Ed's Blind Date Dilemma

by Katie O'Sullivan

  A fresh bag of marshmallows dangled from the girl’s left hand, a younger cousin held onto the other. “Claire, can you help Declan and me open this without making a mess? I mean, come on. Spill one bag and no one trusts me anymore. The cast is gone but the stigma remains.”

  Stifling the urge to laugh, Claire took the bag from her. Before opening it she called over to Declan’s mother, who was standing next to the cooler, talking to a few of the guys. “Paige, are we letting the kids make s’mores before dinner?”

  “Toasting marshmallows is fine for an appetizer, but why don’t we save the s’mores and the chocolate mess for after dark?” Paige lifted up a bottle of beer and raised her eyebrows. “You want another?”

  Claire nodded, and Paige brought the longneck over to her, plopping down in the chair beside her before clinking the bottles together. She met Paige the prior weekend at a different beach party, and the women had bonded quickly. The stunning black woman was engaged to one of Ed’s younger cousins, the one who played professional hockey until last December, when an injury brought him back to Chatham. Claire wasn’t totally sure what their story was, but she knew Declan belonged to both of them… and they were totally in love. As much as she wanted to pry, she decided to bite her tongue and wait until Paige shared them with her.

  “Brendan and I are looking forward to more beach playdates with you guys this month, now that summer hockey camp is over.” Paige’s fiancé had been teaching at the hockey camp that her son attended. Paige herself had some cool job at the Chamber of Commerce that Claire wanted to know more about.

  “Sounds like a lot of fun,” Claire said with a genuine smile. She liked the younger woman, and was glad another of the MacDonald cousins had a child for Kayleigh to play with at these family gatherings.

  “Kayleigh tells me you’ve got a house on a lake?”

  She couldn’t keep her wide smile contained. “Yeah. It used to be my grandmother’s. When Monomoy offered me the full-time teaching gig, I decided to take the plunge.”

  “Congrats, on the job and the house!” Paige clinked her bottle against Claire’s again. “It’s a big step, owning a home on your own. Brendan and I are still looking.”

  Claire bit her bottom lip to keep the words from flowing out. She was hoping she wouldn’t be on her own for much longer, but she needed to talk to Ed first. He’d been spending more and more time at her house, and Kayleigh had even slept over once or twice in the downstairs guest room since school let out for the summer… but she knew it was still a big step to move in together, especially when there was a child involved.

  She had two keys burning a hole in her pocket, one for Ed and another for Kayleigh, because she wanted to make it official as soon as possible.

  Paige nudged her elbow. “Here come the men with the meat! Mmm, mm. Don’t they make a tasty looking parade?”

  She followed her friend’s gaze to the stairs leading up to the house. Ed and two of his cousins were descending, carrying trays laden with hot dogs, hamburgers and corn on the cob. Two of them wore tank tops which showed off their wide shoulders and hugged those muscular chests, while Logan was shirtless, his hardened six-pack on full display. Now that she knew they were cousins, she could totally see the resemblance, wondering again how she could’ve missed it when Logan was working on her roof. While she could appreciate the abundance of MacDonald man-candy, Claire only had eyes for Ed, the familiar needy feeling pooling between her legs as she watched him crack a joke to his cousin.

  Paige nudged her again. “You got it bad, girl. Might wanna wipe the drool off your chin.”

  Claire smirked back at her new friend. She might be right, but Claire didn’t care. Things with Ed had been going so well, she didn’t care what anyone else thought. And speak of the devil…

  “Hey babe.” Ed leaned down to plant a drive-by kiss on the top of her head on his way to the picnic table. She rose to follow him, not bothered when another of his cousins snagged the seat she’d vacated. He turned to find her right beside him. “Making a beeline for the hotdogs, huh? I guess you’re hungry tonight.”

  “I’m a little hungry,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist. She tugged him closer and waggled her eyebrows, lowering her voice. “But I was hoping for something a little more meaty.”

  Ed groaned as he returned her embrace, lifting her slightly to press his ready length between her legs. “Babe, you’re killing me.”

  “That wasn’t my intent. I just craved a little attention from my guy.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her down the beach to the water’s edge, far enough away from the fire pit and the group that it was almost like they were out here on their own.

  “You’ve got my full attention,” Ed said, his voice husky with desire.

  “Mmm, I think this might be something to bring up later, when there aren’t children present,” she said, reaching between them to cup his erection. His groan had her smiling even wider. “But there is something I wanted to ask you now.”

  “Anything. Ask me anything.” He leaned in to kiss her, his lips moving against hers with a slow, sensual rhythm, his tongue flicking out to caress her bottom lip until she sighed and opened to him. “Claire, I’ll never get enough of your kisses.”

  “Ditto.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. “Have I told you yet today how much I love you?” They’d exchanged those magical words for the first time a few weeks ago, and Ed took it upon himself to remind her of them at least once every day. Every. Single. Day.

  “I think you may have mentioned it this morning, in the shower.”

  He closed his eyes and groaned again, obviously reliving the memory. “Did you bring me over here to ask me something or to kill me slowly?”

