On Hart's Boardwalk (On Dublin Street 6.7)

There was a large jukebox beside the stage that was currently playing AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”

Appropriate.

Nate and I shared a look and I knew we were thinking the exact same thing, which only made us grin at each other.

“What?” Bailey asked, smiling curiously.

“Nothing,” I assured her, still laughing.

“Ah, private joke, I get it.” Still grinning, she led us to the bar where an attractive blonde turned in her stool to greet Bailey with a wide smile. Behind the bar, making a couple of drinks, was an extremely rugged and handsome guy in his mid-to-late thirties. He grinned at Bailey, too. “Coop, Jess, I want you to meet two of my guests. They flew in for their ten-year anniversary vacation from Scotland.” Our inn owner turned to us. “Nate, Olivia, this is Cooper, he owns the bar.” She gestured to rugged, hot guy. “And this is Cooper’s wife, Jessica.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jessica held out her hand and Nate and I took turns shaking it.

Cooper gave us a manly nod of his chin. “You enjoying Hartwell so far?”

“It’s beautiful.” I nodded.

“Even more beautiful with a drink in your hand?”

“Aye, that would be good,” Nate said. “Two beers, please. Draft.”

“There’s the accent.” Jess grinned at my husband before turning to me. “You don’t have one?”

Bailey explained for me. “Olivia is American. Her dad is Scottish, they moved back to Scotland, she met Nate, also Scottish.”

I nodded with a grin to confirm.

“Have a seat.” Cooper gestured to two empty bar stools. There was another bartender, I noted, but he was busy at the other end of the bar, laughing and joking with a group of women waiting at the bar for their drinks.

Nate pulled a stool out for me and I hopped on it while he took the one next to me. Jessica moved down so Bailey could take the one on my other side. “Where’s Tremaine?” the doctor asked.

“He should be here any minute. I think today has been a trying day for our hotelier.” She winced sympathetically, and turned to us. “What do you guys do back in Scotland?”

Nate answered as he handed Cooper money for our beers. “I’m a photographer.”

“And I’m a librarian.”

“Not just any librarian,” Nate said, settling back on his stool. “Liv runs the library at the University of Edinburgh.”

I shot him a smirk. “You like telling people that, huh.”

“Proud of you.” He shrugged.

“That’s very cool,” Jessica said, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking about my job or my sweet husband.

Before I could say anything, Bailey’s head whipped around to the door and her whole face softened. She hopped down off her stool and Jess moved down one more stool. I followed Bailey’s movements as she crossed the bar toward the door. Waiting for her was a guy almost as beautiful as my husband. As soon as Bailey neared him, she put her hands on his chest and he bent his head to press a soft kiss to her lips. She smiled up at him, and although he didn’t return it, he didn’t need to. This guy looked at Bailey Hartwell like the sun rose and fell with her and her alone.

Taking his hand, Bailey strolled back to the bar with him.

Up close, the guy was even more beautiful.

“Olivia, Nate, this is my fiancé, Vaughn.”

Vaughn held out his hand to shake ours, which we did, and I took him in. He wore a suit that was so perfectly cut to his body, it had to be custom tailored and possibly designer. If I wasn’t mistaken, those polished shoes on his feet were Prada. He had striking gray eyes, made all the more stunning by the long dark lashes framing them and the thick dark hair on his head.

There was something cool and cultured and perhaps a little aloof about him, and if I’d met him solo I wouldn’t have been that comfortable around him. I liked my men like Nate—open and social and funny.

However, I could forgive Vaughn Tremaine his aloofness because every time Bailey opened her mouth to speak, that man watched her like a hawk, like he couldn’t get enough of her.

She made him smile and his smile transformed his whole face.

Yes, there was no way Bailey Hartwell would look elsewhere for a guy when she had one at her side who looked at her like that.

As the evening wore on and we talked with the people of this beautiful little town, it became clear that Jess and Cooper were just as in love. They were recently married and clearly still in the first bloom of marital bliss.

Why I felt an edge of envy, I did not know. It was ridiculous. I had never envied anyone their relationship when I had Nate. But sitting there, watching two couples so close and in love, I started to feel like I couldn’t breathe.

I noted the pool tables at the back of the bar, and one was free. “Let’s play pool.” I turned to my husband.

Nate quirked an eyebrow at my random suggestion. “Do you know how to play pool?”

“Do you?”

“Aye.”

“Then you can show me.” I climbed off the stool, feeling mischievous, and the feeling helped evaporate my negative emotions.

You see . . . I knew how to play pool.

I hadn’t played in years but I was guessing it wasn’t something you forgot how to do. My dad was a master at this game and he’d taught me well. However, Nate didn’t need to know that. Bailey grinned at us as we got up. “Enjoy.”

Nate led me across the bar with his hand on my lower back, and up the steps to the pool table that was free. He racked the balls and handed me a cue stick. “Object of the game is to pocket all of your balls, plus the eight ball.” He gestured to the black numbered ball in the triangle. “I’ll break, show you how it’s done, and when it comes to your turn, I’ll guide you. Sound good?”

I smiled sweetly at my husband. “Great.”

Watching him bend over the table with his cue stick, I leaned back a little to get a look at his ass. Always a very nice view. I giggled to myself as my husband pocketed ball four while the others scattered against the rails with the power of his shot. Hmm. Nate might be good at this, I thought.

“Right.” He stood up and I lost my sneaky smirk, replacing it with what I hoped came off as a sincere eagerness to learn. “I pocketed a low ball, so my goal is to pocket all of them, balls one to seven. Your goal is to pocket the high balls, balls nine to fifteen. The object of the game is to do that and pocket the eight ball.” He gestured to the only black ball on the table.

“Okay.”

He then commenced pocketing three more balls before he missed the next shot.

My turn.

“So . . .” I held up my cue stick. “How do I do this?”

Nate gave me a cocky grin, those dimples of his flashing as he rounded the table to me. He got me in position, bent over the pool table, and leaned over me, his breath hot on my cheek. “Keep your shooting arm parallel to the line of shot and perpendicular to the table as you shoot.”

I nodded, and deliberately missed my shot.

“Too bad, babe.” Nate squeezed my arse. “But not gonna lie, I like that I’m going to have to show you how to do this some more.”

I grinned as I got up, my breasts brushing his chest. “I bet you are.”

He winked at me. “First, I’m going to kick your arse.”

I rolled my eyes and watched him take out the rest of his balls, easily.

Now it was my turn to take down his balls. Metaphorically speaking.

“Another game?” I pouted. “I barely got a chance to try.”

“Okay, babe. Do you want to try breaking?”

I nodded uncertainly as he racked the balls. And then I said, “Maybe we should make it more interesting.”

“How so?”

“A bet. Whoever loses has to strip naked and go into the ocean at

night. Before we leave for home.”

“You do realize how fucking freezing that ocean is at night,” Nate said, concerned. “Babe, you’re not going in that ocean at night. Naked.”

So cocky. “I might win,” I said, pretending to sound uncertain.

“Babe.”

“You chicken?”