It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

He seemed relieved by her encouragement, reciting the number as she punched it into her phone. When she hit dial on his number, his head came up as if trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

“That’s your phone,” she said, and laughed. “I’m calling you so you’ll have my number, too.”

“Oh.” He nodded, the corner of his mouth tugging a little. “Right.”

She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “Should I be expecting nudes?”

“Jesus Christ, Piper,” he grumped, straightening the takeout menus and signaling an end to the discussion. But he hesitated a second before striding for the door. “Now that I’m in your phone, does this mean next time you break into a rooftop pool, I’ll be on the mass invite?”

Brendan winked to let her know he was joking. But she couldn’t help grinning at the mental image of this earthy giant of a man walking through a sea of polished LA social climbers. “Oh yeah. You’re in.”

“Great.”

After one more almost imperceptible sweep of her legs, Brendan coughed into his fist and turned again. He picked up his toolbox and started down the stairs. Just like that. His work was done and formalities were stupid. Piper followed, looking down at him from the top of the stairs. “Are we friends, Brendan?”

“No,” he called back, without missing a beat.

Her mouth hung open, a laugh huffing out of her as she closed the door.

Hannah sat up and asked, “What the hell is going on there?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “I have no freaking idea.”

Chapter Eleven

Brendan sat in the wheelhouse of the Della Ray stabbing at the screen of his phone.

He should have been helping the crew load groceries and the ice they would need to keep the fish fresh in the hold. But they’d be pushing off in ten minutes, and he needed to take advantage of the last remaining minutes of internet access, spotty though it was in the harbor.

He’d downloaded Instagram; now they were asking him for personal information. Did he have to be a member of this stupid thing to look at pictures? Chrissakes. He shouldn’t be doing this. Even if Piper had volunteered the information that she was apparently half-naked on this fucking app, he shouldn’t be looking. In fact, if he expected to concentrate worth a damn on this trip, he absolutely should not be adding to the treasure trove of Piper imagery already floating around in his head.

First and foremost was the memory of Piper answering the door in those little white panties. White. He wouldn’t have figured on that. Maybe sparkly pink or peacock blue. But hell if the white cotton cupping her pussy, a contrast of innocent and sexy, had him sporting a semi an hour later and downloading apps like a goddamn teenager. He’d been grinding his back teeth since he walked out of No Name, bereft over his palms not sliding down the supple curve of her ass—and God, he had no business thinking about that.

Why had she covered herself with the pillow the second time?

Had he been so obviously turned on it made her uncomfortable?

Considering that, he frowned. He didn’t like the idea of her being nervous.

Not around him. Not at all.

“All loaded. Ready to go,” Fox said, swinging into the wheelhouse, his Mariners cap pulled down low over his eyes. But not low enough that Brendan could miss them lighting up. “You downloading Instagram, Cap?”

“Who’s downloading Instagram?” Sanders asked, ducking his red curly head under the doorframe. “Who doesn’t already have Instagram?”

“People who have better shit to do,” Brendan growled, snapping both of their mouths shut. “They’re asking me to make a username.”

In came a third member of the crew, Deke, his dark brown fingers wrapped around a bottle of Coke as he took a sip. “Username for what?”

Brendan tipped his head back. “Jesus Christ.”

“Instagram,” Sanders said, filling in Deke.

“You’re doing a little Piper recon, aren’t you?” Fox asked, his expression one of pure, everlasting enjoyment. “Downloading a few pictures to keep you warm on the trip?”

“You can do that?” Brendan half shouted. “Anyone can just download pictures of her?”

“Or me, or you, or anyone,” Deke said. “It’s the internet, man.”

Brendan stared at his phone with renewed disgust. As far as he was concerned, this was even more reason to get on this dumb app and see what’s what. “It won’t let me just use my own name as my username.”

“Yeah, probably because about nine hundred Brendan Taggarts joined before you.”

“So what should I use?”

“CaptainCutie69,” Fox spat out.

“IGotCrabs4U,” Deke supplied.

“SlipperyWhenWet.”

Brendan stared. “You’re all fired. Go home.”

“All right, all right, we’ll be serious,” Fox said, holding up his hands. “Did you try CaptainBrendanTaggart?”

He grunted, punched it in with one blunt digit. It took him forever, because his finger was so big, he kept hitting erroneous characters. “Accepted,” he grumbled finally, shifting in the captain’s chair. “Now what?”