He dragged his gaze up to my face. He’d sat down to watch me, had his arms draped over the seats on either side of him, lounging with his legs out and his ankles crossed. Without even meaning to he gave off an air of power and superiority. He could turn any chair into a throne, even the little plastic bench chairs in a bowling alley.
I gave him a coy, curious smile. “You ever had sex on the beach?”
Vaughn quirked a brow. “What made you think of that?”
“When I mentioned we were in public”—I shrugged—“and we were talking about sex . . . I wondered if you’d ever done it somewhere public.”
“When I was younger,” he said. “Club restrooms.”
“With girls you didn’t know?”
“Yes.”
I nodded and turned away because that bothered me. Not really because Vaughn had been with other women. I wasn’t naive about that, and I had been with other men.
No, it was the strange girls part of the scenario. The idea of hooking up with some guy I didn’t know in a bathroom stall sounded so empty.
Readying myself to let the ball fly, I was stopped by Vaughn asking, “And you?”
There was something about his tone . . . Looking over my shoulder, I found him no longer lounging. He was tense, and he wore this expression on his face that suggested that he was curious but almost afraid to know too much. I straightened and faced him. “Never. Tom wasn’t very adventurous,” I said, rueful. “And Ivy, Iris and Ira’s daughter, she was my best friend growing up. She had sex on the beach once and said it was the worst experience of her life. Sand got in some really awkward places and it was cold and icky. Her description put me off the idea for good.”
Vaughn studied me carefully. “But not the having sex in public part?”
“What?”
“It didn’t put you off the idea of having sex in public?”
Excitement coursed through me at the thought of having sex somewhere risky with Vaughn. I shook my head, biting my lip to stop myself from grinning like a big kid.
His eyes darkened with heat. “Where?”
Where did I want to have dangerous risky sex with him? “Surprise me.”
His answering smile was wicked with intent.
“No word from Vanessa then?” Emery said as we sipped coffee in the bookstore the next day.
“None.” I tried not to sound as worried as I felt and clearly failed because Dahlia wrapped her hand over mine and squeezed.
“It’ll be fine.”
“The deeper she gets into it with Jack, the more possibility things will not be fine.”
Emery lowered her gaze to her coffee, a slight blush tinting the crest of her cheeks. “Do you really think he’ll hurt her?”
Damn. Was Emery still crushing on him? “The old Jack is not someone who would ever have been interested in anyone as shallow as my sister.”
“He did sleep with Dana Kellerman,” Dahlia pointed out.
“Yes, once. Did he ever go back there? No.”
“Which makes him doing it and screwing over his best friend all the more confusing.”
“Right? It also means I’m almost positive Vanessa is going to get hurt in all of this.”
“Let’s forget about Vanessa’s feelings,” Dahlia huffed. “And worry about how this problem affects you and your inn that you have worked your ass off to make super-duper successful.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Oh?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think any of my people would ever let the Devlins do anything to hurt me or the inn. You all will crush them if they try.”
My friends grinned at me. “Yeah, and Vaughn will be first in line. How is Mr. Hartwell since you took him bowling?”
“Mr. Hartwell?”
Dahlia smirked. “Well he’s been getting awfully involved in town stuff since you suggested he should and he is in love with Hartwell’s local princess.”
“Cute, very cute. Don’t call him that to his face though, okay? His masculine pride has been hurt enough in the last twenty-four hours.”
“You whipped him at bowling,” she surmised.
“I didn’t whip him but I won. You know, for never having bowled before he did pretty well.”
“I still can’t believe you took Tremaine bowling.”
“Every time he mentions something ordinary that he’s never done my heart hurts a little.” I shrugged. “I just want him to experience a normal life. Do normal things. He works so hard all the time and in the five-star hotel environment. He needs a break from all that hoity-toity, everything has to be perfect, ‘I have to make a ton of money’ stuff.”
“But that is who he is, right?” Emery said. “Vaughn is career-focused.”
“Yes. I know that. And I expect him to be busy a lot. As it is, last night was the first evening we spent real time together. We’ve only seen each other late at night, if you catch my meaning.”
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Okay, stop. Some of us aren’t getting it regularly.”
“But doesn’t that bother you?” Emery said. “Not the getting it regularly part.” She blushed. “The him working a lot part.”
“We’re both busy with our businesses. I, more than anyone, can understand it.”
“Don’t you want to spend time with him?”
“All of the time. I want to spend an obnoxious amount of time with this man.” I huffed and flopped back in my seat. “I never felt this way with Tom. I actually liked the space from Tom, even in the beginning. But with Vaughn I just want to be with him all the time because every moment we spend together I find out something new about him—his quirks, his sense of humor, his cockiness, his flaws. And do you know what? I like it all. Flaws and all! What is that?”
Emery gave me a dreamy smile. “You’re falling in love.”
“No, I’m not. It’s too soon. I’m just . . . I’m infatuated.” I bit my lips as my worries came to the surface. “Shouldn’t he want to spend all of his time with me?”
