Bolted: Promise Harbor Wedding, Book 2

by Meg Benjamin

  She blew out a long breath, thinking. Did she love him? Had she ever? “No,” she said slowly. “I didn’t at the end. I might have loved him, or sort of loved him, when we first got married. I’m not sure I remember.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Around two years.” She leaned back against the bench, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “No big love story. Just…sort of typical, I guess.”

  “Okay.” He rested his hand on her arm, holding her against him. “So why is this something you don’t want to tell your mother? Did she really like this guy?”

  She shook her head. “Not especially. And she’s already found out about it, by the way—she left me a message on my voice mail. She always said he was really good looking, but that was about as far as she went in terms of compliments. He’s from this sort of wealthy family, and I think Mom thought he was a snot.”

  “Was he?”

  She turned to look up at him, smiling faintly. “Yeah. Now that I think back on it. He really was a snot.”

  “So your mother might not be all that upset that he’s no longer related to her.”

  Greta shook her head again. “No. But that’s not the problem. It’s the whole screwup thing. It’s something else I rushed into against everybody’s advice, including hers. When I talk to her about it, Mom’s going to sigh. When I told her I was dropping out of college to go to culinary school, she sighed. When I told her the purple dye wouldn’t come out of my hair, she sighed. She always sighs. It’s like she’s saying ‘You’ve done it again, haven’t you?’ And she’s right, of course, which is what makes it worse. I just…I wish I wasn’t the one who always made her sigh.”

  They sat for a few moments, listening to the rusty sound of the crickets in the grass. “I don’t exactly have a solution for you,” he said finally. “But it doesn’t sound like this was totally your screwup. My guess is your mom will be okay with it. Hell, knowing mothers, she’ll probably be ready to cut the guy’s nuts off.”

  “There’s a thought.” She fought back a grin. Totally inappropriate.

  His hand cupped her shoulder again, gently pulling her closer. “If I kiss you now, you’re not going to think it’s some kind of half-assed pity thing, are you?”

  She frowned. “It isn’t, is it?”

  “Nope. Definitely, nope.” His lips touched hers lightly, almost a brush and then something more.

  She opened her lips to him, letting her tongue slide along his for a moment. Then his lips pressed more firmly. She felt the edge of his teeth as he angled his mouth, one hand moving to the back of her head, holding her in place as his tongue plunged deeper.

  She could barely see him in the darkened garden—just the dim shape of his body. It was almost like making love to a ghost. She moved her hands across his chest, feeling the smooth weave of his Hawaiian shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons.

  He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his chuckle more like a groan. “Should have known better than to wear a shirt that buttoned.”

  “I like it,” she whispered. “I’ll like it even better when it’s off.”

  He pushed her fingers away, undoing the buttons quickly. She smoothed her hands across the warm skin of his chest underneath, feeling the slight tickle of hair against her palms and then the hard points of his nipples. She ducked her head, running her tongue across one while she rubbed the other with her thumb.

  His breath came out in a whoosh, and he grasped the bottom edge of her sweater. “The sweater goes.” He pulled it up and off in a single jerk, dropping it on the bench, then squirming out of his own shirt so that he could lean against her.

  The feeling of skin against skin almost sent her into instant orgasm. She caught her breath in a gasp, clasping her hands around his neck and bringing her mouth to his again. She nibbled on his lower lip as his tongue slid into her mouth again. And then she was sucking hard, drawing him deeper, groaning against his mouth.

  She felt cool air against her back and realized that at some point he’d unfastened her bra. His fingers moved along her upper arms, sliding the bra straps down until it dropped in her lap.

  “Is anybody likely to come out here?” she murmured. It was, of course, sort of late to be asking that question. Oh well.

  “I doubt it. We’re the only guests, after all. And all three of the Dubrovniks should have gone to bed by now.”

  He dipped his head and she felt warm breath on her nipple, then the rasp of his tongue. Her whole body seemed drawn to a single point, a shaft of desire flying straight to her core. He sucked hard, drawing her nipple taut between tongue and teeth.

  Her body shifted restlessly. Somehow she had to get out of her capri pants. And she had to do it very, very soon. She started to unbutton the waistband.

  Again, he pushed her hands aside, unbuttoning, then pulling the zipper down and lifting her into his lap as he tossed the capris on the rapidly growing pile of clothing on the bench beside them.

  She turned to face him, spreading her legs with her knees pressed against his sides. Her hands were braced on his shoulders so that she could look at his face, or as much of his face as she could see in the darkness. The dim light made everything surreal, as if what she was feeling was somehow disconnected from her body.

  Then he rubbed his thumb against her, back and forth, slowly, until the wisp of fabric between her legs was damp and she was panting as hard as if she’d just run a fifty-yard dash. Suddenly, she didn’t feel disconnected at all.

  He pushed her panties aside, his fingers suddenly delving into moist, warm flesh, and she managed to strangle the cry by sheer will. One finger slid deep inside her and began to move slowly in and out. She bit her lip to keep from groaning, moving her hips along with his hand. Another finger joined the first. He rubbed his thumb across her clit and the heat rose to a starburst. She came undone, her hips jerking against him as she whimpered.