  She chuckled, and unhooked her legs from around his waist, slowly lowering her feet to the soft sand. “So you know how I closed on my grandmother’s cottage on Tuesday…”

  “And I’m wicked proud of you for being a new homeowner,” he said, giving her forehead another quick kiss.

  “I know you’ve been talking about moving out of your parents’ home and getting your own place for you and Kayleigh…”

  He let go of her waist to run both hands through his hair. “I know, I know, but it’s convenient to stay here with my folks. I don’t have to worry about Kayleigh being home alone if I want to sleep over at your place.”

  “What if it was our place? All of us.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out the two brand new keys she’d had made at the hardware store that morning. One was blue and the other hot pink. “I thought Kayleigh might appreciate her own key.”

  Ed stared at the keys in her palm for a long moment before those blue eyes raised to meet hers. “Claire… are you sure you want to take us both in? It’s a lot to ask…”

  “You’re not asking, Ed. I am. And yeah, I have a pretty good idea what I’m getting into. I love your daughter, and I would love to be able to say good night to both of you every night, and wake up in your arms every morning.”

  A soft smile lit his face. “That sounds nice.”

  “Is that a yes?” Claire’s heart beat faster with hope, with expectations, and of course with love.

  “On one condition.” He pulled her in for another hug. “Promise you’ll eventually make an honest man of me.”

  Claire’s breath caught in her throat. “Marriage? Are you sure?”

  He nodded slowly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. “I never thought I’d ever feel this way again, but meeting you changed everything.”

  “Then yes. I’ll marry you in a heartbeat, Ed MacDonald. And Kayleigh too.”

  He grinned and pulled her closer. “I haven’t proposed yet. I don’t even have a ring.”

  She shrugged, unable to keep the smile from her face. “As long as I have you guys in my life, I have everything I need for my happily ever after.”

  “Me too,” he agreed, settling his mouth over hers for a slow,
sensual kiss that made her toes curl in the sand and butterflies riot in her belly. Finally, they came up for air, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “So… will you marry me?”

  Claire smiled, nodding her head. “You had me at happily ever after.”

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  Big hugs to the readers who give me feedback and encouragement, and even bigger hugs to those who leave reviews! Reviews are life blood to indie authors. If you’ve read and enjoyed this story or any of my other works, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Every single review is important, whether it’s two lines or an entire book report, especially given the way Amazon’s algorithms work. And… Thanks in advance for letting me know you enjoy my work!

  Many thanks to the friends and family who fill my life with laughter, support, and love – especially my youngest son who puts up with my plotting out loud and refrains from rolling his eyes too much when I insist on reading my dialogue out loud in the kitchen. More thanks go out to my fellow authors in the Hot Hunks series for putting up with my late replies and frantic questions… this is my third book with this group, and I hope we keep going for a while longer! Big thanks to Deb Flohr for helping with line edits and to both Andrew and Tamara for help and suggestions with content and character edits – you guys are the best beta readers ever! – and another shout-out of praise to Kate Conway for helping me with formatting.

  And one last thank you to all my online author friends and especially to the few of you who also call Cape Cod your home. Writing is often a lonely job, but knowing there are others like me wrestling with their characters makes the voices in my head seem more normal. Or at least it helps me pretend I’m normal. So thank you.

  About the Author

  Katie O’Sullivan is an award winning author with more than a dozen books to her credit, including The Cape Cod Rules series, My Kind of Crazy, Ghosts Don’t Lie, and the Son of a Mermaid fantasy series for YA readers: Descent, Defiance, Deception, and the yet to be released Destiny (Coming soon.) (Hopefully.) (I’m working on it.)

  A recovering English major, she earned her degree at Colgate University and now lives on Cape Cod with her family and big dogs, drinking way too much coffee and finding new uses for all the sea glass she obsessively collects from the beach. She writes YA and romantic suspense novels, as well as working full time for a high tech company. Which explains all the coffee.

  Find her on Facebook

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  Check out her website at www.katie-osullivan.com

  Also by Katie O’Sullivan

  CAPE COD DATING RULES SERIES:

  Breaking the Rules, Book 1

  Bending the Rules, Book 2

  Changing the Rules, Book 3

  Cape Cod Dating Rules: a paperback collection of all three stories

  HOT HUNKS, STEAMY ROMANCE SERIES:

  Quinn’s Resolution

  Brendan’s Christmas Surprise

  Ed’s Blind Date Dilemma

  From the Wild Rose Press:

  My Kind of Crazy, a Cape Cod romance

  Crazy About You, a Cape Cod romance **

  Say Yes, a Cape Cod romance

  Ghosts Don’t Lie, a paranormal romantic suspense

  Son of a Mermaid series for Young Adults

  (Wicked Whale Publishing)

  Descent, Book 1

  Defiance, Book 2

  Deception, Book 3

  Want More?

  Quinn MacDonald had it made. With a record label deal and their first single skyrocketing up the charts, his indie punk band is finally getting a taste of rock and roll fame. Bikini-clad women and bottomless bottles of booze fill endless days… until their hotel collapses during a hurricane. He’s still under contract but as far as he’s concerned, the music died along with the rest of his band.

