by Marina Adair
“Something fancy that says eligible but not easy,” Colleen said.
“I don’t work here,” Ali pointed out.
“And serve it in one of those.” She pointed to a champagne flute. “It will make me stand out. Oh, and no sugar. Empty calories.”
“A signature cocktail it is,” Ali said, grabbing a goblet and extra sugar.
“Where is the man of the hour?” Colleen asked.
Ali looked around the bar, found Bridget talking to her bridesmaids. An hour in, and still no Jamie. He was late to his own engagement party. “He was flying in from somewhere, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Colleen’s face puckered in confusion, well, at least that’s what Ali thought was happening. Her eyes narrowed, and her brows twitched, but her forehead didn’t move. “I was talking about Hawk.”
Ali blinked. “Hawk?”
Colleen smiled, “Yes, there is a pool on Facebook—”
“Oh.” Ali rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you bet he’d use polishing his stick as his reason for not coming tonight. Sorry to disappoint, but he’s here.” With her. And he’d bought her shoes. “He just had to go grab something from the storage room.”
“Oh, I’m not disappointed. The second I heard he was dating you, I bet that he was going to stay all night. Even close the place down.”
“Really?” Ali asked, swapping out the goblet for a flute and skipping the sugared rim, surprised at how hopeful she sounded at the idea of someone in town believing she and Hawk were the real deal. “Most people think he’s going to bail.”
And leave Ali standing there alone.
A fresh wave of humiliation rolled over her and settled in her stomach, adding to the complicated knot of emotions already coiling from the first time she’d seen the poll. Two minutes after Hawk disappeared in the storage room.
Ali had begun to sweat then, over the reality that he could have skipped out. Hell, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. But the only thing that kept her from bolting, too, was that he’d promised to come back.
For her.
And Hawk had never broken a promise. Not to her. He’d unintentionally broken her heart once upon a time. But never a promise.
“Don’t worry, Hawk won’t bail,” Colleen said with so much confidence, Ali allowed herself to breathe. “He has something to prove.”
Ali slid the full goblet across the bar top. “What does that mean?”
“That you need to be careful,” Colleen said softly, as if she were looking out for Ali. “Hawk has had three semi-serious relationships since the divorce. Each one started when she came home, and ended when she left town.”
“Are you saying Hawk purposefully leads women on to make his ex jealous?”
“God, no,” Colleen said, taking a sip of her drink. “He’d never do that on purpose. Hawk is too nice of a man to hurt someone purposefully. But I am saying that he convinces himself he’s ready to move on, that he’s over the breakup, and then Bridget leaves and he loses interest in relationships, and another poor girl loses her heart.”
Which wouldn’t be a problem for Ali, because they weren’t in a real relationship. They were friends doing each other a favor, so her heart might be fluttering, but it was firmly intact, thank you very much.
“That’s not what’s going on here.”
“Good to know. Because once you’ve had Hawk, trust me, no other man compares.”
Ali swallowed. If a man-eater such as Colleen couldn’t handle a man like Hawk, what made Ali think she could?
He’d made her a promise, that was how. Hawk had promised her that their friendship wouldn’t be affected. And if there was one person who had never let her down, it was Hawk.
“Thanks for the warning, but I’ve got this,” she assured herself.
“Good to hear.” With a smile that was more pity than convinced, Colleen took her drink and stood. “By the way, he’s standing by the pool tables, in case you were still worried that he was going to bolt and leave.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Ali said, but Colleen was already gone, leaving Ali to question her own statement.
Did she know what she was doing?
Yes, she knew the truth and he’d made her a promise. But Hawk wasn’t responsible for her heart, had no control over how she felt about him. He was charming by nature, and would never purposefully lead Ali on. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t read into things, like she’d done when they’d been younger and he’d chosen Bridget.
She still remembered the look on his face the first time he’d met Bridget. It was a look that Ali had seen a lot with regard to her sister. But seeing it on Hawk had been devastating. It obliterated any of the looks he’d ever given Ali.
It had also obliterated any hope she had of anything more with him. Because his look wasn’t one of infatuation, like most men with Bridget. No. Hawk’s had been love.
And men like Hawk had a singular focus when it came to love. Leaving Ali the odd person out—with both her sister and her best friend.
With a tired sigh, Ali picked up her glass and emptied it, letting the burn slowly slide down her throat and warm her stomach. Then poured herself another, because she was an adult and could do what she wanted. She was no longer the seventeen-year-old girl madly in love with her sister’s boyfriend. She was a mature woman who knew what she wanted, and could handle one night of being pampered by a sexy man.
Her life right now was consumed with her sister’s wedding, her mother’s games, and making sure Marty lived to see a hundred. She could use a little pampering. And a little confidence that she did have this, that she wasn’t being naïve, gal-pal Ali.
Ali grabbed the whiskey bottle, a plate full of chicken skewers—not wings but better than lamb-stuffed mushrooms—and headed toward the storage room. It was empty, but she wasn’t surprised. When Hawk said he had something to take care of, she knew where he was really going.
