Bayside Heat (Bayside Summers Book 3)

by Melissa Foster

  She ran her fingers over the blue envelope, tracing the white rope and anchor over the hard ridges of the key to his apartment she’d put inside. Why hadn’t he ever asked for it back? She opened the old-fashioned mail slot on the door and hesitated. This might be it. Our final goodbye before I leave town.

  Well, if this was it, it was his choice, wasn’t it? His loss.

  She slid the envelope into the slot, and then she hurried out to her car and drove away from the office. At a time when she should be celebrating her future, all she could do was cry. She didn’t even try to stop, because at this time tomorrow, she’d be far away in a new city, making the fresh start she’d always dreamed of.

  Her mother’s voice, the voice she rarely heard anymore, whispered through her head. What you wish for today may not be what you truly want tomorrow. She and Chloe had been young, wishing on the dried seeds of dandelions, and in a rare moment of parenting, their mother had doled out that truthful piece of advice. She’d gone on to explain that she’d always wished she would become a mother, but she hadn’t realized it would be so hard. It was one of those eye-opening moments when Serena’s little-girl heart had ached so badly she’d gotten on her bike and pedaled straight over to Mira’s house. She’d seen Drake in the yard, and rather than let him see her tears, she’d pedaled all the way to the creek, almost two miles away. Drake had shown up on his own bike a few minutes after her, and when she’d asked how he’d known where to find her, he’d said, Anyone who knows you would know where you were going.

  She pulled into her driveway, and all that sadness turned to frustration. She had sworn she wasn’t going to let this thing with Drake lead her astray, and here she was, completely entrenched in thoughts of him. No way. This could not happen. She couldn’t afford to be sidetracked when she started her new job.

  My new life.

  A sting accompanied the thought, but as she’d learned to do years ago with her mother, she buried the sadness that came with her leaving and told herself that whatever Drake did or didn’t do tonight should have no impact on her. She had a car and could drive herself to the damn bar. She just wouldn’t drink much.

  She went inside and walked directly past the sealed boxes, into her bedroom. She showered, taking her time to meticulously apply Nair everywhere just in case she found someone worthy of distracting her from Drake. She dried her hair, then took extra care applying her makeup. If Drake wanted to shun her because it was too hard to face what they shouldn’t have, that was his business. She was going to celebrate her fantastic friendships and the start of something new.

  She’d packed most of her nice clothes, but tonight she wasn’t looking for nice. She dressed in the white eyelet crop top she’d bought right after college, when she’d moved back to the Cape. She hated strapless bras, so decided to go without one, which turned out to be a good thing because, as she laced up the top, she noticed it was a little tighter now. She pulled on the matching miniskirt with a lace hem, leaving her midriff bare, and slipped her feet into a pair of cute strappy sandals. Then she checked her phone for messages, reading one from each of the girls telling her how excited they were to see her tonight—and tried to ignore the sting at not finding one from Drake.

  Fuck it.

  She put on a pair of gold dangling earrings, a matching necklace, and a handful of bangles. Then she grabbed her keys and headed out to her car.

  Chapter Six

  DRAKE CLIMBED THE porch steps as the front door flew open and Serena barreled out. He stopped midstride. Her eyes were heavily lined, making the greens and browns stand out even more, and her hair had a just-been-fucked look, a little wild and very sexy. It cascaded over her shoulders in natural waves. And holy hell, what was she wearing? Her shoulders were bare, and her top—if he could call it that—was only a few inches from top to bottom. It laced up the center, revealing not only a path of exquisite cleavage, but also her enticingly sexy belly, from hips to ribs. Her skirt stopped just above midthigh, with a tiny row of lace at the edge. His fingers curled with the itch to touch her.

  “Drake?” she said with more than a hint of surprise. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

  He blinked several times to clear the lust from his brain, and when that didn’t work, he forced himself to step onto the porch. “Did you think I’d leave you hanging?”

  She lowered her gaze and said, “You left early. I wasn’t sure…” The hurt in her voice was inescapable.

