“Vodka shot on the side, then.” Arlene didn’t wait for an argument, only zoomed over to the bar to place their orders.
“Will you hold my hair?” Emily asked with a bright smile. She was ridiculously adorable with her dark hair in a sassy pixie cut. She folded her arms on the tabletop—white frosted glass balanced on a single silver pedestal. Succulence’s mod design resembled a health spa, with its white and silver and neon-green accents. They were also pricey, but Hayden gladly overpaid for the fantastic food and cocktails.
A waiter came by. “Ladies.”
“Hi, Josh.” Em smiled up at him, as smitten as she was the first time they’d come in here. Hayden took pride in the fact that she’d arrived early enough to request his table.
“Eating or drinking tonight?” Josh was probably five years younger than all of them, but damned if Emily cared. She leaned heavily on a palm.
“Drinking, but snacks later. We’ll probably camp here a while, but I promise to leave you a pile of money for a tip.”
“Your beauty is enough of a tip for me.” His cunning smile scrunched his dark eyes up at the corners. Paired with his tanned complexion and dark hair, Hayden had to agree he was pretty darn cute.
“You are full of it,” Arlene told him as she returned to the table, tray in hand.
“Give me that.” Josh swiped the tray and pointed at a seat. Arlene obediently sat and let Josh serve their drinks. “I know the peppermint schnapps is Em’s.”
Emily batted her lashes.
“Arlene has to be the tequila. And Hayden—” he sniffed her clear shot “—vodka. Nice choice. Enjoy, ladies.” Then he was off, but not before winking at Emily.
“Oh, will you two screw each other already?” Arlene drank down a healthy swallow of her margarita .
“Shh! These walls have ears. And eyes. And cell phones with cameras.” Emily jerked her gaze around the room.
Emily was right. SWC was high-end, luxurious and nature- and wellness-focused, but it was also a dressed-up small town. Everyone knew everyone and therefore knew everyone’s business.
“We should’ve gone to the city where we could gossip properly,” Arlene said. “Shots, ladies.”
“If we were in the city, then I couldn’t request Josh as a server and watch Emily light up like a Christmas tree,” Hayden said.
“I do not!” Emily turned a stunning shade of red as she lifted her shot glass.
“Did you think it was coincidence that we’re always at his table?” Arlene asked with a raspy chuckle.
“You should ask him out,” Hayden said.
“No way. He’s just patronizing me.”
“He’d like to be doing more than that.” Arlene slanted a glance at Hayden.
“Why don’t you ask someone out?” Em shot back, her shot wobbling at the edge of the glass. “How long’s it been since you dated Derek?”
“Not long enough.” Arlene held her shot aloft and shouted, “Cheers to years of beers and pap smears!”
Emily turned bright pink, Hayden groaned and hid behind a hand, and Arlene let out a bawdy laugh. That broad. God. Hayden loved her, though. They chucked back their shots, only Em coughing and waving the air like she’d swallowed gasoline.
“What about you, Hayd?” Em croaked.
“What about me what?”
“When are you going to ask someone out?”
“Why would I ask someone out?” Hayden purposely widened her eyes to look more innocent and then tacked on, “When I can kiss...” She looked around the restaurant teeming with their neighbors. Everyone here knew or had at least heard of Tate Duncan, so she couldn’t very well blurt out his name. “Someone any time I’d like,” she finished with an arch of one eyebrow.
“Shut. Up.” Emily leaned in. “Who?”
“Someone we know.” Arlene assessed Hayden. “But who?”
Unable to resist, Hayden mouthed his name. “Tate.”
“Duncan?” Arlene bleated.
“Shh!” Hayden hissed.
“See? It’s not fun when she does it to you.” Em stuck her tongue out at Arlene, who returned the sentiment.
“He was standing outside my studio in the rain one night, and he looked so lost. I invited him up for tea and then...”
“You had sex with him?” Arlene cried.
“Keep it down, and no, I didn’t!”