“You need to talk to him about this. Now. Before it goes any further,” Dahlia said. “If Jess was here, she’d say the same.”
Jess wasn’t here. She was in Canada on a three-week honeymoon.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Do you really want a husband and a father to your kids who is never there?”
“No.” I didn’t. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. It’ll probably scare him off but I’ll talk to him.”
“After what he said to you”—Emery smiled, referring to the speech he’d given me on the beach, the one that was too good not to share with my best friends—“I don’t think anything you do will scare him off.”
“Yeah,” Dahlia agreed. “He certainly seems to get a kick out of your obnoxious honesty.”
“My obnoxious honesty?” I gestured to her. “Pot.” Then to myself. “Meet kettle.”
She laughed. “Whatever. Just talk to him.”
The bell tinkled over the bookstore door and Emery got up to greet her customers. She returned a minute later and sat down. “They’re just browsing the books, so I told them to come get me if they need me. What were we saying?”
“We were discussing my possibly relationship-ending talk with Vaughn. Oh, and the fact that my sister seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet. I swear to God, if I don’t find her soon, my parents are going to get on a flight out here.”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
“Right now? Yes. I’d like to get to know Vaughn without my dad breathing down my neck. I love the man but he also is the only one in my family who knew about Oliver Spence. He might assume things about Vaughn, and I need to work out how I feel about Tremaine before I take into consideration anybody else’s feelings about him.”
“Oh, please, you know how you feel about Vaughn.” Da
hlia sighed.
“I’m going to smack you.”
She grinned and turned her cheek to me, tapping her finger where her adorable dimple was. “Go ahead. Make my day.”
Affection and amusement swamped me. “Ach, you’re too damn cute for your own good.”
“I know.” She preened, making us laugh.
“Miss,” a masculine voice called, and then a guy appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He walked up them, holding the hand of a short, pretty blonde. He looked to Emery. “We’d like to purchase a couple of books if that’s okay.” He smiled apologetically at me and then his gaze flicked to Dahlia, presumably to offer her the same.
Yet his smile froze, replaced by shock. “Dahlia?”
Dahlia was staring at him as if he were a ghost.
And a ghost she was terrified of. “Michael.”
Michael? This was Michael! No wonder she’d gone chalk white.
Michael stared at her like a man who’d been lost in the desert for weeks and had finally found a watering hole. Having apparently forgotten anyone else existed he took a step toward her and stopped when the woman at his side tugged on his hand.
She scowled up at him.
Michael seemed too stunned to care about the blonde’s glowering.
His beautiful brown eyes returned to Dahlia. “What are you doing here?”
Dahlia tucked her trembling hands under the table where he couldn’t see. “What are you doing here?” she evaded.
“We’re on vacation.” The blonde spoke up, curling into Michael’s side. “Mike, who is this?”
The plaintive tone seemed to cut through his daze. “Uh, Kierston, this is Dahlia. She’s Dermot’s little sister.”
“I thought she died.”
I reached out for Dahlia, grasping her hand under the table at this woman’s way too casual mention of a dark time in Dahlia’s life.
Michael turned his sad eyes to Dahlia. “That was Dillon.”
“I need to go.” Dahlia stood up, jerking her hand out of mine, and refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. She stormed by, moving quicker than I’d ever seen her move.
“Dahlia!” Michael yanked out of Kierston’s grip and moved to follow her.
But I was quick, too, and I rounded him, putting my hands up between us. “You’re going to let her go.”
He glared at me. “Move.”
I wasn’t going to lie, he was kind of scary, but I held my ground. “Nope.”
“Mike . . .” his girl whined. “What is going on?”
The bell tinkled, signaling Dahlia’s departure.
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his thick hair. His T-shirt sleeve rose, and his bicep bulged as he moved. He wasn’t the tallest guy, but he was tall enough at about five ten, five eleven. He was very broad-shouldered and built. I studied him, seeing the appeal. Although not the most handsome guy I’d ever met, he had beautiful eyes and what I tended to call Indiana Jones lips. Very kissable lips. A short, scruffy beard currently surrounded those lips and I had to say the beard was hot.
I could definitely see the appeal in Michael Sullivan. Yes, I knew his full name. I knew a lot about this guy. Which was exactly why I wasn’t letting him anywhere near Dahlia if she didn’t want him near her.
“What is Dahlia doing here?” he demanded.
“She’s on vacation,” I lied. “Just like you. Small world, huh? But she leaves tomorrow.”
“Where is she staying?”
“None of your business and I think your girlfriend”—I nodded to Kierston—“would agree.”
“Wife,” she corrected. “His wife.”
My heart plummeted for Dahlia. Seriously just took a dive off a cliff. I remembered the night I’d saved her from drowning and all that she’d told me. It was hard to hear then, but even harder to remember it now that I loved Dahlia McGuire like she was my blood.
I narrowed my eyes on Mr. Michael Sullivan and his pretty wife. “So when does your vacation in Hartwell end?”