  “Ssh,” he whispered, “it’s okay.” His lips brushed hers again as he took his hand away, leaving her aching and empty.

  He dropped his hand to his pocket, but she touched his arm, shaking her head. “You don’t need it. It’s okay.”

  “You’re on the pill?”

  She nodded. “I should have told you last night.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Just a nice bonus.” He leaned forward, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking again. He pinched the other nipple between thumb and forefinger, pulling until it was diamond hard.

  She reached for his belt, pushing the buckle open, pulling down his zipper at the same time she felt him tug at her panties. The material at the crotch gave way with a snap.

  Crap. She had another pair from the package she’d gotten from the general store, but that was it.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “I’m not.” Not exactly, anyway. She pushed his pants and shorts down, letting his cock spring free. She moved her hand up and down his length, enjoying the feel of him, softness on granite, until he brought his thumb against her again, brushing back and forth across her clit until she gasped. Her inner muscles clenched tight.

  “Wrap your legs around me.” His voice sounded gritty, as if the words were being ground out.

  Her legs locked around his waist, bringing her hips close so that she could feel the head of his cock grazing her opening. And then he was moving inside her slowly, letting her inner muscles adjust to his size. She kept her hands braced on his shoulders, her gaze fastened on his, moving her hips up and down to meet him.

  She could feel the heat rising again, the aching need in her core. But this time she was going to wait, to make him come with her. Feel with her. His face was lost in darkness, then caught in moonlight as he moved, the skin slicked with sweat, his jaw tense. He leaned forward again, catching her nipple between his teeth, and she groaned.

  The feeling blossomed like a hot rose, pushing her further toward the edge, almost beyond what she could hold back as he plunged deep again and again.

/>   His forehead dropped to her shoulder, the harsh sound of his breathing echoing in her ear. And then he was jerking against her, hard, his fingers digging into her buttocks as he thrust deep.

  She gave way then, pressing her heels against him as she came in a blaze, heat and light that seemed to go on for a long time. If they hadn’t been in a darkened garden behind a house with three sleeping people, she would have given a war whoop.

  Two years of marriage, and a lot of years of dating before that, and she’d never felt anything remotely like this. She really wanted to yell. She settled for nibbling his earlobe instead.

  Hank leaned back so that he could look up at her. “Wow.”

  She nodded. “Wow.”

  “I don’t know what it is about the combination of you and the moonlight, but it seems to send me into some kind of hyperspace.” His lips turned up in a faint grin. “Not that I’m complaining, you understand.”

  “Good.” She leaned forward, nestling against him as he moved his arm around her waist. They were still connected, and the connection made her glow. She wasn’t quite ready to lose him yet.

  He nuzzled her ear, biting the lobe gently. “You need to come to my room. Doing this in the moonlight is fine, more than fine in fact. But doing it in a bed has a whole range of other possibilities.”

  She blew out a breath. “I’d like to. But I’m a little worried about what the Dubrovniks might think.”

  He tilted his head so that he could grin up at her. “You’re kidding. You really think Alice or Nadia gives a rat’s ass?”

  “Well, there’s Hyacinth.”

  “True. But I have no intention of doing anything in front of her. Actually I have no intention of doing anything in front of Alice or Nadia either. I’ll lock the door. Hell, I’ll even put a chair under the doorknob if you’d prefer.” He stroked his hand along her side, letting his thumb graze her nipple.

  She snickered. “I just had an image of Alice enforcing bed check. Sort of like a dorm mother. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her up in the hotel part. Does anyone even clean the room?”

  “Alice does. Once a week.” He paused for a moment. “You might not be here to see her do yours.”

  She felt a quick pang that she ruthlessly suppressed. “Probably not.”

  He was silent for a moment, gently running a hand over her hair. “I assume this would not be a great time to discuss what you’re going to do when you leave here.”

  Her chest tightened. “You assume correctly.” No decisions tonight, Doc. Absolutely none.

  They sat in silence, listening to the crickets creak around them. She could feel the steady beat of his pulse where she rested her cheek against his shoulder. The warmth of his skin. The smell of Nadia’s herbs. Her eyelids began to drift down.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I won’t ask. I’ll wait until the end of your week. But I’m still going to wonder about it, Greta. I might even worry.”

  She sighed. “I’m really tired of people worrying about me. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll probably go back to my mom’s house for a while until I get my bearings.” Which would be loads of fun since every other citizen of the harbor would be watching to see how she screwed up next. “I’ve got a part-time job at a bakery in Boston that I could go back to. Or I could look for a job around the harbor. I mean, I’ve now got experience as the head chef of the Tompkins Corners Hotel Grand. That ought to count for something.” She flexed her suddenly tense shoulders. Another decision she’d need to make. And soon too.

  He tightened his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “You could always stay here for a while longer.”

  She closed her eyes, ignoring the sudden surge of longing. “No, I couldn’t. This is a fantastic escape. But that’s all it is. It’s not like it could ever be permanent.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think anybody said anything about permanent. But it’s great for now. And who knows, you might find something else if you looked around.”

