by Lexi Ryan
“You’re so sweet.”
“Can’t have your dog resenting me because I didn’t get her anything.”
“He’s a boy,” I say, laughing. “And I’m sure he’d love his own cup of whipped cream.”
“What’d you have?” he asks.
“Just the peanut butter gelato in a cone.”
“Two scoops?” he suggests.
“Just one, thanks.”
He grunts. “Just as long as you don’t judge me for eating two.” We get our cones and head outside. “You wanna walk with me?” When I hesitate, he laughs and points at the public beach on the opposite side of the street. “Not into my dark secret lair or something. I mean walk over there on the brightly lit beach where everyone will be around to help in case I turn out to be a creep.”
“Okay.” It’s probably not good that I like him so much when I know nothing about him, but usually I feel awkward and uncomfortable around guys, and this one makes me smile.
“My name’s Keegan,” he says when we step onto the beach.
“I’m Emma.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I’m sorry you’ve had such a shitty day.”
I shrug. “I’ve had worse.”
We wander down the boardwalk before we find an empty bench. Keegan stops and puts Bigsy’s treat on the ground. On the beach beyond, they’re setting up an inflatable screen for an outdoor movie.
“They’re showing Ghost tonight,” I tell him, nodding at the screen.
“Ever seen it?”
I press my hand to my chest. “Of course! What self-respecting woman hasn’t cried her eyes out with Demi?” I sigh. “Only Patrick Swayze could make the word ditto seem so sexy and romantic.”
His lips quirk. “He was dodging the L-word, but that’s romantic?”
I shrug and lift my palms. “It’s Swayze. What can I say?” Laughing, I shake my head. “Wait, that means you’ve seen it too.”
“Guilty.” He grins. “Thanks for having ice cream with me.”
“I should be the one who’s thanking you.”
“How do you figure?”
“You stopped some jerk from taking pictures of me and then replaced my ruined ice cream. In my book, that practically makes you a knight in shining armor.”
“I’m no knight.” He looks me over again, but this time it’s less like he’s looking for injuries and more like he’s…appreciating the view? Maybe?
My cheeks heat. “Ah, but here you are, helping me out for nothing.”
He laughs. “Nothing, huh? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Spending time with a woman as pretty as you isn’t exactly a hardship.”
“Do you talk like that to all the girls you meet?”
“Only the pretty ones,” he says.
“I should…” I reach for my purse. “Can I give you something? As a thank-you?”
“Like your number?”
I laugh, and my warm cheeks kick up into inferno. “No, like cash.”
He rubs his chin as if pretending to think this over. “Mmm, I like cash, but I’d still rather have your number.”
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I’ll be walking Bigsy again tomorrow morning if you’ll be around.” I’m embarrassed the second the invitation leaves my lips. All this talk about him thinking I’m pretty and him wanting my number is no more than a nice guy trying to make me feel better, and in return I offered to let him help me walk my dog? Yeah, I suck at guys.
“I can’t tomorrow morning,” he says. “I have work.”
“Right.” Of course. Because normal people work. “I’m sorry, it’s no big deal. I just—”
“How about lunch?” He points down the beach. “I heard there’s an awesome French café down that way, and the movie set I’m working on isn’t too far from here.”
“Lunch?” I ask lamely.
“Unless you’d prefer dinner?”
“Lunch sounds good.”
His smile is perfect. I don’t just mean that his teeth are straight and white—though they are—but the way he smiles and how it begins as a slow slide up his face and makes me feel warm. “Do you have a pen I could borrow?”
I fish one from my purse and hand it over. “Here.”
He takes the pen then grabs my hand and slowly opens my closed palm. “Now, I’m giving you this in case you need it.” I watch as he carefully pens numbers onto my hand. “Say, for example, you develop a killer need to send a picture of yourself in your nightgown to someone tonight. That would be a time you should use this. But this number should absolutely not be used to cancel our date. My phone is weird and it just won’t work for cancelations.”
I laugh. “Oh really?”
