Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

He sat down next to her, looped his arm around her shoulders and they watched them together.

As the last shower of stars cascaded down to the water, he pulled her in and took her mouth.

“What was that?” She sounded breathless.

“It’s Fourth of July. I’m allowed to kiss you on Fourth of July.”

“Trying to create a different type of fireworks?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you call your family?”

“Yes. I spoke to my mother. They seem to be enjoying Vermont.”

“It’s a pity you were working and couldn’t join them. Bad luck that you had to work.”

He sat for a moment, watching as the last of the fireworks died, leaving a velvet-black sky studded with stars. “It wasn’t bad luck. I didn’t have to work, I asked to.”

She turned her head. “You didn’t want to have a family gathering?”

“I’ve promised myself I will spend Thanksgiving with them, but right now—no, I didn’t want to have a gathering on Fourth of July without my father there. And I didn’t want to hurt their feelings by telling them that, so I arranged to work. That probably makes me selfish.”

“I think it makes you human.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “And both your sisters are there, so it’s not as if your mom is alone. You don’t have to feel guilty for thinking about your own needs, or coping with it the way that feels right to you.”

She never judged. He’d never felt he had to live up to some perfect, unreal image she had of him.

“The next job is to clear the house of Dad’s personal items. The furniture can stay until it’s sold but all the other things—books, papers, sailing things—sorting through those won’t be fun.”

“We’ll do it together.”

Together.

He wanted to ask how long she was planning to stay.

Whether they had a future.

He waited, silent, hoping, but she said nothing. Just stared ahead, deep in thought.

“I love it here.”

“Me, too.”

What exactly did she love? Was it the beach? Or him? Him and the beach?

“Could you live here?”

She stilled. “Maybe.”

If he told her how he felt would she run or would she tell him she felt the same way?

He wasn’t willing to take the chance that it might be the former.

He’d waited so long to hear her say the words he wanted her to say, he decided he could wait a little longer.

CHAPTER TWENTY

FLISS WORKED HER way through the Carlyle mansion, room by room, packing personal items carefully into boxes. Occasionally she broke off from what she was doing to check on Seth, who was clearing a different room.