  “Look at me, Serena.” He waited until he had her full attention, and then he said, “You were on the phone, and I had to run to P-town to get something, but at no time did I consider standing you up for tonight.” He pulled the jeweler’s bag from his pocket, hiding it in his hand, and said, “I missed out on bringing you to your prom, and I was going to bring you a corsage, but at our ages it seemed…” This sounded much better in his head. “That’s not true, Supergirl. Flowers die. That’s why I didn’t bring you a corsage. I wanted you to have a going-away present that would always be with you, something that would make you smile when things got tough.” He opened the little velvet bag and withdrew the wrap bracelet he’d had made just for her.

  Her eyes bloomed wide. “Drake…?”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been a little messed up lately.” He wound the long, braided gold and brown leather bracelet, which was accented with dozens of tiny diamond stars, around her wrist several times. As he hooked the clasp he said, “My partner in crime is leaving and I’m not really sure which way is up anymore.”

  “This is…” Her eyes dampened as she gazed at the bracelet and then up at him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.” He repositioned the bracelet so a circular gold charm rested in the center of her wrist. Then he withdrew the accessory chain from the bag and hooked it to the charm. “Spread your fingers, palm down.”

  She did, her eyes darting up to his, and he imagined giving her all sorts of commands. Take me in your hand…That’s it…Stroke me, baby.

  Holding her gaze, he tried to push away those thoughts as he pulled the chain down the center of the back of her hand and wound the end around her middle finger and then connected it just above her knuckle to the tiny heart-shaped clasp.

  “Oh, Drake,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t understand. Why…?”

  “I had it made for you so you always remember that everything is better under the stars. Is it comfortable? Too binding?”

  Her eyes darkened, and she inhaled a sharp breath. “What? Um…No. Not at all.”

  “Good. Then shall we go celebrate?” He offered her his arm, and she wrapped her hand around it, holding her other hand out to admire the bracelet.

  Serena fidgeted with the bracelet the whole way to the bar. Her skimpy skirt rode distractingly high on her thighs, making it difficult for Drake to rein in his desires as he turned on to the main drag in Truro, a neighboring town to Wellfleet, and caught her stealing a glance at him. She turned away so quickly, he didn’t get a clear view of her face. He’d been fighting himself since he told her how he felt yesterday. He knew he was doing the right thing, but confessing his feelings for her and knowing she was leaving tomorrow had lit a wick that he felt burning down too fast. Every stolen glance, every breath she took in that barely there top felt like it came from his own lungs—and man, he wanted it to.

  By the time they reached Undercover, she was nibbling on her lower lip, and that sexy innocence nearly made him detonate.

  The lot was packed. He parked at the far end, beneath an umbrella of trees, and turned toward Serena. She was still staring straight ahead, her face a mask of apprehension, which tore at his gut. Was it him, or was it her leaving that was causing her distress?

  He took her small hand in his and brushed his thumb over her warm skin, memorizing it to hold him over when she was gone. The gold chain sparkled against her sun-kissed skin. “Talk to me, Serena.”

  She turned to face him with worry in her eyes. He gently pu
lled her across the seat, close enough that he could almost feel her racing pulse between them.

  “Aw, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you nervous about leaving?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “And about this.” Her gaze fell to the bracelet. “It’s gorgeous and sweet, but it’s also confusing. What does it mean, Drake? On one hand I feel like you’re sending mixed messages by avoiding me all day and then giving me this…” She ran her finger over the chain on her hand. “But on the other hand, you don’t owe me an explanation about what you’re up to at work, and you’ve given me presents before. This should be no different. But knowing how you feel about me makes it different.”

  He touched his forehead to hers and slid his hand to the nape of her neck, holding her there as he said, “I’m sorry. I told you I was fucked up right now. I did avoid you today, but only because I can’t stop thinking about”—making you mine, kissing you, sweeping you naked beneath me and loving you until you can’t remember why you wanted to leave in the first place—“things I shouldn’t.”

