Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

He nodded. “He’s the only thing I miss about New York now.”

“You really do like it here, don’t you?”

Vaughn studied my face. “What’s not to like?”

Frustration welled up in me. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Smolder at me.”

He laughed. “I didn’t realize I was.”

“Well you are. And I want you to stop.”

“I’d like to stop hearing your voice in my head saying, ‘I bet you’ve thought about it. Fucking the hostile Princess of the Boardwalk into submission,’ but I can’t.”

I squirmed beside him, remembering my aggressive come-on. “Is that what this is about then? You sticking your nose into my business? Your obvious jealousy over Rex and what I think now was you putting it to him at the fun park with all that rifle adjustment stuff?”

“Obvious?” He scowled.

“Yes, obvious jealousy. Are you going to deny it?”

He finished his iced tea and placed the empty cup beside him. “No. I wanted to kill him for breathing the same air as you.”

A sad thrill moved through me. “Is it just about the sex?”

“It was pretty spectacular.”

“Vaughn.”

He sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest to wrap his arms around them. “I try to stay away, I do, because I know I can’t give you what you want.” He looked at me with those pale, soulful eyes of his and I wanted to cry at the longing in them. Why? Why did he have to be the guy that looked at me that way? “I had the chance in New York to sleep with another woman. I couldn’t. So . . . no . . . it’s not just about the sex. But I’m . . .” He shrugged, seeming at a loss.

I let him off the hook, looking away so I didn’t have to see his expression, the one that tore at my insides. I didn’t even want to think about the idea of him sleeping with someone else, or how confusing and thrilling it was that he hadn’t. I searched for a subject change. “You must miss your dad. You two seem so close.”

“We are. He’s my best friend.”

Wow. That was nice. And surprisingly honest. “I’m glad. There are many people with parental issues these days. It’s sort of depressing.”

“Are you one of them?”

“No.” I shook my head. “My mom is a little off the wall, but she loves me, I love her. And my dad is just the best guy ever.”

Vaughn took a while to process that.

So long in fact I had to break the silence for fear I’d reach over to hold his hand, to touch him one last time before I got up the courage to sever this connection between us. “How is Liam?”

I heard his soft chuckle. “He’d love it that you call him Liam and still call me Tremaine.”

“You keep calling me Miss Hartwell,” I explained.

He shrugged and I felt the movement against my shoulder. Such an innocent touch, but it sent goose bumps up all over my arms. “My dad is well enough. I worry about him sometimes.”

The confession stilled me. Was Vaughn actually talking to me, as in . . . sharing his feelings? “Oh?” I treaded carefully, not wanting to scare him off.

“Remember how I told you about how much my mother loved my father?”

“Yes.”