Every Little Thing

by Samantha Young

  “The little brat is smarter than anyone gives her credit for.” I snuggled into him, running my hands over his chest, needing the reassurance of him beside me. “I’m still sorry she did that to you. I’m ashamed of her.”

  “I know.” He rubbed my arms in comfort. “But she’s gone. She was packing as my lawyer drew up the contracts and faxed them over. When I left her room she was right behind me. I put her in a cab to the airport.”

  Regret washed over me. I hated that this was the state of affairs between me and a member of my family.

  “I know you’re hurting, but think of your sister’s scheme in a positive light. She got one over on Devlin. He’ll be sitting at that table in forty-five minutes waiting for the little brat to show up, wondering what the hell happened.”

  I tensed.

  “What?”

  I looked up at my boyfriend, mirth bright in my eyes, and he grinned in response, my thoughts clear to him.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Come on.” I grinned, making him laugh. “It’ll be fun.”

  We left the inn after I fixed my tear-stained face and put on a nice dress. I’d given Dahlia and Mona a quick rundown of events and asked Dahlia to call my family, to explain everything was okay, and that I’d call them as soon as I’d finished my errand with Vaughn to explain all.

  Although it was a mere short walk, Vaughn insisted on driving us to the Grand in his Aston Martin.

  “Is it a guy thing?” I asked when he wouldn’t tell me why. “A ‘my dick is bigger than your dick’ thing?”

  He’d grinned. “Yes.”

  I’d laughed, so much joy and mischief inside me I was ready to burst with it.

  This man, this beautiful man, had turned the shittiest day ever into the most beautiful day ever, ever, ever.

  Holding my hand in his, I felt this weird sense of possessiveness I’d never felt before as we walked through the reception of the Grand. I gloried in the fact that this guy was my guy, and I felt a triumphant swing in my hips as women drooled over my guy and stared at me in envy. They thought he was beautiful and they envied me my beautiful. But what they didn’t know was that Vaughn Tremaine’s complicated soul was a million times more beautiful to me than the pretty face they saw.

  I wasn’t triumphant because my guy was hot.

  I was triumphant because I’d found the kind of love that was hard to find, and I was finally brave enough to embrace it.

  Mine.

  All mine.

  I tightened my grip on his hand and he looked back at me. “It’ll be okay.” He assumed I was nervous.

  I just smiled. “I know.”

  He squeezed my hand. “You look beautiful.”

  “So do you. But you always do.”

  Vaughn just rolled his eyes at me, making me laugh, laughter that was squashed with a more subtle glee as the restaurant maître d’, Arnold Rumer, stopped us.

  “Our party is waiting for us,” Vaughn said, and I followed his gaze.

  He’d spotted Devlin. And he wasn’t alone. Ian sat with his sons, Jack and Stu.

  “Table, sir?”

  “Mr. Devlin’s.”

  “Ah.” Arnold recognized me. “Miss Hartwell, of course. Mr. Devlin said he was expecting you.”

  Not the one he was expecting but technically . . . “Yes.”

  Struggling not to giggle like an impish child, I curled my arm around Vaughn’s and he patted my hand.

  “Keep it together, princess,” he murmured, amused, as we followed Arnold over to Devlin’s table.

  Ian Devlin’s face broke into a smug smirk at the sight of us. He waved Arnold away and studied us. The bastard thought he had me in the palm of his hands.

  I couldn’t wait to wipe that look off his face.

  As for Jack, I let him see how betrayed I felt. He stared back at me, blank, apparently unmoved by my hurt.

  Fine. No forgiveness or Emery Saunders for you, you jerk.

  I sneered at Stu. “No ski mask tonight?”

  Stu smiled, a smile that would never reach those cold eyes of his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see you, Miss Hartwell. And looking so well.” Ian gestured to my black dress. “I see your taste in clothing doesn’t translate to your taste in men, however.”

  “You’re right. I have much better taste in men.”

  “You do know he’s slept with every single attractive woman that’s stayed at his hotel.”

  Vaughn’s hand tensed in mine as he scowled at Devlin like he wanted to rip his face off.

  “Really?” I tugged on Vaughn gently and he turned to face me. “Huh. So that’s why you’re so amazing in bed. Makes sense.”

  His lips twitched with laughter and his whole body relaxed.

  I grinned as I looked back at an annoyed Devlin. “His experience speaks volumes.” I even winked.

  Jack coughed into his fist and I could have sworn he was trying to cover his laughter.

  Hmm.

  “Enough of this.” Ian sighed as if he were weary. “I take it you’re here to try and stop proceedings but your sister has made up her mind. However, let me put your mind at ease, Miss Hartwell. My involvement in our inn will be a good thing. I’m going to make it the most successful business on that boardwalk.”

  I bristled. “I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Devlin.”

  “Oh? Because of the minority share? I know. But we’ll work on that. Why don’t we wait for Vanessa to arrive? Take a seat.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Vaughn moved us closer to the table. “I put Vanessa in a cab a few hours ago. She’s gone.”

  “What are you talking about?” Stu snapped.