  “Join the club,” she whispered.

  His insides flamed at the secret between them. He brushed his lips over her cheek, and she inhaled a ragged breath. It was so sexy, he did it again, earning another seductive inhalation. He drew back so he could see her face, still holding the back of her neck, and she clutched his forearm. Her breasts rose with each heavy breath, and her tongue slicked over her lips, making his mouth water. There was no denying the calculated, seductive move. Nicely played. Their eyes locked, and hers narrowed ever so slightly, suddenly brimming with confidence, and if he was reading her right, which he was damn sure he was, also ripe with challenge.

  “You’re going to make a liar of me if you keep looking at me like that.”

  “Sometimes a lie isn’t a lie,” she said breathily.

  He couldn’t resist pressing his lips to her cheek in a series of light kisses, telling himself her cheek was safe. If he could just have this little taste, he could get through the night and figure out how to lock his desires away again.

  Her skin was warm and temptingly soft. She closed her eyes, barely breathing as he kissed her cheek again and again, so trusting and sweet. Her fingers pressed into his skin with every touch of his lips, fueling the battle raging in his head. Just one more. He kissed the tender dip just below her ear, and she sighed dreamily. Fuuuck.

  “Then what is it,” he asked, “if not a lie?”

  “It’s a…” she whispered.

  She turned her face, and their lips brushed like a breeze passing over too quickly. The tease ignited sparks beneath his skin. He ran his hand along her thigh, aching to make her his, though knowing he shouldn’t even be tempting himself with the kisses he’d already taken.

  “A…?” he said as he began kissing her neck.

  She arched toward him, holding his head, keeping his mouth on her neck. Oh yeah. That’s it, baby. Show me you want me. He opened his mouth and sealed his teeth over her tender skin, sucking hard enough for her to gasp. He threaded his fingers into her hair, tugging her head to the side so he could take more of her. Her hand fisted in his hair, pulling hard—but not pulling away—causing a deliciously erotic sting and making his cock throb even harder. He needed to break their connection or he wasn’t going to stop. He’d fought to remain on the right side of the invisible line between them for years, and he was fucking that up. Sending her mixed messages only scratched the surface of why he should break their connection.

  “It’s a bad idea,” she panted out.

  Her words, along with the roar of a motorcycle, crashed through his reverie. He released her like he’d been burned. “Bad idea. Right. Sorry.” I’m a fucking prick.

  “No—” She grabbed his hand, leaning closer. “This isn’t a bad idea. That’s what the lie is. We’re not making a liar out of you. You just had a bad idea in the first place.”

  A series of successive taps on the window made them both jump.

  “Fuck.” He rolled down his window, and Violet peered in. “Hey,” he ground out.

  Violet’s gaze sailed over Serena, and Drake fisted his hands to keep from shifting in his seat and blocking Violet’s view of Serena’s lust-filled eyes, tousled hair, and pert nipples poking against the thin material of her top.

  “You guys coming in?” Violet arched a brow. “Or coming out here?”

  THERE WERE NO words to describe the feeling of walking into the crowded, dimly lit bar between Violet, who was smirking like she’d caught Serena and Drake having sex, and Drake. Drake radiated sexual energy as he hulked beside her like a bodyguard who’d been told not to touch his charge. He practically growled at the men who dared look at her. They’d been there for a while, and she still hadn’t calmed down. She swallowed hard, shifting in her seat. The man hadn’t even kissed her on the mouth and he’d practically melted her thong off.

  The erratic beat of the music amped up the thrum of heat buzzing inside her as she watched Drake carry their drinks from the bar. His eyes blazed into hers, fiercely sexy and haltingly arresting. She touched the bracelet he’d given her, remembering how he’d held her stare with a wicked look in his eyes as he’d wound it around her wrist. She knew she’d see that look late at night when she was alone in the dark, reliving the feel of his lips on her cheek, his hot breath warming her to her core. But for now she tried to push the memory away, drinking him in as he approached. His cocksure stride drew the eyes of nearly every woman he passed. He looked scrumptious in the black linen shirt she’d given him last Christmas. It had quickly become one of her favorites because he always left the top buttons open, giving her a peek at the dusting of chest hair beneath. Some guys were too hairy, others shaved or waxed their chests, but Drake had the perfect amount of chest hair, and now, as he closed the distance between them like a lion stalking his prey, she imagined what it would feel like against her breasts.