Sneaking out the back door, she took off her shoes and headed up the fire escape on the back of the building. Bottle in her cleavage, plate in one hand, she made her way up the rungs, the cold metal refreshing on her feet.
She reached the roof and found Hawk sitting on the far ledge, his legs dangling over the edge, staring out at the glow from the lighthouse in the distance bouncing off the waves.
He’d removed his jacket, those broad shoulders pressing against the fabric of his shirt, and his hair was mussed from the breeze. Or maybe running his fingers through it. He looked big, beautiful, and a little lost.
She’s seen him camp out up here a lot over the years. Had sat there with him a hundred times since they were kids. After a disappointing visit with her mom, or when his dad was being particularly cruel, or sometimes just to have someone to sit with and share a beer. This was where Hawk would come to think, and she was the only person he’d ever shared this spot with.
As a teenager, it made her feel special; as his “girlfriend,” it made her feel uncertain. She didn’t know why he was there, or if she’d be welcome. Or worse, if he’d come there to rehash his relationship with Bridget. All she knew was something about the night felt different.
“Please tell me you brought food that isn’t covered in fish eggs or requires extensive linguistic skills to pronounce,” he said, and she realized he’d been waiting for her.
“I brought chicken on a stick and Jack,” Ali said, taking the seat next to him and dangling her feet over the edge. “No glasses.”
“My kind of date.” He turned and smiled, soft and warm, and this, Ali thought, her heart beating against her rib cage, is the real deal.
It might not be the kind of love she’d once dreamed of, but their connection and this relationship were real. Unique. And stronger than any one moment or situation.
She laid the plate of chicken between them and hoisted the bottle of Jack out of her cleavage. She took a sip and offered it to him.
His smile turned wicked, his eyes turned lower to the top of her dress, and her legs
turned to mush. “When I said ‘my kind of date,’ I was referring to the body shot I thought you were offering.”
“Are women that easy for you to charm?” she joked, but after her conversation with Colleen, she really wondered what his answer would be. “Never mind, I forget the kind of women you date.”
“I’m only looking to charm one woman tonight,” he said, taking the bottle, and Sweet Baby Jesus, the man was potent. And sweet, and knew how to make her laugh.
And she needed to laugh tonight. To have some fun and forget about what was going on downstairs. Remember how easy things could be with Hawk.
“Well, the night is almost over, playboy, so I’d say that A-game you were bragging about is coming up a little short.”
He looked at her bare feet and grinned. “Really? Because how I see it, on a scale of one to ten, I’m already at about an eight.”
“An eight?” she laughed. “You haven’t even made it to first base.”
“I’ve got you alone on a rooftop, and managed to get you out of your shoes.” He grinned. “Nice toes, by the way.” He gently tapped her feet with his shoe. “My team color, I’m flattered.”
She looked down at her toes. “They’re red. I like red.”
“So do Blackhawk fans.”
Oh, for God’s sake. “It was the only color I had besides black.”
“My team’s other color,” he mused. “Something you want to tell me, sunshine?”
“Only that it’s hard to see the stars around your ego so scoot over.” She shooed him, but the big lug didn’t move an inch.
“That’s not what your toes say.” His voice was like sex as he looked down again, and it took everything she had not to wiggle them. “They say you want to hold my stick.”
“Colleen Hanover is downstairs and she’s wearing a red dress with black do-me pumps,” Ali said. “I bet she’d hold your stick.”
“No can do, I’m a one-woman man.”
Ali gave him a dry look. “Since when?”
“Since I got myself a girlfriend.” He took a sip. “Proper boyfriend code says I can only dream about my girlfriend, and that would be you”—he bumped her with his shoulder—“coveting my stick.”
She grabbed the bottle. “You’d better put those dreams to memory, because come midnight, this girlfriend turns back into your neighbor, and your stick is free again.”
“I already have a lifetime of dreams banked, sunshine.” His smile went wicked. “A few starting as far back as high school and just about every night for the past year.”
Ali choked, the hot whiskey burning her throat. His words stopping her heart. Then she reminded herself that this was Hawk being Hawk and she forced out a laugh, then offered him back the bottle. “Save the charm for the next girl. I’ve seen the full Hawk experience in action, and I’m not interested.”
Her body argued. Part of her heart did, too. She wanted the full Hawk experience, just for a night, to see what it would feel like to be with him, to have him see her as a desirable woman.
“Charm only works if it’s the truth, sunshine. And you know me better than to lie.” He took a big pull then leaned back on both of his palms and looked back out over the skyline of their little downtown.
The weight of his words fell heavy on the night’s air, and Ali’s confidence. She went from feeling free and giddy to extremely self-conscious.
Hawk had been nothing but a gentleman with her tonight, and maybe that was the problem. Under all the flirting and pampering, Ali feared, lay a whole lot of obligation. Maybe Hawk was just being Hawk and doing what he always did when her family imploded—tried to be the glue that held them together, helped them smooth things out.
“And what the hell is the full Hawk experience?” he said lightly, but she could tell she’d pushed a button. “You’ll have to explain it to me.”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Normally, when we hang out, I’m in my jeans and boots, never in a dress with fancy shoes eating finger foods that are inappropriate to eat with your fingers.”
