizzie said, snapping her fingers. “The stuff is only good when it’s hot.”

  Reluctantly, he dragged his ass out of the chair, but he was spared the trip when Pam strolled into the kitchen, her face creased with sheet marks, her hair pulled into a sexy, messy bun. She had on black-framed glasses now—hot as fuck—and she’d changed out of her bikini into denim cutoff shorts and a black T-shirt that wasn't quite tight enough, in Ash’s humble opinion.

  Still, she looked good. Damn good.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living, sleepyhead,” he said.

  She gave him a shy smile, stifling a yawn. God, she was adorable. “How’d it go in town?”

  “Don’t ask,” Lizzie answered for him. “But he remembered the wine, which means we aren't kicking him out just yet. Have a seat.”

  The table was only big enough for four, and Pam took the chair next to Ash, her smooth legs brushing against his as she settled in. Now that the shock of seeing her this afternoon had worn off, the fresh skin-on-skin contact made his dick throb. She pulled away quickly, but he could still feel the heat from her touch.

  He wanted to feel it again.

  When she looked up at him, he cocked an eyebrow and jerked his chair closer, making sure their legs had no choice but to touch.

  Damn, that blush looks good on her…

  Pam shoved her chair back and started to stand. “Let me help you, Liz.”

  “Sit, sit, sit,” Lizzie ordered. “It’s your first night. Both of you. I’ve got this.”

  Lizzie buzzed around the table, setting down bowls full of steaming seafood risotto at each place, then filling up their wineglasses with the Sauvignon Blanc Ash had brought home.

  For the final touch, she lit two candles, even though it was still bright as high noon. Pam pulled her chair in again, brushing his legs. This time, she didn’t pull away.

  The whole spread made his mouth water.

  Food looked good, too.

  “Dig in.” She finally joined them, and the three of them got to work on that risotto.

  “Looks amazing, Dizzy,” Ash said, and his sister beamed. “Where’d you learn how to cook?”

  “YouTube.” Through a mouthful, Lizzie said, “God. Have you ever tasted anything so amazing?”

  Ash cut his gaze to Pam, then back to his plate. “Once or twice. But that's not polite dinner conversation.”

  Pam nearly choked on her wine.

  “Asher!” Lizzie laughed. “Nice to know you're still a disgusting pervert.”

  “Did you think I'd come back from the service a refined gentleman of class?”

  “Gentleman of ass is more like it,” Pam said, smiling like a goofy-ass kid.

  It was one of the things Ash had always loved about her—how she could be sitting there with a stick up her ass one minute, so prim and proper you’d think she was late for tea with the damn Queen of England, and then out of nowhere she’d crack some corny-ass joke, usually about him. He ate it right up.

  “Scholar of ass, if we’re getting technical.” Shoving in another bite of risotto, he said, “So other than staying out of my way, you two got any big plans this summer?”

  Lizzie shrugged and picked up her wine glass. “My plan mostly involves day drinking and hot lifeguards.”

  “That is an excellent plan.” Pam clinked her glass to Lizzie's, and the two of them cracked up.

  “That is a bullshit plan.” Ash tipped his glass back, drained the last of it. To Pam, he said, “What's your story, Deeds? You in for a summer of debauchery, too?”

  “I'm in for a summer of economics homework.”

  “She’s supposed to be relaxing,” Lizzie said. “Last week, she—”

  “I am relaxing.” Pam shot Liz a warning glare. Ash had no idea what was going on t
here; D-squared had always had their own silent communication system—a code he couldn’t even begin to crack. “But I also have a thesis to write. Not to mention an anal-retentive boss to placate. I’m lucky he agreed to the vacation time at all.”

  “You’re in grad school?” Ash asked.

  Pam nodded. “Working on my joint MBA and Master of Science in math and finance. I should’ve graduated in May, but between work and school, I’m a little behind.”

  “What’s your thesis on?” he asked.

  “Developing economies in the textiles industry,” Pam said. “and their impact on foreign and domestic investment opportunities.”

  “Wow. Okay.” Ash had no idea what the fuck any of that meant, and in a million years, he never saw it coming. Not that Deeds couldn’t do it—she was hands down the smartest, most driven woman he’d ever known. But finance? Last time he knew anything about it, she was into photography. Wanted to do portraits and weddings, babies, that sort of thing. Hell, she’d taken half the pictures in this house.

  “You’re looking at the Queen of Wall Street here,” Lizzie said. “She was even interviewed by the Wall Street Journal.”

  “Yeah?”

  Pam nodded, but she didn’t seem that excited about the whole thing. “It’s just finance. Investments. Not exactly saving the world here, guys.”

  “Well, congrats anyway. Sounds impressive.” Not knowing what the fuck else to say, Ash offered a smile he didn’t feel, then poured himself another glass of wine. Finance. Jesus. It was one more reminder that he didn’t know her at all. Didn’t know Lizzie. Didn’t know anything anymore. He’d been gone a long time, and life had gone right on without him.

  “Okay, what the hell is up with you two?” Lizzie dropped her spoon into the bowl with a clank. “You're acting like strangers.”

  No one said a word. Then, after a beat, Pam said, “We are strangers.”