  Violet leaned back in her chair. Her black top rose at the hem, exposing an inch of tanned skin above her hip-hugging black leather miniskirt. She took a picture of Drake with her phone. Then she handed the phone to Serena and said, “Don’t drool on it.”

  Serena rolled her eyes and shoved the phone back to Violet. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Enlighten me,” Violet said with a smirk. “Because that blond skank is trying her best to seduce him, and he can’t take his eyes off you.”

  Serena glanced over, and her insides flamed at the way he was looking at her. And just as quickly, jealousy clawed its way up her spine at the sight of a pretty blonde pawing at his arm. She didn’t know what to make of what had happened in the truck, but she knew what she wanted to make of it. And she knew that might not be smart for all the same reasons Drake had so diligently outlined for her yesterday.

  Her gut twisted as he leaned down and said something to the blonde. This time tomorrow she’d have no idea where he was or who he was with. Panic gripped her. She shifted her eyes to the dance floor to try to calm her nerves. They weren’t even a couple. It shouldn’t matter what he did or who he was with, despite those few scorching moments in the truck. As it was, she had no idea who he was with most nights. Sure, they texted often, but she didn’t pry, and he didn’t offer details. She only knew that in the mornings they either met up at Summer House for breakfast with their friends, or he arrived at the resort shortly after her, on his way back from his morning run. She was sure he’d been with women over the years, but she couldn’t remember him having anyone by his side even once when they were out as a group.

  She glanced across the table at Mira and Matt, their heads bowed as they whispered to each other. Matt must have said something dirty, because Mira’s cheeks pinked up and she closed her eyes, which made Serena think of Drake’s lips on her cheek. She turned her attention to Emery and Dean dancing too close and slow for the fast beat. A few feet away from them, Desiree and Rick kissed, swaying to the music. They made relationships look easy, like life revolved around them, not the other way around. Wh
y was it so complicated for her and Drake?

  “Shit, woman. You look like a confused little kitten, and I know you’re no kitten.” Violet pushed to her feet. “We’re going to dance this shit out of you.”

  Dean and Rick came back to the table as Violet yanked Serena up beside her.

  “Harper’s with the girls,” Rick said, and pointed to the three of them dancing.

  Serena couldn’t suppress her smile. Wearing a short, colorful hippie dress, along with several long, dangling necklaces, Harper looked like a flower child. Her long blond hair swung as she danced like she was on the floor by herself, her arms flailing, her chin tipped up, and her eyes closed. Beside her Desiree danced a little self-consciously in a cute maxi dress, while Emery ground her hips and shimmied in a skintight, bright-blue minidress.

  Violet dance-strutted across the floor in her silver-heeled biker boots.

  “Mira, want to dance?” Serena shouted over the music as Drake joined them at the table and set the drinks down.

  “Yes!” Mira kissed Matt and headed toward the dance floor.

  Serena turned to follow her, and Drake caught her by the hand, staring longingly into her eyes. In the next second that longing morphed to something darker, sending her stomach into a wild swirl. She didn’t think as she grabbed the drink he’d gotten for her and guzzled it down.

  His eyes burned hotter, hungrier, as if her nervousness was turning him on as much as his interest was flustering her. She grabbed another drink from the table without a care for whose it was and downed it just as fast, taking comfort in the warmth of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. Drake’s eyes flared with a maddening, and equally exciting, appreciation. Never had she been so nervous around a man, so unsure of what she wanted. Or rather, what she should do. She knew exactly what she wanted—the six-foot-two man with eyes the color of night and lips as unrelenting as a bullying wave, who had stolen her heart when she was just a girl.