He pulls the pen away and lifts my hand to his mouth. He blows a steady stream of cool air across the numbers on my palm, and my laughter falls away. My heart is pounding and I know I need to walk away now, but I don’t want to. I want to stand here forever in this weirdly erotic tableau.
When he lowers my hand back to my side, he grins. “Noon?” I nod, and his eyes skim over me again. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “I don’t think I’ve looked forward to anything this much in a very long time.”
Chapter Seven
Emma
I never want this day to end.
I went straight to the spa after leaving Keegan, but I spent my entire massage and facial thinking about him and our summer together five years ago. When I got back to my room, it was pure impulse that made me put on my suit and cover-up and get a cab to meet them at the Wet Republic pool. By the time I found their cabana, reason was taking charge again, so I decided I’d make a polite appearance and then cut my visit short, but that was hours ago. This group is so easygoing and welcoming. I’m having a good time and don’t want to leave.
They look perfect, like something off a TV show. I always wondered what it would be like to have friends who know you so well they know just how much they can tease, friends who just want to spend time with you and don’t expect anything in return. I have Becky and Zachary, but I’ve never had a group like this.
The bride and groom, Mia and Arrow, are a beautiful couple, and they truly seem happiest when they’re next to each other. Mia’s a Latina with long, dark hair and an easy smile, and Arrow is one of the most lusted-after running backs in the NFL. “Women mail him their panties,” Mia confessed after a couple drinks. I can believe it, but I bet that problem would be even worse if his intensity translated over the TV screen or if they had any idea how much he dotes on his bride-to-be.
Then there’s Chris and Grace. Grace is cute—petite with lots of tattoos. She’s quieter than the others but has a sharp wit and clearly adores Chris, who plays football in New York. Their first-string quarterback got hurt last year, and it’s rumored that Chris is going to be their starter this season.
Then there’s the curvy blonde, Bailey, the one who thought she recognized me. She’s all curves and sass, and I get the feeling that she and Keegan are close. Then again, she spends most of her time talking to Mason Dahl. There’s a weird sort of tension between them that makes me wonder about their relationship. Then again, maybe she’s just looking at Mason the way any red-blooded single woman would. Mason’s a wide receiver on Keegan’s team, the Gulf Gators. Really, the beauty of the men in this group is too much, and Mason is over the top with his big hands, white smile, gorgeous green eyes, and dark skin.
Then there’s Keegan—his dark hair, his eyes on me. When he took his shirt off, I almost choked on my tongue. That amount of muscle on one man shouldn’t be legal, but there he is, a living specimen of strength and beauty just inches from my fingertips. Since I’ve always been self-conscious about my weight, I’ve never been attracted to skinny guys, and Keegan’s broad chest and thickly muscled arms make me feel small in comparison.
“Can I get you another drink?” he asks, smiling at me.
I’ve been sitting i
n one of the lounge chairs in the bungalow since I arrived. While Grace and I opted for the seats in shade, Bailey and Mia are soaking up rays in front of the bungalow. I’m warm from a fruity cocktail and just this side of tipsy. “I think I’m going to get in the pool.”
His eyes skim over my body and the black cover-up I haven’t taken off yet. I wore my wig, of course. I can’t abandon that disguise now that we’ve told his friends I’m Emily Zimmerman, but it’s pinned in my hair so securely that I think I can get away with a quick dip as long as I keep my head above water.
“I’ll go with you.” He drains the last of his beer and puts the glass on the table before offering his hand to help me out of the chair. I follow him to the stack of inner tubes the resort has piled by the entrance to the lazy river. We step into the water, and I pull my tube over my head and wrap my arms around the front of it to hold on. It’s a beautiful day, and this pool complex is so gorgeous that you almost forget you’re on the Vegas Strip. The sun is shining, the air is warm, and all my problems feel like they’re locked up in Georgia, thousands of miles away.
Keegan slides into his own tube beside me, and we let the chlorinated river carry us slowly along its winding path through palm trees and bungalows. “Thanks for coming today,” he says. “I hope you’re having a good time.”
