Beach Reads Boxed Set

by Marie Force

  Um, okay… She’s like seventy-something. I wave back and duck inside before she gets any big ideas about coming over to talk to me.

  When I go back inside, Lauren is downstairs, her wet hair around her shoulders. She’s wearing a short summer dress with battered cowboy boots, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of her sexy legs and those damned boots. God, they’re hot.

  “Did you really go outside without a shirt on? My neighbors will be all abuzz.”

  “Mrs. Smyth was licking her lips,” I say with a scowl.

  “The poor thing is only human. She’s going to have to take an extra dose of her blood pressure medicine to recover from the sight of shirtless Garrett McKinley.”

  Lauren comes over to me and rests her hand flat over the exact spot on my chest that’s been so damned achy lately. Just that quickly, I’m hard for her. What. The. Fuck? It usually takes much more than that with anyone else. What is it about her that makes me so damned crazy? I notice that she’s put on the makeup that Scarlett went home to get for her last night, and the bruises are, in fact, invisible. Thank God for stage makeup.

  “Shut up. She will not.”

  “She will, too,” Lauren says in a low, sultry tone that does nothing to help the secondary ache in my groin. “You ought to be more responsible about your effect on womankind.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” I pull on a clean tank top. “Can we go get the damned flowers now?”

  “By all means.” She giggles as she goes by me out the door.

  Smiling, I follow her downstairs. I’m so damned happy to see her in such a good mood today. It’s a relief to know she hasn’t fallen into the awful rabbit hole like she did the last time.

  “Hey, Lo,” I say to her when we’re in my car on the way to the shop.

  “Yeah?”

  “I just want to say… I’m really proud of the way you’re handling everything that happened yesterday.”

  “That means a lot coming from the person who saw the worst of it last time,” she says, smiling sweetly at me.

  “You’re so much stronger now than you were then.” And I’m so fiercely proud. The sentiment is so huge, it fills me to overflowing with emotions I can’t seem to process. I find myself rubbing that damned ache in my chest. When we get back from Austin, I need to get that checked.

  “Thanks for saying so. I didn’t feel so strong last night when I fell apart at the shop.”

  “You didn’t fall apart. You were understandably upset, but you’ve already bounced back.”

  “I’m not giving him any more of my time.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t. And speaking of time, how much do you need at the shop today?”

  “I’ve got arrangements for a rehearsal dinner and wedding to finish up, and I’ve got the orders for Mr. Peterson’s funeral. I should be done by noon.”

  I glance over at her. “You’re doing the funeral orders?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Business is business, and Mr. Peterson was always nice to me. It’s not his fault his grandson is a disgusting bully.”

  She’s magnificent, and I love her. That realization comes over me like a wave crashing onto a beach. It knocks me over and sends me sideways. I love her—as much more than a friend. That was most definitely not the plan.

  Is it a coincidence that the damned ache in my chest seems to let up at the same time this wave of understanding overtakes me?

  “Garrett? Are you listening to me?”

  I blink a couple of times to bring myself back to reality. Fuck. “What did you say?”

  “I asked what sort of clothes I’ll need for Austin.”

  “Oh, um, something to wear to a nice client dinner Saturday night. We can be more casual tonight. Otherwise, bikinis, lots of bikinis.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her eye roll. “Got it. One nice dress and a bunch of bikinis.”

  “That ought to do it. I’ll try to finish up by noon, too, so we can get there in time for happy hour.”

  “I can’t wait,” she says, fairly bouncing in her seat with excitement.

  I’m so thankful for the timing of the Austin trip. We both need a getaway.

  We arrive at the shop and work together to bring in the buckets of flowers. I ask her the name of every one of them, and not only does she give me the commonly known name, but she supplies the Latin, too, which I find incredibly impressive. Her floral arrangements are works of art that are in hot demand around town. Bloomsbury designs feature the funky, colorful vibe that’s so much a part of who Lauren is. While I wait for her to finish up, I take a long look around the shop, feeling like I’m seeing it for the very first time.

  From the bright yellow walls that she sponge-painted herself with a technique she read about in a magazine, to the purple trim, to the colorful displays of silk butterflies, wind chimes, flowerpots, and other pottery, each item lovingly placed and arranged. She’s poured her heart and soul into this business, and there’s no way she’d ever want to leave it.

  Her hand lands on my back, stirring me out of my thoughts. “Ready to go?” I ask her.

  “In a minute. First, I could use your help with something in the workroom.”

  “Sure, whatever you need.”

  I follow her to the back room, where she turns to face me, looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. “I was wondering if you might be willing to help me create a new memory here, one that I’ll enjoy thinking about…”

  Bam. I’m hard. That’s all it takes. “What did you have in mind?” I ask, even though I already know. I want to hear her say it.

  She cozies up to me, walking me backward until my ass connects with the stainless-steel table that sits in the middle of her workroom. Then she cups my hard cock and squeezes, making me see stars. “Maybe something like this?”

  “That works for me.”