  “I’m talking about the fact that I made a counteroffer. She accepted.” Vaughn put the contract on the table. “Now I own her share in Hart’s Inn.”

  Fury colored Ian Devlin’s face. I thought his head might explode it turned red so fast.

  Vaughn took the contract off the table and handed it to me. “Tomorrow those shares get transferred back into Bailey’s name.” His expression changed as he turned back to them. I shivered at the sudden blast of chill from him as he let go of me to press his hands down on the table. It brought him closer to the Devlins so they could hear his quiet but very menacing caution. “I think I warned you before that if you did anything to upset Miss Hartwell, I wouldn’t be too pleased. That’s putting it mildly, Mr. Devlin. So . . . here’s a little heads-up. One, if you come after her again, and I wouldn’t if I were you, I will cripple you financially, piece by piece. And I think we both know that is not an empty threat. Two, I was on the defense before in this little war you’re waging to get a piece of property on the boardwalk. But Hartwell, as it turns out, agrees with me. I’m making it my home. Permanently. That means I’m making it my business. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Devlin just glowered at him.

  Vaughn leaned closer. “I just came off defense, Devlin. You’re now looking at an offense player.”

  “You are threatening me?” Devlin spat.

  Vaughn exhaled, all cool and casual, as he straightened to stand beside me again. “Just a friendly warning.” He shrugged.

  Oh boy, my guy was sexy.

  I took his hand and shivered at the feel of his fingers sliding through mine in response.

  “Well.” I gave them all a fake sweet smile. “I’m not nearly so eloquent and scary hot as Mr. Tremaine here, so I’ll just say”—I leaned in to look at each one of them individually before focusing on the father—“you can kiss my ass.”

  Jack reached for his glass, drawing my gaze, and I knew this time I didn’t miss the smile he was hiding behind his drink.

  Apparently, I was never going to understand that man.

  “You all have a nice
evening now.” I gave them a taunting finger wave as Vaughn led us out of the restaurant.

  People stared, having clearly caught the vibe at Devlin’s table, but I couldn’t care less.

  A floating cloud.

  Yup.

  I was on a freaking, beautiful, floating cloud.

  Vaughn was quiet as we walked out of the hotel to his car, but instead of letting me go when we reached it, he pressed me up against it and started kissing me.

  Really kissing me.

  His fingers curled into my waist as his mouth moved over mine in hungry, carnal kisses that made my knees tremble. Thankfully I was holding on to Vaughn and I had the car behind me to keep me on my feet.

  When he finally released my mouth I was breathless. I stared up at him wide-eyed, my cheeks flushed as I felt his erection press into my belly. “What was that for?”

  Vaughn rubbed his nose over mine in this cute, tender way that was completely at odds with the lusty kiss he’d given me. “That was ‘I love you and you look sexy as fuck in that dress and you getting off on getting one over on the Devlins has turned me on.’”

  “I get it,” I muttered against his mouth, “because you getting all menacing with Ian Devlin got me more than a little hot and bothered. How do you fancy taking me back to your place and pinning me to the bed?”

  He laughed, his eyes growing dark with heat. “Considering how hard I am right now I think that’s the only plan.”

  “You’re losing control a lot in public these days, Mr. Tremaine,” I teased.

  “Only with you, princess.” He gave me a quick, hard kiss, and then pulled back to open the car door for me. “In.”

  Chuckling at his demand, I got into the car as quickly as I could.

  To my surprise, Vaughn didn’t drive back to the hotel. Instead he drove us to the south side, on the outskirts of Hartwell where the wealthier residents lived. The large homes were mostly owned by people who summered in Hartwell—a pity as the gorgeous houses sat empty for most of the year.

  I knew that Vaughn had a house right on the water because he let Jessica live there during her problems with Cooper. But I’d never seen it.

  Silent, I let Vaughn take me into the house, and I drank it all in.

  It was a picturesque home—white cladding, wraparound porches on the first and second floors, pretty garden—and as we walked through I was stunned to realize that the porch looked right out over the water. Amazing. Most of the houses here had large back gardens with pools, and a path that ran down to the beach and the ocean. Vaughn’s home was on a private inlay on the coast. It didn’t provide the same outside space at the back but I’d soon discover it had lots of land around it, and to the right side of the house was a huge pool and patio area.

  Despite the beauty of the home, inside it was cold and modern. It was a bachelor’s house with a large, glossy chef’s kitchen with every appliance you could think of. The furniture was contemporary and everything was black, chrome, and white with some splashes of color here and there provided by artwork and sparse soft furnishings.

  It was like something out of a magazine.

  It wasn’t a home.

  I followed Vaughn out onto the back porch, and we were quiet as we watched the sun set over the water.

  “Why don’t you live here?”

  “Because it made me feel lonely.”

  At his honest answer I moved into him, wrapping my arm around his waist to rest my chin on his shoulder. He kissed my forehead, sliding his arm around my waist, too. “You’re not alone here now.”

  “I know.” He studied me, brushing my hair off my face.

  “You’ve gone all serious on me. What happened to the raging hard-on and the need to dominate me in bed?”

  Vaughn gave a huff of laughter. “It’s there, believe me. But I felt like sharing this place with you tonight.”