I’m grateful that my sunglasses cover my eyes. I’m having more than a good time. This is exactly what I needed this weekend. It was exactly what Zachary and Becky had in mind when they ganged up on me and insisted I take this trip. “I should be thanking you. Your friends are nice. It’s great that you’ve all stayed close.”
He nods. “Yeah. I’m lucky. We’re spread out all over the country since graduation, but I’m never alone. When the Gators picked me up, I knew I’d get to play with Mason, and when I go back to Blackhawk Valley for stuff with the bar, I have Bailey there.”
“Oh. So, you…and Bailey?”
He shakes his head and laughs. “No, not like that. I bought a bar after we graduated. Arrow actually went in on it too, but he never intended to run it. I, on the other hand, thought my football days were behind me, and the bar gave me a job in Blackhawk Valley so I could stick around for my daughter. Then I got a call saying that the Gators wanted to pick me up as a defensive end. You don’t walk away from that kind of opportunity, even if you did just make the biggest investment of your life. So I’ve got both.”
“I already knew about your bar and football career,” I admit, and when he arches a brow, I add, “Social media.”
“Oh.” He looks truly surprised.
“You never looked me up?”
He shakes his head, and something passes over his face before he looks away. “I’ve always been an all-or-nothing kind of person, Em. It was just easier not to look, and then eventually…”
“You forgot about me,” I fill in. I try to sound nonchalant, even if it hurts.
“Hardly,” he mutters. “I just didn’t see the purpose of dwelling on the past.”
“So you have the bar and football and Jasmine,” I say, changing the subject. “That must be tough.”
“Bailey runs the bar for me. She does a great job and I keep offering to sell it to her, but she says me owning that bar is the only thing that keeps me coming back to Blackhawk Valley. I think she’s afraid we’re all going to forget about her if there’s no reason to come home.”
“So she’s not with you, and she’s not with Mason?”
“I don’t know what’s going on between her and Mason. They have a history, but I’m not sure any of us knows the whole story.” His brow wrinkles above his sunglasses, but then he shakes his head and that visible worry smooths away. “So are you coming tonight?”
I bite my lip. “You’ve all done too much already. I really don’t want to be in the way.”
He looks from me to our right as we float past our bungalow. The rest of the group is gathered there, but they’re all paired off. Arrow and Mia are sharing a lounger, limbs tangled, fingers threaded and looking dangerously close to napping. Chris and Grace are talking and drinking, and Mason and Bailey are sitting close, staring into each other’s eyes. “You’d be doing me a favor. I’m like a seventh wheel in this group, and you and I are doing a fantastic job of being friends, if I do say so myself.”
I laugh. He’s right. It hasn’t been awkward or anything weird all day. It’s just been nice to spend time together. Any sexual tension I feel is probably one-sided. If Keegan was still attracted to me, would he have walked away so easily while we were dancing last night? “What’s the plan tonight?”
“Dinner with the group, and then a show.”
“What kind of show?”
“A bachelor- and bachelorette-party-appropriate show.”
I grin. “Oh, one of those.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I hear it’s a little dirty, but it’s a classier choice than going to a strip club and losing all our money to some random chicks rubbing their tits in our faces.”
“I’m sure.” My cheeks heat. I’ve never been to a burlesque show or anything like that, and to do it sitting next to Keegan sounds equal parts fun and dangerous. Then again, Keegan doesn’t seem to have any trouble with us being buds and nothing more.
He sighs. “You don’t have to come, but just so you know, Mia already made calls to make sure we had a ticket for you just in case you decided to.”
“Why is she being so nice to me?”
He shrugs. “Why shouldn’t she be? I think she likes you.”
“I’d hate for her to have bought an extra ticket for no reason.”
He pulls off his sunglasses and grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thatta girl.”