  Smiling, she draws me down for a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and sizzling-hot desire. We skip the preliminaries and just dive in. It’s an explosion of heat and need and pure, basic want. She practically crawls up the front of me in her enthusiasm for the kiss. I happily support her with my hands on her ass cheeks, which brings her heat into direct contact with my cock.

  I groan into her mouth, and she bites down on my tongue, almost making me come. Breaking the kiss, I suck a deep breath into air-starved lungs and stare down at her. “You are so fucking beautiful.” I turn us so her ass is on the table, and I come down over her as she lies back. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  To my disbelief, she shakes her head. “No one has ever told me that before.”

  “Those motherfuckers were fucking blind.”

  Her smile lights me up from the inside, filling me once again to the point of bursting. I can’t stop staring at her, as if I’m seeing her for the first time, but in an all-new light now, the kind of light that burns so brightly, it lasts a lifetime.

  She raises her hands to my face, her touch gentle and stirring. “Make love to me, Garrett. I need you so much.”

  Her request sparks something almost primal in me. My woman needs me. I move fast to pull down my shorts, and I don’t bother to remove her panties. Why take the time when they can be pushed aside so easily? And then I’m inside her tight, wet heat, and her muscles are snug around my cock, and… I’m so totally fucked. I drop my head to her shoulder, close my eyes and focus on breathing. I can’t leave her. That’s as obvious to me in this moment as anything has ever been. Leaving her would be like leaving half of me behind—the best half of me.

  I can’t do it. I won’t do it. If it’s a choice between her and the big career I was always destined to have, fuck the career. Fuck Austin. Fuck it all.

  Her fingers running through my hair send a current of electricity down my spine to my balls, which tingle with growing urgency. “Garrett? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, baby. It’s all good.” And it will be. I’ll see to that. But first things first. I raise myself up and cup those gorgeous ass cheeks,
my fingers digging into dense flesh as I thrust into her, going deep and then retreating, teasing her with twists of my hips that make her scream from the pleasure. I pound into her so hard that the table moves closer to the far wall.

  I can tell she’s on the verge of coming, and I could easily help her along, but I decide I’d rather draw it out a while longer to make sure this memory is permanently seared in her mind. I pull out of her abruptly, making her gape with surprise. I pick her up and turn her around so she’s standing on the floor, facing the table. With my hand on her back, I bend her at the waist and enter her from behind. Fuck, yes. I can go so much deeper this way.

  I start the build all over again, driving into her over and over again, our flesh slapping together and her supple cheeks jiggling with every thrust. She’s so fucking hot and wet and tight. God, so tight. Her pussy muscles flutter around my cock like a hand job, only so much better.

  I reach down to where we’re joined to lube up my middle finger, which I then drive into her ass. She comes immediately, so hard she nearly breaks my freaking finger. She screams bloody hell, and I love it. I love every fucking second of it, especially the part where I come so hard my vision goes black for a second. I bite my tongue to keep from blurting out every thought in my head, all of them involving the two of us doing this for the rest of our lives.

  When my head stops spinning, I withdraw from her and help her up. “How was that for a better memory of the workroom?”

  She pushes her hair back from her face, which is flushed and sexy as she smiles up at me. “That’ll do.”

  I smile back, like a dopey lovesick fool. What the fuck took me so long to figure out that the only thing I need to be happy is her? I don’t need a big job or a big city or anything other than her. I should cancel the trip to Austin. I should call the CEO’s assistant… What was her name again? I should call her and tell her I can’t make it after all because, it seems, I already have the life I was intended to live, right here in Marfa with Lauren.

  But I promised her the weekend away, and the people there have made plans. I suppose at the very least I owe them the courtesy of hearing them out. So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll hear them out, and then we’ll come home where we belong. The decision is a relief after days of feeling like I’m all over the place—here, there and nowhere, up in the air in a weird state of limbo. My path forward is now crystal clear and staring up at me with a quizzical look.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good.” I kiss her. “No, I’m great, in fact.” She’s still staring at me when I go to the sink to wash my hands. I feel like I could climb mountains or take on the world or do anything as long as I have her to come home to at the end of the day. And at the end of this day, we’re going to Austin for a whole weekend together. I can’t wait.

  We leave Marfa later than expected due to Lauren having to give a statement to Brock as well as a “crisis” with Sierra, who decided to stay out all night—without telling my mother. Mom is freaked out about her having sex with her boyfriend and getting pregnant, but do you think Mom is willing to talk to her about that? Nope. That special joy fell to me, and it was every bit as awkward as you might imagine. I cringe just thinking about it.

  “You’re quiet over there,” Lauren says as we head east on I-10.

  If we don’t encounter traffic, we should be there by eight, in time to enjoy a nice dinner, perhaps in our suite rather than going out. “I’m still trying to scrub my brain of the memories of talking to Sierra about sex.”

  She responds with a low chuckle and a hand on my leg, both of which remind me of the fact that we have almost four hours to go before I can hold her and kiss her and make love to her again. “Poor baby,” she coos. “It’s not easy being you, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t. Thank you for noticing.”

  “What did Sierra have to say?”