  There was something tentative about his words and I grew still, contemplative.

  Today I’d made the decision to trust this man, to love him, and in doing so I’d made the decision to be myself around him.

  Well, being Bailey Hartwell meant always speaking my mind.

  “You want me to move in with you, don’t you?”

  His gaze flew to mine. “It’s too fast.”

  “But you want to ask anyway,” I teased, delight bubbling up inside of me.

  “You don’t think it’s too fast?” he asked, sounding amazed.

  “Vaughn.” I laughed. “We’ve been dancing around each other for almost four years, and we’ve definitely been dancing around this for months. It feels like we’ve been together much longer, doesn’t it?”

  And then he slayed me with that smoldering, loving look of his. “It feels like I’ve loved you forever.”

  I melted into him. “Then ask me to move in with you.”

  “Bailey, will you move in with me?”

  “Yes.” I grinned, knowing people would think we were crazy and not giving a shit. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

  Vaughn turned into me, and then instead of kissing me like I thought he would, he produced a small, black velvet box from inside his jacket.

  The blood whooshed in my ears as my heart raced.

  I stared down at the box he had pressed tight between us. And then he opened it.

  A stunning white gold band with one large, simple, but beautiful diamond.

  It was the perfect engagement ring for me.

  My eyes flew to Vaughn’s and my already ragged breath stopped at the fierce love in his gaze.

  “I’ve been walking around with this for the past week, knowing it was soon, but needing to have it with me anyway. I wanted to have it for that moment when I finally knew you were ready. When you finally got it: that you and I are it. I’m usually a very patient man when I’m going after something I want, but I’m impatient to have you. I want our lives together to start. Now. So . . . Bailey Hartwell, will you marry me?”

  The moment, my life in general, felt very surreal . . .

  People would call us crazy.

  I’d call myself crazy!

  “People will call us crazy.”

  Vaughn smirked. “Aren’t we?”

  I laughed, staring into the eyes of this sexy, smart, brooding, complicated man, and not one part of me wanted to say no. Yes, I was scared, I was nervous, I was overwhelmed, but I couldn’t imagine saying no. All I could imagine was waking up every morning to Vaughn, going to work at the inn and returning home here—to a fully redecorated house—to him, and raising our kids here.

  In Hartwell.

  Together.

  “Yes.” I nodded, grinning like a lovesick teenager. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  Joy lit up Vaughn’s face, the kind of joy that melted away the hardness in him, until I knew I was staring at the boy in him, the boy who actually did believe in love and was no longer afraid to admit it.

  My feelings for him consumed me and as he tried to kiss me and slide the ring on my finger at the same time, he tasted the salty tears of my happiness and he laughed.

  And it was beautiful.

  EPILOGUE

  Bailey

  “What are you doing?” Vaughn asked, the words soft. Tender.

  “Staring at you.”

  When he’d come home early from the hotel, he had sat down on the black leather couch I was intending to get rid of as soon as I got into redecorating mode. He usually worked a little later than this—we both did—but Jess and Cooper were home from their honeymoon and we were heading over to the bar to hang out with them.

  First, upon returning home, Vaughn had changed into something casual—although casual to him still consisted of a ridiculously expensive designer sweater that fit him far too well and a pair of designer dress pants that also fit him far too well. I was still getting ready, so he had wandered d
ownstairs, where I found him sitting having a coffee on the couch. I had immediately crawled onto his lap. Just because.

  “You’ve been staring at me awhile.”

  “You’ve been staring back.”

  He grinned. “It’s a great view.”

  I smiled. “That’s why I’m staring, too.”

  Vaughn huffed.

  I’d come to realize over the last few weeks that my fiancé—yes, fiancé!—was uncomfortable with compliments. It was adorable.

  “I love your eyes,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t lower them,” I admonished, and he looked back up at me. I spotted a hint of annoyance in them and chuckled. “I still remember the first time we met. I couldn’t stop looking at your eyes. They are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  “Bailey . . .”

  “Do you know what I like best about them?”

  He squeezed my waist again in answer.

  “I like how cool they are with the majority of people. When you’re talking to your staff or your guests you don’t give away anything with those eyes. So focused, businesslike. And when you used to look at me, they were cold, hard, unflinching. Resentful.” He opened his mouth to argue and I shushed him. “The first time I saw them change was one night at Coop’s and he made you laugh. I’d never seen you laugh. And I saw then that you liked him. You respected him. It made it worse to know that you could look at someone like that, but it would never be me. Imagine my surprise then that first night we were together . . . that’s the first time you looked at me and . . . You were worried about me.

  “That’s what made me want you.” I brushed my fingers across his cheek, finding that I wanted to touch him all the time. “Your eyes. I love that I’m one of the few people in the world that gets to see how beautiful they really are when you care about someone.”

  “What are you trying to do to me?” he whispered, sliding his hands under my top.

  “I just want you to know that as beautiful as you are—in a masculine way.” I hurried to assure him at his scowl. “That’s not what I love about you. It’s not even what turns me on. Although it helps, not going to lie. But it’s you. Just you. And how you feel about me.”