“Dress. Jeans. It doesn’t matter. Lately all it takes is one look, and I can’t stop staring.”
She waited for him to laugh, but he didn’t, instead that easygoing charm of his slipped, and he went serious. Dead serious. And if that wasn’t enough to send heat racing through her body, his gaze locked on hers, steady and sure, and Ali also felt her body respond.
The longer he looked, the hotter she became, until it felt as if her body was on fire. Her heart was in her throat. And nothing seemed to exist except his words—and their connection.
“Shit,” he mumbled and took another long pull of Jack. He hissed a breath through his teeth and looked back out at the water. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“What, get a little hammered at your ex’s party?” she said. “I think it is expected, I mean Garth Brooks even has a song about it. So I don’t think anybody would judge you for letting loose. In fact, half the people down there would probably encourage you.”
“I wasn’t talking about the Jack,” Hawk murmured.
Ali looked over and found his gaze traveling slowly back up her bare legs, to her breasts, finally stopping on her lips. “Oh,” she whispered.
“Yeah, oh,” he said equally low, and she took some pride in the fact that his voice was rough and husky. “I came up here to think about how I wanted to end tonight. Then I thought about how every time I touched you tonight, you flinched, and I promised you nothing would change.”
“I didn’t flinch,” she defended, and Hawk lifted a brow. “Okay, maybe I flinched slightly, but your touch was so gentle and I’m ticklish.”
“On your hands?” He met her gaze. “When did you become so jumpy around me?”
When I asked you to be my pretend boyfriend and you agreed. “It’s been a long night.”
God, it was worse than she thought. He had only been trying to hold her hand and she jumped out of her skin. “And since when did holding your hand become part of the deal?”
He smiled. “When you put on that dress.” His smile faded. “And I warned you, I was handsy. And the way you avoid my touch isn’t convincing anyone of anything, other than you don’t like to hold hands.”
He reached over and gently set his hand on hers. Warm, sturdy, strong. Ali felt her breathing slow. “See,” he said, “not so bad.”
“Not bad.” More like wonderful.
He linked their fingers and pulled her hand into his lap and her breath hitched. “Easy there, I’m taking it slow.”
“What would you do if you were taking it fast?”
“Why don’t we start with basics.” He flipped her hand over and slowly began to rub it. Little soothing, body-melting circles into her palm. “When a man and a woman like each other, they hold hands.”
“They also don’t hide up on the roof.”
He ignored this. “And when they’re dating”—he brought her hand to his lips—“they do more than hold hands. And if we want anyone downstairs to believe we are dating, you have to work with me, sunshine.”
Ali knew how to play her part; she’d been doing it her entire life. And for him to blame her, when he was the one who disappeared, fired her up. So before she lost her nerve, or good sense kicked in, Ali pulled at the collar of his shirt and tugged him close.
“Like this?” she challenged, and pressed her mouth to his.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to come from it, other than teach him a lesson, but she never imagined he’d sit there and do nothing.
Talk about humiliating, for one long terrifying moment, he didn’t move. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that he hadn’t jumped off the ledge either. But when she opened her eyes and found him staring at her, his eyes wide with shock, she considered jumping off the ledge.
She pulled back to say, “Kidding, ha-ha, you should have seen the look on your face,” when Hawk let loose a rough, incredibly manly groan, then took their kiss from a dare to hot-damn with one slip of the
tongue.
And man, he wasn’t kidding about his A-game. The guy knew how to kiss a girl silly. He wasn’t a sprinter, more of a going-the-distance kind of kisser. The kind that could last all night long and be over too fast at the same time. He kissed as if he’d been thinking about kissing all night long, and there was nothing else he’d rather be doing.
He felt strong and reassuring, tasted like hot summer nights and long-forgotten dreams, and touched her as if she was precious. Special.
His choice.
“Ali,” he said, and she realized that her name had never sounded so sexy. She thought about telling him, asking him to say it again. Maybe, while taking off her dress. But he was kissing her again and she didn’t want to be rude and interrupt.
This was so much more than she’d hoped, yet it was exactly what she needed. If this was his way of being right, then she’d never worry about being wrong again.
“Ali,” he said again, his tone one of reluctance. And even though she wanted to tell him that she wasn’t flinching anymore, she pulled back.
“I don’t think I flinched,” she said, pleased that his breathing was as ragged as hers. “Did I?”
“I’m not sure.” His lips came down on her hard and fast, pulling away with equal speed and leaving her spinning. “Nope, no flinching, and just in time.”
“There you are,” Bridget said from behind and Ali let go of Hawk’s hand and sprang to her feet. “It’s just like when you were kids, I could always count on you guys hiding out up here,” she said as if she had just walked in on them playing a game of Quarters and not Seven Minutes in Heaven. “Let me guess, you’re seeing who can make the most rocks on Mr. Beamon’s shop roof.”
“Bottle tops,” Ali said, holding up the bottle. “What’s up?”
“Jamie is here and Mom wanted me to get you since we’re about to start Couples Trivial Pursuit,” Bridget said, and Ali could only imagine her sister’s horror at reading the questions.