by Marina Adair
Chuckling, Hawk slipped his hand inside Ali’s, holding tighter when she flinched—as if she were holding hands with Ted Bundy.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Something I’m certain I’ll come to regret,” he said as he tugged Ali around the side of the house, and away from prying eyes.
In the past, this was the part when Hawk would smooth down some of Bridget’s ruffled feathers, coax Ali into talking it out until the sisters made nice. In his more recent past, he’d distract himself with work or some blond co-ed until the town’s quota of Marshal females dropped back down to a manageable level. But strangely a blond distraction didn’t interest him much.
And that made him nervous.
When they’d reached the steps on the side of the porch, he placed the pie on the railing and Ali on the first step.
“First, congratulations on the cover. I know how hard you worked on that piece, and no matter what Bridget says or does in there, this is your night. Not hers. So remember that,” he said, not surprised when her cheeks went pink. If there was one way to disarm the town’s tough girl, it was with soft words. “Because if I hear tomorrow that you let her walk all over your night, just like you let her scare you out of wearing that dress, then I will post that picture of you in said dress, sunshine.”
Ali didn’t flinch. His threat only seemed to make her eyes narrow in challenge. “Bridget had no impact on my wardrobe, and since when do you care about what I wear?”
“Since you kissed me in front of Bridget, then told her we were dating.”
“You are my friend, and that was a friendly kiss,” she corrected, unflinchingly direct.
“There was nothing friendly about that kiss, sunshine. Admit it.” He stepped closer, and closer still, until her heels hit the back of the step and he heard her breath catch.
Gotcha, he thought, but didn’t let up. He held her gaze, challenged that stubborn set to her chin with a slight twitch of his lips. Light enough to piss off her competitive side, but with enough heat to make her think he was picturing her in that dress. Which he most certainly was.
And when picturing that dress suddenly led to him thinking about her not wearing that dress, he knew he was in trouble.
“I told her you were my date, not that we were dating, big difference.”
He chuckled. “Seriously? That’s the best defense you got?”
“By your own admission, you came here for me, and you brought my favorite dessert. That sounds pretty close to a date.”
“What kind of assholes have you been dating?” He held up a hand. He didn’t want to know. Every time he saw her around town with some yahoo sporting a neck tattoo, it set him off. And he was already primed.
“Until my sister leaves, just one.” Then she let go one of those big smiles of hers and he found himself wanting to sit down. “You.”
Yup, he needed a seat, and since he wasn’t all that choosy at the moment, he plopped on the bottom step and tried to ignore the sweat that broke out on his forehead at the thought of Bridget staying. Even worse was the way his chest pinched over the realization that Ali had kissed him to stick it to her sister.
“And how long will that be?”
“If we play this right, I think she’ll leave right after dinner.”
“That’s the thing, Ali. I’m not a part of this game. I’m the pawn.” Something he should have been used to by now when it came to Bridget. But never Ali. Sure she gave him a hard time, and they had their own odd way of showing affection. But she’d never used him in one of her ridiculous family feuds before.
“Look, you’re the one who decided to show up uninvited,” she accused. “I didn’t ask you to come. In fact, I told you not to. But you couldn’t resist the chance to throw on your superhero cape and save the day. Or maybe it was just an excuse to see Bridget.”
“I came to bring you that.” He pointed to the pie box and he watched the guilt light her eyes. “Yeah, and to make sure you were all right. But I can see that you’re as crazy as the rest of the women in your family, so I’ll leave you guys to it.”
He stood to leave and she grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”
“By kissing me?”
“I know, it wasn’t a very well thought out plan, but with the time constraints and the pressure of Bridget standing right there, it was the only one I could come up with.”
“Even though you knew you’d be dragging me back into all of this?”
“That wasn’t the plan, and I’m sorry,” she said and Hawk heard the truth in her apology. Ali, in all of her brazen glory, really had been looking out for him. Ali might be tough and appear to have quills, but beneath it all was a huge heart—that cared too much to purposefully hurt someone.
“Don’t be sorry, just be honest with me.” Sensing that this was a have a seat kind of conversation, he sat back down. This time he took her hands and pulled her onto the step with him. “You knew she was coming so what’s with the theatrics?”
Ali let loose a big breath and met his gaze. “Bridget showed up with champagne and my mom. They were talking decorations and venues, and how I’d need a date. They were moments away from discussing the pros and cons of silk versus lace when you showed up with the damn pie, and I couldn’t let her…not again.”
Without a word, Hawk shifted closer. He didn’t pat her back or offer her his shoulder, Ali would have been offended. But he sat close enough so that she could feel his strength. “I didn’t know Gail was coming.”
She sent him a sidelong glance. “You know her, she loves surprises.”
She was also relentless when it came to Ali. Her choice in career, men, lifestyle. Why she’d never left Marty to go and live with her. It was as if Ali’s insistence on living life against the grain somehow reflected poorly on Gail.
Funny, since Hawk had always considered it one of Ali’s strongest attributes. But Gail was determined to rid her of her rebellious side. And when she was reminded that it was a losing battle, she’d disappear on Ali—and break her heart a little more.