“Why not?” Emily asked with a small pout.
“For the same reason you won’t ask out Josh,” Hayden answered. “I was too terrified to consider it.”
Which was the truth, if not for different reasons than Em. Hayden had fought hard to be fiercely independent, to escape the chaos that bubbled over in her family on a daily basis. Tate wasn’t exactly a complete set. Some of his parts were scattered across the damn globe.
“I heard he and the blonde split up,” Arlene said.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Naomi. She was at the café and overheard them talking.”
Damn. This place really was a gossip mill. Hayden didn’t dare mention Tate’s learning of his birth parents and a twin brother.
“So, I’d be rebound girl,” Hayden said, and it wasn’t an entirely bad setup. Seeing how mired her mother was with her father certainly hadn’t made it look appealing.
“Sounds like a superhero,” Em said. “Rebound Girl! Able to leap tall, handsome billionaires in a single bound.”
“I don’t think he’s a billionaire,” Hayden said through her laughter.
“Have you seen this place?” Arlene gestured beyond the restaurant to the rows of houses on one side and the retail establishments on the other. “He built it, Hayd. From scratch.”
“I have nothing against wealthy men,” Emily said. “Except I’m attracted to the ones who aren’t.” She sent another longing glance to Josh, who was jotting down another group’s order.
“He doesn’t count, since he owns Succulence. He could be a billionaire restaurant owner. You never know,” Hayden supplied.
Em pursed her lips in consideration.
“Well, I wouldn’t kick Tate Duncan out of bed for any reason. Especially if it was because he was loaded.” Arlene waggled her eyebrows, Emily agreed and Hayden found herself easing into the conversation as her mind wandered along the path of what-if and arrived at Tate’s bed.
And Tate’s couch. And Tate’s shower...
“You’re thinking about sex!” Arlene said. “Josh! We need another round!”
“No, we don’t.” But Hayden’s smile was too big to be denied. She was thinking about sex. Tate was too fun not to kiss, not to do a host of other things to, especially since his last words to her were about kissing the hell out of her when she was ready. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Then again...
Just because Hayden wanted to have an affair with a gorgeous rich guy didn’t mean she had to give up her autonomy. Tate didn’t have to be ice cream. He could be a perfectly reasonable kale salad, which she enjoyed immensely and never suffered cravings for afterwards.
Aw, who was she kidding? Tate could never be kale salad. He was too tempting. Too hot. Too distracting!
But she should give herself more credit. She was independent. She’d moved away from her family and started over with her new family: her friends at SWC. She was a successful business owner, to boot.
Plus she really, really wanted to say yes to Tate the next time he asked. For dinner, for a kiss, for anything...
“On second thought, I could be ready.” Hayden stirred the cream into her dark drink.
“Attagirl.” Arlene pinned Emily with a meaningful look. “Now are you going to ask out Josh, or do I have to do it for you?”
Eight
Laughing, the three ladies stumbled out of Succulence and onto the sidewalk.
Arlene curled he
r arm around Emily and let out a shout of triumph. “You freaking did it!”
Emily giggled, proud of herself. She should be. After round two of drinks, she’d looked up at Josh and purred, “We should go on a date sometime. My friends agree we’d look good together.”
To Hayden’s complete delight, Josh’s lids had lowered sexily and he’d replied, “What took you so long to ask?”
“Don’t get too excited.” Emily belted her coat against the wind. “It’s only the beginning. And beginnings are fragile.”
“You mean the other F-word,” Arlene said. “Fun.”
“They are fun,” Emily agreed.
“Well, I had a fantastic time. Goodnight, loves.” Hayden kissed Emily’s cheek and pulled Arlene into a hug. “Be safe!”
They’d eaten enough appetizers to soak up the alcohol and had switched to water after the drinks. Two hours of fun and laughter later, Hayden’s heart was full and happy. Her walk home might not be warm, but it would be welcome. Moving her body always made her feel better.