  Life has never been easy for Phoebe Snow. Working three minimum wage jobs barely keeps a roof over her head while she and her band struggle to get noticed. But on stage, nothing matters but the music in her heart. When her band plays a cover of one of his hits, Quinn is blown away. Can Phoebe be the inspiration he needs for more than just writing songs?

  Excerpt from Quinn’s Resolution, published 2019 from Windmill Point Publishing:

  Monday, November 28, 2016

  Pandawa Beach, Bali

  “And…cut! That’s a wrap for the day, people. Can we get those boys some towels?”

  Quinn MacDonald shook the salt water out of his hair, listening to the director yell at the crew. He knew he looked like a sheepdog shaking the water from his tangle of shoulder length curls, but at this point he didn’t give a flying fuck.

  He was hot. He was tired. And he needed a fucking beer.

  Shooting music videos on a tropical beach sounded a helluva lot more fun when their manager pitched it back in London, where November had been miserably wet and cold.

  Reality had him and his bandmates knee-deep in turquoise salt water under the relentless sun, banging on fake instruments for hours on end… well, all except Grubber who insisted on bringing his Gibson out into the ocean with him. Quinn’s throat blazed from screaming out lyrics all afternoon. He knew the final video would be overdubbed to cut out the crowd noises from the beach, but it wouldn’t look real unless he was actually singing.

  Meanwhile the prima donna actor-turned-director kept taking breaks to flirt with anyone with boobs and sign autographs for gawking tourists, leaving the band standing in the ocean, and slowing the entire fucking process to a snail’s pace.

  Not that Quinn knew anything about making a music video. This was the band’s first. They were a punk band, for fuck’s sake. Music videos were for sellouts, right? Except their record company deemed it necessary, and their manager pointed out that Green Day even made a Broadway musical out of one of their albums.

  So here they were.

  Bali.

  Like anyone in their right mind would complain about being on a tropical island surrounded by hot chicks in bikinis. Quinn’s mind drifted to the woman in his bed the night before. Blonde with big boobs and a luscious German accent. Sabina? Sofia? Whatever the fuck her name was, she was a screamer. That part he remembered.

  A giant splash caught Quinn off balance. “Dude, watch it!” He glared at Chuck Bellamy, his best friend since freshman orientation at Boston College, currently using his fake bass guitar like a paddle, splashing the hell out of the rest of them. George Hastings, who they still called “Grubber” from their rugby days, was cursing him out, trying to keep his precious Gibson dry. Chuck cackled at him and turned to attack the drummer, John Hayes, the two of them getting into a full-on water fight like five-year-olds on a sugar high.

  Quinn’s annoyance faded as he watched them having fun. Fuck it. We’re in Bali. He joined the melee, leaping onto Grubber’s back and pulling him under the salty water, guitar and all.

  The four met on the rugby field when Chuck and Quinn were freshmen and the other two were sophomores. The band’s name, Dead Ball Line, was the rugby term for out-of-bounds. It had been a goof at first, playing Green Day and Blink 182 covers at fraternity parties, pretending at being rock stars to score chicks. It wasn’t until they moved to London after Grubber’s graduation that they started adding Quinn’s original songs into the mix.

  And now here they were on a tropical island, surrounded by gorgeous women in bikinis, shooting a music video for the album they’d finished recording last month. Quinn wrote each and every song on the album, relying on Grubber to flesh out the tunes and John to create the fast beat their fans craved.

  If the success of the first single, No More Tomorrows, was any indication, the album would do well.

  They’d finally made it.

  Life was good.

  “Great shoot today, Quinn.”

  Oliver Brown fell in step next to Quinn. Twenty years older than the band, he’d been assig
ned by the record label to keep them on task. In the ten short months he’d been with Dead Ball Line, Quinn grew to respect the guy. British to the core, Oliver never lost his cool or showed too much emotion. His disapproving frown was enough to keep the guys in line at the studio, and he knew better than to restrict the band’s “after hours” activities. Boys will be boys, he’d say with one eyebrow raised. As long as they didn’t break any laws, Oliver left them to it.

  The group trudged up the beach toward the hospitality tent to grab more towels and knock back a few beers. The water fight got a little out of hand, dragging several bikini-clad bystanders into the fray, as well as some of the film crew. After a long hot day in the sun, they’d all needed the release. Except, perhaps, the prima donna director, who was nowhere to be seen. Oliver said he’d hightailed it back to his swanky hotel on the other side of the island.

  One of those bikini-clad tourists currently molded her body against Quinn, her arm wrapped possessively around his waist. She eyed Oliver warily, like he might try to take away her new toy. Quinn almost laughed out loud, but instead smiled and patted the generous curves of her bottom. “Why don’t you run ahead to the party tent and grab us some drinks, sweetheart. I’ll be along in a minute.”

  She stepped in front of him and cupped his cheeks with both hands, pressing an open mouth kiss to his lips. “Don’t keep me waiting, mon cher.” She turned and sashayed ahead of them, hips swaying with a hypnotizing rhythm.

  Both Quinn and Oliver stood transfixed for several moments. “French?” Oliver finally asked, breaking the spell.