“I also know you,” he said, softly bumping her shoulder with his. “You hate surprises and blind dates. Not to mention, Jamie isn’t your type. Not nearly enough tattoos and I bet he doesn’t even have a police record.”
“Jamie wasn’t my date, but you already knew that.” Yeah he did. But it didn’t stop the squirrelly feeling taking over his gut. “His friend Stew was supposed to be my date, but I guess he’s a no-show.”
“So what? I’m your beard.”
She turned fully to face him. “No. I’m offering to be yours.”
He laughed, but it came out sounding hollow. Because Ali always rooted for the underdog, and if she was looking at him with the same pity in her eyes as she’d had the day she visited him in the hospital to tell him Bridget was filing for divorce, then he was in for one hell of a night. “She’s engaged, isn’t she?”
“They’re announcing it tonight,” she said so softly Hawk barely heard her over the pounding of his heart. “And my dad is throwing a shower for her, here in Destiny Bay. He’s really excited to be able to be a part of the wedding plans this time around.”
“Shit.” Hawk stood. When that didn’t help, he paced until he felt as if he was going to explode. He’d done everything she’d asked of him, and all he’d asked is that she leave him alone. Then again, he was the genius who told Luke not to worry, that he’d deliver the pie.
Luke had given him the same worried look that Ali had when she’d opened the front door and saw it was him. As if he was about to go back down the rabbit hole he’d finally escaped. He’d meant it when he said he’d come to bring Ali the pie. But now, with his heart in his throat, choking the hell out of him, he wondered if he’d been lying to himself.
Maybe he had come here to catch a glimpse of Bridget, to prove to himself that he was over her. Or maybe he’d come here to see the girl who he’d promised never to give up on.
“She doesn
’t even want a fucking party here. This is just another one of her games.”
“I know,” Ali said, even though she knew he was talking more to himself than her.
Bridget had done a number on him, letting him go only to reel him back in when he’d start to move on—or she found herself feeling lonely. Only Hawk could no longer stomach being pulled back into this yo-yo of a relationship. Was desperate to cut the string, ached for some finality on the situation. And maybe this was what he needed to hear, that she was no longer available.
No longer his to fight for. Not that it would deter Bridget from spewing her marital bliss all over Destiny Bay until there wasn’t a place Hawk could go without being reminded that his ex-wife had officially left him for greener pastures.
“Look, I know you were trying to help, but I’m fine,” he said, assuring himself that since he hadn’t punched anyone or anything, he was acting completely within the realm of fine, after hearing about Bridget’s engagement. “And I don’t need to pretend that we’re a thing to prove that I’ve moved on.”
Ali said nothing, just kept staring at him with those big eyes of hers.
“I don’t,” he said, feeling tired. The kind of tired that went soul deep and cast a shadow so broad it made seeing the light difficult.
“Okay, you don’t.” She raised her hands. “Forget I even brought it up. It was a stupid idea. I’ll just go tell Bridget that I was kidding, and chalk the last few minutes up to one of my jokes. You leave, life goes back to normal.”
Hawk wasn’t even sure what normal felt like anymore. Only that if he ever planned to get back there, he had to start doing things differently. That kiss with Ali had felt different—and in a way that should have him burning rubber back to town.
Yet there he stood, still able to taste Ali on his lips, and watching her intently when he asked, “Why are you doing this?”
She smiled. “Because I’m the only one who gets to ruin your day.”
This time when he laughed, it felt warm and full. Ali wasn’t trying to hurt her sister, she was trying to protect him. And it had been a long time since anyone had gone so far as to look out for his well-being.
“Well, we both know that Bridget won’t let this rest, ever, if I sell you out. So, I say we go with your plan and pretend we’re newly dating. I came because what boyfriend would miss your big dinner? Bridget will be so thrown by the situation, she’ll make up some excuse to leave before dinner is even ready.”
“Nah, my dad would be crushed if Bridget left, which she would if you stayed. And he is so excited about throwing this shower and spending time with her doing all the dad stuff he never gets a chance to do.”
“He does dad stuff with you.”
“Building engines and fishing.” She looked at him, and the resignation there broke his heart. “We both know it’s not the same.”
“And what about you?” he asked, knowing that what Ali was suggesting would ruin any hope she had for salvaging her celebratory family dinner. “What about your night?”
She looked out at the cypress trees, bent and bare on one side from the harsh coastal winds with a look of pure resignation, as if any notions she’d had about the evening’s events had been destroyed. “I got pie, so there’s that.”
“It’s coconut cream; you don’t even like coconut.”
“Marty does.”
“Plus, it’s sugar-free,” he said, then took her hand. Because Ali needed a little sweet in her life, and Hawk needed to do something drastic to prove to Bridget—and himself—that he’d moved on. He was tired of avoiding Marty’s place when Bridget came to town, or holing up in his bar until she left town. If playing along with Ali’s plan for a night got him one step closer, then he was game.
Marty had slipped into a twenty-year holding pattern when Gail left, and he hadn’t even recognized it. Hawk would be damned if that was to be his own future.
“Where are we going?”