  A sudden breeze made the leaves rattle above them. She sighed. “We’d better go in. If nothing else, I’d better put my clothes back on. You never know when Hyacinth might decide to look at the moon.”

  He caught her face in his hands, his mouth covering hers, and she looped her hands around his neck, pressing herself close to him.

  After a moment, he lifted his mouth again. “You are coming to my room now. No discussion. The mattress isn’t the greatest, but it’s soft. And I can promise you a beer.”

  “Beer and a mattress. How can I resist?” She smiled up at him as she reached for her sweater, her heart speeding up slightly at the sight of him in the moonlight, shadows outlining the slabs of muscle across his chest.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t try.” She saw the flash of his smile. Then he reached toward her, pulling her to her feet.

  She tugged on her clothes, then followed him toward the back door, feeling the cool of the grass against her bare feet. He turned when they reached the back steps, scooping her up in his arms.

  She wound her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  “You came here looking like Scarlett O’Hara. I thought I’d just carry the theme along a little.”

  She was still laughing as he carried her inside, but a voice at the back of her mind whispered decision-free zone over and over.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Greta woke in Hank’s bed, which was neat but couldn’t last, given that both of them had work to do. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, and tried to figure out how to get to her room without waking him.

  “What’s up?” he mumbled.

  “Me. I’ve got breakfast to fix.” She slipped out of bed, searching for her bra in the pile of clothes on the floor.

  He reached for her, running one hand up and down her hip. “Ten minutes.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  He nodded, his lips moving into a lazy grin. “If we both concentrate.”

  “You’re on.” She dropped her clothes and slipped back between the sheets.

  In reality, when they finally got out of bed, Hank had to hurry as much as she did. At least he had enough time for sour cream pancakes with strawberries. “Got to get there before Marty does. God only knows what he might do on his own. See you tonight.” He grinned. “Unless you want to do lunch.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She was still humming “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight” when Alice came in. Alice cocked an eyebrow in Greta’s direction. “Having a good morning?”

  “So far.” Greta turned back to the stove. “Pancakes?”

  “Sure. I’m always glad to take advantage of somebody else’s good luck.” Alice took a seat at the table. “What do you have to sell in the store? I’m assuming pancakes won’t move all that well.”

  Greta shrugged. “They might, but no, there are cookies from yesterday, and I’ll make muffins once everybody’s had breakfast.”

  Alice nodded slowly. “Should work. It’s all selling well, you know. We could probably double the number of muffins and still move them all. Hell, we’ve got people coming in from two towns over.”

  “Do you actually want me to double the number?”

  “Sure. Why not take advantage while we can?” She narrowed her eyes. “Of course, doing this probably violates every board of health regulation on the books.”

  “Probably.” Greta shrugged. “If you wanted to go on doing this with somebody else, you’d need to get the county to inspect the kitchen and make sure it’s up to standard. But just on a guess, I’d say you could get a license without too much trouble. This kitchen looks like it used to be set up for commercial work.”

  “What about serving meals?”

  Greta turned, flipping a stack of pancakes onto a plate. “Serving meals is trickier. You’d need a restaurant license and the rules are a lot more stringent. Still, as I say, it looks like this was once a professional kitchen or close to it. You’ve
got the restaurant stove and the walk-in pantry and the prep sink. And the dining room looks like it was once the hotel dining room. You’d need a better refrigerator and a dishwasher and probably some renovation to what you’ve got here.”

  Alice gave her a sour smile. “Putting out money to make money. Always a risky proposition.”

  Greta shrugged. “You could talk to a restaurant consultant. They could at least tell you whether you stood to make any money selling meals or not.”

  Alice sawed off another bite of pancake. “Maybe we could do meals for the guests and anybody in the neighborhood who might happen to just drop in, accidentally so to speak.”

  Greta considered pointing out that Alice currently had only two guests, one of whom was her cook. But she decided to let it go. She had a feeling the conversation might veer into one of those “what are you going to do after this week” discussions that she was so determined not to have just yet.

  Hyacinth walked in, rubbing sleep from her eyes just as Alice was finishing. “Good morning.”

  Greta smiled in her direction, hoping she could get the child to be friendly again. “Good morning, Hyacinth. How are you today?”

  Hyacinth glanced up, blinking. “I’m all right,” she mumbled.

  “We have sour cream pancakes and strawberries. How many would you like?” Greta kept her smile in place, willing Hyacinth not to look away.

  She shrugged. “Two, I guess. How big are they?”

  “I can make them as big as you want,” Greta grabbed her ladle. “Come and tell me what you’d like.”

  Hyacinth hesitated for a moment, regarding her suspiciously. Then she stepped up next to her at the stove.

  Greta dipped the ladle in the batter, then dropped a small amount onto the griddle. “Bigger?”

  Hyacinth nodded.

  Greta added a bit more. “Now?”

  Hyacinth’s brow furrowed as she studied the pancake. “A little more.”

  “Right.” Greta poured the rest of the ladle onto the griddle, smoothing the pancake with the ladle’s back. “Okay?”