  “She assured me she hasn’t had sex with anyone and doesn’t plan to, not that it’s any of my business. And she reminded me once again that I’m not her father and to quit acting like I am.”

  “I bet she doesn’t mind you acting like her father when she needs money.”

  “You would win that bet.”

  “You’re never going to want kids of your own after helping to raise her and Lola,” she says with a sigh.

  I find it interesting that she frames that comment as a statement and not a question. “I don’t know. They don’t come out as teenagers, do they?”

  “Often they arrive as infants, actually.”

  “Is that right? In that case, I might be convinced to give it a whirl. I actually liked Sierra and Lola when they were babies. Remember when my mom told us we had to stop referring to them as ‘the babies’ when they were in middle school?”

  “I do!” She laughs. “That used to make them so mad.”

  “They’ll always be the babies to me. The thought of Sierra having sex makes me want to kill the randy little motherfucker she’s dating.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but she’s going to do it eventually.”

  “Not if I can get her into a convent first.”

  “Ha! Let me know how that goes.”

  In more than six hours, we never run out of things to talk about. We laugh about the funny things that have happened in the past as well as the staggering array of reasons my family has called on me over the years, such as the time Sierra decided to jam a peanut butter and jelly sandwich down the toilet. Lauren points out the ongoing toilet theme, which has us both cracking up.

  It’s so easy with her. We know all the same people. We’ve been close friends since sixth grade. We’ve been through everything together. At some point, without me quite realizing it, she became the other half of me. Now that I’ve figured out what was right in front of me all along, I feel calmer and more at peace than I have in a long time.

  After we get through this weekend, I’m going to talk to her about making some plans.

  We’re an hour outside of Austin when we receive a call from Brock. I take it on the Bluetooth and let him know he’s got both of us.

  “I’m glad I caught you guys,” he says. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve charged Wayne with simple assault for what happened yesterday at the shop.”

  “There was nothing simple about that assault,” I reply testily.

  “I know,” Brock says with a sigh. “But it was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

  “Because I didn’t press charges last time, right?” Lauren asks.

  I hate that her voice sounds small and timid, the way it gets any time she talks about Wayne.

  “It’s not your fault, Lauren,” Brock assures her.

  “Sure it is,” she says. “If I hadn’t let him off the hook then, we could’ve nailed him now.”

  I place my hand on top of hers, which is still on my leg. “Will he do any time?” I ask Brock.

  “No. Simple assault is a misdemeanor, but I let him know that Lauren will be filing for a restraining order that’ll require him to stay at least a thousand feet from her. He won’t be stopping in to buy any more flowers. I’ll see to that.”

  “Thank you, Brock,” she says. “I want you and Garrett to know that if I had it to do over again, I would’ve charged him last time.”

  “You did what was best for you at the time,” Brock says. “No one can fault you for that. I’m allowing him to attend the funeral, and then I’ll personally make sure he leaves town and stays gone this time. He’s been told he’s not welcome back here for any reason.”

  Lauren nods with approval. “Thanks again, Brock. I really do appreciate your help and support.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “And being a good friend, too,” she says.

  “That’s my pleasure. You guys have a nice time in Austin. Try to relax.”

  “We will,” I say. “Talk to you when we get back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I disconnect the call and glance over at Lauren, who’s star
ing out the window as she gnaws on her bottom lip. “You okay?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. I’m actually relieved.”

  “Because he’s being charged?”

  “That and I don’t have to worry about him coming back anymore.”

  “You’ve been stressing out about that?”

  “Every day since the last time I saw him. I knew he’d resurface eventually.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want everyone to worry or hover. You’ve all got your own businesses to run. And don’t try to deny that you would’ve hovered.”

  I would’ve hovered. She’s right about that. “Okay. I won’t deny it.”

  “You know what the very best part of my whole life has been?”

  “What’s that?” I ask, desperately wanting to know.

  “You and Honey and Blake and Scarlett and Matt and Julie and Brock and the rest of our friends in Marfa. You guys are my family, and I love you all so much.”

  That larger-than-life feeling from before blooms once again inside me, the feeling I now recognize as love, and not the kind of love between friends. No, this is much bigger than that, and soon, when the time is right, I’ll tell her so. “We love you, too,” I say simply, even though nothing about my feelings for her is simple. Not anymore. If I’m being honest with myself—and I always try to be—it hasn’t been simple between us in a long time, probably since the aftermath of her breakup with Wayne, when she wanted me and only me, and there was nowhere else on earth I would’ve rather been than with her when she needed me.

  I try not to think about when or how she turned to Blake after the intensity of the Wayne situation waned and we resumed our lives. She said it didn’t mean anything with him, and I have to believe her. I can’t let myself think about her being with any other guy, even my good friend. But there again was another opportunity with her that I missed out on. She might not have turned to Blake if I’d stepped up to be more to her than a good friend after her marriage imploded. I won’t make that same mistake again.

  I like being needed by her. It’s an entirely different proposition than being needed by my mother, my sisters, my employees or clients, and I hope she needs me for the rest of our lives.