Back home in Seattle, Hayden used to hang out with the wrong crowd. She used to drink not for recreation, but with the goal of being completely drunk. She used to wake up with hangovers and headaches and, one time, no memory of how she’d gotten home. Nothing was more sobering than realizing she was repeating a pattern that her grandmother had started. Worried that she might end up exactly like Grandma Winnie, a belligerent, controlling, bitter alcoholic, Hayden decided that maybe drinking shouldn’t be her main focus in life.
Enter exercise. She’d started with running early in the morning, which kept her from staying up too late. Running didn’t require special equipment or training, and she found she had a proclivity for it. She set goals to be better each week and before she knew it, she was running every day.
Bitten by the fitness bug, she left her sedentary office job, where her derriere was widening by the day, to work at a local gym. She took advantage of her employee discount to purchase yoga classes.
It was love at first warrior pose.
Yoga gave her something running didn’t. Peace.
Rather than her heart rate ratcheting up and her feet pounding the pavement—it was hell on her knees, anyway—she spent each hour-long yoga class in an almost meditative state. Working quietly and silently on moving her body and stretching stubborn muscles.
Yoga had been the first domino to fall in her quest for self-care. She wanted to be good to herself rather than continue the abuse she’d started in her twenties. Yoga led her to Spright Island. Yoga awakened her to the unhealthy relationship she had with her family. Yoga made her want to be better for herself.
At her studio, she rounded the corner to enter the side door that led up to her apartment. She should hang lights this year. Every year she balked at hanging outdoor holiday lights, seeing it as a hassle and dreading taking them down after the season was over. But maybe it was time to stretch another muscle and step beyond her comfort zone. Besides, it would be worth it to see them and smile, knowing she cared enough to adorn her little porch with Christmas cheer.
Doorknob in hand, she didn’t make it inside before friendly honk sounded. A white Mercedes with tinted windows pulled to her side of the street, the car belonging to the man who wouldn’t leave her mind.
Tate stepped out and rounded the car, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His long legs were encased in denim, ending in leather slip-ons. Even several yards away he was tempting and potent.
Totally more like ice cream than kale salad.
“I’m not stalking you, I swear.” He grinned, and damned if she couldn’t help returning it. “I was thinking of you tonight.”
She’d been thinking of him, too, but couldn’t quite bring herself to admit it.
“Can I buy you a drink? A meal?”
“I was just out with friends. I’m fed, and I’ve had all the drinks I’m having for one night.” Tonight had been a little over-the-top for her. She rarely indulged, for obvious reasons.
Tate fell silent and Hayden wondered she was playing too hard to get. Before she could worry she’d thwarted his efforts entirely, he asked, “Can I show you my place?”
Her teeth stabbed her lip, her smile struggling to stay restrained. Emily had mentioned beginnings and how fragile they were while Arlene had argued that they were fun. Given Hayden’s thundering pulse and warmth pooling in her belly, she’d have to agree with Arlene.
“Okay.”
He closed the distance between them and held out a hand. Hayden slipped her palm into his. With each step, she was reassured she’d made the right decision. She’d had an amazing night already. Capping it off with a visit to Tate’s house that would lead to whatever they pleased was the ultimate way to end it.
“You keep getting hotter.” He shook his head as if awed.
“Yeah, well, so do you.”
They stood in the street and grinned at each other like idiots for a beat, and then he helped her into the car.
When he pulled away from the curb her belly tightened in anticipation. It had been a long while since she’d felt wanted. A few years since she’d attempted to have a relationship. Her last boyfriend, Alan, had been good for her at the time. He was stable, nice and had a great job. But the more time she spent with him the less like herself she’d felt. He enjoyed staying in so she found herself staying in more. He didn’t like seafood and she realized at one point that she hadn’t cooked her favorite shrimp pasta in months. She’d lost herself in him, and again those old patterns she’d seen in her family became apparent. After Alan, she decided to make sure she never lost herself again.