“To wish Bridget and Asshat the best on their upcoming nuptials, then I’m going to walk my girlfriend to the door, give her a big congratulatory kiss that has enough heat to imply the party will continue later at my place, before I head off to work and leave you to your family dinner.” He stopped. “Why do you look so horrified? This was your idea, remember?”
“Yeah, but I never thought you’d go along with it.”
He lifted a brow. “So then the kiss? That was, what? For fun?”
“The kiss was to make it look real, nothing more. You’re the one who got handsy and took it to a weird place.”
He grinned, because weird or not, it had been hot, and she knew it.
“Which makes me question your motives.” She dug her hands into her curvy hips and looked up at him. Stern and solid. “You didn’t know what was going on, so why did you kiss me back?”
Good question. One he could worry for hours over and never come up with a good answer for it. It just happened, was something he’d used back when he’d been a young gun on the ice and didn’t care. But Hawk cared now, so that didn’t apply. Neither did, You kissed me first. And since he was pretty sure the real motives would land him in the penalty box for a good, long time, he settled for, “I was just being friendly.”
She glared at him. “Liar. And no second kiss. One was enough to last a lifetime, thank you.”
’Tude dialed to “hands off,” she walked away. Not that he was complaining, he had a great view of her ’tude as it swished back and forth in those jeans she favored.
“Now who’s lying?” he laughed, racing up to catch her and throwing his arm over her shoulder. “And we could spend the rest of the thirty seconds we have arguing about who did what, or you could use it to prepare.” He leaned down to whisper, “And if I were you, I’d take the time to prepare.”
“For what?” She tried to shrug off his arm, but he let it slide obscenely low on her waist, then pulled her in to him.
“For my A-game.”
She snorted. “Your A-game? What’s that? A bottle of sparkling cider and showing me your stick?”
“You seem to be really focused on my stick, sunshine. Is there something you want to talk about?” A bony elbow shanked him in the kidney, but he didn’t let go. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?”
She slid him a hard look, but beneath it she was smiling. He could see it in her eyes. “My fake boyfriend. And as long as your A-game is comprised of a quick hug and an even quicker departure, your stick will live to charm another puck bunny.”
“You like it fast with no lip service. Not a problem,” he said as they rounded the porch to find not just the couple of the hour, but also Gail and Marty. “I’m more of a hands guy anyway.” He lowered his voice. “And sunshine, everyone knows I’m an ass man.”
She looked up right as he grabbed a solid palm-full of that heart-shaped gift she was always swishing his way, then announced to the group, “I hear congratulations are in order!”
Chapter 4
The only thing Ali hated more than being wrong, was Hawk being right. And damn it, he was so right that three days later she could still feel the aftershocks from his touch. He hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t stayed longer than necessary, hadn’t done much more than wrap his arm around her and hold her tight as he said his good-byes.
It hadn’t mattered.
Two minutes of Hawk’s A-game ignited enough heat to melt a truck full of the steel kegs. Two minutes as his girlfriend, pretend or not, had felt too good to be anything but a warning to keep her distance.
Ali figured the best way to do that was to keep busy. When she wasn’t checking in on her dad, she buried herself in a new project for one of the local orchards, a vintage-inspired produce stand to work as a welcome center. The steel was scheduled to arrive later that morning, so Ali had headed out with the sun to find some driftwood for the piece.
She’d spent a solid five hours at Sunrise Cove, a remote strip of rugged coastline that sat at the bottom of a fifty-foot drop of eroded cliffside and thi
ck forest. The trek down was so difficult it was rarely traveled, making it a collector’s trove for sea glass and driftwood. It was the trips back up, with eighty pounds of sea-sculpted spruce, that had been the challenge.
She arrived home cold and exhausted, surprised to find that, in her absence, a good samaritan had stacked all of the steel beams in her shop.
Hawk had not only brought in her shipment, he’d put each piece in its respective slot, saving her tired body another hour of heavy lifting. And sitting on her desk, next to the pile of preliminary sketches, was a small pink box.
She opened the box to find a single slice of pie. Chocolate, her favorite. And a note, which said simply: Congratulations, sunshine.
Ali stood in her shop, shivering from the ocean water clinging to her jeans, and smiled. Wondering how it was that the one person she couldn’t have, seemed to be the only one who got her. And the only one who got to her?
Tucking the pie box under her arm, Ali locked the shop and headed up the back staircase that led to the studio above. The place was small, drafty, and smelled faintly of machine oil and mothballs. But it had plenty of natural light, running water, a commute that let her walk to work in her pj’s unnoticed—and Ali liked the smell of mothballs.
It reminded her of childhood summers spent in her dad’s shop.
She flipped on the lights and eyed the piles of mail stacked neatly on her kitchen table. Bills were on one side, junk mail on the other. Next to them sat the newest edition of Architectural Digest. It was opened to the middle section and had a smudge of Stripper Pole Red lipstick on the corner, a sticky substance, most likely from the half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms, pasting two of the pages together.
With a long sigh, Ali cleaned up the mess, grabbed a fork from the kitchen, a seat on her counter, and whipped out her phone.
She dialed the post office and waited. Eleven rings later, the postmaster answered. “Destiny Bay Post Office, this is Loraine, how can I help you?”