“That’s none of your concern,” he returned, clearly annoyed with my interference. “Now are you going to get out of my way?”
I considered how long it would take Dahlia to get to her car. I knew there was no way in hell she was going back to the gift store for fear she’d bump into the past there, too. “Not yet.” I smiled prettily. “How about some coffee?”
The hardass in front of me seemed to deflate. Worry softened his eyes. “I just want to know how she is. It’s been a long time.”
“I know,” I told him pointedly.
“Ah.” He got me. “I see.”
I flicked a look at his wife, who appeared ten seconds away from blowing a gasket. “She’s doing really well.”
“Are you on vacation with her?”
“Something like that.”
“And she’s really okay?”
“She’s terrific,” I lied. “Couldn’t be happier.”
“Good,” he said.
I glanced over at Emery, who was watching all of this with concern and confusion. “Coffee to go?”
She started to walk by us when Michael shook his head. “We’re okay. Really.”
Considering the timing and the fact that Dahlia probably ran to her car, I stepped aside. “You are free to go then.”
“Usually that’s my line,” he muttered, reaching back for his wife’s hand.
“Huh?”
“I’m a cop. A detective.”
I did not know that. “In Boston?”
“Yeah.” He looked back at his wife, who was staring at his hand like it was a slug. “Kierston?”
Reluctantly she took it.
Michael turned back to me. “Give her my regards.”
“I’ll do that.”
Emery and I watched as they left and I grimaced for Michael when I heard his wife hiss, “What the fuck aren’t you telling me, Michael Sullivan?”
I never heard his reply because the door slammed shut behind them.
“I’m guessing you know something I don’t,” Emery said.
“Yes.” I gave her a regretful smile. “Dahlia told me a story a long time ago, a story she has not repeated since, a story no one else knows. Maybe one day she’ll tell it.”
“He isn’t over her.”
Surprise shot through me at her supposition. “Why do you say that? How do you know they were even . . . a thing?”
She shrugged. “The way he looked at her. Like he hated and loved her all at once.”
Sadness fell over me, ruining any buzz I’d had from the morning sex I’d had with Vaughn. “I’m going to go check on Dahlia.”
“Give her a hug from me.”
I squeezed Em’s hand in answer before heading out of the store to find my best friend.
TWENTY-FIVE
Vaughn
It was unheard of for Vaughn to take two evenings off work.
Until now.
He wasn’t going to lie to himself—he was a little antsy about his decision to give his night manager, Freya, and his new daytime manager, Graham, extra responsibilities so he could spend more time with Bailey.
Yet . . . he also couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted to spend an obnoxious amount of time with the woman.
He looked over at her sitting in the passenger seat of his car, unable to shift the unease he felt. When he’d picked her up from her place ten minutes ago he’d known right away just from her kiss that she was preoccupied. Usually Bailey gave her all to a kiss, just like she did with everything in life.
Something was bothering her. And Vaughn was worried that something was their very new relationship.
“Is it because I asked you to wear a skirt tonight?”
“What?” Bailey frowned.
“You’re quiet.”
“Oh.” She shook her head.
“No. Although why a skirt?” She pointed to the high-waist flared green skirt that came to her knee. She had a cream silk camisole tucked into it and was wearing a matching sweater. The skirt was as perfect as if he’d chosen it himself.
“I wanted to see your legs.” He shrugged, nonchalant.
He felt her stare and turned to give her a quick grin before concentrating back on the road.
“You wanted to see my legs?”
“You have great legs and you’ve worn jeans every day this week. I’ve seen you wearing a dress all summer. I missed them,” he teased. “And I thought you weren’t offended by the request because you wore a skirt but . . . ?”
“I’m not offended. I kind of found it sexy.”
He was pleased but still confused. “Then what’s going on?”
Bailey sighed. “I’m a little worried about Dahlia. She had a bad day. I won’t go into it. And I’m worried about Vanessa and the fact that I haven’t seen her since I kicked her out. And I’m worried that you might be a workaholic who doesn’t care if we don’t see each other a lot and I care if we don’t see each other a lot because I work a lot, too, and you work a lot and I just think that we should talk about it because I am more than willing to make time for you and I need to know if you will make time for me and this is way too soon to mention it.”
God, he loved when she rambled at him.
It was unbelievably adorable.
What she had to say, though, still concerned him. “Okay. Number one on that list: Dahlia. Is there anything I can do?”
“What?”
“Is there anything I can do?”
When she didn’t reply, Vaughn shot her a look. She was staring at him, openmouthed. It was his turn to ask, “What?”
“You!” She gestured to him in exasperation. “You’re being perfect right now and you have to stop.”
Laughter filled his voice. “Why would I stop?”
“Because it makes me want to have sex with you all the time. Like all the time. And my vagina might eventually break!”
Vaughn threw his head back laughing so hard he almost swerved. No woman in his acquaintance had ever used the word “vagina” in a sentence, let alone worried about how too much sex with him would break it. God, he loved this crazy, cute, sexy woman.
Every Little Thing Page 29
