Promise Me

Her gaze cuts left. I track it to where Matt’s standing against the rail, monitoring the exchange with a dark, broody look on his face. A muscle flexes in his jaw as he watches Dixie consider her options, and a random question pops into my head. Exactly how did Dixie and my hot neighbors celebrate her open-mic win last week?

Finally, Dixie pours herself another shot, clinks the glass against Dylan’s, and downs it. “See you tomorrow at the club, boss.”

People watching the exchange laugh and give Dylan shit about having his “epic” benefits rejected. Matt takes a long swallow from his beer before turning to brace his forearms on the rail and stare at the pool. I continue on my way. Undercurrents are flowing like riptides out there, but I can’t tell which way they run. I’m too off-balance from Vaughn’s dizzying scent and the imprint of his hand on my thigh. I enter the kitchen to take a moment to just breathe.

Ducking in an empty alcove, I call Brit for a quick pep talk. She picks up on the first ring. “How’s the party?”

“Good, but things are moving at warp speed.”

“Things meaning hands all over each other?”

“His hands, yes.”

“Kendall, it’s okay. All of it is okay. You’re entitled to have fun. Kiss a guy. Put your hands on him. Enjoy a summer fling. It’s normal.”

“I know.”

“And if you don’t go for it, you’ll regret it.”

She’s right. I will. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Just call me Dr. Brit! Now go do everything I would.”

I chuck

le. “That could take a while. I’ll call you later,” I say in lieu of good-bye.

“You better.”

I hurry down the hall, close the bathroom door behind me, and flip on the light switch. The small room is decorated with a wide sink console that has several drawers with an open shelf at the bottom. I splash some cold water on my sweaty palms, and feel some semblance of control come back. One daiquiri and I’m a tiny bit buzzed—just enough to relax and live in the moment. Am I ready for Vaughn? I’m not sure, but I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never felt…with anyone.

A knock on the door spurs me to get moving. I open it wide. “Hey,” a girl wearing a skimpy bikini top and tiny white shorts says. “You done? I really have to pee.”

“All yours.” I step around her into the hallway. My curiosity gets the best of me when I pass a half-open door. It’s an office with a large desk, bookcase, chaise lounge, and—my gaze snags on a framed black-and-white portrait of a young woman hanging on the coffee-colored wall. I can’t help but move closer. The shape of her face. Her smile. She reminds me of Vaughn.

“You found my hiding place.”

I startle at the sound of his voice. I’m caught, but I’m rooted to my spot, the picture keeping me in place. He comes up beside me, his arm brushing mine. The now familiar electric charge heats my skin.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No worries. I don’t mind hiding in here with you.”

Sitting on his lap might throw my hormones into overdrive, but these kinds of comments are going to get me in real trouble. Vaughn is so much more than I ever expected. His sincerity and depth keep catching me off guard. I glance at him and get his profile, his attention focused where mine just was.

“That’s my sister.”

“The one you mentioned last night.”

He nods. “Yeah. She died ten years ago.” He turns his head and I look up into his eyes, hoping he sees how much I care. How honored I am that he shared that.

“I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“She was working out when she suddenly collapsed. By the time the paramedics arrived, she was gone. It turned out she had an undiagnosed heart defect.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. I’m not sure what more to say, but I want to comfort him. I can’t even imagine how awful those days were, the years since. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Siblings are supposed to have a lifetime together.

“She was a model, too, and she’d just landed her first major movie role and was ecstatic. She was poised to be the next big thing, and in the blink of an eye it was over. My parents were…” He shakes his head. “Devastated. Especially my dad. My mom used to joke that when it came to us kids, she was just an incubator, and that was especially true when it came to Andie. Dad managed her career from day one, so a huge chunk of his professional identity was wrapped up in her. They didn’t just share a father-daughter bond. They shared goals and dreams.” He shrugs out of my hold. “Andie always told me to enjoy having Dad as just a dad and not a business advisor controlling every aspect of my life, but I envied how tight they were. Then after…”