* * *
Keegan
“Okay,” Mia says, swinging her legs around to the side of her lounger so she’s facing me. She props her elbows on her knees. “I’m sure she’s heard this a thousand times so I didn’t want to say anything to her, but did you notice that your Emily looks like Emma Rothschild? You know, that girl from Lucy Matters, the TV show?”
I smile and try to keep my face neutral. It’s been a long time since I’ve made a habit of lying. I’m almost glad it doesn’t come naturally anymore. “She does get that a lot.”
“I mean, if she had red, curly hair, she could win look-alike contests.”
“Don’t say anything to her, okay? She hates that.”
Mia shakes her head. “I wouldn’t. She’s so pretty, Keegan, and I think she likes you. Are you two…?”
I look at her. “Seriously, Mia, we just ran into each other this weekend after not seeing one another for years. We’re just friends, and chances are, after we leave Vegas, we probably won’t see each other for another five years. Maybe never.” The word sticks in my throat. Never. Last week, I would have said I was okay with never seeing Emma again, but now I’m not so sure. Now, I hate the idea of saying goodbye and knowing it might be forever.
When I left Los Angeles for Blackhawk Valley five years ago, I thought there was a good chance I’d never see her again. Emma Rothschild is a goddess among women. She’s Hollywood royalty. And I was just a peasant who got close to her for reasons I’m too ashamed to admit.
I watch her standing at the bar, laughing at some guy next to her as she waits for her drink. She has a wide-brimmed hat pulled atop her wig, and she spent the day applying and reapplying sunblock. Despite her efforts, she has a fresh coat of freckles on her shoulders that remind me of the summer before I left LA. We spent days in the California sun lounging on her beachfront balcony. Those freckles remind me of slipping into the ocean with her in my arms and the way she wrapped her legs around my waist and clung to my neck as I stepped deeper. I taught the woman who lived on the sea that her fears of going into the water were unnecessary. And she taught me what it was like to love without expectation, what it was like to be loved by someone with a pure heart.
The memories are a dangerous place to go, and they don’t do much to help me plant my feet into the fri
end zone. If we’re careful, maybe I can get through tonight without screwing it up.
That makes my gut knot. What about tomorrow? Despite all my concern about what complications with Emma might mean, I absolutely hate the idea of tomorrow not including her. I hate the idea of leaving Vegas, sending her on her way, and never seeing her again.
She returns to the bungalow and takes the lounger next to me in the shade. “The guy at the bar told me I look just like Emma Rothschild,” she whispers.
I shrug. “Eh. I mean, your eyes are blue like hers, but she’s way hotter.”
Emma gapes at me then bursts into laughter, and the rest of the group turns to stare at us, and Emma ducks her head. “Tell me about your daughter,” she says when everyone has gone back to their conversations. She slides her straw between her pink lips and sips as she waits for me to answer.
“You want me to be that guy who sits here and talks about his kid as if she’s the coolest kid on earth?”
She smiles. “I do if that’s how you feel.”
“Good, because she is. She’s so damn cool.” I shake my head. “She’s got these big eyes that always tell you exactly how she’s feeling. She’s just a happy kid, always giggling and clapping her hands as if the world as a whole amuses the hell out of her. I honestly never knew I could love another person as much as I love her.”
“Your face lights up when you talk about her.” She bites her bottom lip. “What about her mom? What’s she like?”
Something knots in my stomach. It’s not that I don’t want to tell her. It’s just odd. Here’s Emma, a woman I wanted and couldn’t fight for, asking about Olivia, the only woman I’ve ever fought for.
I take a breath. “Jazzy’s mom is sweet. We weren’t really together when she got pregnant, so our whole relationship has been a little screwed up.”
“Are you together now?”
Maybe I’m just hearing what I want to, but it sounds like there’s hope in her voice. As if maybe she wants me to be single, as if maybe she’s hoping I’m available. “No. We’re not.” I take a long drink from my beer and rub my thumb over the condensation on the side of the glass. “When I found out she was pregnant, I hoped we might be able to make it work. Kids deserve both parents, ya know? It’s complicated to be a family living in different homes and leading different lives.”