Which made her briefly question how hard she’d fought Tate’s advances. She’d resisted him in the name of maintaining her independence. Now that they were in his Mercedes gliding along the tree-lined streets, she had to question her reasoning. What could be more pro-self than indulging in the attraction pounding between them?
“I was thinking about you tonight, too,” she said. She was done resisting.
His face was lit by the blue dashboard lights of his car, his grin one for the books.
He cut through Summer’s Drift, one of her favorite neighborhoods in SWC. The theme was water, the palette white and sand and pale blues. Residents took the theme to heart and decorated accordingly. There were coils of rope resting on porches and miniature lighthouses standing in yards. One house even had upstairs windows that resembled ship’s portals.
“Where’d you have dinner?” Tate asked.
“Succulence.”
“Best sweet potato gnocchi in town.”
“Not afraid of veggie fare?”
“Would a guy who built this community fear vegetables?” he joked.
“Fair point. What about you?”
“I was out with my brother. A bar called Chaz’s Pub in Seattle.”
“Chaz. One of the lesser-known Irishmen. How was it?”
“Good. Really good.” He didn’t say more but he didn’t have to. She could tell by his tone and the quiet way he finished their trip that he’d had a “really good” evening. She was glad to hear he was getting along well with his newfound brother.
He turned down a long drive hooded by trees and marked by a private sign. Hayden was excited to see Tate’s house. She’d always been curious what kind of house the builder of Spright Wellness Community had built for himself.
The trees ended and the house came into view. The structure was boxy but interesting thanks to the slanted roof that lent a modern, artistic quality to the home. It was big, but not as big as she was expecting. Arlene’s billionaire reference had Hayden expecting an over-the-top fifty-room mansion.
“It’s beautiful,” she commented as he pulled into a driveway.
In the light glowing from the porch and the car’s headlights she could make out the details. A sturdy stone wall climbe
d to the top of the house, while the rest of it was dark metal beams and wood. At the highest point of the roof, one entire side was almost nothing but windows, intersected with a set of stairs that led to an outdoor patio.
“Wait till you see the inside.” He unbuckled her belt for her and they climbed out of the car.
“Living room through here.” He gestured as they walked into the foyer, pausing to shrug out of his leather coat. “Kitchen’s to your right. Can I take your coat?”
“Sure.” Big hands moved to her shoulders. Flanked by his heat from behind, it took everything in her not to lean into his warmth.
He slipped the garment from her shoulders, leaning close to her ear to mutter, “Better?”
A tight breath was all she could manage.
She walked through the living room and admired the décor. Metal and wood and stone converged in a modern, artistic, comfortable way. Everywhere she looked, there was nature. From the petrified wood on a stand on the bookshelf to the woven rug beneath the black leather sofa and chairs.
“Mind if I powder my nose?” she asked when Tate walked into the room with her.
He pointed to the slatted-step staircase framed with an iron railing. “Top of the stairs. Take a right. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Sparkling water? Or still, if that’s too fussy.”
“Lucky you. We specialize in fussy here.”
* * *
In the bathroom mirror she fluffed her hair and gave herself a once-over. She looked good tonight. Thank goodness she’d worn her favorite low-heeled boots. They made her ass look amazing.
Tate had turned on music. She heard the croony voice of Michael Bublé drifting through the downstairs. Curious to see the rest of the house, she peeked down the hallway on one side and then the other. Admittedly she was being nosy, but she couldn’t help it. She’d always been epically curious about how the other half lived.
At best guess Tate had spared no expense when it came to decorating and furnishing his house.
There were four bedrooms upstairs alone, and still more house to explore downstairs. One of the rooms was being used as an office, the tidy space both masculine and attractive. The enormous L-shaped desk was deep brown in color, the desk chair the same pale beige as the reading chair in the corner. A laptop was centered on the desk’s surface, a square pen holder holding three pens next to it. Bookshelves lined the wall stuffed with an array of architectural books and business titles.
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